#nose and try not to think about his eyes or the way he'd whispered your name or the feeling of his cock in your hand or yours in his

[jumbojazzcats93]

Perfect, Perfect, Perfect - Ghost

Summary - DOD contracted civilian is perfectly confident and brooks no nonsense at work, but when she hooks up with Simon not knowing it's Ghost, he gets whiplash seeing her other side.

Tags/Warnings - noncanon, 18+ MDNI, divider by @/cafekitsune @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou @ivymarquis @grizzersmamma @gremlingottoosilly @ghastlybirdie

"Sir, I'm not the one drawing up the CONOPs, and even if I was, arguing with me would not change any of the things outlined in them."

Ghost could hear her from his office across the hall; prickly and stern. A platoon leader from another section had come in about 5 minutes ago, guns blazing and irritation tainting the peaceful vibe of your space, demanding to speak with whoever put out "-That bullshit order to the distro." Ghost heard you try to be amicable at first, only to then get steamrolled by the captain in your office. He considered shutting his door. It was irritating listening to the prick complain, but the satisfaction of hearing you knock down someone so pompous was far greater.

Then came the angry and exasperating rhetoric of, "Well, what do you suggest I do about this than? Hm?"

"Well Sir, to be quite frank I don't really care, but I had assumed that at such a senior rank and with all the experience you boast of, that you could figure it out on your own." You aimed a rehearsed smile at him and folded your hands on your desk. Ghost leaned back in his chair, watching through the open doors and tapping his pen on his desk. Clicking his jaw shut, the captain silently glared at you for a moment before you gestured towards the open door with an elegant wave of your hand. A signal of 'you can go now' that caused an amused huff of air to escape Ghost's nose. Taking in a slow, deep breath, the captain turned and stomped from the room. Ghost just tracked him with his eyes as he turned down the hall and fled.

The deep sigh that emanated from your office had his eyes trailing back to your doorway. Whispered ranting and mockings of the bastard had Ghost fighting down a grin. You appeared in the doorway suddenly, looking at him with an incredulous look on your face and threw your hands in the air. He just shook his head in response. He didn't think either of you had ever actually said more than a few greetings to one another; you just shared silent exchanges like this one. Rolling your eyes, your hands flopped to your sides as you scoffed and stomped back to your desk.

So much attitude in that little head of yours.

Tinted lipgloss stuck to Simon's cock. Make-up tainted tear tracks stained your face from the way he was throat fucking you. He was gonna cum in the next 15 seconds if he didn't stop, so he squeezed the base of his cock and pulled you back by your hair with a breathy grunt. The way you looked up at him panting with a mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin made his cock throb dangerously. Your wet doe eyes and soft hands were not what he was expecting when he lied his way into your bed. At work you were known as a bitch. A hard ass, DOD contracted civillian brought in by Laswell to plan and track special forces missions and everything to do with them.

The image of the you from work crossed with the vision of you in front of him. On your knees with your head resting against his thigh as you looked up at him. You were the perfect image of a sweet and obedient little lover-girl tonight. He smoothed a hand over your hair, trailing it down your cheek until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Humming dreamily, your tongue laved at his thumb before he pressed it into your mouth. Your furrowed eyebrows were just so cute. He'd never be able to look at you the same after this.

"You want somethin' from me, lovie?", he teased, pulling his thumb away and replacing it with his cock. You nodded with a small, whiney, "Yes, please." "Open up, than greedy girl."

You stuck your tongue out, letting him smack his cock on it a few times before kissing and licking the tip. With one hand holding the back of your head, Simon carefully eased his cock into your mouth. You held fluttering eye contact as he slowly began thrusting faster; beginning to throat fuck you once more. His mean little coworker... seeing you so different out of your usual setting and the fact that he had been practically edging himself made quick work of him. A minute was all it took before he was pulling his cock from your mouth and jerking himself off as he came all over your face. He let you continue licking at his cock as he leaned against the wall, recovering.

Simon didn't even realize his eyes had closed, but at the sound of your pathetic little whimper they shot open. Hand between your legs, cheek resting against his thigh, you looked up at him with a sad little pout on your lips. "You're a good girl ain'tcha?" His hand caressed your hair while you nodded. "Don't worry, dove. I won't dare leave ya without a reward."

He guided you to the couch and had you on your back in an instant. With your legs pushed to your chest, your wet cunt was fully on display. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and dragged you toward the edge, closer to his face. His thumb lightly rubbed your clit making your whole body twitch. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Poor girl is so sensitive..." He gives your clit a wet kiss before laving his tongue along your cunt, eating you out. Your moans and squeaks had his cock stiffening again. He teased his two middle fingers into your cunt and watched your expression; carefully prodding until he saw your eyes heavily flutter and your skin flush a deeper shade. Simon pressed into that spot until your moans pitched higher and your thighs squeezed his head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyes-" One hand pressed into your lower stomach while his other hand continued to fuck into you. He pulled his mouth from your cunt, leaving a string of spit and slick behind. You squealed, body flexing and squirming before your head fell back, squirting on his hand. He dove back in, letting you use his tongue to ride out the rest of your ogasm until you were whimpering and whining.

Simon grabbed you, readjusting you into a more comfortable position. Your fingers slid into his hair, lips brushing and eyes meeting. That soft, dopey look had him pressing in to kiss you; hand fisting into your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed down your neck. He used his other hand to wrap your leg around his waist. Feeling you cum on his fingers had his cock painfully hard again. Now it beaded precum as it rubbed against your slick cunt. Simon grabbed his cock and positioned it, slowly pressing into you and shushing you as you whined.

"Oh yeah...", he sighed. Your cunt was just as soft as you were right now. Your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed as he bottomed out. He ran his hand up your body, his gaze trailing it's path. The way your tits jiggled with his first few thrusts altered his path until he was groping and massaging your breast with one hand and gripping your hip with the other. You pushed your chest into his eager hand; your cunt clenching. The way your hips meet his every thrust... a secondary wave of arousal washed over him.

How could he ever look you in the eye after this? He'd never get another ounce of work done again with you around.

Pulling out, Simon flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. For the first time, he noticed the tattoo on your back. What a little minx. His hand slid up your spine and he leaned forward to place a wet kiss against the inked skin. Suddenly his hand was gripping the back of your neck and shoving your upper body into the cushion. Whining with your face half in the pillows and pushing back into his hips, your ass rubbed up against his leaking cock. Simon chuckled deep in throat and squeezed the back of your neck. "You wanna take it so bad don't you?" Unable to nod, you whimper, "Yes, please." His free hand landed a sudden smack against your ass causing a gasp to tear from your throat. Hand smoothing over the stinging skin, he cooed at you.

Pulling his hips away just slightly, Simon slowly guides his cock into your wet cunt. He let's a low sigh out at the feeling of being back inside your pussy. This angle feels so much better, bordering painful, but you can't really tell the difference at this point. He bears down on you so close, you feel his hot breath. His hips are firmly and intentionally grinding against your ass. His dick causing shivers to run through your body. The recoil of your ass when he begins thrusting again is mesmerizing. He grabs a handful of your ass and spreads you open, slowing his thrusts down enough to watch his cock sink into your wet cunt over and over. Moving to grip your waist with both hands, Simon speeds back up; practically using you like a doll.

The way you tighten up on him is dangerous. "Shit-" He breaths panicked. Cum spurts from his cock before he can even pull out. "Shit!" He growls, quickly stuffing his cock back in your cunt to roughly fuck himself through his orgasm. His hands shake as he finally pulls out. You feel his cum spilling out of your cunt as you go to push yourself up, but his hands grab your hips and roughly pull you backwards. Simon lays back as he drags you up his chest, placing your cunt right over his face. Any words you had formulated turn to a moan when his mouth latches onto your clit. His arms snake around your thighs and hold you against his mouth. His hot mouth that feels so good. You were already so close when he came that you know it won't be long before your orgasm burns through you. His tight grip loosens when he feels you trying to grind against his face. If he wasn't 2 ogasms out, the way you moan and grip on his thighs would make his dick hard again.

One arm uncoils from your thigh to land a rough smack to your ass. He feels your pussy clench at the act and lands another light smack before he kneads the area with a rough hand. Simon can tell from the way you tighten your thighs that you're close to cumming. He decides to lock you down with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand trails back, wetting his fingers in the mix of fluids before slipping 2 fingers inside of your pussy. Your head is thrown back with a pleased gasp as he finger fucks you. Curling them into your g-spot relentlessly until you're squirting; cum dripping down his chin and neck onto the bed. He keeps fingering you until you're reaching back, begging him to stop with dewy eyes and weak hands.

He's grinning as he lifts your pussy away from his mouth.

"Lieutenant Riley, you're not even paying attention." You sternly accuse.

Simon takes a deep, slow breathe in as he repositions himself higher in his seat, blinking a few times to clear the haze of his daydream. He clears his throat, glances at you and nods for you to continue. All you do is purse your lips; sparing him a scalding look as you continue where you left off in the PowerPoint.

"So, first round of weapons draw is going to be 0600. Buses will show at 0700 to take the troops to the range. Second round will be 1100, so buses will show at 1200. That gives all the firers about 5 hours to hit a qual out on the range. They can come back as soon as they qual, but I do NOT want to work passed 6pm tomorrow." You turn to look at him again and your lips purse.

He must look disinterested. Not only had he already been told the timelines for the range, but the entire time you'd been talking, he had been thinking of your escapade from this previous weekend. Every time he looked at you since you came in Monday morning, he could only see the pliant little thing you'd been Saturday night when he fucked you and Sunday morning before he left. Right now though, he could see you about to throw a fit over his lack of attention toward your presentation.

"Don't worry, dove." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I wouldn't dare to cause mess of all your hard work and planning." Simon circled the table and loomed over you. The look in your eyes shows your recognizition of the combination of the pet name and his voice.

"Well, I-"

"It's OK, lovie." He smoothed his hand over your hair and to the side of your neck until his thumb brushed your cheek. In an instant, you looked just the same as you did this weekend. Furrowed brows relaxing at the realization and a doe eyed look replacing the severe one you'd been giving him. You looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights; completely unsure of what to do.

How cute.

"So you want me to open up the Arms Room, right?"

All you could muster up was a tiny nod.

"I'll be there at 0500 to do an inspection and ready everything. I'll allow troops to start drawing their weapons 10 minutes early, too. Okay?" As he spoke his thumb traced your bottom lip. So entranced by his actions and your realization, you could only muster a breathless, "Okay." In response.

The way you looked up at him had his body moving to lean down for a kiss, but his self control stopped him before he could even get an inch. Instead, Simon just pressed his thumb down against your bottom lip and left you go. Running his tongue along his teeth, he averted his gaze from you and walked back over to his office.

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[s0dium]

who are the sexiest JJK DILFs??? Your toji fic got me thinking....

I LOVE DILFS

Synopsis: Ranking the top three JJK DILFS. This was very self indulgent ;)

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru

Warning: Age gap, breeding, blowjobs, edging

Toji Fusiguro

Of course first place goes to him, he is THE DILF

More of a father than people give him credit for, but is definitely one everyone would like to fuck

The type to act like he doesn't care about what his kids do but then show up to their baseball game or recital with a camera

Definitely likes younger women

He knows no shame. Are you his kids pre k teacher? He is fucking you. You his kid's babysitter? Might as well spread your legs now

Toji knows how hot he is, in fact he bathes in the stares of all the other moms and the whispers

He's mean in bed too

You thickly swallow when you feel Toji tap his tip on your soft lips.

“Suck.”

With not an ounce of hesitance, you bring your face close to Toji’s awaiting member and allow your tongue to flop out, the warmth of your wet muscle gliding across the underside of his dick making his thighs shudder. Your ego swells, he rarely, almost never, shows a reaction when you suck him off. That simple shudder gives you the courage to bring his tip in your mouth, suckling and kissing the swollen head. Your eyes are locked with his as you do this, relishing in that subtle smirk he gives when your tongue swirls over his member, soaking the skin with your saliva.

"Make it quick, before the kids get home." He says through a groan.

2. Geto Surguru

Coming in hot is Suguru

Above all else Suguru is a family man, even after two daughters he finds him self wanting more. Perhaps a boy even?

Very loving father, the type to make you breakfast in bed and cook for you

Very active in his kids life, will go to PTA meetings (which you hate because all the moms swoon over him) and he knows how to braid and do his daughters hair

Wants. More. Kids. Honestly, it doesn't matter what gender the kid is, he would be lying if he said the part he didn't like the most was the fucking you dumb and filling you

"Talk to me baby," Geto groans in your ear. Oh god you want to, you want to say something something about how fucking good you are feeling, but words seem to fail you. The friction of his dick thrusting in and out of your walls is too delicious almost maddening. Geto snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a blur, the bed was shaking immensely with the head board banging on the wall and so were you from getting your cervix abused by his leaking tip. One hand is pinning your wrists together while he pistons into your gummy walls with brute force, too dumb to resist him that you could only moan and whine from how good he was fucking you.

"Want me to cum in you baby? Fill you up?'

3.Nanami Kento

Honorary DILF! This man has everything that meets the DILF criteria without being an actual dad

But if he where a dad, he'd be an amazing one

Stern but kind, Nanami Kento is not only dad material but husband material

Nanami Kento is the type to be oblivious to all the stares he gets from other women because the only this that on his mind is you and his kids

And with you, his wife, the love of his life, this man takes his time loving u

"M'feel so good so good," You babble feverishly, practically choking on each syllable. Your breathing has become ragged and fat tears started to cloud your vision.

"Shhhh baby I know." Nanami groans, grunting at the way your pussy squeezes around him, trying to suck him in impossibly more even though his tip is already brushing against your cervix.  The sounds that emanated from your bodies were sinful, trapped warm cum sloshing with every slow thrust. Your thighs trembled, toes curling and uncurling at the feeling of being stuffed so impossibly full. 

“Faster please faster,” You whine and bury your nose into the nape of his neck to kiss and lick at the skin in an attempt to appease your husband. 

“Just a little longer baby, wanna fuck you nice and slow first.”

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜⌒ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[gojoed]

"oh my god satoru you look so cute here!"

"wait wait wait, don't look at those!"

you were currently holding a picture of satoru in your hands. it's nothing you haven't done before, going to the corner store and flipping through recently printed pictures of you and your friends after waiting a week for them to develop.

but this time you weren't holding snapshots of suguru having permanent marker on his face while sleeping or ridiculous photos of satoru and shoko grabbing onto each others hair, fighting over who gets to get the last snack from their stash. this time you held a photo of satoru, except younger. exponentially younger. as in, you just got your hands on a photo of satoru the moment he was born. literally.

like every other newborn he had that faint pink shade on his soft skin, button nose, and little hands that had the chubbiest of fingers. you swore you fell in love all over again with him.

the grown up version of the baby however did not feel the same. he didn't think a visit to his family's prestigious estate would lead to you seeing the one photo he would rather die than having any one of his friends see. he'd rather have you take a photo of him falling flat on his face on a pile of garbage actually.

how you came across that photo of him, he has no idea. you both were currently residing in his old bedroom, laid down on the old tatami mats that still smelled new. all he remembers is you getting up to look for something within the old cabinets of his room before you exclaimed about your recent discovery.

"oh there's more, lemme see."

"nononononono, no! you've already seen enough!"

satoru tried desperately to snatch the small box of photos that was now on the floor. seriously who put this here?? — maybe his mother heard of how he was bringing you along for the weekend and planted a little surprise for you to find. he was unsuccessful, again, as you seemed to be faster than the strongest now since the box was now sitting on your lap — the stack of photos now in your hands as you flipped through them one by one.

"you used to wear such cute things too! look at that, it's a little onesie with a duck pattern!"

satoru was now internally screaming, his ears blowing out steam now from embarrassment. they must be, since he could feel his face rise in temperature faster than ever, he might even be a new shade of scarlet now. he's resorted now to lying face first on the floor, burying his face in his arms trying to shield himself from your commentary.

he didn't budge when you poked him with your fingers, trying to show him photos of his even younger self. satoru won't deny it, he was cute as a baby. the cutest even (his ego was whispering that) — but to have you witness him in all his newborn glory? that was too much for him. now his image was shattered (the one he created in his head), you won't look at him the same anymore. you'll only think the words cute and adorable, and so on after this. no more comments on how hot he was, how undeniably attractive his smile was.

satoru gojo, was indefinitely, ruined.

that was at least his way of thinking. you were internally dying on the inside.

to think that at such a young age, satoru still held the most striking pair of eyes you've ever seen. even as a baby you could see that he held the heavens and even the depths of hell in them. you can see why many people whispered how his birth had changed everything in the jujutsu world.

but even so, you couldn't bring yourself to care about those old rumors. right now, you were focusing on just how cute he used to look, back when he was just a couple of pounds and was drowning in innocence that any baby had.

"hey satoru?"

"..mm?", well at least you got a reaction.

"who took these photos anyway?"

you had to wait a few seconds until you heard him shuffle, moving on all fours before sitting up and placing himself right next to you. the embarrassment had died down, just a bit. there was still evident pink on his neck, ears, and cheeks.

"it was mostly just my mom and the maids. they were the ones who always dressed me up too."

that made you smile, the image of a fussy satoru not wanting to put baby gloves on with a matching outfit — it was too good not to imagine. a few moments passed before satoru carefully snatched a handful of photos from you. you were about to protest when he began telling you the story behind each of them, or well, the ones he could remember.

maybe you seeing him like that wasn't so bad after all.

p.s., now he's totally gonna send some of these to the group chat. bet he was a cuter looking baby than suguru and shoko anyway.

[dotster001]

Eric Venue

Summary: Vil x gn!reader (technically). Vil has always found your mannerisms to be endearing. They are less endearing when they are evoked by his father.

A/N: NEW DILF DROPPED AND I HAVE ZWRO SHAME AWOOGA!!! Special thanks to @animepaniclover122403 and @l1ls4y0 for being my eyes on the inside and getting me pictures. Warning, I'm on the EN server so I know absolutely nothing about Eric Venue so this may be very out of character.

Note: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Vil remembers the first time you met him. You wouldn't look directly at him, opting to stare at the floor as you mumbled incoherent sentences. Not a clear thought left your mouth.

Were you scared? Intimidated? Or, worse, did you not like the way he looked? That last possibility kept him up longer than he'd be proud to admit.

When he moved in with you during SDC training camp, he watched you walk into a wall three separate times. It was that third time that he realized what the situation was. You were flustered. How absolutely adorable.

Over the course of the weeks, you were eventually able to say more than three words to him. You continued to have issues looking directly at him, but he didn't mind that. It was cute. And a little bit of an ego boost.

Now the two of you were thick as thieves. And, in a teasing mood, he decided to ask you about your initial reaction to him. 

As expected, you couldn't look directly at him, staring at the floor as you fidgeted with clasped hands.

Then he heard, barely above a whisper, “I've never seen anyone who is as beautiful as you.”

His heart fluttered. He knew you well enough now to know that you were from another world…

Which meant…

He was more beautiful than anyone you'd ever seen in two worlds.

“Sometimes…sometimes I can't look directly at you because when I look at you I…I can't think, and my mouth goes dry.”

Adrenaline rushed through him, and he couldn't fight off the vicious grin as he cruelly took your chin in his hand, and forced you to look at him.

“You are so adorable.” Then, to absolutely destroy what little calm you had left he pressed a kiss to your nose. You immediately crumbled, your only life line the hand still holding your chin, as he hid his laugh behind a delicate hand to his mouth.

And now? Now he'd invited you home with him for summer break. He'd planned every day's outfit down to the hour, hoping to absolutely destroy you with his casual attire. Not that it was ever truly casual, but that was by design.

And, by the end of the summer, you'd ask him out, and he'd graciously accept. And then you'd live happily ever after.

He forgot to account for one thing…

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you,” his father said with an amused smile, as he pressed a light kiss to each of your cheeks.

Vil knew immediately. Your eyes flicked to his father's, then your entire being crumbled.

“H-h-h-hi, Mr. Venue-”

"Oh please. No need to be so formal. Call me Eric.”

“E-E-E-”

“Father! I thought you had a meeting today,” Vil cut you off quickly, an unconcealed tinge of irritation to his voice. Not that you'd notice. You were too far gone, your face unsubtly turned down to your feet.

“I did, but I'd be a poor host if I didn't come meet your- what are they again?” His father smirked, a challenge in his eyes.

“I'm-I’m his-”

“Y/N’s my guest. My guest. No need to be a host, I have it all taken care of.”

Vil and his father smiled at each other for a moment. A moment too long apparently, because you ended up trying to speak again.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your home,” you whispered, barely audible.

“It's not a problem!” He reached out for your hands, taking them in his own, his thumbs gently caressing your knuckles. “It's wonderful that my son has people that are important to him. Would you, perhaps, like to stay forever?” 

In a move very much like one of Vil's, Eric gently tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. Vil watched your face fall under the spell he himself often placed you under. It took everything inside him not to act like a child in a rage. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, and quickly steered you away.

“Y/N is very tired so I will show them to their room,” Vil said. “As I said, I will be their host, no need for you to take time off.”

His father laughed as he quickly shoved you into a nearby guest room. Not even the one he had intended to put you in. But he had to get you away from his dad.

“He smelled nice,” you whispered.

Of course he did. His father smelled of mahogany and expensive cologne. When he was little, that smell meant home. Now that smell meant-

“He was so pretty,” you said with a rather nasty voice crack.

Vil grunted. Grunted! Sevens, the effect you had on him.

Just as his father had done, he took your chin in his hand, and said, firmly, “You're min-my guest. Not his. So try to keep your attention on me.”

You looked at him with big innocent eyes. Vil fought back a distressed, lovesick sigh.

“Understood…but…what if,” you bit your lip, and Vil knew whatever was about to come out of your mouth would give him gray hair. Though, clearly that would be something you would like.

“What if, you shared me?”

He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth a couple times.

“I could be both of your guests!”

“What! Do you know what you're saying?” You had to! At least a piece of you had to, or you wouldn't be continuing the conversation. 

“I don't feel safe answering that question,” you said, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at his attitude.

“I'll be blunt, Y/N,” he said firmly. “You cannot date my father.”

“I never said-”

“You didn't have to. It's written all over your face.”

You opened your mouth to protest, closed it, huffed, looked away, then you turned back to him.

“Why not?”

Vil’s jaw dropped. He sputtered, then exclaimed, “Are you seriously asking why you can't date my dad?”

“He's a dilf,” you shrugged.

“You also can't look directly at him!”

“I can change-”

“Doubtful.”

“Wow, okay. I see what this is. You are intimidated by the thought of me as your step parent.”

“You can't be my step parent!”

“I knew it! You're scared of me wearing the pants between the two of us!”

“No! You can't date my dad, because you are supposed to fall for me!”

You blinked at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two perfectly manicured nails. There went his summer plan.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He sighed heavily. “Oh, as in, you feel the same? Or oh as in, awkward, leave me alone?”

You looked away, and Vil was certain if he felt your cheeks, they would feel feverish.

“I-er-ugh.”

“Take your time,” he hummed his amusement coming back to him.

You glared at him, before crumbling again, and mumbling some gibberish. 

“You can't even talk to me, but you think you can handle my father?”

You glared at him, then took a calming breath.

“I like you too.”

“Thank sevens,” he pulled you in for a hug, holding back a snicker as he felt you tremble a little.

“You smell good, too,” you muttered, before hiding your face in his shoulder. He could feel his pride swelling.

But only you could bring it down just as quickly as you brought it up.

“Why can't you share me?” your tone sounded innocent enough, but he groaned as he pushed you out at arms length. 

“I absolutely forbid you from flirting with my father.”

“I have two hands, so I could hold both of your hands at the same time!”

“Y/N, do not make me use my unique magic on you,” he warned. He watched you glare at him, but you quickly lost your composure as he reopened his arms to you, and you buried yourself against him.

He had a whole summer to keep you away from his father.

Wonderful.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Revenge Is Sweet ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

GENRE: established relationships, you’re a bet, angst, getting revenge, sweet ending, reader not being walked over for once

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

A/n: I hope this is alright!

Four and a half months. It had been four and a half months of pure bliss for you since the man you'd been in love with for almost half of your life asked you out on a date and you'd been falling harder and harder ever since.

You and Yoongi had been neighbours almost all of your life, growing up next door to one another and hanging out whenever your parents would hang out. As kids, he told you that you annoyed him but you figured it was because you were a girl and he was a guy so younger he instantly thought you had "girl cooties" but as you got older he thought of you as a friend. Or so you thought until two minutes ago.

You'd made your way to your usual meeting place with Yoongi, the library near a stack of old books. The two of you didn't really have any plans today but you were going to invite him back to your room and finally give yourself fully to him. He and his friends had moved a table there since no one ever went to these shelves for anything and it could be their own little table away from everyone else and prying ears. Only you stopped when you saw him and a few of his friends huddled together and laughing rather loudly at one another. Patting Yoongi on the back and giving him different piles of cash,

You weren't even sure what you'd walked in on until you saw Jungkook and Jimin - two of Yoongi's best friends patting him on the back and handing him a wad of cash. Your eyes zeroed in on it all. It could have been anything. It should have been anything but your world was brought to a screaming halt as you heard.

"I didn't think you had it in you." Jungkook laughs as Yoongi stands there, counting all of the cash in his hands. None of them realised that you'd suddenly joined them in their corner of the library.

"The Five months are almost over...didn't think you'd actually go through with it," Jimin laughed, further twisting the dagger inside of your chest. Five months. It had almost been five months since you'd gotten together with Yoongi. Was that what they were talking about?

"Can't wait any longer until this stupid thing is finally over and I get my money from you all, the rest of it at least," Yoongi answered, clearly amused by them all.

"You gonna tell Yn the truth when you dump her or just leave her confused?" Jimin sniggered and you backed away, leaning against another one of the shelves as the blood drained from your body, your heart racing as you heard them walking away.

"Haven't figured that part out yet," Yoongi's voice trailed off as they all made their way out of the library and you were left standing there. Panting heavily as you tried to control the way you were about to break down.

"Not here," A voice whispered before a hand was wrapped around your wrist and you were dragged somewhere secluded, a door shutting and locking before you finally got a good look at who it was.

Lights around you began to flicker on and you realised you were inside one of the archive rooms inside the library, your eyes slowly moved up to the person who had dragged you inside,

"Lix?" Felix was one of Yoongi's friends but ever since the day Yoongi had asked you out you hadn't seen him around as much...At least now you knew why. Quickly you wiped your eyes and cheeks to try and hide the fact that you were on the verge of a breakdown but Felix smiled weakly and handed you a tissue. He'd been there when he heard them discussing the bet openly in public, just asking for someone to overhear them,

"Did you know this whole time?" Your voice shook a little as you carefully took the tissue and began to wipe your eyes before blowing your nose a little. Felix knew that lying to you wouldn't be in your best interest so he nodded at you,

"Not the full extent but enough. I told him not...not to go through with it but he just sees it as a joke. Thinking you'll bounce back from it," You scoff at the thought and shake your head. Bounce back from being used as a fucking joke? As if your feelings meant nothing and you were nothing but a toy for him and his jerk group of mates could play around with a hurt without a care in the world. The more you thought about it the more it began to kill you inside, twisting your guts as you felt buile rise to your throat, your eyes burning and throat drying as you tried not to break down into tears once more.

"You can cry...I won't...I'll never judge you," Felix told you, reaching out and rubbing your shoulder softly as you sniffled, doing your best not to let the dam break but it was almost as if on command the tears flooded out of you. You began to sob into your hands, which were quickly replaced by Felix as he cradled you against his chest whispering that you were okay and he wasn't going to let anything happen to you.

Giving you all the time in the world to break down, scream, cry, yell and do anything else you were ever going to need to do and he just held you against him. Rubbing your back softly and promising he would make all of this right for you.

After you'd calmed yourself down you were both sitting on the floor looking at one another, neither of you had spoken since you'd calmed down and you weren't even sure what to say or do.

How were you supposed to face anybody if they'd all known about this joke? And go along with it? For god sake, you were almost sure some of the girls in your classes knew by the way they'd looked at you.

"I don't know what I did to make him...do this shit," You were still having a rough time wrapping your head around the fact that someone you had once considered a friend was now backstabbing you and making you the laughing stock of all his friends.

"Yoongi is...Complicated. He likes to be liked and will do anything to get that from those around him," Felix whispered, trying not to sound as though he was defending Yoongi but still trying to make you see the reasoning behind everything,

"He could have told me...I would have gone along with whatever he wanted if he needed the money," You whispered, even though it might have made you seem pathetic, that option seemed a lot easier to deal with than heartbreak did.

"Yoongi doesn't have the brain cells to rub together to come up with a plan like that," Felix smirked making you smile for the first time in over an hour,

"You know what you need?" Felix snickered, the wheels in his head turning as he moved himself closer to you, your eyes finding his as you frowned a little.

"What...?" You trailed off, watching him. You knew that look on his face, it was the same look you had whenever you were going to play a prank on your siblings only Felix's looked a lot more dangerous than yours ever did.

"You need your own back," Felix smirked, his mind already coming up with the perfect plan as a small smirk began to grow on your face.

Revenge did seem very sweet right now.

"What did you have in mind, Mr Lee?" You giggled, leaning into him and ready to hear his plan.

"Well, there's a party this weekend..."

"Yn?" Jungkook's voice squeaked as you walked into the living room where he, Yoongi and his friends were all playing beer pong. You never came out...ever. You never went to any parties in all your years of attending the university, in fact, you'd once called it "pathetic" to waste all your time drinking when you had papers to study for.

Almost everyone turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance as you did your best to appear confident.

None of them knew you knew about the bet yet, you and Felix had done everything you could to make sure it stayed that way too. Even if it meant playing nice with the man who had ripped your heart out and stomped on it for a few more days until tonight. Tonight your plan was going to go down and you'd had days of preparation for it.

"What...What are you doing here?" Yoongi reached out as he ran his hand up and down your waist, his mouth dry as he stared at you. The dress you were wearing clung to your body perfectly, sculpting every single of your body to perfection leaving very little to the imagination of everyone that could see you.

There was a reason he never brought you to these kinds of parties and that was because his friends were pigs and that possessive side of him didn't want his friends oogleing what was his. That and he knew you hated this sort of thing and he'd never bring you somewhere he knew you would be uncomfortable.

"Yoongi," You giggle, bringing him close to you by his hand, his eyes looking you up and down as he struggles to speak a little trying to find the words to tell you how incredible you looked but it was like his brain was mush.

"I wanted to surprise you," You whisper into his ear, biting down softly on his earlobe so he knew what you were hinting at. Your heart racing rapidly as you bring him closer to you, running your hands down his chest and toward the belt he is wearing.

"Here?" His voice cracked as you nodded, taking his hand and dragging him toward the staircase, his friends all whistling and hollering at the two of you as you made your way up to the room Felix had already set up for you both. There was nothing in there, all of the clothes had been removed from the wardrobes in preparation for what you were about to do.

"Yn, wait," Yoongi whispered as you pushed him down onto the bed, your eyes drinking him in. It was a shame he was such a dickhead and so good-looking all at the same time. Your heart still beat for him despite what he'd done to you and it only made you hate everything more.

"I want it to be tonight." You tell him as you bite down on your lip, that you'd been trying to appear as sexy as possible for this plan to work.

"But here? I-I wanted...I was gonna take you someplace special." He told you so connivingly you almost would have believed him had it not been for the bet.

"Here," you whisper slowly kissing him down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as he whimpered a little, his heart racing so hard the vein in his neck was obvious. The brain in his head works completely differently from the one in his pants,

"You never bring me to parties," You pout at him as you strip him off his shirt, throwing it behind you by the door so it is in the perfect position.

"I never want you to be around my friends, they're idiots and they make you uncomfortable." He mumbles, kissing you deeply and lovingly, your heart fluttering as he pulls you closer to him, running his hands over your cheeks.

"Are you sure...here? I can take you somewhere better...Somewhere special, a hotel. Somewhere we can go slow and take our time..." He was speaking to you with so much softness you felt your heart racing for him. The thought of him wanting to do that for you made you want to melt into a puddle for him but you remembered the bet and that part of you shrunk.

"Yoongi...I'm ready, I trust you." You made sure to put an emphasis on trust and Yoongi's heart bottomed out,

"Yn." He whispers as you take off his pants, his primal instinct trying to take over but he is doing his best to control himself, to wait and figure out a plan. This isn't what he had planned for you, he wanted your first time together to be special and somewhere it would be meaningful for the two of you. Not some random bedroom in a frat house he was too drunk to give a shit about and he needed to tell you everything first. He needed you to know the truth.

"Yn," He pants as you finally remove his clothes leaving him completely bare, your breath catching in your throat as you see him completely naked to you, the gods had blessed him it was just a shame you were never going to get a real taste of him.

"Y-Yoongi." You lean into him, kissing him softly, your heart breaking from the kiss. Your body and heart needed one last kiss from him, just one more and you'd go through with the rest of the plan. You'd remind yourself what he was doing to you and you'd get out of there.

"I can't...Yn, please." You pull back, looking at Yoongi. You were completely taken aback at him being the one to deny it.

"We can't. This isn't right, there's something I have to tell you first." He held your hands in his and you stared into his eyes, your mouth opening to speak but you felt Felix ringing your phone, you knew he was asking what was taking so long.

"Let me...Let me tell you something, okay? Pass me my clothes," Yoongi whispered only further confusing you. You thought this whole thing was a ploy to see how long it would take for him to get you into bed and this was only making your stomach twist.

This whole thing was supposed to be him trying to fuck you, so you could take his clothes and make people laugh at him instead of at you for the bet. This was the revenge plan. Turning to the door you picked up his clothes, your hands shaking a little before you walked out. Following Felix's plan, you ran down the stairs and out into the yard where he was waiting with his car.

"Quick, get in." He urged but you were frozen in place as you heard Yoongi yelling for you to come back. Your heart pleaded with you to stay and hear out what Yoongi was going to say but your brain was screaming at you to run.

"Yn! Get in the car!" Felix screamed at you, looking at you as you froze in place, your mouth opening to speak but it was like nothing would come out. Leaving you standing there like a fool.

"Yn! Wait! Please!" Yoongi pleaded as he reached the front porch of the house, you turned your body to look at him, and a stuffed bear was the only thing covering his decency. People around him laughed and cackled, taking photos and videos of him as you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

You were no better than he was, you were stooping to his level.

"I know you know...well, now I do," Yoongi said as he walked closer to you. His hands clutched the bear to his cock so no one could see him completely naked.

"Yoongi-" You breathed out, guilt weighing down on you as you realised how bad this must have felt for him but he shook his head at you,

"I deserve this, a lot worse actually for what I did to you...I deserve to be shamed like this." He laughed nervously as you looked at him, tears in your eyes as you sniffled a little, fresh tears running down your cheeks as he sighed.

"I was trying to tell you upstairs. I-" He stopped as he turned to see Jungkook and Jimin watching him, smirking at their friend who was naked in front of the girl he had fallen for. Noticing all the cameras on him he turned to look at them, if he was going to make this apology right he was going to make sure every single person heard him properly.

"Hey everyone, erm...I guess you can all see me," He laughs softly, ever the charmer but it wasn't about charming them tonight. It was about being honest with you. Slowly he looked back at you,

"You're probably all wondering why I'm standing here naked with a bear hiding my cock," He kept his eyes on you, a small smile on his face as he looked at you. He'd never admit it to anyone but you but he was proud you'd taken this stand for yourself,

"But it's because I broke the heart of the girl I love the most," Your heart rattled against your chest as the music from the party faded away and you focused on Yonogi.

"It was a stupid bet. I was wrong and I never should have agreed to it but- I don't even have an excuse for it. But after spending time with you...realising that I was enjoying it and...actually falling for you. I realised something," He moved so he was standing in front of you,

"You are so much more than I ever imagined: smart, funny, and incredibly kind. Every moment we spent together made me see just how amazing you are." One hand reached out to run his hand over your cheek, wiping away the tear that had rolled down.

"I know saying this doesn’t erase what happened, but I need you to know it wasn’t just a game to me. Tonight, I was trying to tell you the truth. I've been torturing myself trying to come up with a way to tell you which didn't...end up in us...breaking up but Yn. I fucking love you." He said with so much conviction you could practically feel the love from his words.

"I don't deserve your trust but I'm begging you, to believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you. I care about you...and I'll do anything I can to make things right." He whispers as you look at him, your breath catching in your throat,

"Yoongi-" You were cut off as he moved closer, the bear dropping and revealing every single glorious inch to his friends and people around you,

"Yoongi!" You screamed covering him with his clothes but he didn't care. Yoongi would let them see if it meant you would take him back or at least try and give him a chance at earning your trust.

"Let them see, I'm not moving until you either tell me to get fucked or forgive me...O-Or at least give me a chance to earn your forgiveness." You look him in the eyes, trying to decide if he was being truthful or not. You couldn't see any lies in his eyes and you bit your lip,

"One shot. You get...O-one shot." You tell him sternly,

"Now put your boxers on and get in Lix's car," You giggle a little as he smirks at you, quickly kissing your cheek as he slides into his boxers and into the car with you and Felix.

"You break her heart and I'll do much worse than let everyone see you naked," Felix warns him as he looks in the mirror at the two of you.

"Not the best wedding speech but it's the truth, the way I met the love of my life and how I got to keep her," Yoongi said as he spoke into the microphone, addressing everyone in the room at your wedding reception as you groaned and shook your head.

"You could have left out the part where you were completely naked," You giggled at him but he smirked,

"But how else would everyone see these." As he finished speaking the screens in the reception lit up with the video of Yoongi standing there naked and pleading for you to forgive him.

"Yoongi!" You squeal running to try and turn them off as he smirks, bringing you into his arms and kissing you deeply.

"I love you, wife," He chuckles before you smoosh some of the cake into his mouth and shake your head at him.

"I love you too, husband,"

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

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

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @tea-earl-grey-thot

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part two

part two.

word count: 10.8k

Warnings: wee bit angsty (an argument), mentions of sex + pregnancy

The repercussions of Lewis' birthday night are not as sweet.

You don't remember anything after your life-changing orgasm. You vaguely recall Lewis standing bare and walking into the bathroom. Your eyes were low and droopy, and you could only offer him a loving smile that had his cheeks burning. 

"M'gonna clean you up for a second, okay."

You only hum, allowing him to spread you open; this time, it's not sexual at all; it's romantic. Oh god, you thought. You should've known the sex with Lewis would make you go mad. 

He swipes the warm cloth between your legs, wiping the glistening remainder of your arousal away.

The sight of his cum oozing from your hole has him taking a harsh gulp. He'd have to remind you to take whatever precautions you found necessary in the morning. 

If you weren't so burned out and exhausted, the sight of him walking around in the nude with his golden and tatted-on skin display would've had you jumping his bones again.

You can't help but laugh at yourself as he returns from cleaning himself up. 

"What you laughing about?" He grins, hovering over you. You smile, looking at him like he's hung the moon and the stars. "Myself."

The two of you look like two love-sick high schoolers, completely enamored with each other. 

Lewis lowers and captures your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. One peck after the other before his weight is on top of you. He rolls off of you with a groan, turning you so that you're face to-face with him on your side. 

His hand falls to your bare waist, pulling you against him.

"We need t'sleep."

He sits up, chuckling as you whine from losing his body heat. With one arm, he gently hoists your legs up enough to pull the comforter from underneath your body. He is back in his place instantly, the cover now offering another layer of warmth.

You're trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and stay in this moment because you'll probably never get to experience Lewis like this again, this loving and intimate. 

"Going to be right here in the morning; go to sleep, bunny."

Like he had a spell over you, your eyes close for the final time, and you feel his palm cup your face.

Lewis can't help but watch you fall into slumber. His finger prods against your face, tracing your mouth, eyebrows, and nose. He could already remember every detail of your face. If he were a blind man, he thinks he'd have no problem telling you apart from the rest of the world. 

He didn't think it was possible to love you more than he already does, but feeling the way his heart reacts wildly to you laying flush against him naked and comfortable has him ready to read his (prewritten) vows to you in the morning.

He doesn't want to sleep; he wants to stay here and take it all in. He's probably moving too fast, but he can't wait to tell your friends, your guys' family, hell, even the world, that you love him.

Hearing those words from you detonated the lengthiest, most robust orgasm from him that he'd ever experienced. He'd never come so much, so hard in his life. 

Hearing you say you love him in your angelic whimpers, tears falling out the corner of your eyes, holding onto him so tight, fuck, he's hard again just thinking about it.

"I love you," he whispers into the night, kissing your forehead before turning off the lights.

-

You awake first in the morning, dazed and confused. You feel a heavy mass weighing you down. You squint, open your eyes, and you see him. Lewis, your best friend, face nuzzled in your neck, his arm thrown over your waist, holding you tight as if you were going to float away from him in your sleep.

"Oh fuck," you groan lowly as last night's events seep back into you like scenes from a movie.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You gently reach for his arm, carefully lifting it off your body. You pull a pillow from your side, pushing it under his neck as you slide away and gently drop his arm.

You were unsure of how to go about this whole situation. Would he remember it when he woke up? The passionate sex? The beautiful night? You two were off-your-face drunk. Would he laugh at the words you shared? Brush it off. You wouldn't blame him, it'd hurt for you to hear, but logically, it'd make sense; he was in a sex stupor, drunk and horny, and that'd lead to all kinds of words coming out in a daze.

There's no telling how long you stood there like a deer caught in headlights before you began pulling his shirt over your frame. You crept into his closet, thanking God for the array of shoes and clothing of your own filling his space. You tugged on a pair of Nike crew socks and a pair of boyshorts, reaching for the pair of black Ugg Tasmans Lewis had gotten. 

You stood in his walk-in closet, staring at yourself in the full mirror, and sighed.

What the fuck were you supposed to do? You were sure you crossed the line this time and abandoned boundaries that were needed in order to keep your feelings at bay. You knew you couldn't keep putting yourself through the same demise. 

You didn't know how you would handle the situation when it approached, but in the meantime, you knew you needed to get away from Lewis. You needed to leave his home and be far away from him before you did or said something to ruin your guys' friendship for good.

You creep from the closet quickly, not sparing a glance at the man on the bed; as you grip the handle to his bedroom door, he speaks up from behind you.

He is sat up, back against his headboard, watching you try to leave, "Just going to leave?"

You turn to him awkwardly, hand dropping from the handle, "I-uh, didn't know what you'd want, wasn't sure how to go about-"

"You're not a fucking booty call, Y/n," he says it like you're the most ridiculous person alive like he can't fathom the words coming from your mouth; because he can't.

"Just going to leave me after fucking me? Without a word, while I'm still asleep, that was your plan?"

Your mouth plops open and closed like a fish, searching for the words you stammer out incoherent excuses. Lord, he's got such a dirty mouth.

"Get back in the bed." He cuts you off. 

Like a dog to a bone, you stride over to the bed, kicking off your slippers, and you're beside him again.

You're staring at the door, and he is staring at you. The covers hang low over his body, only just covering what had you going crazy last night.

You clear your throat, waiting for him to put you out of your misery. Get it over with, you thought to yourself as you braced for impact.

"Last night was fun," He hummed.

You let out a stifled laugh, finally turning to look at him. His face was still covered in morning haze, and his voice was extra raspy and groggy. He smiles as you, eyes low and droopy.

"I want to address what we-"

You thought you'd be able to take it. You aren't that fucking strong.

"Yeah, no, it's fine." you laugh awkwardly. "I understand. I feel the same way." You don't, but you continue anyway. "We were drunk and in a mad sex stupor, I'm not holding it against you."

"I don't-"

"It was a mistake," you rambled on.

Lewis' mouth plops shut, and he can't tell if his mouth has been dry from his sleep or if the words you're speaking to him have done it.

"You didn't want it?" He question abruptly, putting an end to your nervous break.

"I mean, of course, I wanted it; I initiated it. I was just drunk and turned on; no need to make it a big deal is what I'm saying; we're both off the hook."

Lewis stands from the bed, his bare body on full display. He wants to tell you to shut up and stop downplaying the night he spent with you. He wants you to say to him that you're lying, but you don't, and it's making him angrier as the second goes on.

There are so many sentences he wants to respond to, but he can only grapple with one at a time. You're talking too much, and he's talking too little.

"I was just going to make it easier for you. Usually, you prefer if girls leave, right? That's what you said."

He has said that, but why the fuck would he be talking about you. Why the fuck would other girls include you.

He looks like a wild man, and you look like his blubbering bunny. 

"Why do you say shit like that?" He shouts. 

His loud tone takes you aback, and your head cranes to watch him incredulously. "What are you talking about?" You fire back.

"You say stupid shit like that all of the time like I'm some kind of fucking manwhore."

You scoff, standing up from the mattress as well. At this point, you are glaring at each other from across the bed.

"You think I don't get enough of it, huh? Do you think I don't get sick of hearing you guys laugh at me? I can't help-"

"I'm not picking at you, Lew, I didn't-"

"But you look at me like that. That's how you feel?" 

He wants to know if that is the reason his words went in one ear and out the other. 

"Oh please, I've always told you how I feel. If I viewed you as some slut I would've said it." You wave your hand; this had to have been the stupidest argument ever, Lew knew your character, and he knew how much you admired him and his; he'd have to be a fool to think that you'd ever demean him.

"It's not about what you say! It's what you do!"

"Exactly!" you holler back. "I don't fucking laugh at you, Lew! I don't fucking kiki with the rest of the friends when they point out your new fucking flavor of the month! I defend you. You can't control it. You can't help it! You said it yourself it's in your fucking blood to fuck everything with two legs. Like having an itch, you can't scratch. I don't fucking judge you. It's just who you are." You snap. And you hate getting mad because it makes you go on and on.

"Don't even know my character enough to believe I would say some shit about you; supposed to be my best friend, and you can't even properly gauge who I am." It comes out as an angry sneer, and you're right back to slipping on your shoes. 

Lewis pulls on a pair of sweats, clamoring over to you; his hand grasps your wrist before you harshly pull it away.

"Last night," he shouts, "I'm not defiling your character; you said it last night."

"Lew, last night." you laugh, you genuinely cackle. "This is because I joked that you ran rabid after leaving Nicole? You did! I was there with you, do you not fucking remember, every night someone new! Just because you slowed down doesn't mean it ever stopped."

"You called me a fucking slut, y/n! Like a fucking bitch, I wouldn't date you, Lew; you're a manwhore." He mocks.

"You called yourself that; I said if the condom fits! You're upset because I said you made it easy for me not to want to be with you? If your ego is bruised, just say that!"

And you're missing the point he is bruised yes, but because he wants you to want him and you don't. Lewis is mad that you don't want to be with him. He is hurt and bothered by the fact that you can brush off the night you spent together like it's nothing.

And you're right; Lewis knows you're right, and he's just trying to find any reason to be mad at you. Of course, you wouldn't return his feelings; when you had them, he gave his affection to other women.

But hearing the person he loves call him out for it doesn't hurt any less. He feels like an idiot now, starting an argument over a situation that wasn't even relevant. He should be telling you he loves you, but now he's gotten you fired up and knows you're hard to diffuse.

You mutter curse words under your breath, frustrated, as your shaking hands keep you from slipping on your shoes. You were never a good angry person, so you'd rather avoid conflict completely. But when your frustrations began ticking inside of you, it was only a matter of time before you finally blew.

"All of this because I answered a fucking question you asked me last night, drunk ass motherfucker! I should've never fucking told you; look where the fuck that's got us, arguing over a relationship that never even happened that we're not even fucking in, so fucking stupid! The fuck do I look like trying to keep a man who doesn't wanna be kept? I'm supposed to wait around and pine after you? No fucking way, I've had my fair share of men like you." You're not saying these words directly to Lewis; he can hear them as you get increasingly frustrated. "Fucking idiot. Calling me out my name because your feelings are hurt; if it was such a fucking issue, you would've addressed it last night. Really you should have fucking addressed everyone else."

Finally, you spin around when the slipper is on, not expecting him to be so close. You jab a finger in his chest, looking up at him. "Yeah, you've pissed me off; this is not because you think I called you a manwhore. You know you sleep around. We all know it; I never said it was a bad thing. What are you really mad at, huh, Lewis? Say it!"

He says nothing, but his brain screams the words over and over: I love you.

You let out a bitter laugh, and you're relatively calm for how fired up you had been seconds ago. "Your anger is misdirected, and I'm not going to take it. So when you figure out what's got you so pissy, talk to me because I'm not here for you to yell at."

You're leaving his room in an instant. He can hear your footfall declining down his stairs and the way you snatch your keys from the hook. You don't slam his door, but from his window, he watches as you angrily march to your car, slamming your door and reversing from his driveway way too fast. It has his heart dropping as you nearly ram into another car.

He sighs as you pull down the street and disappear from his sight. "Fuck!" He roars, his fist shooting into his wall. He lets out a deep breath, his hand coming to rub over his face. Fuck.

He feels choked up and tingly as his eyes water. The two of you had never fought this bad, which says a lot, especially for how long you've been friends. He's never called you out of your name, and today he called you a bitch. You were far from a bitch, you were his sweet bunny. 

You just wanted to make sure he was comfortable and that you stayed within the bounds. How were you to know that he didn't want you to leave? 

You're a mess as you drive home, tears streaming down your face. Surprised you even made it there safely. 

When you're home and starting your shower, you see all of the evidence Lewis left behind on your skin, and it breaks you down into a fit of tears. You wish you had never crossed the lines because you were sure the two of you wouldn't return from this. 

-

Lewis has yet to contact you. It's been two weeks since that day. You tried to go about life as normal, but it was hard when you had spent every waking day talking to Lewis. You hadn't seen Roscoe since Lewis' birthday either, and that tore an entirely new part of your heart. Roscoe was like your child; he was with you when Lewis had to be on the road, so essentially, you spent an abundance of time with your four-legged friend. 

You could reach out to him, but you'd be dammed if you put your pride to the side to alleviate your best friend's superiority complex.

He yelled at you, calling you out of your name first. Call it childish, but it wasn't your job to apologize first. Of course, you planned on apologizing for your own actions, for calling him an idiot, because you truly regretted it, and it has been hanging heavy over your head ever since then. But he had to give in first.

You haven't gone out with your friends as a group since then either, opting to go on your regular outing with one or two of them at a time. You've seen in Miles' story that Lewis has been out with them many times. You try not to cry as you see Lewis in the background of a video chatting up another girl in Daniel's close friends. After the initial gloom, you felt infuriated.

Here you were giving him grace, withholding time with your friends so as not to make him uncomfortable and to give him time to come to his own senses and the whole time, he's out committing the same crime that made him blow up at you. Here you were suffering because after all of these years, he still didn't show you the same grace he shows others when it comes to communicating. Why does he shut down when it comes to you but is so vocal and mature with his feelings to other people. Two things were obvious, you weren't kids anymore, and he wasn't to be coddled by you anymore. And secondly, you were done making deluded excuses for this man. He'd take accountability when it came to you. 

-

Lewis awakes with his head pounding; he is in a random hotel, a random woman atop his chest in deep slumber. He sneaks from the bed, searching for his phone and tugging on his clothes. 

He was drunk off his ass and chatting her up because she looked like you, and in the end, when they made it back to her room, he couldn't get hard without thinking about you, and by that time, he was over it, not wanting to do anything with the woman at all. You really fucked him up.

When Lewis arrives home, he is barely sober. He pours food into Roscoe's bowl, rubbing his head.

Roscoe has been feeling the impact of your departure, too. Could Lewis even say you left him? He sighs as Roscoe whines, nudging your walking shoes left by the front door. "I know, boy. I miss her too."

Lewis didn't know why he couldn't just call you and tell you he was sorry. You left the ball in his court, so obviously, you were open to having a mature conversation with him. But as the days went on and he still hadn't called, he began to realize that perhaps he had waited too long, and it was doing more damage than good. 

He stumbles up to his room, stripping from his clothes and plopping onto his bead, Roscoe is up and beside him in an instant, snuggling into his side. Like routine, his hand reaches over to his nightstand, rustling through the stack of papers until he finds one of the many letters you'd gifted him for his birthday.

Lewis always kept your letters, especially when he was far away and traveling; nothing made him happier as a kid than his dad arriving with handwritten messages for him when you couldn't make it to his races. Your birthday gift, though, was a collection of unsent letters you'd had for years, dating back to as early as high school. He reread them all, scanning every word like they were the bible. He never told you this, but he kept them in a folder that traveled everywhere with him when he had to be gone for longer periods of time.

The letter he rereads now has been attached to him since the day you left, which was from your second year in high school. 

Hello Lewis,

I won't be able to make it to your race next week. Get this, I'm on punishment at sixteen years old! You're always getting me in trouble, and you're not even here :( Do you remember Henry Glasgow? Let's just say he's finally gotten what he deserved. No matter what anyone says, your work is paying off, and you're doing great! I saw you on the TV the other day, and boy, did you look great out there. Mum recorded it for me, so I rewatch it so many times a day like a weirdo. I miss you tons, Lew, but I'm so very happy that you were able to get out of this forsaken city. Don't worry; I'm still defending your honor while you're away; let Henry's nose be proof of that. I've made a friend since you've gone away, her name's Whitney but I call her whit whit just like you're my lewlew; I can't wait for you to meet her. She's very bold and different from what we're used to, but she's a sweetheart. I love her to pieces, but I love you wholly, so she's not really doing much to heal how much I miss you, Lew. This is the longest we've been away from each other, and although we talk on the telly every day, I would like to be with you again. But nevertheless, I am so very proud of you, and I support you full send. I know you can be the greatest you already are if you ask me. But I can't wait until the world knows your name. Just promise you won't leave me behind when it does, yeah? Keep moving fast; Pops likes to brag about you everywhere we go, and I love to hear anyone hype you up like you deserve; plus, I bet twenty bucks on you to win next week, and my allowance is already gone, so make me some money. I can only give you the same words of encouragement you've heard a million times, I am truly my father's daughter. You're a cheetah, Lew: move silently and let your actions do the talking. Make quick decisions, but move even quicker. I know it's hard, but don't ever let what they say get to you; you've got a greater mission to accomplish. There are people out there who admire you and have faith in you. Let me be proof of that. Always remember that what you can't say, I will. 

Love you more than you'll ever know, Lew.

p.s tell Nico that unless he wants me to go broke, he needs to push it a little harder. 

From Bunny. <3

-

One day of no contact became a week, and a week became a month; soon, he was in the Middle East racing in the first grand prix of the season two months later, and he still hadn't heard from you. He was racing terribly, and he couldn't even blame it on the car. On the track, he wasn't focused; he could only think about you. And that had put him into the wall (literally) more times than he could count. He had let the best person in the world slip from his grasp, and his mind couldn't grasp that.

His friends knew something was up between the two of you and for the first time ever they decided not to meddle, and he appreciated it just as he was sure you did too. That didn't mean that he didn't ask about you.

Every call home to his mum he asks about you. He sits on the phone with your dad listening to updates on your life. They never question anything between you and him so he assumes you haven't disclosed your argument to anyone. But they know, they always know.

He could tell you were taking every step in order to ensure that you wouldn't run into him. When your family came out to see him you were miracously always busy with work. When your friends invited you out you were never feeling well. 

He felt bad that you felt you had to sacrifice your enjoyment just to not be around him.

He revels in the glimpses he gets of you on your friends story, chuckles at the constant pictures Daniel posts of you that you obviously wouldn't have agreed to. He knows you probably threatened to kill him everytime. He likes every picture. 

He nearly cries as he watches you from a fan account, bouncing Nicholas up and down as he places on podium in one of his own races. 

Your dad's birthday was next week, and he knew you weren't going to miss it. He also knew he wasn't going to skip out on your father, so he mentally prepared himself to be a man and get his shit together. There was no way you could avoid him when you were stuck with him for a week. 

*

You, Miles, and Nicholas had been out and about all day exploring the town before you finally decided to head back to the villa. When you three initially left, everyone else was bunkering down for a post-flight nap.

When you opened the door, you froze in your tracks as you saw Lewis hugging your dad in greeting. You don't know why you figured he wouldn't show, but when he wasn't on the flight with the rest of you guys, it had your hopes high. 

Everyone's head swivels toward the front door as you emerge, he makes eye contact with you and even goes as far to offer you a smile. You don't return it. Nicholas rushes pass you to hug his brother jostling the many bags in your arm as he passes by. 

Lewis hugs him, but his eyes once again fleet back to you.

You suck your teeth, looking away from him and waltzing up the stairs and towards the back of the house where you had claimed your room.

You hardly had the time or the energy to worry about Lewis. You were tired, and the Brazilian heat had you going through it. You kick your bedroom door closed and drop your bags onto your bed. 

All you had to do was get through a week of being in his presence. You had your friends and family here with you. It wouldn't be too hard to stay away from him. You shower and then get dressed right in time for dinner. 

The sun was still out by the time you descended the stairs; everyone had been lounging around in the living room waiting for you to finish.

Lewis feels like a starved bear as the dress sways against your thighs. Like always, you look beautiful.

"And the princess has arrived!" Your cousin shouts, "Girl, hurry your ass up, we've been waiting on you. I'm hungry." The room erupts in laughter as you pause on the stairs and shoot her the middle finger.

"Doesn't the princess deserve a grand entrance?"

Your head immediately turns to Lewis as if you can feel his stare on you. He sits, legs spread open, hands folded in his lap, and looks at you like he had had the night of his birthday. Like he wants to devour you. 

You shake the memory from your head as everyone heads out of the door and piles into the three sprinters out front. 

"Aw, twins!" Whit coos, pointing between you and Lewis, "So in sync."

You let out the fakest laugh he's ever heard, wiping the smile clean from his face, "Ah ha ha, let's go."

When it's your time to pass through the door, you feel a presence behind you, and you know it's Lewis as his signature cologne wafts through your nostrils. As you descend down the front steps, you feel his hand come up to rest against your lower back.

A part of you wants to tell him to back up and that you don't need his assistance, but the soft spot you'll always have for him has you accepting his graces. 

You freeze, watching as two of the three vehicles pull off, fuck. 

So much for being able to avoid him.

You can still feel him hot on your trail as you waddle to the last sprinter. You're helped up by the driver, offering him a sweet smile. Ironically enough, the last two seats are side by side in the back row.

You groan internally, slipping into the seat by the window. Lewis follows after you, slipping between you and Miles.

"So what? This is the kid's bus?" You joke, leaning over the seat in front of you to tug on your cousin's braids. "Be happy it is." She grins, pulling a bottle of Clase Azul from the floor. Everyone erupts into cheers as she passes the bottle around. She hands it to you first, but you quickly pass it on to Lewis. You hadn't drunk alcohol since that night, and when you tried, the smell of it physically made you sick. You were convinced that the stress of that night had made your brain repel your favorite pastime. 

"Girl." Whitney gasped, "You're not drinking?"

"Hell no, I gag just thinking about that shit."

It's been so long since Lewis last heard your voice and seen you so carefree he wants to shout out his praises as you start a conversation within the van.

Your leg is flush against his, your thigh rubbing against his own with every jostle you take down the bumpy roads. 

You don't speak to Lewis throughout the entire ride. When he speaks, you tune into your phone or manage another conversation with those around you. Though it does bring you an unwanted sense of comfort to hear his childlike giggles again. You'd missed them just as much as you missed him.

This time, when the doors open, they are opened on your side, and you cheerfully hop out, wrapping your arms around your girls and skidding to the dock where you can see a great portion of your family and friends already loaded onto the yacht. 

You loved celebrating; it was no secret you were the life of the party anywhere you went, which is why you were always so grand when it came to spending time with the people you loved. Life is beautiful, as your father would say; you might as well live like it. 

Lewis and the guys exit behind you all, he watches you scamper off with that stunning smile on your face waving to the family members and friends you hadn't saw yet. 

An hour goes on of everyone mixing and mingling; your family is technically Lewis' as well, so it's no surprise when he is pulled into hugs and smooches left and right. It makes it easy to avoid him every time you sense him getting closer. You see him catching up with your grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. 

He is close to your entire family, which made it even more annoying for you to be asked about Lewis in damn near every conversation. You were never nasty about it because, after all, you two shared the same relationships, so you simply smiled and directed your family toward him with every inquiry. You didn't expect his relationship with your family to end just because you two weren't...you two?

And then another wave of questioning is aiding in your irritated mood, we're the two of you even best friends anymore. Best friends don't go months without speaking to each other. 

Lewis can't help but watch your every move. It's obvious to everyone that there is a lingering tension between you two. There has never been a moment where the two of you weren't connected at the hip. So, the safe distance you're keeping between the two of you is making questions arise. He is standing off to the side, his mind running; he's never once felt like an outsider in your life more than now. His feelings were hurt because, for the first time, he was getting updates about you from others rather than being the one dishing the facts out. He's used to knowing everything when it comes to you, and now it feels like he's chapters behind in a book everyone else is close to finishing.

"I know my daughter." Your dad speaks up from behind Lewis as he watches him watch you. Lewis turns his head, catching sight of your father before walking and leaning his back onto the railing beside him. "And I know you just as well; why are you two acting like divorcée?"

"What's happened, my boy?"

Lewis shakes his head, eyes downcast to the glass in his hand. He couldn't tell your father that he'd spent the night of his birthday making love to you and having the most romantic twilight he'd ever experienced. He couldn't tell him that he spewed out his true feelings in the midst of it and fucked shit up the next morning.

"We haven't talked in months," Lewis admits.

Your dad leans away from Lewis, eyes set in disbelief. "Months?" 

Lewis only nods, looking straight ahead at you. You're standing with his father infront of a group, his arm thrown over your shoulder, yours wrapped around his waist, his father is obviously a wee bit tipsy as he laughs boisterously, you're supporting his frame throwing in side comments to whatever story his father was telling.

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why are you not?" He inquires like it's all so simple.

"Because it's your daughter," he scoffs. "And when she's mad, she's mad. It's not that easy."

You father laughs, "She is her mother's daughter." He corrects. "You know her, eventually she always puts her pride to the side. She's waiting for you to talk to her first. Have you tried."

"No, sir."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has a sheepish smile skittering onto Lewis' face. 

"You're too old to still be scared of my baby. My best advice is this: you lot know each other better than anyone in the world and love each other more than anyone in the world. If you think she's willing to give that up and vice versa, you're both idiots."

Lewis nods. They stand in contemplative silence as the older man's hand comes up to clap against his shoulder, where he holds onto Lewis as they sip from their glasses. 

"You know," Lewis lights up, "that's where she gets that shit from; she called me an idiot when we argued."

"And were you being an idiot?" He queries.

"Well, Yes, sir."

"Okay then." He walks away not sparing so much as another word to Lewis and he is once again left alone.

You were relieved when dinner started, only to approach the table and see name cards posted in front of every seat. Just your luck. Right next to your seat, the postcard next to you reads Sir Lewis. 

This time, you physically couldn't control your reaction as you threw your hands on your hips, your eyes searching for someone to switch with. Just as you reached over to swap Lewis' and Anthony's place cards, the group approached, and everyone stared at you with inquisitive eyes as you slowly dropped them back into place.

You smiled, sliding into your designated seat, eyes straight ahead as your father and Lewis slipped into their own.

Lewis side-eyes you as he sees that it was his name you tried to swap. You were always so petty. 

You feel his stare on you and give him your back to face as you focus on your father who stands tapping his wine glass with a knife.

Like always your father begins to give a speech. You loved listening to him speak, even if he was lecturing you, he always managed to engrain some life lesson into your memory. 

"Welcome, family and friends. I want to first start off by saying I appreciate you all for coming; if you're here today, you're either family or a friend, so in the end, that makes you all family. No matter when or how I met you, you have touched a special place in my heart, and you've made this life of mine beautiful. We've all become connected somewhere along the line, and now, hopefully, we're stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. As each year goes on and I grow older with it, I am reminded of just how meaningful it is to carry relationships on with you from one year to the next. We've done that." He laughs.

"Most of us have been in each other's lives since the beginning, Anthony has been my best friend since we were nine." He chuckled tilting his glass at Lewis' dad. Anthony raises his own right back at him. 

"We've done everything together, damn near walked through each part of our lives together. He had a son, and months later, I had my daughter. Bam!" he laughs, and the table laughs with him. You smile at the mention of your father and his best friend; they were truly a pair like no other.

"Our friendship continues on through our children; we pass on our camaraderie; through our kids, we get more kids." He motions around to your friends. "And our family is even bigger. I've got my family, I've got my wife's family, Anthony's family, our children's family, and we're all now family. We've got each other for life! We're proof of that; we stick together and treat each other right, and if we don't, we always find our way back together again and start over because that's what a family does. Every year, you guys show up for me, and I show up for you. And I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than with you. Life is beautiful and even more beautiful when you're spending it with the right people. So I thank you for being the right people."

There are no dry eyes after his speech. You reach over to hug him when he sits, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I love you, Dad."

Chatter emerges as everyone marvels at your dad's words. To your left, Lewis is quite emotional. His dad's arm comes up to pull his son into his side, and for the first time today, you watch him with no shame. He looks like a kid again in his dad's arms as he gets emotional, and your heart breaks.

It's not in your character to be mean to Lewis. You know this, which is why you haven't even bothered being a bitch to him, even though a part of you desperately craves to hurt his feelings like yours has been for the last two months. You pull your phone from your purse, and before you unlock it, his reflection glares at you from your blank screen. He isn't facing you but staring blankly ahead, and your resolve crumbles slightly.

He looks like little Lew, face set in a frown and tuned out to the world around him. You think back to all of the times he'd get into his own head, bothered about why the other kids didn't talk to him and why they were nasty to him when they did. How many times he's nestled into you the same way when he felt his heart take a hit.

He's always been a softie. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, it was one of the things you admired about him so much. His ability to let people see him fully. You were never good at that. If you were, you could gaurantee that you and Lewis wouldn't even be in this situation to begin with.

You are sure that you can hear your heart beating rapidly as you reach down and grasp onto his hand. You pretend to scroll mindlessly through your phone when you hear his breath hitch. Lewis struggles to keep his resolve as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He could cry again right now. 

Your dad was right; he'd always been right. You think back to the times when you were younger when you would tell him why you and Lewis were sitting so far apart. 

"Baby," he would lift your head with a gentle smile, "You know how many times Anthony got on my damn nerves or we had a quarrel, even with your mother. Just have to talk it out, right? That's the kind of friendship you don't let slip away, no matter what. And if he's mad at you, you fight for him. If you're mad at him, you fight for him. Don't ever let something ruin it when you could fix it before it gets bad."

When the food comes out, your stomach flips, sushi lines the table, and your insides feel like they're being shaken. You snatch your hand from Lewis' and toss it over your mouth as the fish is placed in front of you. 

"Baby, you love sushi." Your dad says, pushing your plate away from you.

"I don't know what-" You don't finish your sentence rushing away from the table in a put together manner, you hurry to the other side of the boat where you make it just in time to empty your stomach. Nothing comes out as you dry heave over the water. A hand comes to rub at your back and your hair is being held back.

"Hey, you okay?" It's Lewis and his tone is full of concern as his hand constanly moves in caring circles. 

You jump away from his comforting hands, throwing a glare in his direction. 

"What do you want?" you hiss, preparing to step down from the altitude of the railing. 

He holds out his hand ready to help you down and you almost reach for it before huffing and turning baack around folding your arms over the railing. If the sushi wasn't going to have you throwing up Lewis prescence surly would. You felt overwhelmed as he speaks up from behind you.

"Wow."

"Wow, what, Lewis?"

"So I'm Lewis now?" 

"Is that not your name?" You snap back.

You feel his body heat behind you, this time closer.

"Not to you, you know that though."

"Nicknames are for friends." 

"Shut up." He smacks his teeth.

"No!" you argue, turning around your chest bumps into his, "You shut up!"

 you both childishly bicker back and forth.

“What are you being mean to me for, huh? Don't say that."

"I've got a right to be mean to you."

"I don't got time for your nasty ass attitude right now." He says.

"Good. The fuck." you ramble, turning around, "nobody asked you to follow me."

"I followed you because you're still my best friend, stubborn ass."

"Couldn't tell." You rebutted.

"See, I'm trying to talk to you, y/n. Why say something like that? Stop acting like-." He groans.

"Like what, like a bitch?" You look at him over your shoulder, watching his face drop. "That's what I thought."

"I wasn't about to call you a bitch." 

Yeah, again, you think. 

You stand in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the water sloshing against the boat.

"Your dad has a knick for speeches." He announces, "Always targeting us, huh?"

"That's my dad for you."

"I-, you're still my best friend, that will never change. No matter how long we go without talking to each other."

"I know." It comes out as a sigh and you let out a groan, dropping your head into your folded arms.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask, "I waited for you to call."

"I was scared, I knew I fucked up, and I think us having sex created a weird dynamic with it. I kinda felt like a booty call or something, I don't know; you trying to leave triggered something in me, made me feel like it wasn't..."

He lets out a sigh, and you know he has that hard thinking face on. "meaningful what we did together." He finally concludes.

"I thought that's what you would've wanted, I'm sorry."

"For other people, yes. But not my best friend."

And there are those two words again, like two blades slicing you in half, best friend, that's all you'd ever be.

Lewis was your best friend, nothing less, nothing more. This is all it'd ever be, and that thought alone, although valid, had you knuckling at your eyes.

"You okay, bunny?"

You can't help the sad smile that appears or the way your heart flutters at the nickname; no matter the situation, you'll always be his bunny.

You slump back against his chest as you step back from the railing. "I'm fucking dying," you whine, and he laughs at your dramatics. 

"You're not dying, love." He chuckles. He stands flush behind you, one arm coming around to dangle off your shoulder, the other holding your hand at your side. "How are you going to tell me?" You huff, and it seems as if nothing ever happened between you two as he turns you around and holds you close; he throws both of his arms over your shoulder, wrapping you into his tight embrace, and your face is crammed in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

And in that moment, you both could've sworn fireworks erupt in the sky as your hearts beat against each other's chest. It feels like the missing piece in your lives from the last two months has been returned, and the machine is running excellently.

"Because I know you, what's wrong, huh? Got a tummy ache." He coos. And his soft, caring tone has your stomach doing flips.

You don't know how long you stand there in his embrace before you finally wrap your arms around his torso.

"I'm still mad at you." You declare.

"I know." 

"I still want an apology."

"I'm sorry."

You feel your nausea ease away as you sway to the beat of his heart against your chest.

This is the first moment of relief Lewis has felt in two months, his heart is not in a panicked state and his mind is even better off. 

"I'm sorry for calling you an idiot. It's been bothering me since I said it." You announce, "I don't think you're an idiot. I still think you're the smartest person in the world."

Your eyes water as you apologize, and Lewis hears the sniffle you let out. You remember how much it hurt your heart to see Lewis struggle to catch on in school as a kid, the words the teachers would spit at him, and how he'd let it get to him. You never wanted to make him feel the same way.

"I don't want you to think of me like the rest of them."

Lewis grasps your shoulders, inching you away softly, "I'd never look at you that way," he declares. "I was being an idiot, I know how you meant it, bunny. I should be apologizing for what I said to you. I don't think you were being a bitch; I've never in my life thought about you that way or even remotely considered calling you out of your name. I was just mad."

His hands come up to cup your face, and his thumbs swipe away the wetness underneath your eyes. He sighs, pulling you back into him. "I don't ever wanna not talk to you again, fucked me up."

"But you never called me."

"Didn't think you wanted me to, didn't know what to do, you'd never been that mad at me before, was scared." He admitted.

"I thought you were finally done with me."

"Never that."

"Are we okay?" You examine.

"We're always going to be more than okay. It feels right with me still, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, we're back like it never happened." He assured. 

And he thinks he can stay like this forever, you in his arms as the sunsets on the boat. He can't think of anything more peaceful than watching the sky change colors and the warm hues making your skin glow in the softest way as he revels in the comfort of your warm body and beating heart.

He wants to unleash his feelings right then and there, "I love you."

"I love you more." 

You both speak honestly, wishing that the other would return the same affection. Your parents watch on from above. 

"Wouldn't know if it hit them over the head." Your mom shakes her head sipping her wine.

"So in their face." Anthony exhales, throwing his hand up, "Mhmm, mhm, mhm."

"Those are our kids, damn idiots." Your dad finishes, but unlike his counterparts, he wears a knowing smile on his face. 

-

"There are a few things we need to clarify before we move on from this." You announce before you rejoin your family and friends.

"What's that?"

"That was a one-time thing for the sake of our friendship; no more sex, no more mentioning it; it never happened."

Lewis freezes in his spot, his arm falling from your shoulder as you take another step. You, too, freeze, turning around to take him in. 

He is standing, his eyes furrowed like he's in deep thought.

That would be an easy rule for him to follow if he wasn't struggling as you speak to think about anything other than you every day and how great you felt around him. 

"What?" You question.

"I-" he coughs, "I can do that."

"Don't make it weird." You warn, eyeing him.

"Was the best sex I've ever had in my life, though." He admits with a smirk. You push him away as he tries to wrap his arm around you again. 

"Goodbye, Lewis." You laughed, walking ahead of him.

He happily stays behind you, watching the way your bottom moves in the dress, and once again, he feels the same burning desire. He could get by without mentioning it if you wanted, but he was absolutely and completely sure you ruined him for anyone else. 

Ever since he could remember, his passionate moments never ensued without you flickering through his mind at least once to jump-start him. But actually having you, God he was sure he'd never see another woman again.

As you rejoin everyone else at the front of the boat, you once again see everyone spread out, and you realize just how long you'd been marveling at Lewis' presence as you notice the appearance of the moon.

You gasp as you see a serving bowl full of mango calling your name as you pass by the treat table. You pick it up with ease, stuffing your mouth as you approach your friends who, like always, have banded together in their own little world.

You make eye contact with Whitney, who is looking at you in pure wonder. You shoot her your own look of inquisition. When you take the empty seat beside her, she is still eyeing you like you have two heads.

"Girl, what?" you whisper, your mouth full of mango.

She shakes her head at you, turning and muttering under her breath. You slap her bare thigh, "what?" you whisper shout. 

"We'll talk about it later." She declares, throwing back two shots back to back.

"Whit," you whine, "you know I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, but trust me, later is better."

You sigh, turning away from her and getting back to eating your fruit as Lewis approaches the group and takes the seat beside Mori. "Someone’s happy." Miles teases.

You look up at him, and sure enough, there is a shit-eating grin covering his face. "More than happy."

Whit is still mumbling to herself as you stare back at Lewis, when you look at her she is digging through her bag, "No, there's just now way."

-

Sure enough, as soon as you make your way back to the villa, Whitney is dragging you away from the rest of the group and into your bedroom. Lewis shoots you a questioning look as she yanks you from your seat. You can only shrug at him as you trip over your own two feet.

 She opens the door to your connecting bathroom, waving her arms for you to enter dramatically after you just stand there and stare at her.

"Ouu, girl." You warn, walking past her, "I need you to start using some words."

When you step foot into the bathroom, she pushes something into your palm.

You angle your head down, realizing that what lies in your hand is a pregnancy test. You throw it at her in shock. "Eww bitch."

"It's not used, dummy." Whit catches it.

You gasp, reaching for her hands, "Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" You whisper shout, excitement seeping through.

"No!" She shouts back in a whisper closing your bathroom door. Your hands are cupped in front of your chest like an exicited child. She turns to face you again only this time she's adorning the most serious look she's ever given you. 

"I think you are, though."

Your hands drop down to your sides, one going to your hip that pokes out as you scoff.

"Whit." It's all you say.

"Y/n. Please just take it, ease my mind."

"What even makes you think I could be pregant whit." You huff pulling the stick from her waiting hand.

She sits on the side of the bathtub as you lift your dress and plop down onto the toilet.

"You've been feeling out of it for a while; at first, I thought it was the heat, but you've been having nausea and headaches long before this trip. The smell of alcohol makes you sick, and you're a fucking alcoholic, c'mon now-"

"I am not a fucking alcoholic-"

"The sushi! You fucking love sushi. Out of everything to eat, an entire fucking serving bowl of mangoes, so many fucking mangoes, Y/n!"

As she continues, you begin to feel nerves bubble in your gut as you tinkle onto the test.

Your heart drops to your ass as you put the pieces together. 

You haven't had a period in two months, which didn't raise any alarms before; irregularity was common for you. But now that you think about it, you have been unusually sick in the mornings and around certain foods and smells. You have been craving some things more than usual, and your scale shows a tiny bit of weight gain. 

Two months ago you had sex with Lewis. With no condom, and he came inside of you. He most definitely fucked his cum back into you. The memory has you clutching your chest with a gasp that made Whit reach out to catch you just in case you toppled over.

"Oh my fucking god." you gasp, pulling the stick from beneath you and tossing it onto the sink. You wipe yourself and then stand to wash your hands.

"Oh fuck." you panic, and your hands are coming up to grasp your head.

"On the bright side, if it's positive, you're a mommy. You've always wanted to be a mom!" Whit cheers softly.

You turn to her with quickness. "Yes, Whit! When I'm fucking married and settled down, not when I fucking-"

The alarm tone from Whit's phone has you shutting up mid-sentence.

"I set the alarm when you peed," she whispered meekly.

She motions for you to pick up the test, and you wanna tell her to get out when you see the excitement covering her face. 

You reach behind you, hand tapping blindly against the counter until the stick is in your hand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose.

When you open your eyes, you see the result clear as day, which has you clutching your pearls.

"I'm going to pass out, I can't breathe."

"Let me see!" Whit all but shouts, jumping up, but you're already reaching for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" She shrieks as you swing the door open, leaving her behind.

"I need to tell Lewis."

"Oh boo," she pouts, "I understand he's your best friend and all, but at least tell me first, I'm the one who brought the test."

You turn to her with watery eyes and a look that tells her all she needs to know.

"Lewis is the baby's father?" She whisper shouts, jumping back like you've thrown cold water in her face.

"What the fuck? When did you sleep with fucking Lewis?" She ponders aloud. "Oh my god, is this why you two haven't been you two?"

"Whit," you groan. "I promise, I don't have the mental capacity to unpack all of this with you right now. There's a fucking baby growing inside of me, my best friend's baby and I don't know what to do with myself."

"Yeah," she nods sympathetically, "I'm sorry, yeah. You talk to Lewis and when you're ready I'll be here for you to lean on." She pulls you into a hig before grasping you by the shoulders. 

"Whatever you decide just remeber it's your choice, okay? You call the shots Y/n. You know I'll support you either way, and you know Lewis, he'll understand."

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm.

"Get yourself together, mama, I'm going to send him in, okay?"

You nod and rush over to your closet. You pull a pair of sweats on and then pull off your dress and toss on an oversized hoodie.

There is a knock on your door before it gently creaks open. Lewis pokes his head through with a gentle smile.

"Hey, everything okay? Whit told me to meet you in here, I didn't know if she wanted to strangle me or hug me, but she said it was urgent."

You shove the pregnancy test into the pocket of your hoodie, stepping out of the closet.

He enters the room, gently closing the door. He approaches you with his arms already open, seeing the teary expression.

"Lewis, can you actually sit down for me. I have to talk to you about something."

He's not sure what he expects to come from your mouth, but it wasn't what he heard.

"I'm pregnant. It's yours."

You surely weren't expecting him to look so relieved. "Why are you looking so-"

"Are you sure?"

You scoff, crossing your arms, "Yes, I'm sure it's yours, you dick. I don't sleep around-"

"What, no! Are you positive that you're pregnant?"

"Oh." You halt, and you pull the test from your hoodie, watching as he approaches you. He takes it from your hands, looking at it with sparkling eyes, "Wow."

"Wow?" You question, "Lewis, I'm pregnant with your child. Freak out a little."

"Why," he asks, "Are you freaking out? How do you feel?" His eyes are no longer on the test in his hands but staring intently into yours.

"Yes, I am freaking out, there is a fetus in my womb."

"Yeah, yeah." He breathes. "Whew, talk to me. What do you want?"

"I- I want to." You shake your head, pushing past him to sit on your bed. He follows after kneeling in front of you and placing the test beside you.

"I am with whatever you want, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but."

"But nothing," Lewis states. "If you want to keep our baby, you keep it. I know you've always wanted a family."

"Exactly," you sigh, "a family."

"Bunny, we're already a family. I'll be there you know I will."

"What about everyone else? What will they say?"

"I don't care about other people or what they have to say. I only care about you and what you want."

"I want to keep it, and I understand if it's not something you want. Won't hold it against you; you didn't ask for-"

"You're losing me. I'm not just going to let you raise our kid on your own. I want people to know it's my child."

"Lewis, they're going to-"

"Once again, I don't care what people think."

"Oh my god, I'm going to be prancing around all jolly and happy carrying your child, and when people ask, I'll just say, oh yeah, Lewis and I had very erotic sex, and now I'm carrying his illegitimate child."

"Don't call my child illegitimate. What the fuck?" He smacks his teeth.

"My child," you state, mushing his head back.

His hands reach up and rest on each of your thighs. "Our child."

"Still illegitimate," you sigh. "What if I find a man who'll marry me pregnant? Does that still-"

"I'm the Dad." Lewis asserts, he knows you're joking, but the idea of another man marrying you, let alone claiming his child, has him ready to kill a man who doesn't even exist. Besides, he would marry you in a heartbeat.

This is all too real for you at the moment, and you find yourself letting out another whine, "My job, I have a job, Lew."

"You and I both know that I make more money than I can spend." He assures you, his hands now rubbing up and down your legs.

He looks like an excited puppy waiting at your feet.

"Lew, that's not realistic."

"Why not?" He scoffs.

"Because what if one day you start hating me and them I'm left alone with-"

"That could never happen, bunny, that'll never happen."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I've never had a baby before."

He laughs, pulling himself up onto the bed beside you and cupping your hands in his. "We'll figure it out together. Gonna be the best parents in the world."

"Our parents are going to die." You laugh.

"Your mom probably overheard the others chatting about how we'd probably end up having a family one day." 

"My dad still thinks we're going to marry each other one day. Ew, he's going to know I had sex with you." You cringe.

"Don't say it like you didn't enjoy it." He feigns offense.

"We know who enjoyed it more, Sir."

"I'm not denying it, don't call me that." His arm reaches back and pulls one of your pillows onto his lap.

"You horny fuck." You cackle, watching the sheepish look blanket his expression.

"I can't help it; you're calling me sir; you're carrying my child. That's two kinks in one." 

"Lewis!" you shriek, whacking him with your own pillow. 

"You do realize having sex has brought a lot of sexual tension to the surface, or is that just me?" 

You could talk about things with Lewis that would make other people uncomfortable without there being any problems at all.

"It was very charged." You agree, looking back at him as he leans back, his elbows holding him up.

"Just charged? I gave you my all, Girl." He flicks your head.

"Don't hit me, I'm with child." You joke, and he lets out a genuine laugh, his head falling back. "If I'm being honest, it was the best sex I've ever had, too."

He smirked at you, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal. "Yeah, get told that a lot, so."

You snatch the pillow from his lap launching it at his face as you laugh with him, "I bet. I always thought if we were to have kids they'd be best friends like us, now we're having a kid together."

Lewis always hoped that he had kids with you, so in a way this was a dream come true, he was one step closer to having you in every way he wanted. He had an inkling now that the possibility of the two of you being together was becoming more realistic than it'd ever been. 

You were agreeing to bring a life into this world with him, and he knows he's said it a million times, but this time he was absolutely sure, there was nothing and he means nothing that could ever make his love for you fade. He'd never stop loving you, if anything this announcement has made his desires increase tenfold. 

And he could only hope it'd possibly open your eyes to your own, there was no way a person could speak to another like that if it wasn't real. There was no way you could be so open to bringing a child into this world with him if you didn't treasure him too. 

Case in point, Lewis was done waiting on the sidelines.

I luv luv luv y'all.

so here's part two!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[totheblood]

protective!spencer reid headcanons

a/n: this is a remake of one of my headcanons i did for ellie but i completely rewrote it cause yea... AI AUDIOS throughout, also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

spencer is extremely protective of you, more than anyone else in his life... he just doesn't know how to show it

he knows that the job entails danger and as much as he doesn't like it, there isn't much he can do about it

but that doesn't stop him from trying

when you partner up on cases together he always makes sure he enters first, a hand outstretched to make sure you're always covered

"it's clear, you can come on in now," he would whisper, gun still drawn. 

"spence, you don't have to do that every time."

"i know," he'd say with a small smile, "but i want to."

he tries not to coddle you. he has seen you take down unsubs twice your size(which he would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on), but sometimes his protective instincts just take over.

he'd rather put himself at risk than see you hurt. even after you're cursing him out, hands in a balled up fist banging on his kelvar vest. 

"what the fuck was that?" you'd yell, face getting hot, "i had him, and you could've gotten yourself killed,"

with an ice pack pressed to his forehead where the unsub got a punch in he closed his eyes gently, "i know, i know... i didn't even think, i just saw his hands on you and i just... look, i'm sorry for scaring you but i'm never going to be sorry for protecting you."

but when you get injured on a case, he just loses it

"what were you thinking, running in like that with no back up?" he'd scold while gently dabbing at the wound on your arm. 

"spence, I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"just... be more careful next time, okay?" he'd say softly, looking around to make sure no one was watching before pressing a gentle kiss to your forhead, “i… can’t lose you.”

or if you were partnered with someone else and you came back with even a semblance of a bruise, he'd have his eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted into a scowl as he approached you, hands gently holding your arms, his face softening when you wince at the contact

"what happened?" he'd say voice tight, looking up at morgan who was trailing in behind you, looking guilty as ever. 

as derek opened his mouth to speak, you spoke up, "it wasn't his fau-"

"i didn't see him coming," morgan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "i got him off of her the minute he was on her."

"he shouldn't have had a chance to be on her," spencer spat back angrily.

"spence, it all happened in a matter of seconds," you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you tried to sooth his nerves, "i didn't see him coming either,"

"i know," he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, "i know, but all it takes is one second and you could be..."

"i know," you pull him into a hug, his tall frame leaning down to wrap you in his arms, "but i'm here and i'm okay."

his protectiveness extends beyond the field too. 

the team would be out for drinks at o'keeffe's, you with a saltrimmed glass as you sat next to him. as you licked the edges, and drank your margarita with a satisfied grin, he would smile to himself, his smile dropping the minute a tall gruff man approached the two of you 

spencer's fingers twitch as the man puts his hand on the small of your back, taking notice in how your body tenses immediately and you laugh nervously. 

when he was in front of the team he wasn't your boyfriend spencer, he was your coworker spencer and as much as you planned on keeping it that way, spencer's patience was wearing thin each second the man's hand was on you. 

he'd cringe as you lean away from the man, mumbling some excuse like "i have a boyfriend," which made spencer's lips quirk upwards, just for a moment before he realized the man was still leaning into you, whispering, "he doesn't have to know,"

it's then that he steps in, getting up from his seat and stepping in between you and the man, flashing his badge at him with a quirked eyebrow and tight voice as he said, "i believe my colleague has made it clear she's not interested."

after a long case, one he knows hits you harder than the other's he is insisting you go to his apartment with him, his hands linking in yours the minute he's in the car and rubbing soothing circles into your palm

his voice is soft as he speaks over the radio, "everything okay, baby?"

"yeah," you would mumble, but he knows you too well and he knows that's not true. but he also knows you well enough to not bring it up again, choosing to distract you with your favorite songs on the drive or a warm bath when you get home, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he bathes you

when you're sick, he shows up with:

homemade soup (his mother's recipe), herbal teas, and your favorite books which he reads to you, despite your protests for him to stay away.

instead he'd be telling you to open up as he fed you chicken soup while speaking to you gently, "did you know that chicken soup can actually help reduce inflammation? the chicken and vegetables in chicken soup actually inhibit the migration of neutrophils which can help you breathe better."

in public, his eyes always find you. especially at work he is glancing over at you from his desk, pen in his hand tapping the desk as he looks over at you for the thirteenth time that hour. 

"she's fine, kid. she's not going to magically disappear from her desk," derek teases, as he leans on spencer's desk, looking over at where your eyes finally met his and gave him a soft smile. 

"i know. i just like seeing her smile," spencer replies, voice soft as he smiles back at you. 

[goldenstring6123]

This happen to my bestie last week ajsjsjsjsns

She came to school all moody instead of cheery and vibrant and it's not normal to see her like that– I asked what happened, at first she doesn't speaks and just shook her head. Like, 20 minutes later, she suddenly cried. I was there next to her and comfort her, (I literally get all concerned and panicked)

During break, I asked again why she is like that and she told me that her mom told her to die out of frustration (Like– girl, wth) it is all because her little sister overslept and make her late for school. And her mother also late for works.

So, can I ask how LaDS men comfort their partner when they're feeling down? 🥺🥺

Thanks ♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

Lnds: Comfort for a crying heart

Warning: Comfort. GN!Reader

Author's note: I'm sorry to hear that about your bestie, no person should ever be told that especially by their mother. I'm sending my hugs to you, your bestie and everyone who's having a hard time! You have my full love and support!

Zayne: The Patient Comforter

Zayne never sensed the shift in your personality that day. He knew there was something different with you, but he didn't think much of it, considering it was morning time. When he got home after work, he found it odd that his house was very silent. It was as if it had gone back to the days when you hadn't moved in yet. He entered your shared bedroom and found you sleeping, but it was odd, too, because the room was too dark and the air was too dry.

He changed his clothes and tucked himself into bed, but unlike his usual routine, he wrapped his hand around your waist and buried his nose in your hair. You were running hot, and simply by that alone, he knew you had been crying. He hugged you while you sobbed quietly and tried to catch your breath.

"It will be alright, honey," he would whisper to you and rub your arms. When you rolled over to him, you immediately buried your face in his chest. There was nothing to say to him at all; it was just one of those bad days when all the bad things chose to be at the forefront of your mind. Zayne stroked your hair and pulled you in closer to his chest, not minding the snot and tear marks you were making on his gray shirt.

When you let go of him and scooted back a little, he went to the kitchen and brewed you tea. He came back and handed it to you while waiting to see if you wanted to tell him how you felt. You looked so tired in his eyes, so he was very, very patient with you. You both talked to each other for a good hour or two, and Zayne listened intently, asking you how you felt.

He wiped your tears for you and lent you his shoulder when you spoke. His hand held onto yours, and his thumb brushed the back of your palm while you cried again.

Rafayel: The Comforting Joker

Rafayel is more perceptive than you thought. The moment you stepped into his house, he could see that you were in a bad mood. He stared at you, and the first thing he asked was, "Why the long face?" which was pretty odd considering that you were smiling.

You thought you were holding it in so well, but when he asked that question, everything seemed to slowly topple down in an instant. You found a way to distract yourself in his home, but Rafayel was having none of it. He looked so serious about it, and not a single hint of teasing escaped his mouth.

His frown made you frown as well. You decided to give in and tell him what was wrong, how you felt heavy when you woke up in the morning, and how things seemed to go wrong the moment you got out of bed. The moment a single tear fell down your cheek, Rafayel pulled you into a tight, long hug. He said a lot of stuff to try and cheer you up, and he did his best to make you laugh even if it made him look stupid; he didn't mind doing it for you.

Along the way, he talked about how he'd rate bomb that rude store and punch that post you walked into, and as stupid as that sounded, you managed to let out a stupid laugh. When Rafayel saw that, he was more than glad to see you slowly getting back on your feet.

Throughout the whole day, he gave in to your whims, doing things that you liked and eating the food you wanted to eat at that moment. He acted all cutesy for you because he knew you liked that about him the most, but he didn't joke with you in return. Instead, he acted all romantic and such.

Xavier: The Silent Comforter

Xavier could sense that something was off. Everything was in its place, and you were acting practically the same as every day, but he couldn't help but be instinctively close to you as if the energy he was sensing was oozing out of your body. He was quiet beside you, tending to his own entertainment, but the moment he heard a sniff, all his suspicions were confirmed.

Xavier kept his lips shut and reached an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He didn't say a word to you. You continued to sniffle and hiccup while watching the movie, but both of you knew you weren't actually paying attention to the show.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Xavier would pat your arm or your thigh to comfort you, placing a kiss every now and then. He listened intently to your rants and your concerns, nodding and asking the right questions. It was his strategy to get you to relax and let it all out naturally. Albeit he'd have a hard time trying to understand you through your sobbing, all he knew was that you needed him at that moment.

It didn't take long for you to calm down and doze off to sleep, feeling the emotional exhaustion weigh you down more than you'd like to admit. You always fell asleep on his lap because he would always comb through your hair while you spoke.

A few hours later, you would wake up next to Xavier on the bed, and on the night table was some convenience store food that he bought.

Sylus: The Kissing Comforter

Sylus didn't know you were having a bad day, even if you were going on and on about that small little thing that made you feel so infuriated. Although he was listening very, very intently, offering you some practical advice and partially suggesting that he could deal with it for you, it wasn't until you headed to the restroom that Luke and Kieran sneaked into his office after hearing the entire thing.

Sylus was confused when the twins told him that you were crying on the way to the bathroom. At that moment, Luke and Kieran thought that their boss was too…insensitive. Sylus knew the look on their faces.

When you headed back to his office after half an hour, Sylus was waiting for you by the door. He pulled you into his grasp and brushed his thumb under your puffy eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, and you burst out crying ugly like you did in the bathroom. He frowned when you told him that you were just having a bad day, but Sylus could see right through you.

Your efforts in brushing your own misery aside were futile at best.

He picked you up and carried you to the couch, and he patted your back like a baby. You went on and on again about how you felt so bad and why everything was going in the wrong direction, and this time, Sylus was quiet, shushing you and telling you, "Don't cry; everything will be better tomorrow." When you had nothing left to say, Sylus slowly began to distract you by giving you kisses in between cries, touching you, and petting you until you couldn't think of anything else for a few minutes. He nibbled on your ear and whispered sweet nothings alongside comforting words.

Author footnotes: I'm more than sure that their way of comforting the reader/you would vary depending on how you particularly act when you're having a bad day so I decided to go generic and not specify anything... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[blueywrites]

I propose: the 141's favorite way to use their free-use medic.

(18+, fem!reader medic. The original free use!medic concept post is here, posted to my retired side blog; all content moving forward will be posted on main.)

Price likes to fuck you before missions, to empty his head and get himself sharp before going into the field. Theoretically, he could just jack off to achieve the same post-nut clarity, but why would he when he can rut into your pliant, willing cunt instead? He especially likes to do it when you're set to leave on mission first thing in the morning. He'll show up at your dorm at 3 or 4am, already ready to ship out while you're still in your sleep shirt and cotton bikini briefs. Not particularly sexy, but he's gonna strip them off you right quick anyway. You think maybe he gets off on the contrast-- him in full uniform minus his vest and weapons, you pinned beneath him all bare with your soft parts made vulnerable, pretty with your nipples perked up tight from rubbing on his fatigue shirt. He typically fucks you in a mating press, beating into you hard and fast with single-minded purpose. Your moans and squeals and thrashing, grasping arms clawing at his back are secondary; for Price, it's all about letting the muscle memory take over, his head a blank slate as he focuses on only the sensations in his body: the burn in his abs, the smack of his thighs against your ass, the steadily mounting pleasure that flares brighter when he hits you just right and your pussy squeezes him like a vice. He's not specifically trying to make you cum, but once he finds his release and pulls out, straightening his clothes and patting you on the bum like a silent 'atta-girl,' he's happy you did. He'll nod approvingly like he does when you do well in one of his maintenance drills. Briefly, he'll let his blue eyes crinkle, and then the captain's back-- reminding you it's still wheels up in an hour, no matter how fucked out you are :(

Soap likes to use you as a reward for a job well done when you all return to base. He burns off his residual adrenaline by fucking you with his tongue and his fingers and his cock until he's finally out of energy, which can take hours. In the field, he motivates himself by imagining what he's gonna do to you once he gets back, working himself up until, by the time you reach exfil, he's practically chomping at the bit to get at you. On the chopper, the guys know to leave the seat beside you open for Soap cause otherwise he'll make a scene. And the whole flight, he's crowding you into the wall, plastered to you thigh to shoulder, searing you with body heat and smelling of foreign earth, gunpowder, sweat, and testosterone. Sometimes he doesn't talk, just sits there breathing hard through his nose until you hit the tarmac, at which point he springs up, curls an arm around your neck, and hauls you into the barracks, quick as your feet can carry you. And sometimes he sets little challenges for himself, such as trying to break his pr for shot accuracy. If he succeeds, he spends the flight with his head ducked close to your ear, murmuring in that rough brogue exactly what he'd been doing to you in his head as he cleared rooms and set charges. Those times, he places a heavy hand on your thigh, squeezing and kneading as he whispers to you. He'll wait a bit so that when he finally sneak his hand down between your legs, he'll find your fatigues a little damp, your pussy so drooly for him that she managed to soak through the protective fabric. It's a guarantee he'll later be gorging himself on your sweet wet cunt. He especially loves to pin you down with his thick, tanned arms, pressing hard into your pelvis to keep you from squirming away as he eats your pussy until you're crying from overstimulation :(

Gaz likes to fuck you in the downtime between missions, especially when you've been on base awhile awaiting your next assignment. There's only so many things he can do to occupy himself, after all. He always whizzes through the debrief paperwork; he runs through his new novels in a week or two max, and he refuses to read on his phone; and there's only so many times he can destroy Soap at gin rummy before it just gets old. So once he starts to feel that familiar boredom, Gaz will start his games with you. The type of attention he pays you will ripen, turning from warm to heated; he'll start shooting you those extra-sweet smiles you like extra-often, shifting his normal sarcastic humor into flirty teasing. With a word here and a subtle touch there, he'll rile you up til you're the one approaching him, asking him to please fuck you. 'Course, angel,' he'll coo. 'Other lads not treatin' you well enough, eh? Need me to give you a proper good fuck?' Early on, when you first joined the 141, he'd befriended you right away, not just because you were a pretty thing who endeared herself to everyone so quickly, but because he saw potential in the way you stared at them when you thought no one was looking. He folded you into the group, then plied you with stiff drink and those soft, soulful eyes til you eventually turned over your secret fantasies to him. Now he'll have you ride him, gasping out thank yous as he pinches your clit 'til you cum-- the first of many. And if you really let yourself go, let him see how desperate and needy and pathetic you really are for him, Gaz will reward you by finally switching on the vibration for the plug he stuck up your ass, fucking you through the new intensity til your eyes roll back :(

Ghost doesn't have specific way he likes to fuck you; rather, he'll have you anytime he needs you. Before, after, or during a mission, he'll take you whenever he starts feeling too pent up inside, pressurized like a can about to burst. He's the most abrupt of all of them; when the urge comes on, it comes on quick, and you've found yourself suddenly bent over a table with your pants pulled down more than once. Brutish as he is, Ghost isn't cruel to you. He'll at least take a moment to shove his big paw between your legs, parting your folds with a thick finger and finding your button, then petting it with brusque efficiency until you're wet enough to shove two in and stretch you so you won't break. And he always does this thing-- cause he always hits it from the back-- where he'll grab the front of your throat and pull you into a deep bend, tilting your head up until you're staring at the ceiling. But instead of the ceiling, you see Ghost, looming over you all black and bone-white except for his flat brown eyes. Those hold yours as he notches his head all blunt and fat at your rim. Intent, unrelenting, he watches you as he pushes in, wanting to see your expression the moment your pussy yields for him, the stretch burning so good it leaves you breathless. And yes, as far as Ghost is concerned, the medic is always on call. He even sought you out on leave once, crowding you into your apartment when you greeted him slack-jawed and dumbstruck at your front door. You're lucky you were home, too. Had you been out, you'd've found yourself plucked up, tossed over his shoulder, and hauled into the nearest bathroom. You vowed to take care of your boys, after all, even if that means your friends end up hearing you through the wall, screaming for Ghost like a proper slag :(

[missmeinyourbones]

we NEED "i'm just too soft for all of it." IWHT MEGUMI PLS IM BEGGING

I'M JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF IT (m. fushiguro)

a/n: me making up medical shit LMFAO, repressed and emotionally constipated megumi, deadbeat dad t*ji, slight mentions and undertones of toxic masculinity

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Since he was four years old and still growing into his long-sleeved sweaters, Megumi has learned to heal his own wounds or almost die trying.

A routine that he now knows like the back of his hand, he'd returned from his latest mission with weeping cuts and exhaustion clear beneath his eyes, making a point to stop at the medical closet before returning to his dorm. With Shoko's workday over, he makes a mental note to visit her first thing in the morning when he wakes. 

He can make it through the night, he always does. Because Megumi is a thinker. He plans until he can't and covers all bases for when they're stolen. He gets by. 

What he didn't take into account was potentially running into you, of all people. Dormitory halls barren and almost eerie, he nearly curses himself for brushing shoulders as you turn the corner on the way back to your own room. 

Your timing has always been wrong, or maybe it's right and Megumi can't differentiate between the two. 

And now he's here, on the creaky wooden floor of the medicinal closet, with you kneeling beside him and prodding at his injuries with tender wrists. 

Never one to be good with idle hands, Megumi fidgets and tries to brush at the dried blood on his shoulder. The action has both of you hissing—him in a jolt of pain and you in reaction to his hurt. 

"Don't touch it," your voice falters to be stern, still coming out so gently. Megumi thinks about the irony of that—of how you can't even be sharp if you tried. You're too gentle, too soft to even sound hard momentarily. 

Humiliated at the mere idea of doing nothing, at needing help, he shakily exhales and returns his attention to the floor. 

When the damp cotton pad in your hand touches a bit too deep in one of his cuts, Megumi does his best to save face but can't help the grunt of breath that gets sucked into his lungs. 

Immediately, he feels you retract from his skin and coo your apologies. Carefully returning your attention to the burning wound, you do your best to soothe him. 

"Sorry, it's deeper than it looks. Almost over."

Megumi's response is quick and curt, like a cut of its own, "It's fine."

You nod hesitantly before grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and another clean cotton round. The cleaning of his wounds continues in silence, though your thoughts are louder than anything. 

His injuries vary in size. Some deeper, fresher, than others. Some looking like one-hit victims and others a repeated attack. You do your best to take note of where he's sensitive, where he's hurting the most. 

When you reach a certain scratch on his bicep, you're able to catch a glimpse of his face. Sweat beading on his forehead and damp hair sticking to his skin, Megumi bites the collar of his uniform to suppress any kind of noise (weakness) from you. 

When he slips up and lets out a guttural muffled groan, you think you might audibly whimper yourself. 

"You can yell if you want to," you try to help him in any way you can, "or squeeze my hand or—"

"I'm fine," Megumi attempts to bark again, but this time is different. It's not cold or sharp like it was last time. You can hear how it shakes against the echos of the closet, how it sounds like the burn of tears building in a sore throat.

And between the pain everywhere he still has feeling and the intimacy of you carefully caressing him, Megumi finds himself tearing up. 

"Hey," he feels you whisper, attempting to caress his jaw and prompt him to look at you, "hey, you okay?"

He can't find it in himself to answer nor lift his head, so he sniffles like a kicked child and crinkles his nose in disgust at his own pathetic actions.

Megumi is tough, one of the toughest people you know. You've seen him more beat up than this and barely break a sweat. Your head feels light at the realization that something's wrong. He shouldn't be in this much pain from the familiar burning of antiseptic he's felt a dozen times over. Maybe it's from a cursed weapon, or a technique where—

A stifled sob cuts you off.  

Like a glass cracking beneath pressure, you feel something inside you break. No longer caring about cleaning his cuts or avoiding sensitive areas, you can't stop yourself from wrapping around his hunched frame. 

Megumi's breath hitches as you hold him, feels your hair tickling his neck when you rub his back and whisper.

"I'm sorry, I know, but you're doing so good, okay? And I'm almost done—"

"Don't do that," he bites. 

Assuming he's referring to prodding at a specific wound, you flinch and loosen your grip, "Do what?"

"Talk to me like that," he snarls with a crack, "in that—voice."

He feels your head remove its weight from his shoulder slowly, "Why?"

"Because I can't—" Megumi's voice almost breaks before he whines, gritting his teeth when he whimpers, "I can't handle it."

And just like that, Megumi is four years old again. He's scraping his knee on the concrete of his front lawn, and a blurry father-shaped figure with dark hair and legs far too tall tells him to be a man. Not being old enough to use the stove without supervision, but still knowing enough to save his cries for his pillow when Tsumiki is snoring and can't overthink his tears. He thinks of Gojo—of the first time he broke down in front of him and was met with whispers of good intent and love that registered in his brain as pity. Humiliation.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your fingertips on his wet cheeks, replacing the stinging of antiseptic with a fluttering and velvety touch. 

Between sniffled strings of apologies and a few hiccups of words that don't quite make sense, you piece together that Megumi isn't crying because he's in pain. He's crying because he can, because you're helping him in a way he never asked for, let alone known. 

"I've never...been allowed to, like, feel—"

"Hey," you're soft again, as if you ever weren't. "I know," fingers delicately brush his sticky eyelashes when you remind him, "but you are now."

"Are what?"

"Allowed," you whisper against his cheek, "to feel however you want when you're around me."

And Megumi doesn't know how you do it. How you remain a light in a world that's constantly doing all it can to kick you while you're down. Maybe you're just naive, so stupidly optimistic that it'll eventually be your own demise. Maybe.

But, Megumi can't find himself to care, because he knows that for as long as he's on this earth, he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to that light of yours. 

Back to reality and rubbing at his stinging eyes, Megumi softly scoffs. "Y'know, sometimes you look at me with those stupid eyes and I don't know what happens, but I almost feel sick."

Your laughter tastes like water, "I know what you mean. But in a good way though, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, "in a good way."

When Megumi's back finally hits his mattress at an ungodly hour of the morning—something he's been dreaming of since he'd left it hours ago—he's sickeningly sore and his eyes burn with hypersensitivity. He lets himself close his eyes thinking of your hands, the ones that soaked his now scabbing wounds and wiped his watery eyes. 

Megumi plans, sure, but he never could have prepared for you. 

[groovyangelkisses]

hi my sweet baby suse :') love you sm n'just wanna know your thoughts when it comes to sitting on jax's lap <3 would he pet your hair? call you sweet little pet names? just wonderin' <3

anything for you clo, my pretty girl ! 🫶🏻

this became super long-winded, i just think he's neat :')

cw: jealousy, slight! innocence kink, potential 'opie yearning for reader' moment (who's shocked?) slightly nsfw

personally, i think jax is constantly pulling his girl into his lap. whether it's because tig is getting a little too friendly, or you've been talking (gazing) at opie for a tiny bit longer than he'd like, it's like you make a movement & you're in his lap. he's very "hey, where you goin' sweetheart, hm?" all teasing and smug and smiley, pulling you by the wrist to sit on him.

while jax loves having you in his lap to see you get all blushy and shy "c'mon darlin' they all know you love sittin' on me" (never letting the opportunity for innuendo pass him by,) he also loves the sense of pride that he gets from having a pretty, sweet thing like you perched in his lap. while jax is all leather and dirty t-shirts and baggy jeans, you're sweet pastels and soft fabrics— the warmth that jax is slowly starting to feel in his heart again.

and he'll take any form of lap sitting, by the way. if you're sitting directly on him, after you deliver some comment about jax bein the "comfiest, cleanest chair here!" he'll laugh, and wrap his big arms around your tummy, his face in your hair, whispering dirty jokes and funny comments about juice and chibs in your ear.

and if you're sitting sideways? legs spread across his lap and dangling over his thighs? his hands never leave them. one hand protectively holds your ankle, fingers lightly fiddling with the cold "J" anklet he bought just for you. his other hand slides up and down your leg, pausing to lay his palm flat on your knee, or to slide his extended hand up the sides of your thigh. and jax knows nooo personal space with you, by the way. so you two are face to face as he talks, his strong nose brushing against yours, and when he leans over to tell you a secret, his beard brushes against your cheek. eventually, his hand starts to slide up the center of your thighs, and his lips get a little too close to the sweetest spot on your neck, and he notices opie looking at the smooth skin of your face too long, and suddenly he can't help himself. nights like those usually end with you happily skipping behind jax as he leads you to his clubhouse room, trying to supress a smile at your obvious affection and excitement for him.

that being said, jax is a veerrrryy jealous person, so whenever he senses a prospect gettin' a little too close for his liking, he'll give you the look and you'll know where to go. of course, jax never tells you exactly why he'll suddenly stop your conversation with happy and ask you to come (essentially) straddle him in the clubhouse— he never wants you to know the true, horribly corrupt fantasies of the other male bikers.

so he'll take you in his lap, hooking your arms over his shoulders and pulling you together; chest to chest, him pressing against your panties in a comforting way. jax will pull the hem of your dress down and hold it still (he saw them trying to take a peek, and if he's being honest it took everything in him not to flip the pool table and start screaming) and start the sweetest little whispers in your bejeweled ear "my sweet girl, you know how pretty you are, hm? you know everybody here wants you? but they can't have you right? can they?"

and like clockwork, this same song and dance you get into everytime there's a meeting, you nod happily. and jax'll smile, a nice, wide, shit-eating grin aimed just as much at you as it is at the other samcro members looking onward; always yearning for a girl like you— loving, loyal, only having eyes for the blondie they all yearn to be.

his hand will move to your hair, softly running his fingers through it, soft applogies leaving his lips as your hair gets tangled in his rings, and he'll always kiss the corners of your lips to make up for it. he'll press your head to his chest, a big, protective hand sprawling across the back of your hair, holdin' you to him "just rest your eyes a little darlin', i gotta talk to the guys abit, kay?"

oh and he will. his hands running up and down your back and hair, in lulls of the conversation he'll kiss your cheek and ask quietly "still with me, babe?" and wait for your comfortable purr of "mmhmm" and continue on with the conversation. and he knows no one will ever say anything, they wouldn't dare. you're his little "doe in the headlights" and beyond jax's admittance, he needs to feel you in his hands just to get through the fear that he battles with everyday— the fear of disappointing the club, trampling his father's legacy, losing you. the thought makes him tighten his grip on you, hugging you like a child hugs their teddy bear, and the pressure, the sheer weight of his love is so fulfilling, you'll happily flirt with juice if it means it'll always end with jax holding you like this.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chapter 0 : top-ultra-super-ultra-secret-mission.

no quirk au, mentions of fighting and violence, the yakuza and my very little knowledge of it (msorry yall,,i know about the video games :>..!), gang violence, found family trope my love, crime syndicate boss daughter! reader, badboy bodyguard! katsuki x fem reader, sunshine reader, reader is a sweetheart but a little bratty, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LUVERS TROPE MY STAR, almost polar opposites, you get off on the wrong foot at first so kinndaa enemies to friends, reader has a last name but it will be explained later, original characters, all might is a fictional character, one piece easter egg lol, food n cookies ! katsuki gets recruited into a crime syndicate at eleven years old, but he doesn't do any fightin till a years later !, lemme know if i missed sum (might add more in future chapters !)

katsuki doesn't remember anything besides his own bloody and bruised knuckles.

it's all he remembers and all he's known his entire life. where he comes from you gotta fight to survive and every dispute was resolved with conflict. bloody fists and busted lips was all he grew up with until the age of 11 years old.

the orphanage he'd lived in for years didn't help in reinforcing that point : the place was neglected, faded and crumbling like a mansion in a horror movie. he'd heard so many rumors going around the halls that the place was haunted. none of the adults bothered to shut it down but they didn't bother to take care of them either, so katsuki didn't expect much from them. katsuki wouldn't be able to count the amount of times their caretakers, if you could even call them that, let him and his housemates run off without supervision on both hands and feet. their disinterested eyes occasionally glancing at the poor kid getting ganged up on by kids twice his size and age.

"if you don't pull your weight around here, you're deadmeat." katsuki remembers an older boy, his roommate at the time, saying to him. he hasn't seen the boy in years and katsuki is sure that wherever he fucked off to was miles better than the shithole he currently lives in.

fights weren't uncommon either. petty fights over pudding were often brought to the communal area, ranging from food fights to all out brawls. power struggles between kids where mostly for dominance, to show others who was the boss. it was all for the sake of a survival kids their ages shouldn't have known, one that they shouldn't have been desensitized to.

the disinterest of the staff members meant that the kids could run wild, running amok around the city streets as if they owned them. stealing and fighting, forming groups and alliances only for those who lagged behind to be betrayed and ganged up on by their pack members.

he recognized it whenever people where trying to get something out of him. katsuki knew he was strong and he knew others knew it too and it got him nothing but enemies and wannabe lackey's acting like errand boys in exchange for services. beating up some guy who had owed them money, some people simply wanted to be around him, hearing that his name had gotten notoriety around their neighborhood and simply using him to scare people off, like parents telling their kids about the boogeyman.

it worked out fine whenever they'd stay out of his way, but katsuki was a lone wolf through and through and didn't like people sticking to his heels, so after many more bloody knuckles, the sound of bones crunching and broken noses, people knew not to mess, or associate themselves, with the rage that was katsuki bakugou.

" i heard he beat some guys face in so bad he never left his house again.." "if you look at him for too long, he'll kick your ass !" "that little brat thinks he's the shit just because he beat some shrimp’s ass." he'd heard whispers like these for years. scared fleeting glances and nasty glares was all people offered him and he learned that striking fear into others was the only way you'd be respected. beating people up was the only way others would leave you alone. stealing from others was the only way others wouldn't steal from you.

being a monster was the only way people would listen. and just like how continuing to spread legends kept horror movie creatures alive. other people spreading rumors about how ruthless he was kept katsuki safe.

until that man showed up.

one of their caretakers had announced that someone would be coming to visit, meaning they should be on their best behaviour so they could find a new forever home. katsuki scoffs, the idea that anyone would choose him to bring home was laughable to him. all the grown ups that came by came for the golden boys: the push overs or the crybabies, was what they were called amongst the other kids.

the man that appeared infront of the line of young boys was anything but what katsuki could’ve ever imagined. tall, extremely so, with a long leather jacket draped over his shoulder, rings could be seen adorning his fingers when he cracked his knuckles. he was completely decked out in black : black coat, black pants, black belt and dark, hardened black eyes that had all the boys shivering. unconsciously having them stand up straighter by the heat of the man’s stare alone.

katsuki and his housemates had all gathered around the windows minutes before to see the man arrive in a big black cadillac escalade, peeking the curiosity of everyone in the room as they wondered what the hell this person could want from an orphanage like this one.

katsuki for the first time in years, feels a hint of fear wash over him when the man stops right in front of him. he feels the eyes of his other mates on him as well and feels himself sweating a little when he gulps.

the mysterious man offers him a large, friendly smile and katsuki doesn't know if he should feel threatened by the warmth he feels in his chest. the tall man kneels down until he's at katsuki's height and his deep, honeyed voice catches him off guard, because he thinks such a man shouldn't have such a..welcoming voice. especially with the multiple men he saw surrounding his car outside looking anything but welcoming.

"hey, kid." the man starts, sharp canines on display as he grins "how would you like to come home with me ?"

katsuki, wide eyed and mouth agape, can only think of one response,

"..huh ?"

katsuki's shocked expression has not changed once. not since the grown ups had talked about boring grown up stuff he'd barely tuned into, only hearing the scritching of the pen on the paper when the mysterious badass man had signed the adoption papers.

and now, inside of the big black cadillac escalade surrounded by other huge badass guys, his expression has yet to change, though he’d managed to clamp his mouth shut.

katsuki is currently gripping onto an apple juice box, (frankly he prefers orange but he doesn't think he can form a correct sentence right now) offered to him buy a stoic man--who was introduced to him by another huge man, although not as scary looking as the other one, who told him not to be frightened by his straight-faced friend as he was "a scary lookin' dude, but a big teddybear once you get to know him ! " katsuki hadn't taken a single sip of the juice yet, juice that he didn't steal but was given to. without having to threaten anyone for it. a strange feeling grows in his stomach that he's not familiar with. and in katsuki's experience anything unknown is bad, so he doesn't like this.

the scary men all pulled a complete 180 from what they were like outside, going from being quiet and serious to extremely loud. so loud katsuki wonders how it's possible that four men in one car can be just as loud as an entire communal area at his now old orphanage. the thought of not having to step foot in that cursed building ever again has him holding back a little smile. he squeezes the juice box in his hands a little tighter.

the men who's names he doesn't know yet are cracking jokes. they smack his shoulder randomly, causing him to basically fly forward and he's sure that if he weren't wearing a seatbelt he'd have flewn right through the windshield. they laugh and tell him they're excited to start working with him. this has katsuki tilt his head in question.

" working with you ?" he asks, it's the first thing he's said and the two more expressive men in the car brighten up. one of the guys, who's squeezed next to him speaks. he has bleached hair with black roots still peaking through. his sunglasses are pulling his hair back and perfectly showing off the scar running over his left eyebrow.

"yeah, starting today you're a part of our clan, little buddy !" he grins. their clan ?

the boss man, he assumes, speaks up from the drivers seat " takashi, don't just jump that on him so suddenly," he reprimands jokingly. he looks at katsuki through the rear view mirror and smiles, katsuki simply looks away. he doesn't know how to react to situations, or people like this well. or at all. "you'll frighten him."

katsuki's head shoots up at that, eyes squinted and brows furrowed "i'm not scared of shit !" he exclaims "what do you guys even do ?" he glares around at everyone in the car. it's silent and he sees the ringed hand of the boss guy turn the radio down. then after a beat passes everyone bursts out laughing again and katsuki jumps despite himself, even the stone faced guy cracks a smile.

"you're a fiesty one, huh ?! you're perfect for the job !" the bleached blonde man, who is apparently named takashi, speaks. he wraps an arm around katsuki and doesn't notice how he tenses and growls, that or he ignores it. "you see, we have a very special job."

"what special job ?" takashi responds with a mischievous smirk.

"we beat up bad guys !" he chirps happily.

katsuki can't help the gasp that comes out of his throat nor can he control the sparkle in his eyes, yet he tries his best to sound cool " y-you beat up bad guys ?" he asks carefully.

"u--huuuuuh" he squeezes katsuki between his bicep tighter, apologizing when katsuki punches at his arm, loosening his extremely tight grip. he offers him a little apology that katsuki only graces with a stinkeye. "we find guys who mess with us or our turf, and we fuck 'em up good !" he makes punching motions at the air with his free arm " y'know, like all might !"

" all might isn't real." katsuki shoots back.

"well, yeah. but he's cool isn't he !" the bleached man whines, giving katsuki a slight noogie. he shoves at his arm and looks away with a huff and a pout. unwilling to admit that the tv show superhero had been his idol for years now. takashi chuckles knowingly at the boys pink cheeks before finally releasing him from his grasp.

katsuki suddenly remembers the conversation before he'd trailed off "so..you guys beat up bad guys ?" the young blonde starts "and i'm part of your clan now ?" he eyes everyone curiously and they all offer him firm nods.

"why me, though ?" he hates how..desperate he sounds, it reminds him too much of the other loser crybabies that he used to share a space with. he peers at the rear view mirror only to be met with the boss man's eyes already on him. he jumps despite the warmth in said man's eyes.

"i like you, kid. you've got this look in your eye." he explains, he focuses back on the road once he finishes " makes me think of myself when i was your age."

katsuki sits stunned as the rest of the men in the car start up again calling their boss superficial for "going for someone who reminds him of himself" they say, yet katsuki can't find it in himself to feel insulted. he's been told time and time again the looks he'd give people were rude, cocky, scary and every other adjective in the book, none of them being exactly positive one's.

but for someone to say they like the look in his eye is shocking. the lack of any praise besides about how much of a monster he was when he got into fights was something completely unknown to him.

during the entire ride, katsuki grips his untouched apple juice box to keep from smiling.

when he arrives into a large office like room, following closely behind the boss man, who's name he found out during the car ride was kento matsumoto, he's surprised to find the room empty once the door slammed behind him. katsuki's immediatly on his toes and ready, already in a fighting stance, his eyes zipping around the room ready to attack should any bad guys show up.

"what're you doing ?" the older man hums in amusement, slowly creeping towards his desk in the middle of the room. katsuki's too focused on a surprise attack to bother noticing.

"where are the bad guys ?!" the unruly blonde asks, adrenaline already running through his veins, a smirks growing on his features until matsumoto laughs and--wait why is he laughing ?

"there are no bad guys here, you can rest easy." he chuckles when katsuki's shoulders immediatly drop, a pouty frown etched onto his features. "you won't be fighting any bad guys today," the more he continues the more katsuki's eyebrows drop lower and lower. he finally realises how quite and gentle he's been and tilts his head in confusion. he walks up to his desk chair which is turned away from katsuki's eyes. mr. matsumoto walks up and kneels towards the chair and whispers softly. katsuki can hear someone whisper back if he strains his ears hard enough and his brows furrow harder.

after a bit more back and forth, the tall man stands back up, and limps a little as he has two tiny arms arms dragging along with him. along with two tiny legs following along at his pace.

"i'd actually like you to meet someone today." the man chuckles to himself lightly. he presses his hand to the back of the little person behind him. and katsuki finally makes eye contact with them.

the girl looks about his age, maybe a year younger. she keeps alternating her gaze to him briefly and longer towards the floor. her socked feet rubbing at the other as she grips the taller man's pant leg.

katsuki holds back the urge to scoff. she would've been eaten alive if she spent one day back at his orphanage. pushovers don't survive long before becoming someone's lackey unless they pull their weight. you mutter something under your breath and mr. matsumoto scolds you gently.

"you don't wanna be rude to your new friend don't you ?" he encourages. both of your eyes widen and while a grin breaks out on your face. katsuki's mouth drops in near horror

"huh ?!"

"bakugou, stop moving !"

katsuki doesn't know where that old roommate he had fucked off to, but if it's someplace like this, he feels bad for him.

he'd found out that you were mr. matsumoto's daughter, which was shocking news by itself but you can imagine how much more shocked he was when the older male had asked him to spend time with you.

"i'm not a babysitter !" katsuki stormed "i thought i was fighting bad guys !" mr. matsumoto raises his hands up in surrender from where he's knelt down to diffuse tension.

"you'll start your training soon enough, and then you'll be able to fight as many bad guys as you see fit." he compromises. katsuki's somewhat satisfied, but still crosses his arms across his chest, awaiting further explanation.

"i'm just asking you to keep an eye on her. spend some time with her, stuff like that..you'll be like her bodyguard !" he offers.

"more like babyguard." katsuki scoffs. the older man chuckles nervously.

"my job's real dangerous, so a lot of people wanna hurt me, and my family. i can't have that, you get what i'm sayin' right ?" he speaks sincerely. katsuki's eyes soften the slightest bit as he readjusts his arms. "i want her to be able to spend time with kids her age. not some old guys in suits, you know ?"

katsuki doesn't say but he thinks that reasoning is stupid. he thinks constantly being around men like your dad would be cool as hell, but he digresses. the unruly blonde stares at the pleading man pensively, mr. matsumoto had gotten him out of the wretched orphanage, he owes it to him to atleast help him with this easy sounding request.

katsuki heaves a long, deep sigh and looks down at the ground.

"fine..i'll do it."

he wishes he could punch his past self in the mouth for agreeing to this torture.

he grabs your wrist when you try to sneakily press a tiny flavored lip balm stick to his lips. you pout and whine at him and he growls and furrows his brows at you in response.

"c'mon !" you whine. straining your arm still tightly clutched in his grip to press the lip balm to his pink lips. “it tastes like peaches !” you try.

"no ! i already let you put these shitty braids in my hair, m'not putting your stupid makeup shit on." he throws your arm to the side and you gasp. before crossing your arms,

"swear." you mumble grumply. you shake your head and lean towards him with new found vigor. you’re stubborn and usually he’d at least give you that, but you’re the annoying kind of stubborn, so you’re not getting anything from him.

"it's not makeup, it's just lip balm ! dad let's me put it on him all the time !"

"yeah, well i ain't your dad."

"yeah you're not. cus my dad's not a jerk !" you stick your tongue out at him and katsuki scoffs at you, looking away from you. he bets you wouldn't act all cool if he shoved you once, you look like the type of wimp who'd cry about tripping over your own shoelaces.

"i'll tell my dad you're bein' mean to me." you announce. katsuki's head whips towards you and he feels a vein on his forehead when you turn your nose up at the sky with a 'hmph !". you make his head hurt.

"don't go lying on me !" he fumed.

"but i'm not lyin', you are mean ! i asked you nice an' you won't lemme put the chapstick on you !" you bite back. katsuki inhales through his nose in anger.

"you didn't ask me sh—anything !" he stops himself mid curse, your father doesn't like him swearing around you for some reason and he'd rather you not snitch to your dad about his cursing habits.

you suddenly stop, then roll your eyes like the brat you are. "well, i'm asking now..please ?" you bat your lashes at him and give him, what katsuki assumes, are your best puppy dog eyes.

you're so much more different than when he'd first met you two weeks ago and he definitely doesn't mean it as a good thing. he almost wishes you stayed the quiet, meek little mouse you were. that would've been way less annoying than the bossy bratty princess you are, despite being a few months younger than him.

katsuki groans, loudly to himself, than turns to you again. gripping at his criss crossed legs to control his nerves.

"make it quick, princess." he spits, glaring at your bright smile, obviously pleased you'd won the argument even though you didn't play fair at all. katsuki had won every fight he'd ever been in but you were making yourself out to be his toughest opponent yet. he grits his teeth and sucks his loss in for another day. you make a happy noise and press the sweet stick to his lips. it tastes like peaches when he briefly licks his lips to get a taste. he let’s out a quiet pleased grunt.

"it tastes good, right !"

"shut up."

katsuki looks at you strangely when he sees you sneaking around corners.

he's stuck on babysitting duty again while your dad and the others get to do fun stuff like beating the shit out of people. from what he'd gathered from mr. matsumoto and when he 'accidentally' listened in on his passing conversations with his coworkers, your father was the boss of an underground yakuza organisation. the men he'd sat in the car with being his most trusted companions.

they all bore a similar tattoo’s somewhere on their body : some had them on their arms or hands, others were more showy and had them on their necks or on their backs like your dad did. katsuki was bummed to find out he wouldn’t be able to get one yet, he scoffs at the memory of your dad ruffling his hair and telling him to wait a few more years.

he was dreading having to put up with your whiny tantrums and sticky flavored lip balms, although he guessed it was kinda fun to guess the flavour. but today you surprised him by beckoning him over and telling him you needed his help with something. at 9 in the morning.

“a top-ultra-super-ultra secret-mission ”, you’d called it. and from the moment you’d pushed him out of the huge spare room he was currently using as his bedroom, you’d been sneaking around corners even though katsuki would look ahead (he has to take some risks, he is your bodyguard after all) and see no one there.

the prospect of a secret mission did peak his interest, it was the reason he had followed you without making a fuss. but even though ‘patience’ wasn’t an unknown word in katsuki’s documentary, it wasn’t frequently used. so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he started complaining.

“what are we even doing ? and why the hell are you sneaking around like that?” he asks, the urge to go back to bed still clinging to him as he rubs at his eyes sleepily. katsuki doesn’t know how you can navigate this huge house so well and he feels like he’s been following you through a maze.

you quickly, after peeking around another corner, shush him. “shhh !” you hiss, placing a finger over your lips. if katsuki weren’t so tired he would’ve rolled his eyes at you but he simply decides to narrow his eyes at you.

“i told you, it’s super secret ! i’ll tell you when we get there !” you huff “swear, by the way.” you chide playfully, giggling when he grumbles at you.

if katsuki could compare you to anything, he’d compare you to rubber. it’s weird because it’s an object rather than a living thing, but he thinks it’s pretty fitting. he pokes and prods, throws snarky comments and mean names at you, pulling at you like rubber, yet all you do is snap right back into place. like that rubber man you like on tv ( he prefers the sword guy better).

you pout about his mean spirited ‘princess’ nickname after he tells you he doesn’t mean it as a compliment because to him it means your snobby, bratty and spoiled, but you never let him get you down. often just saying that princesses we’re super pretty “so therefore, you’re just calling me pretty !” you’d grin. he thinks your reasoning is more than stupid and rolled his eyes hard when you’d first told him that, but you intrigue him in ways he doesn’t wanna admit.

you’re so annoying and bubbly it puzzles him, he wonders how someone like you could exist in the same world as his. the world he was raised in was cold and unforgiving, quickly stomping and crushing pretty bright flowers like you under its heel before they were even given a chance to fully bloom.

you’re something he’s never seen before and you piss him off. but that’s mostly because you’re annoying though.

after sneaking around for a bit more, you get to what katsuki recognizes as the kitchen. katsuki hears the sound of chopping and sizzling before he rounds the corner and the smell of food fills his nose and his mouth waters.

you put an arm out to hold him back from rounding the corner and point towards something, katsuki looks up at where your looking to see..

a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

his eyes widen like he’d just seen a stack of gold. back at the orphanage, they were barely allowed to have any sweets besides during holidays, two for everyone. katsuki didn’t really mind much, since he doesn’t really like candy, but your home chef nakazawa really knew how to cook and katsuki would gobble up anything the man cooked.

the long white haired man never commented on his table manners and messy eating, only smiling brightly and always telling him it made him happy to see people enjoying his food so much.

katsuki would never say it out loud, but he would sometimes sneak around to watch mr. nakazawa cook. he’d never had any time to be interested in..anything back at his old hell hole and it’d taken him a while to admit he’d taken a liking to not only nakazawa’s cooking, but also cooking in general.

he bets those cookies would be fucking delicious. he gulps.

“those are our objective !” you whisper, turning back to him with a determined grin “your job as my bodyguard today is to help me snatch up those chocolate chip cookies mr zawa made.” you explain.

katsuki almost exclaims before begrudgingly remembering this is supposed to be a secret mission and you were supposed to be inconspicuous “huh ?!” he hisses. you nudge him away from the opening and place your finger against your lips to shush him again, katsuki growls at you.

"just cus i'm your bodyguard..or whatever," he grumbles, rolling his eyes "doesn't mean i'm your errand boy. i'm not anybody's errand boy." he spits, glaring at you. you don't look the least bit scared, instead your eyebrows furrow and you pout.

"but you're not my errand boy, we're doing it together ! you're helping me out !"

"i don't help anyone." he shoots back "what am i getting from this anyway ?" he scoffs, shuffling on his feet.

" you don't like sweets, right ? so the least you could do is help me get some cookies !" you declare, crossing your arms." but if you want, i guess i could share the booty with you." you say with a roll of your eyes. katsuki wants to be surprised that you remembered something he’d mumbled to you in passing once but he ignores that to sneer at you, eye twitching at your brattiness.

"gross. don't call it that." he snarks, you roll your eyes again "don't be a baby, bakugou." you quickly flip around and sneak towards the main kitchen doors. bakugou glares at your back as you slip away and throws you one last snarky comment under his breath before following you "you're one to talk."

mr nakazawa’s back is to the both of you still, he seems to not have noticed you both yet. even though katsuki hates being ordered around by you, pointing at where he should go so as not to be seen, he ignores it in favour of the giddy feeling in his chest. you're holding back a laugh too, he can see it on your face and as annoying as you are, he can't help but hold back a snort with you when the cook stops in his movements to scan around the kitchen, you both still going unnoticed.

he hasn't been allowed to go out on missions with your dad and his squad yet, simply undergoing training starting from every wednesday, to going monday through thursday for a few hours and though it was fun, it was pretty irritating seeing the grown ups do all the fun stuff while he's stuck carrying you around on his back and watching dumb disney channel original movies with you (he won't admit he enjoys most of them, though. never.)

but right now that's all been forgotten, adrenaline is pumping through him but it's different than the adrenaline rush he gets from when he beats up some no name kid that wanted to start a fight to prove he was some type of big shot, surrounded by the choruses of cheering kids and screams. instead, he's simply sneaking closer and closer to a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. accompanied only by you, who's covering your mouth trying not to make a single sound so you don't get caught and scolded for getting to the cookies early.

it's different, it's unknown. but katsuki realizes it's not bad.

it actually feels really warm, and nice. and good. it's good to have fun with you. it's good to be able to bicker and playfight with you without it leading to his knuckles being bruised up. he hates to admit it but he has to hold back a snicker at your dumb jokes and antics. and maybe he can admit that some of the movies you pick out are kinda fun.

he doesn't have to fight for the remote with you because you let him pick whenever he wants. you've set up a system where you pick one night and he gets to pick the next night and you hadn't broken your promise, always handing him the remote when it was his turn to pick a movie, though you huff about it sometimes, but that's cus you're a brat.

but when katsuki finally reaches the tray of cookies and you silently cheer for him with a smile so bright you could rival the sun itself and two thumbs up in the air, katsuki has to admit you're not so bad to be around.

"may i ask what you kids are doin' ?"

both you and katsuki stiffen at mr. nakazawa looming over him, he doesn't look the least bit angry. he's trying to, but he can't fight off the smile on his mock dissapointed face.

"mr. bakugou is a newcomer, so i can't really be mad at 'im" he starts, katsuki gulps when the white haired man's frosty blue eyes land on him, then zero on you "but lady yn should already know what happens to misbehaving children.." he slowly stretches his arms out towards you, making a grabby motion and you start uncontrollably giggling, eyes widening as you slowly stand up and back away.

"they go...into the oven !!"

"mission complete, cookies obtained, get outta there !" you exclaim, hightailing it with your laughter trailing down the hallway. katsuki starts up and dashes for the door to follow you. mr. nakazawa barely makes any effort to catch both of you and katsuki knows he's stopped following you but he doesn't bother telling you about it.

he's having too much fun right now.

he's holding the tray of cooled off cookies to his chest to keep them safe and he can't stop laughing especially because you're basically hollering next to him, cheering loudly and katsuki mimicks you. it's probably still around nine in the morning and you're running around like headless chickens, screaming around the hallways, but katsuki's having too much fun with you to care.

you get to your bedroom door first and katsuki would usually blame it on your hands being free, but he doesn't care about being first right now. you quickly wave your hand around, signaling for him to run inside before you slam your door shut and fall to the ground, helplessly snorting and giggling with your fluffy pyjama pant legs kicking in the air.

katsuki sits down next to you, placing the cookies down between you both slightly above your head. he's calmed down more than you have, but he's still buzzing, chest rising and falling. he snorts and giggles some more looking at you and after you finally calm down you sigh. you take a deep breath before looking up at him with stars in your eyes.

"that was so fun ! we booked it outta there so fast !" you giggle. katsuki sits more comfortable, cross-crossing his legs. he hums in response "mr. nakazawa always says he's gonna put me in the oven when i sneak a cookie, but he's super nice, so i knew he wouldn't do anything if he caught you !"

katsuki scoffs pridefully, turning his nose up in the air "he wouldn't have been able to do anythin' cus i woulda kicked his ass !" he smirks. you giggle in response.

"that's expected of my bodyguard !" you chirp. he rolls his eyes but doesn't complain. you sit up and look at him all starry eyed and katsuki's eyes widen in turn.

"you were awesome, bakugou ! no wonder dad likes you so much !" you beam. it's too bright, you're too bright. katsuki wants to look away, wants to go back into his shell and pull the curtain shut on the sun that you are. he wants to be scary and feared by all and yet for some reason he likes that you're not scared of him. he wants it to stay that way. he knows he shouldn't and yet,

"..you can just call me, katsuki. i don't mind.." he mutters, looking away from you and towards the wall. he doesn't dare look at you or he'll have to acknowledge your expression, acknowledge the fact his face is burning alarmingly hard and fast. "i don't care..if you do." he rephrases.

a beat passes and he feels the cold metal of the tray against his hand, he looks down to see your hand pushing the cookies towards him.

"since you did the most work, you can have the first one." you say shyly, fiddling with your soft sleeves.

katsuki feels his heart beating and thumping hard in his chest. he can faintly hear it in his ears, can feel it softly bumping in his head. he's never felt this before.

he doesn't like the unknown. but he can't find it in himself to care when he reaches out and takes a big bite of a cookie. it tastes heavenly and his eyelashes flutter as he munches away, his eyes snap open when he hears you giggle.

"s'good, right ?" you grin, leaning towards him to grab a cookie before popping a piece into your mouth with a hum. katsuki gulps a bite of his cookie down.

"mm.." he hums in agreement. that's enough for you, so you lean back more comfortably and you both continue silently munching away at the slowly dwindling tray of cookies. until you speak up again.

"usually i eat all of mr. nakazawa's cookies on my own. dad and my other uncles are always gone before i can share with them." you explain, katsuki sees your puppy eyes shining with sadness. they're the same as the pushover's at his old orphanage who'd cower in corners and cry as the bigger predators of the institution prey on them.

"they're really good.." the happy tone in your voice is gone and is instead replaced by a more bittersweet one. "but whenever i eat too many, my stomach hurts. and that's not fun at all." katsuki feels his chest tighten at your words, and it tightens harder when you look up at him and send him the sincerest smile he's ever seen.

"but today, i ate a lot of 'em and i'm completely fine, cus i shared them with you !"

katsuki only remembers the feeling of fighting. of bloody and bruised knuckles and the rush of adrenaline that eventually fades away and all he feels is the stinging pain in his body. and that's not fun at all.

but sitting here with you, he hopes and he hopes with all his might that the way he feels when his chest blooms with warmth never fades away.

"yeah..." is all he says, looking down at the ground. tugging at the carpet.

"y'know, you're my fifth bodyguard." katsuki's eyes widen "fifth ?" he parrots and you nod, stuffing the last bit of your cookie into your mouth.

"why so many ? you go out on missions or something ?"

you shake your head "no, but dad says it's safer because a lot of people could wanna hurt me." you say simply, wrapping your arms around your knees, wiggling your socked feet " 'i wouldn't let anyone hurt you, but you can never be too careful.'" you mimick, deepening your voice best you can to copy your father's tone.

"all my other bodyguards were super old, and they never talked, or played with me. no fun at all." you mutter bitterly, grounding your heel down against your soft carpeted floor.

"you're kinda mean, and very aggressive. especially for someone your age." katsuki scoffs at your doctor like tone like you'd just done an analysis on him. he kicks at your foot with his and you giggle and stick yout tongue out at him. katsuki wants to hold back the smirk growing on his face, but he can't. maybe because he isn't trying very hard to hold back at all.

"but you're funny..and you can be really nice when you wanna be." he hears it again, the thumping and beating of his heart at your words and your smile. "you're definitely my favorite bodyguard, katsuki !"

the thumping of his heart gets so loud he can feel it in the tips of his fingers, rhythmically beating away. he gets that feeling of adrenaline from when he wins a fight. when he's got a nasty bloody nose but people are inching away from him. whispers of his name and strenght all around and he feels like he's on top of the world for a while.

but this feels nicer. it's foreign, but katsuki feels like he can get used to that.

"'f course i am, i'm the best !" he exclaims. the warmth in his chest still present and burning harder when you smile at him brightly with a giggle.

katsuki unfamiliar with these kinds of burning feelings that aren’t accompanied with pain. they’re unknown and foreign, but he thinks he likes them. and, maybe, he can admit that he thinks he likes you a little bit, too.

soooowww...whatre we thinkiiinnnn..personally i like this alot and would love to hear whatyallthinkaboutthisconcepttttquestionmark... i was inspired to post this after getting back into akabane honeko no bodyguard, and my love for delinquents mixed w some childhood friends to lovers and i HAD to write this, i rlly like this and i hope yall enjoy !!

[fvsm4x]

Loser gf reader x fratboy Gojo Satoru

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I‘m such a sucker for loser gf reader and fratboy gojo

You always wondered what Gojo saw in you. He was the life of every party, the guy everyone wanted to be or be with. You, on the other hand, were more comfortable in the quiet corners of the library, nose buried in a book. Your worlds couldn't have been more different, yet here you were, his hand intertwined with yours as he led you into another one of his infamous frat parties.

"Stick with me, alright?" Gojo grinned down at you, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I won't let any of these idiots bother you."

You nodded, trying to ignore the glances and whispers from the crowd. It was always the same—people wondering why the most popular guy on campus was with someone like you. But Gojo never seemed to care about their opinions. He was always unabashedly himself, and somehow, that included being with you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself on the couch, sipping on a soda while Gojo mingled. He'd check on you every few minutes, his smile never faltering. But even in a room full of people, you felt alone.

"Hey, you're Gojo's girlfriend, right?" A girl with long, blonde hair and a tight dress sat down next to you, her gaze appraising. "I'm Mina. I've heard a lot about you."

"Hi," you replied, feeling a bit wary. Mina's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're so lucky," she said, leaning closer. "I mean, Gojo is such a catch. I can't believe he’s dating someone like you."

Before you could respond, Mina stood up and sauntered over to Gojo, placing a hand on his arm. You watched as she leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Gojo laughed, but when he saw the look on your face, his expression changed.

"Excuse me," he said to Mina, brushing her hand off and making his way back to you. "You okay?"

You nodded, trying to hide your discomfort. "Yeah, just not really my scene, you know?"

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "I know. But I like having you here with me. Makes it more fun."

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "You don't think I'm...I don't know, bringing you down?"

Gojo's expression softened. "Never. You keep me grounded, you know that? Besides, I like showing off my amazing girlfriend to everyone."

A blush crept up your cheeks. "I'm not amazing, Satoru."

"Yeah, you are," he said firmly, pulling you closer. "You put up with my crazy ass. That's pretty amazing to me."

As if on cue, another girl approached, giggling and twirling her hair. "Gojo! Come dance with me!" she insisted, grabbing his hand.

He gently but firmly removed her hand from his. "Sorry, I'm with my girlfriend," he said, nodding toward you. The girl's smile faltered, and she walked away, pouting.

You laughed, feeling the tension melt away. Maybe you didn't quite fit into Gojo's world, but he made you feel like you belonged. And that was enough.

"Come on," Gojo said, standing up and pulling you with him. "Let's get out of here. I know a place where we can actually talk without shouting."

You smiled, letting him lead the way. As long as you were with Gojo, you knew you'd be okay. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see what he saw in you.

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.