#wanted their hair light.... i think they blend together too much...

[i23kazu]

♡ TO BE LOVED BY

characters. albedo zhongli diluc alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff + hurt/comfort. 1.6k words. an. part 1 , part 2 coming soon!!!! | to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. ; reader is insecure + has low self esteem, and the men help them think otherwise. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

the painter

to be loved by albedo, the painter — people realise that the faces that he paints every day seem to resemble one person and one person alone. the high cheekbones, the crooked smile, the monolids — its either the artist has a case of the same face syndrome, or there is only one source of inspiration for him . . .

albedo sits by his artistry room, the window tinting golden light that shines onto your features. it highlights parts of you that you dislike, you argue, but he tenderly kisses each spot that brings you distaste. if you cannot love yourself, then let him love you extra. if you cannot see yourself the way he looks at you – with all the love and admiration and sweet infatuation in the world – then let him paint you in the way he so lovingly sees you so.

he motions for you to tilt to your left with a flick of his finger, not looking up from the blended paints on his wooden palette. you freeze – you don’t want to make him unhappy by not complying but complying also means seeing the ugliness of you. you don’t want him to see you ugly.

“i don’t like that side of me,” you whisper blankly. “it doesn’t make me look good.”

it is at these few words that albedo looks up from his painting.

“you are beautiful.”

he says the three words so matter-of-factly that you wonder if he even means it at all. they are so quick to fall out of his mouth – does he love you too little to properly regard them so, or does he love you so much that it requires no hesitation on his end to reassure you?

“albedo, thank you, but i am not-”

“you are so beautiful, my love,” albedo repeats. “and it pains me so because you don’t seem to believe it for yourself.”

“i am not-” you blink back salty tears.

“do my words hold no weight to you?” he asks, not unkindly. there’s an awkward stare that the both of you share before he lets a soft sigh part his lips, and he gathers you in his arms.

you look at him tiredly. this was not the battle you wanted to fight today, you think to yourself.

“i am beautiful.” you repeat after him. maybe, just maybe – if you say it enough, you can believe it just as wholeheartedly as albedo believes so. you can see the corners of his lips turn upwards into a soft smile – your lover smooths back your hair, planting a sweet kiss in the middle of your forehead.

“i love you, my muse. it’s alright if you don’t believe it just yet. you’ll have me to remind you that you are beautiful, every day.”

the poet

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet.

you are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your writing is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

the photographer

to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.

”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you giggle as he, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi.

“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.

it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good” – was diluc blind, or lying?

you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.

“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it. you look wonderful.”

“how?” you blink back frustrated tears.

“diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk’s. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”

he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if that was the right thing to say at all. maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right? he tucks your hair away from your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i urge you – look again, (y/n).”

“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”

diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet. just keep quiet, (y/n). your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand.

“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be immediately satisfied with what they are?

“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly.

“i don’t believe so, not at all. you see it, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun. undoubtedly so – for that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”

the writer

to be loved by alhaitham, the writer — people often wonder who sparks these passionate feelings of infatuation in his writing; all they need to look at is the person he leaves his gaze to linger on for a little while longer. his smile seems to brighten a little when he’s talking with you . . .

he describes a love scene so tenderly. a man and his partner, dancing in the stillness of a living room in the witching hours of the night – sweet, loving words fall clumsily out of the man’s mouth – it’s obvious he’s infatuated with his partner. two words, my angel, stands out in the manuscript you read.

“hayi, why do you never call me your angel? ever?” you ask, a slight pout on your face.

“because you are not a metaphor for me to use,” he counters, not unkindly. “you are not someone who i want to compare a mere object to.”

you see the slight disappointment in his face, and you hate yourself for it.

“maybe being compared to something would be better.” you reply softly.

“you are so much more than that,” he cradles your face in his palm, so gently it hurts.

you don’t deserve this gentleness, do you?

“who am i to take that away from you?”

the silence that follows seems louder than anything else you have ever heard. he sighs softly, not with frustration, but with a tenderness that only alhaitham can muster. he gathers you in his arms – he is so, so much bigger and taller than you – he never wants to crush you. never with his anger, nor his fear, or his hurt or his sadness.

“i’m sorry for always asking that. i don’t want to be annoying.” you murmur, blinking away tears.

“you will never be annoying to me, (y/n).” he exhales.

another quiet moment is shared between the two of you – it’s healing. the silence seems to nod to a shared understanding of a love that need not be said.

“i love you, (y/n), most magnificently so. and if it would take a lifetime for you to remember that, i would like to ask for a chance to spend that lifetime with you,” he whispers these words with a quiet fierceness, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.

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reblogs w/ tags & comments are highly appreciated !!! <3 every reblog with a tag or comment gets a cookie from me hehe

[myanmy]

Time - Rick Grimes

I’m obsessed with Rick so much, it’s actually embarrassing.

Summary: You just got to Alexandria and are settling in, however Rick seems to have forgotten he has a girlfriend.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1707

Rick is the leader, Rick is the man who everyone needs help from and when you started dating him you already knew that he was a very busy man. At first it was all perfect, even after long hours of working, eventually he would come to you and you would spend the night together. When he was too tired you would cradle him in your arms and whispers comforting words in his ears, when he wasn’t too tired you two would spend a few hours loving each other, both sweating and pleasuring one another and at the end of it all, shower together while exchanging a few touches here and there. However that slowly started to change, Alexandria was a good place, a perfect place some would say, but to you it wasn’t. 

When you were out there you were forced to stay close to your group for obvious reasons, consequently spending the whole day and night with Rick. You didn’t miss the fear or the need to have to pay attention to every little noise, but you did miss Rick, you missed him a lot. Since a few days Rick has been gone a lot more than usual for a reason that you hadn’t bothered yourself to know. Slowly you started to become tired, tired of all the waiting, tired of the need of affection and while you obviously understood him being busy, you also saw how on the times that he was “free” he was talking to the new people. You had tried talking about it to him and he explained that we needed to blend in, make friends here and you didn’t completely disagree, you just wanted some godforsaken attention.

It was almost 3:00 am when you heard the front door opening, usually you would be asleep at this time, but the worry was just too much, instead you decided to close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. Soon enough you heard the door of the room opening too, you lay with your back to the door, preventing him from seeing your face. You hear the quiet steps he takes and then feel a light kiss on the top of your hair, making you almost feel bad for the plan you’re going to put to action tomorrow. 

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the side of the bed empty, at the same time that you’re angry you’re also hurt. Putting yourself together you leave the house, seeing people walking and smiling, you however didn’t do a very good job at pulling a smile on yours.

“Hey, are you alright?” Carol asks. You were so out of it that you hadn’t even noticed her walking towards you.

“Yeah…” You answered with a lot less certainty that you meant to and Carol had noticed it too, giving you a look that she knew you were lying. “No, I’m not fine.” You started walking with Carol while you explained the situation. She didn’t say a word, only listening to you renting. After walking for a few blocks you see Rick talking with Deanna, he sees you and a smile appears on his face, one that would make you melt you immediately, but you fought against it, instead looking in the other direction, ignoring him completely. 

“Oh, never saw you doing that.” Carol says, having noticed the situation.

“I’m just giving him a taste of his own medicine, let’s see how he likes it when I come home at 03:00 am in the morning.” You answer, telling yourself that you would do it no matter what.

“And where do you plan on staying until then?” She asks, somehow already imagining what you were about to say.

“At your place.” You say, this time putting a big smile on your face, trying to convince her.

“Oh no, no way. While I do love you I do not want to get caught up on this.” She says, crushing your hopes.

“Please.” You beg and she shakes her head. You sigh out of frustration, but ultimately start thinking about the other people in your group and your mind immediately goes to Maggie and Glenn.

“Why don’t you try talking with him? You know Rick, he had this need to always do everything, but he loves you, he’ll listen to you.” She says in a last attempt.

“Trust me I tried, he said he’s just trying to make friends and blend in, but while doing so I’m starting to feel forgotten. I mean, I know Rick would never cheat on me or anything like that, but coming home at 03:00 am? If tonight when I come home that late and he says nothing about it, then I’ll stop, but if as soon as I get there he starts talking shit then he’ll get what’s coming for him.” You vowed and after saying goodbye to Carol you went on with your day, making sure to take a lot longer at your tasks than you normally would, that way you avoided seeing Rick the whole day. Luckily Maggie and Glenn didn’t argue too much or asked a lot of questions when you said you needed to stay at their place until late. They went to sleep while you sat on the couch trying to focus on a book to pass time, but failing ultimately. Eventually you gave up and just laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Slowly you felt sleep creeping up on you, but you fought against it. You wanted to make Rick mad, not think that you had died. 

Eventually you saw the clock approaching 03:00 am and you decided that it was time. You left Maggie and Glenn’s house, making sure you closed the door slowly to not make any noise. After walking a bit in the fresh air of the night, you arrived at your house. The lights of the living room were on, letting you know that he was there. Nerves started rising and your heartbeat grew faster as you tried telling yourself to breathe and act like this was totally normal, just like he did.

When you entered the house you saw him with his head down while sitting on the couch. “Hey honey.” You voiced when he looked up at the sound of the door,

“Hey honey, is that what you have to say to me? Where were you?” He asks while standing up before walking closer to you,

“Out, solving some things.” You answered with the same words he had once.

“Do you know what time it is?” 

“Yeah, so?” You say with the most innocent voice possible, acting like you didn’t understand why he was so concerned.

Rick chuckles. “You’re not serious, are you?” 

“I don’t understand why you are so mad, I mean, you come home at this time almost every day. What is wrong with me doing it?”

He scoffs. “So this is what this is about? What type of game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing any game Rick, I just happen to come home late.” You kept on acting confused. 

“I thought-” He starts to yell, but lowers his voice remembering that Carl and Judith were asleep upstairs. “I thought something happened to you.”

“Now you know how I feel every night.” You muttered while walking past him, walking towards the bedroom.

He closes the door after following you into the room. “You know why I get home late.”

“I do and yet it doesn't make it any better. I understand you talking to them and doing whatever you do, but it seems like you just forgot about me. You make time for your children, which you obviously should, but what about me?” You try to fight the tears from coming to your eyes, but fail. Part of you felt childish for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help it. “When I go to sleep you’re not here and when I wake up you’re not here either, when I see you around the day you’re always talking to someone or doing something. The only way I know you even came to bed is the crumpled pillow.”

Rick sighs, running his hand through his hair, his fingers digging into the roots. “I-” He cuts himself off, looking for words. “I’ll try to do better, there’s just so much going on and I just want this to work.”

“I understand that. I want this to work too, but the rate you’re going is not going to Rick. I mean, look at you, you are tired, exhausted even. You’re the first to wake up and the last to go to sleep. You’re destroying yourself and on the way destroying this-” You say, pointing at you two.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He pressed his hand to his eyes, looking like he was about to fall asleep right there.

“Go take a shower and then come to bed, you need rest.” You suggested and with a nod of his head he went to the bathroom. You had already taken a shower at Maggie’s luckily, so you just changed and lay down on the bed, waiting for him. Your eyes were almost closing when you heard the shower turn off. Rick walks in wearing only his boxers, his expression apologetic. While you had swore to yourself that you’d be a little tougher with him, you couldn't help but feel bad and worried by his lack of sleep. So you extend your arms and part your legs, waiting for him to crawl on top of you and bury his face into your neck like many times and that’s exactly what he does.

“I’m sorry baby.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, his breathing tingly. Instead of answering you bury your face into his still slightly wet hair and kiss him there. “Don’t worry me like that again please, I was so scared.”

“Only if you promise me too.” You answer while caressing his back.

“I promise.” He vows and you do the same. “I love you.”

You wait to hear his breathing slow, knowing that he was almost asleep. “I love you.” You whisper, falling asleep to his calm breathing and the feeling of him in your arms again.

[xiaoluvss]

your architect, his artist . ᡣ𐭩 𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋

— your campus crush !

(architecture major!kaveh x fine arts major!reader)

warning ; kaveh being such a gentleman omg !! and slowburn . . . she fell first but he fell harder hehehehehe

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whom you saw for the very first time on your first day at the campus . . noticing this boy who is so, so pretty yet handsome at the same time, talking with his friends. his arms were crossed over his chest and a charming smile was on his face. you were practically admiring him from where you were standing, the sketchbook you were holding now held up to your chest. your cheeks were dusted in a light shade of pink, mouth slightly agape.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who you started to see more often on the way to your classes. you really wanted to know more about him . . was he single? what was his course? what was his favorite thing to order at a café? ah . . . maybe you shouldn't think about him too much and focus on the artworks you need to do.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who you found out was an architecture major from Nilou . . who has lots of connections. she was your roommate, and also the one who had to listen to your lovesick rants about 'this pretty guy with dirty blonde hair'. she straight up went "you mean Kaveh?" as if she could recognize anyone in this whole campus just from a description. that's when she decided to set the two of you up. I mean, all she wanted was to see you happy !

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who got a message from Nilou that said: "kaveh! are you going to the café after classes? i have someone i want to introduce to you :)"

. . that definitely caught him off guard, but he was intrigued. especially when he's met with an eager Nilou at the café . . who's also pulling along a flustered-looking girl?

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whose confused expression turns into a soft smile once he realizes how nervous you looked, also realizing that this was probably the 'someone' Nilou wanted to introduce. he immediately stops what he was doing and sets down his drink to listen to Nilou.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who was really attentive to you despite Nilou doing half of the talking. albeit the awkwardness he was feeling at first, he made such a effort to keep eye contact with you and give you a reassuring smile the more he noticed your shyness, as he wanted to ease up your concerns a bit.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who is stunned after Nilou leaves due to an 'emergency', and the both of you sit there frozen for a while before you two start laughing softly altogether. Kaveh eventually stops, offering to buy you a beverage from the cafe. you try to protest but he keeps insisting, so you decide to just give up on it and tell him an iced matcha was fine.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who comes back with the drink along with an iced latte for himself, a charming smile on his face as he sits back down. he slides the drink towards you, speaking in a gentle tone: "I didn't know you liked matcha,"

. . you found out his favorite drink was coffee on this day, and yours was matcha.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who started up a conversation with you, the both of you starting to get a bit more comfortable with each other now. he was really impressed by the fact that you were a major in fine arts, and smiled upon knowing that you both were artists in a way.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who looks out the window to see that it was raining, the sound of the raindrops blending in with the cozy atmosphere and music of the cafe. he groans a bit, mumbling to himself about how it was going to be a pain to walk back to the dorms like this. then he glances at you, seeing your worried expression and realization that you didn't have an umbrella at all due to the fact that Nilou practically just dragged you here and left you two to 'bond together'.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who is seen walking you home and even holds your sketchbook for you while he stays right beside you. such a gentleman isn't he? :') he even goes as far as to joining you in the elevator to the floor of your dorm, albeit the fact that his dorm is one floor lower than yours. he walks you all the way to your door, and as you knock, you're met with Nilou's stunned expression opening the door.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who hands you back your sketchbook and insists that it was no big deal walking you back, waving goodbye to you as he makes his way back to the elevator. Nilou witnessed everything, and you could tell she was about to urge you to tell you the whole story.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who starts to finally notice you more as time passes by, occasionally waving hello to you as he spots you running to class with either a canvas or your sketchbook each time. even carried your art supplies for you one time since you looked like you needed help going to class with all those . . stuff.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who unexpectedly starts to think about you more and more after those many encounters you both had. he finds himself thinking back to your conversations, trying his best to shake his thoughts off but he just can't stop thinking about you for some reason. there was just something about you that mesmerized him, y'know?

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whose number you got from Nilou, having loads of conversations even on late nights . . to the point where you texted him at times where you felt a bit lonely and went over to their dorm to draw, whether he was doing his architectural assignments or not.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who initially finds you in his dorm more often now, the usual awkwardness between you two back then turning into cuteness as you keep coming back. as you talk and draw together more, he becomes more open about his architecture assignments and you start to get a better understanding of him through his creative process.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who got into the same lecture with you one time, sneakily stealing glances at your figure from his seat. he also tries to get your attention from across the lecture hall and even just a bit of eye contact with you.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whose friends question if he really is catching feelings for you, because god his eyes practically look lovestruck whenever he sees you. his friends say you guys got along so quickly that it was almost as if you were practically soulmates.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who you bumped into late at night at the convenience store near your college, finding him at the drinks aisle looking for coffee. you ask yourself if it really is him or not, so you sort of just stand behind him and peek through his side to get a glance of his face. you see his eyes widen and head turn toward you, but his expression quickly changes to a soft smile once he notices that it was just you.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh who spoke with you for a while, laughing along with you as you both browsed through the selection of snacks and drinks in the store. as you stood there with your head tilted to the side, probably contemplating on what snacks to bring back to the dorm, he was there . . staring at you with the softest gaze he's ever had.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whom you walked home with, telling him some random story that happened during one of your art classes. the only thing you didn't notice was his gaze towards you the whole time. he was smiling so tenderly towards you, and was nodding from time to time while you spoke . . as if he was listening to every word you said.

‧₊˚ෆ collegestudent!kaveh whose hand unintentionally reaches out to yours without realizing it. he pulls back and looks away before you could even notice, and as you finally look back at him, you question why his face was turned away . . and why was his face is so red?

[kugokizs]

LOWKEY | G. SUGURU (m)

It’s not easy to find a flaw within Suguru.

It's unarguable that he remains to be good at everything he does, and he’s never once done anything without putting in effort. His grades, his sports, his love life– whenever he actually wanted someone for them and not for what they could offer him. In the bedroom or otherwise.

GENRE: pwp; friends to lovers

PAIRING: suguru x afab!reader

WARNINGS: a bit of pining, friends to lovers, a game of seven minutes in heaven, cunnilingus, blowjobs, lots of kissing, inner turmoil, perfect suguru, non-evil suguru, oral sex, idek remember what else but nothing triggering!

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

A/N: It’s been so long since i’ve written literally anything so I hope you enjoy this! it’s constant suguru brain rot over here.

NOW PLAYING: sorrows by bryson tiller, lowkey by rochelle jordan, teenage fever by drake, and all night long by thuy.

It’s not easy to find a flaw within Suguru.

It's unarguable that he remains to be good at everything he does, and he’s never once done anything without putting in effort. His grades, his sports, his love life– whenever he actually wanted someone for them and not for what they could offer him. In the bedroom or otherwise.

He always remained calm in stressful situations, often laughing things off whenever they got too serious. He’s always been able to view things with a clear head. You don’t think you’d ever seen a vengeful bone in his body, and whether that made him perfect you don’t know, but you know you admired him for his composure. That even when things were going terribly he still kept his head up as if nothing happened.

Since you’ve known him, Suguru has always been able to command the attention of a room and everyone in it. As soon as he walked in any door, heads would turn and eyes would glue themselves to him– assessing for themselves who Getou Suguru was, and trying desperately to see through him. From experience, it’s almost like the lights shine brighter, the music gets louder, and the people get happier every time Suguru is in proximity.

Since you’ve known him, you’ve always found Suguru to be perfect. His perfect laugh, his perfect eyes, his perfect lips, perfect tongue, perfect hands — since you’ve met him you’ve harbored a big fat crush on him and everything he is. It was easy to fall for him, almost as easy as tying your shoes or brushing your teeth. It was fun, finding new hidden things about him, growing closer to him, making him smile.

It was clear you were too far gone when even the line of girls coming to and from his room wasn’t enough to deter you. When you’d have an earful about his dick game at every friend hangout, when you’d watch another girl get starry-eyed at him, staring from across the room and twirling their hair in the same manner you would have if you were the most obvious person alive, and you still wanted him.

The room is packed, warm bodies thronged together, wrapping around each other and merging with one another. Your eyes scan the room, never settling on one face too long, and you cringe each time someone’s sweaty shirt sticks to your skin or wet arm grazes against yours. You’ve gotten used to these parties, to how loud they always are, how full and cramped, yet you never seem to get any more comfortable.

No one pays you much attention, finding dancing and drinking a lot more interesting than you moping around in a corner. You blend into the darkened room, you’re not in the spotlight, no one really cares what you do, and it’s comforting in a place that’s everything but. You cradle a drink in your hands, sighing at the barely there breeze floating in through the window, and finally drop your gaze down on Suguru's figure across the room. His arms stretch white fabric, pulling the material taught over tanned skin. His grins are lazy but full of mirth, and his laughs seem to carry across the room even over the loud music. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away.

You watch with a trained gaze as one of the girls from your design class wrap a hand around his shoulder and drag their fingernails along the material of his shirt, laughing breathily at everything he says. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, you really do like him, but you can’t imagine being that pathetic for a sliver of his attention. Not that you really need to, anyway, because Suguru is your best friend. When he turns his head, his eyes immediately find yours and you’d bother to look away if he wasn’t already grinning, a gleeful and mischievous thing that lets you know whatever idea he has is gonna make you miserable.

You shake your head before he can say anything, and he abandons his game to walk over to your designated spot in the corner, a smile stuck on his face as he does.

“No!” You call over the thumping music, your head shaking furiously in tandem to the rhythm of the song playing in the background. In your peripheral, hips swing back and forth to the heavy bass, everyone is all smiles, breathy laughs, and hooded eyes.

“Come play with us,” Suguru yells, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat and mouth open in a sexy but disgusting way. His breath glosses over your skin — he’s that close — and his eyes stare down at you with something that vaguely resembles pity. Of course he’d be the only one to register that you’re standing in a corner, alone, at a party.

“I don’t like games.” You sigh, deciding to look everywhere else but at Suguru, the one person you’ve been dying to spot since you got there earlier that night. This is the best chance to stare, but it’s hard to make eye contact with him. To look at him while he stares back.

“It’ll be fun. Please? Do it for me. Satoru is over there too.”

Shit. This again?

“So what if ‘Satoru’ is over there?” You groan, rolling your eyes and finally looking back at Suguru– even if it’s only to settle him with a heavy glare.

Suguru has somehow gotten the impression that you like Satoru. Campus pretty boy, good at everything, has everyone wrapped around his finger, and 100% not your type. You don’t know what made him come to the conclusion that you’ve got a soft spot for him or why he’s so persistent in that narrative after you’ve expressed so many times that you don’t, but it’s starting to get annoying. Stop being so blind, Suguru.

“Alright, alright,” He sighs, “Just come over.”

You’re silent for another moment before whining in defeat, leaning off the wall and towards Suguru instead. It’s hard to say no to him, and though his prideful laugh makes you want to say never mind and go back to your spot against the wall, your legs keep moving forwards, swerving between couples and squeezing between groups of sweaty and intoxicated friends. The air is warm, heavy, and the drink in your hand glides down your throat like water — smooth and refreshing. It fills you with a foreign confidence and determination that allows you to make your way to the group with a smile on your face that doesn’t resemble a grimace.

“So,” Suguru starts, clapping his hands together. “We’re either gonna play seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare, or never have I ever.”

A chorus of groans sound together, and Suguru rolls his eyes, makes that shy grin he always does when he’s embarrassed. It’s so fucking cute you can’t take it. “Shut up.” He grumbles and you can’t help the lovesick smile that forms without your permission. “What else are we gonna play?”

The group circles around the table, looking at each other with eyebrows raised, but after a moment of silence (or as silent as it can possibly be at a party) it’s decided that those are the only games available at the moment. Suguru nods his head towards the stairs, something small and cute and satisfied, and the mini group makes their way upwards — looking like the beginning of an orgy. You chuckle to yourself at the imagery even though you’d never actually want to join if they ever did… that. You’re not sure they haven’t done that, the entire group — consisting of Suguru’s friends, Satoru, Toji, and Choso, and with their just as promiscuous female counterparts Jieun, Sara, and Seoyoon. Along with the guys, the girls ran through partners like cash, never stopping long enough to know more about them than their first name and their dick game.

As you file into a line in order for the lot of you to fit up the stairway, Suguru shuffles behind you— one arm wrapping around your shoulders and waist pressed against your backside. His warmth seeps through your clothes, and it almost feels like you’re both bare, skin to skin. Your breath hitches just barely, and you quicken your pace, flitting up the stairs as if there was fire licking your heels. Suguru’s arm is dislodged from your shoulder with your movement, and it almost feels like you’ve been robbed of a large teddy bear coat or your own personal heater. Your arms wrap around yourself as if to replicate the feeling, and you shuffle in the room behind Choso, Suguru closing the door behind you both.

The light is dimmer in this room, a bedroom– one of many– and the girls waste no time plopping on the bed, Sara grabbing your arm to pull you closer, patting the spot next to her and motioning for you to sit. The mattress caves in when you do, soft memory foam encasing you and making you feel as if you’re melting, drowning in fabric. The guys stand at the opposite end of the room, drinks in hand, and it really does start to feel like the beginning of a porno. You smooth your hands over your jeans, desperate to save face and not let your lips curl into the awkward grimace they so graciously deserve, when Choso takes one last swig of his beer and places it on the floor between you– the girls on one side and the boys on the other.

“I’ll take the first spin,” Choso smiles, squatting down and pinching the bottle between his fingers.

‘Wait,” Satoru interjects, floppy bang covering his eyes and full lips glistening somehow in the dim room, his button-up shirt hanging open just slightly, the first two buttons left open either for sex appeal or for the remnants of a breeze, but you can’t deny the way your eyes linger all the same. Beads of sweat run down a toned, tan chest, and the way his lips form the words– you look away just before the glob of drool gets a chance to escape your parted lips. Coincidentally, they jet in Suguru’s direction, meeting a pair of eyes that are already piercing into your own. Suguru’s jaw is tight, and even when your eyes meet his, they don’t move, staring into you as if you’ve done something wrong. You swallow, looking down at the carpet and the shoes toeing into the fabric of it. “What game are we playing?” Satoru continues, setting his cup down on the nightstand and kneeling next to Choso.

“Seven minutes?” Toji suggests, kicking off his shoes and leaning his head back against the wall. “I got an idea of who I’d like to get stuck with.”

Bold. Sara shifts next to you, a small grin showing on her face for a split second. Ew.

“Yeah,” Suguru agrees, “So do I.”

Ouch.

Whatever. You bring your knees up onto the bed, getting comfortable as the guys abandon their drinks. “Ready?” Choso asks, gazing upwards from his place on the floor as he twists the bottle.

“Ready,” the group responds in unison, followed by giggles. The bottle spins, grazing against the carpet as it slows. One end on Satoru, the other end on Seoyoon. God, it wasn’t close at all– Seoyoon is on the total opposite end of the bed, but your heart still races, beating loudly in your chest with the anticipation of it all. There’s an even number, someone will end up with someone, the question is who are you gonna end up with and what the hell are you both gonna do? The bottle spins again. Toji and Sara. Lucky. The other couple still isn’t back yet, and there’s only four of you left. This last spin determines the rest of the pairings.

It seems like the glass moves slowest this time, as if the entire thing is in slow motion. Your eyes don’t leave the bottle for even a second, and when it stops in front of you you’re scared to see who’s on the opposite end.

“Suguru!” Jieun screeches, standing up and then grabbing Choso’s arm.

Wait what. Your head snaps up, wide eyes meeting your own. Wait WHAT!? Your hands and legs shake as you stand up from the bed. Jerky and unsure movements make you look clumsy, but it’s only you and Suguru left. You can barely get a word out, mouth open and gaping like a fish, still stuck on Jieun’s confusing words. Suguru finally looks away from you, and makes his way to the door.

Oh ok. So he’s gonna leave. You can both just lie and say you did something, or come clean and say you did nothing, but you didn’t expect him to leave just like that. You guess he didn’t get the person he had in mind. Except— he doesn’t leave, and the click of the lock makes your back straighten and your eyebrows raise.

“What…” You finally whisper, your mind finally at its end. “Why would you lock the door?”

“Because… if you’ll let me, I’d spend more than 7 minutes on you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and turning your head away so that he can’t see the small smile playing on your lips. It was so corny, but you loved it. It’s the typical romance between college students, confessing that yes, they’d like to have sex with you, and honestly, it brought a delightful pang to your chest.

“Doing what?” You laugh, backing up so that the back of your knees hit the soft mattress. You don’t want to look into this more than you should. More than you’re allowed. Suguru takes a step closer, apprehensive in everything but his movements, except he becomes more and more comfortable when he realizes you aren’t moving away. You too are apprehensive, scared, but most of all you’re curious. Curious to see what he does, to see what this means.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance like this for too long.” He chuckles but the laugh doesn’t reach his eyes. And, in a matter of seconds, he’s devouring you until you’re left breathless, your lips swollen and wet. His mouth moves along the sensitive parts of your neck, down the line of your throat, while his other hand separates from your own to run down your waist and touch you where he knows you shiver with need.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

He slips his leg between your parted ones, allowing you to settle down right on top of his muscular thigh. As the kiss grows deeper, your hips begin to move, gyrating and pressing down against him. As your bodies move with one another, your pleasure continues to rise, forming from your center and spreading over your body.

You gasp, but it’s swallowed up by Suguru’s mouth all over again. You let your hands slide up the back of his loose t-shirt. Your skin is warm, and Suguru hums into your mouth when he moves closer, your chests pressing together with each movement.

You think Suguru ends up ripping the buttons of your shorts open, too desperate to waste time unbuttoning them, and you’ll probably be annoyed later—but now, you sigh, finding his urgency unfairly attractive. Suddenly, Suguru’s lips are pulled away from yours and you whine loudly, chasing after him. You succeed, biting at Suguru’s bottom lip to get him to open up again, but it doesn’t last long.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

You blink once in response before a fire ignites in your groin. The whimper that leaves your mouth fills the silent room and you almost drop down on the ground, finding that sentence way too attractive. Is this what you want? Of course it is. So you nod vigorously, after knowing what his lips feel like on yours you don’t ever want to endure another moment of them apart.

“Words, lovely,” He grins, amused by your enthusiasm.

“Yes, Yes.”

Suguru grins, you’re pushed back gently, and Suguru pecks at your lips repeatedly until you feel your back hit the soft, blanketed mattress. Then, like every girl’s wet dream, the beautiful man is grabbing your hands to hold by your head.

Suguru then proceeds to kiss the shit out of you, your lips crashing together, ravishing you until your lungs clench and a moan falls from your lips. You desperately try to avoid bucking your hips upwards into him, but fail again and again. Eventually, Suguru drags his mouth away, trailing it down your neck. You’re gasping against him, and you curl into his touch, whimpering when sharp teeth nip at you. There’s a tongue soothing the wound, sucking at the same spot, lapping over it. You can feel yourself starting to shake, whimpering more often than not, before you’re yanking your hands free from Suguru’s hold and dragging his face back up. You can feel Suguru smiling into it, chuckling just the tiniest bit, but he resumes kissing you.

He holds his gaze on yours when you fall apart, relaxing your body while the pulsing of your orgasm courses through you. He leans down into your arms right after, pressing tightly against your chest, so tight that you could feel his heartbeat pacing fast against yours. The kisses he gives you are soft and gentle, your thighs still trembling when he pulls away, pulling his gray t-shirt over his head.

The unmistakable shape of his erection that you feel brushing against your stomach lets you know just how turned on he is, and you equally so. His lips return to yours only after he has stripped himself, and your hands move from his shoulders to his chest, trailing down his naked skin, where you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

No way this is happening.

You lean forward, switching positions and taking him into your hand from under his clothes. He’s heavy, full of cum, and you slide your body down so that your mouth is right against his cock. You leave a kitten lick on the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins and the way Suguru throbs. He’s a pleasant weight on your tongue and you swirl it around the tip before sucking him into your mouth.

Still with your eyes on his face, you lean closer, kissing his sensitive tip before fitting your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth again. You hear him gasp before it turns into a deep groan, sucking and licking as you take him deeper.

Suguru sighs, his hand gripping your hair and forcing you down onto him. He fucks your mouth like all you are is a toy for him to use. Every time he inches you down onto him you can feel his skin against your nose and hear the spit fucking back in your throat. Your eyes lose focus as Suguru continues to rut into you, abusing your throat like it was nothing. Your body buzzes from the sensation and you feel hot all over, allowing him to use you the way he wants. His low growl vibrates down to your core and you resist the urge to reach down and stroke your fingers to search for your own pleasure, choosing to focus on pleasing him instead.

His lips fall open with a few deep grunts escaping his soft lips, his hips moving faster as he pumps himself into your mouth. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

Your fingers dig into his thighs and you whimper around him, the vibrations from your throat making his body spasm as he nears his orgasm. You pull off of him, your lips swollen and red, slicked with spit and pre cum.

“On my face,” you rasp, your throat scratchy and hoarse. “On my face Suguru, please. I’ve been good.”

Woah, where did that come from (???)

Suguru’s movement becomes harsh as he pumps himself, his speed growing rapidly, and you see him twitching, his girth widening, before he pumps his cum onto your face with a long, drawn-out, groan.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, watching you take his cum into your mouth. His thumb brushes back and forth over your cheek, relishing to the way your body leans into his touch. “You have no idea how many times I wished I could take you like this, do every sinful thing I could think of until you’re screaming out my name. How much I’ve wanted to see you on your knees like this.”

All you can feel is his touch, his fingers tweaking at your nipples and his lips that keep moving down and kissing the skin of your breasts that spill over your bra. He pulls his hand, the one that has been kneading at your breasts, and trails it down. He strokes his tongue over your skin while his free hand moves lower, and lower, slipping under your shorts to find your clit.

He traces down your panties, soaked with your arousal, running over the lace and moaning at the feeling of it clinging onto you. His thumb follows the wet trail on the flimsy fabric to find your opening, hardly shielding you from his touch. He twists his hand while he continues to press his thumb in circles over your covered entrance, his fingers find your clit, and then he pinches, hard, sending you over the edge a second time and into one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.

You squirm at the feeling of your release, his fingers slowly peel the scrap of black lace down your thighs, making a show out of it while he makes you wait. He continues to tease you, staring you down as he makes a show of peeling the fabric down your legs. You slip your feet from them as he pulls them off, and you watch him lift the lace to his face. Inhaling deeply, breathing you in. His lashes flutter, and the view of him taking you in so shamelessly makes you shudder.

He drops the fabric in the next moment, looming over you with hooded eyes, and leans down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. He continues to kiss you as he spreads your legs apart, holding them down with heavy hands. With your pussy so wet, his fingers slide easily through your folds, and he can feel just how wet you are, but the way you clench and throb around him makes him moan deeply. His lips find your hips, then he moves down, running his mouth down your legs, taking time to trail along your thighs, your calves, your ankles, and keeping his eyes on you the whole time.

You let out a gasp at the first stroke of his tongue over your clit. Your legs lift a little, but Suguru presses them back down, keeping you in place— keeping you right where he wants you.

“Don’t move, baby, be good for me, ok?”

You can’t reply, just running a shaky hand through his hair as you cry out at the feeling of his tongue resuming its ministrations on your throbbing core. You can’t do much but moan and sigh, an incoherent mess from Suguru’s mouth. It’s funny to you, how he has you shaking from under him, building you up and then breaking you down with immense pleasure— a feeling that you can barely think around.

You hear his soft chuckle as he gives you a few more kisses with his tongue, tasting you, before he looks up again and whispers, “I’ll make sure you fall apart around me.” And he’s determined to make good of his words. His grip tightens on your thighs, as the swipes of his tongue grow more intense. He sucks at your clit, pressing his tongue against you to send you into your third orgasm.

Your hips move desperately against his face, hopeless in your need for more. Chasing pleasure with each roll of your hips and his head buried in your heat. You spasm, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as you cum, soaking his tongue with your release and closing him in with your thighs. He doesn’t stop, sucking your clit in his mouth and using his tongue to lap up every bit of your orgasm. You cry out in protest, your body squirming away from his touch as instinct but the grip on your thighs doesn’t let up.

“Suguru please, oh god.”

His chest shakes with a chuckle, rising up and slotting himself between your thighs. You want him, more than anything, no matter what. He kisses the corner of your lips, smiling against your mouth. As he continues to litter kisses against your skin, he presses his cock against your clit, rubbing his hard length up and down your pussy, coating himself with your arousal. The next time he pulls himself back from you, he only does it briefly— and when he pushes himself back it’s with a thrust into you hard and fast, nearly bringing you to another orgasm despite you coming down from your third.

Your thoughts leave you as he continues to move in and out of you, filling you up and satisfying you the way he always does, except now it's in a different way. Your walls contract as he slams into you deeper, lifting your legs and situating them against his shoulders. He buries himself so deep inside it’s almost like he’s melded himself into you. He’s so big, you can barely breathe, allowing him to bring pleasure to you both as he moves.

He moans, his voice raspy with need, as he pumps his cock in and out of you.

Your mouth falls open, overwhelmed with satisfaction. You can only focus on the feeling of his cock dragging against you, his tip hitting so hard it feels like he’s moving around your organs. He pounds into you, not allowing anything but lewd moans to leave your lips for even a moment. His harsh groans and your airy sighs fill the room, slaps of his skin against yours lewd and wet. “Oh god, I’m gonna—”

Your words become nothing but a moan when his thrusts don’t falter and instead pick up. You don’t know how he’s managing to keep going, how he’s managed to move even quicker.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, clenching his jaw, letting you know that he’s on the brink of orgasm. Suguru bends down, taking your lip into his mouth, tugging and sucking and making you sigh in bliss. Then his fingers come down to find your clit, sending you erupting into an earth-shattering orgasm.

The next thing you know Suguru is groaning above you, his body going lax against you and his cum shooting into you forcefully, making you clench harder around him. Suguru whimpers as he continues to cum, again and again, releasing into you and painting your walls.

No way he just did that.

Suguru sighs, his hair brushing against your naked skin, and he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips rest there as you both come down from your high, basking in the glow of your orgasms and relishing in the presence of each other.

He pulls out of you, dragging his tip against your wet folds, before littering kisses against your face. Small pecks that tickle with the gentle force of them, and you giggle, running a hand through his soft locks.

Your chest heaves with the force of your breaths but otherwise your body feels light, airy, and any negative thought you’d entertained before is completely gone in lieu of the sex you and Suguru have just had, the mutual understanding you’ve created with the meshing of your bodies.

“I thought you’d be upset with me,” Suguru murmurs.

“Never.”

You trace your fingers against his skin, tracking his breathing and basking in his warmth. Your fingers slide through the grooves in his abs, tracing shapes over his collarbone, and tweaking his nipple just for Suguru’s barking of a laugh when he shoves you away saying that it tickles. You lean your forehead down so that it’s resting just near Suguru’s armpit, hairless like usual, and inhale— breathing in his scent, his proximity, him. He's perfect, and he’s yours, no matter what.

You’ve always wished for the closeness and transparency of a trusting relationship— have always wondered if you’d be able to get that, if you’d be able to keep it— and Suguru is proof that you have. It feels good to know that there are no secrets, no doubts or worries, and that there can only be acceptance between the both of you. A secureness that would be hard to find anywhere else. It fills you with butterflies, but it makes you incredibly happy to know that those feelings will remain, and you can only hope it'll stay that way forever and always.

When Suguru runs his hand down your back, reaching below the covers to squeeze your ass, you huff, poking him in the chest as a warning. Yet you know, and Suguru knows, that it makes you happy that you have this. A home, a person who loves you just as much as you love him, and a trusting relationship.

Suguru likes this familiarity. Laying down with you, bare emotionally and physically, and unworried about being judged or ridiculed. It feels good, it satisfies him more than he ever thought it could, and makes a comfortable, warm, feeling bloom in his chest. He inhales— taking in the scent of you and your proximity, and he smiles.

“Hey!” The sound is muffled, “Why’d you guys lock the door!?”

And that’s the end! I feel like it’s a bit rushed and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoyed!

[risuola]

satoru gojo character & story analysis — all of it began with a miracle.

it's a piece of writing i wanted to do for a long time. it's not fanfiction, there's no reader. it's just his story from beginning to an end ( which i refuse to believe it's the end), it's what i think he was going through, what i noticed and assumed.

contains spoilers. — wc. 2,6k

It all began with a miracle.

A child is born, an anomaly, a little boy that in all helplessness and vulnerability is meant to be the strongest. A baby with hair as white as the snow and eyes as blue as the sky cries out loud, letting out his first few breaths and the balance of the world shifts.

Boy grows up, but without the warmth and love so needed and craved — he’s learning to survive in a world that doesn’t want him. He has looked death straght in the eyes more times than he's met the gaze of his own parents. With a bounty on his little head and with eyes filled with blooming resentment, he must keep his head high because he’s a pride. A treasure of his clan, a bearer of two techniques that did not appear together for hundreds of years. He’s blessed, but the blessing is nothing but a curse.

He knows about curses before he ever sees them. He knows about curses before he learns to write and he faces them while kids of his age are enjoying their time on the playground. It’s fine, his peers wouldn’t understand him anyway. He was fine alone. He was fine.

Years pass and he learns. With people around him, he’s lonely. A burden of power weighs him down, it swallows him whole and he feels alienated. The strongest sorcerer of the new era. The title feels strange on his tongue for years and he doesn’t feel the strongest. He’s a child, he wants to be— he can’t.

He grows arrogant, he grows distant and isolated. Directing his attention to things as trivial as gameboy games and playing cards, he leans towards normality that he craves so much. He finds joy and pleasure in sugary treats, because that’s what make him feel almost regular. But then, he meets someone special. Suguru Geto. A boy just like him, a boy with power that others do not understand. They become friends.

It’s the first time in Satoru’s life that he has a friend and he’s overwhelmed. He’s in love with the feeling of having someone, anyone, who understands him. He craves the time he spends with Suguru, he longs to see the black haired boy, he cannot get enough of him, always texting him, sending pictures, calling. And Geto wanted that too. The dynamic of friendship blooms into something beautiful, it roots deep within him and he wants nothing more, because with Suguru, he feels complete. Because with Suguru, he’s no longer alone.

The sky is blue. The bluest it’s ever been and the sun is so warm and pleasant. The days blend into each other, he doesn’t count them, he doesn’t care. He just wishes to be in this time forever, he wishes for this spring to stay like this because he’s there with him. And there are other people that care for him too? That are not afraid of him, that do not want him dead? He loves it. No matter the curses, he’s untouchable, he’s the strongest. They are the strongest.

But then, the blue sky turns red, the easy mission of protecting the star plasma vessel turns dark and bloody and Satoru dies for the first time. The sound of a blade cutting through his flesh, the feeling of it cutting the tissues and the warmth of his own blood made them dizzy. He falls to the ground and stills. Is it over? He doesn’t know. What’s with the balance of the world, what’s with his world, what’s with Geto?

Throughout heaven and hell, he alone becomes the honored one.

Everything shifts again. His body, as strong as ever becomes even stronger. Toji is gone and he doesn’t know what happened to Suguru. Riko is gone. It seems like he’s alone again but there’s a child on his mind now, a thought of a few-years-old boy somewhere alone. A child whose father he just killed.

He’s in crisis. Amanai’s body is light in his hands, cold against his warm body as he carries her out of the room full of simple humans, blinded by an ideology that is nothing but cruel. He sees the death of someone whom he grew to care about and he realizes that despite being the strongest, he simply cannot save people he wants to. And then, Suguru saves him. There’s no point in that, he says and Satoru listens. The sound of clapping makes him numb. Everything what happened made the shine of his eyes dull out. The blood in his hair feels foreign, the clothes on his body are trash. He’s dirty, he’s tired, he died just moments ago. But he listens. He knows better than to defy. He listens and leaves the cult behind.

The scale shifts again. Satoru is stronger. Suguru is left alone, Suguru feels abandoned and Gojo cannot help. His solo missions and the determination to master his techniques are driving him into oblivion. He still longs for his friend and in fact, there’s nothing else that motivates him than the wish to keep his close ones safe. He’s still himself, he picks all of him up soon, he throws himself into getting more out of what he inherited and he becomes the strongest. He saved Ijichi, but he couldn’t save Haibara.

And he couldn’t save Geto.

Is he the strongest because he’s Satoru Gojo or— what the hell does that even mean? He doesn’t know, but the sight of his closest friend, the one and only, the ride or die, turning around and disappearing into the crowd makes him want to scream. He grieves. He feels like he lost everything he had. The sky has never been so blue again.

He’s just a teenager. A young boy that never got to know love and care and yet, he decides to love and care for a boy, whose father took everything from him. It is, after all, Toji who turned his life into hell — taking the life of Riko, nearly killing Suguru and planting the seed of hatred into his mind. It is Toji who initiated Geto’s change, who initiated his own change. And the boy, Megumi, looks so similar. But Satoru takes him and his sister. Those kids are lucky. Satoru is not a father, but he gives his all to this new role. He doesn’t show it, but he cares.

Years pass by and he becomes a teacher. He wants to change the world he lives in, he wants to make sure the next generations are capable of protecting themselves. He doesn’t want anyone else to suffer as he did. He wants the kids to be strong, he trains them, nurtures them. He’s not the best teacher, he lacks qualities that make him likeable, but he does his best. He thrives in the way his students get better, he loves their smiles, he watches their friendships and he thinks that for as long as he is alive, he will not allow any kid to have its youth taken away. He lives by that statement.

He loses himself.

Lonely in the world, he realizes there’s a long-distant family around. Okkotsu. So Satoru saves him, trains him, loves him. And Yuta loves Satoru back. Things are good for a moment. Megumi grows good — he’s a troublemaker at school but to Gojo, he’s perfect. Tsumiki is in coma, but he cares about her as well, making sure she has the best medical attendance and conditions. For a moment, it’s perfect.

Until it’s not.

Until Suguru Geto appears at Jujutsu High after nearly a decade of absence, looking so familiar and yet so foreign. But his voice is the same, the tone in which he calls Satoru, it’s all so close to his heart. Satoru feels his heartbeat quicken, there’s a pressure in his throat and he wants to scream, but he can’t. Everyone is around, his kids are there, he can’t, he’s the strongest. So he stays there, focuses and he knows that after so many years, the time comes that he will have to make the sacrifice he wasn’t able to years ago.

Satoru blames himself. He did so for years, he felt lonely and guilty. But Suguru looks happy. Is he happy without him? The Night Parade happens. There’s trust. Despite everything that happened, Gojo trusts his one and only friend to not kill innocent young sorcerers because Gojo loves him still. It’s a feeling that’s always inside his chest, a friendship that will never be burned down. He wouldn’t be able to rid himself of it, no matter what happens.

But he kills him. The sight of Suguru so bloodied breaks his heart. The soft smile and light tone of his voice are etched into him and he knows that it is necessary to finish what he started that day in the past, in front of the fast food store. At this point, Satoru is so used to putting himself on the least important position, that he comes to terms with hurting himself if it means to protect his students, the youth.

There’s an importance to a body that he cannot deny. It is so undeniably human of him to want his closest friend to have a proper burial, to not be cut down and burnt as any other sorcerer. Satoru, egoistically, wants to have a place to come to, to talk to, to lay flowers at. He thinks that it’s alright, that it’s his own, that he’s allowed to do this because there’s no one stronger than him, right? He thinks that it’s alright to have Suguru’s grave to himself because that would feel like he still can talk to him, visit him. He takes care of it too. Flowers are always fresh, the candles are lit, the grave is clean and he feels him inside. The dead body filled with residuals so familiar, it puts Satoru at ease.

Until he doesn’t have that much time anymore. Because Sukuna awakens and he has yet another kid to take care of, to fight for. And he doesn’t know it yet, but nothing will be the same again.

Things go downhill from there. Where was he when Sukuna ripped his precious student’s heart out? As he sits in the mortuary, watching Shoko getting ready for the section, he cannot help but blame himself again. He promised to protect that child, he took him under his wing, he trained and taught him, ready to stand against the demon inside and still, he failed. And then, he laughs because this time, it seems like life is merciful. Because Sukuna allows Yuji to live.

Halloween night brings much less luck and he feels like a weapon again. Upon a curtain over Shibuya, he is sent alone because it is assumed that he’s gonna clean all the mess that unraveled. No matter how many people are there, how many curses and how dangerous. He’s the strongest, he’ll deal with it. He has to fight and he enjoys it even, for a moment, until he has to make sacrifice of people that, deep inside, he doesn’t care that much about? He cannot save everyone but there’s a promise in his actions, that he’ll at least exorcise the curses.

He makes a choice. Hanami first. He should’ve gone for Jogo. It’s chaos. And then…

The eyes he possesses tell him it’s Suguru Geto, but his soul knows otherwise. He’s sealed and he knows that he should’ve allow Shoko to dispose his friend’s body properly. But he didn’t want to. And now it was his fault.

It’s not that long for the world to go on without him and still, it seems like it’s close to ending. Satoru gets out but there’s no celebration, only grief. He has become a criminal. Most of his colleagues are dead. Is Nanami’s death his fault? Maybe if he’d exorcise the fire curse first— or Mahito. If not for Mahito both Nanami and Nobara wouldn’t—

Every choice he made in life, that prioritized his own well-being and happiness, backfired tremendously.

And Megumi. His babyboy, his stubborn son is now possessed by Sukuna? Why didn’t he see that coming? Tsumiki is gone too. And Yaga. He struggles to count the losses. A date is set and deep inside his gut he knows what will happen that day. He gives it his all. The mastery of his techniques. His fit body, his strength and all of the battle iq he has. He fights with everything he’s got, he bleeds and hurts, but it’s Megumi he fights for. It’s youth he tries to protect, it’s his son.

He feels alive for a moment, despite all, he thrives in the environment of battle so intense and extreme. He reaches the absolute top of his abilities; he gives it his absolute all. He wants to win, he wants to prove he’s the strongest, he wants to protect those who are important to him. But it’s not enough.

His fight is broadcasted and his death is too. Like a twisted reality show, an entertainment, with all the bloody detail and harsh reality of his situation. His last breath is shown through the screens. He thinks of his students a lot, he wants to show off for them, to teach them that there are levels of power that he wishes them to reach and yet, he fails. Because the levels of his power are simply not enough.

Satoru dies. Alone on the battlefield. He dies by the hand of his own boy, praised by the demon inside him and he wishes he could speak at the final moment. He knows what will happen next.

Five minutes.

He gave his permission. Used to treat himself as nothing but a weapon, he doesn’t care much what will happen to his body once he’s gone. The hope of resting next to his friend is long forgotten, he doesn’t dare to think wishfully, he doesn’t give into his egoism yet again. He wants his team to win and if that means they will use his lifeless body, throwing away his soul, then so be it.

Five minutes.

He doesn’t think much about it when Yuta brings up the topic. Frankly, he has no intention to lose the battle. He wants to take down Sukuna by himself, because if he does it, even if he dies in the process, his close ones will be safe. And he beliefs in them too. He hopes that everything he’s done in his short life is enough.

Five minutes.

That’s how long Yuta’s technique will work.

For five minutes, he’s still being used.

For five minutes, he still has to be the strongest.

It’s five minutes, and he’ll be able to rest.

The last five minutes of Satoru Gojo.

Satoru is a character deeply tragic but built so beautifully. He’s never had anything and yet he lost everything. One by one, he watched his close ones die, right in front of his eyes and he couldn’t do anything about it, even though he was the strongest. A title, almost mocking, stretched throughout his entire lifetime, marking him with powers that made him untouchable but rendering him unable to save people he cared about. His life was a trial, proving how resilient was his personality. Despite the arrogant, joyful mask, there was a deeply responsible man who dreamt big about changing the world but failed.

I’d like to think he’s got to know love, intimacy, the warmth of a touch even as gentle as a kiss to his temple but there’s nothing of such clues throughout the manga.

That is him. That is Satoru Gojo.

a/n. if you made it through this entire text, congrats! i don't expect this post to be read many times, but i needed to get this off my chest because i'm the kind of person who likes to analyze the characters. i have thoughts about most of the characters in jjk, so if you're interested in reading my dissection of someone else, let me know.

also, let's make a biding vow to give our man the fluffiest fics ever, the happiest moments and the sloppiest heads, thanks.

[pommpuriinn]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒, 𝑒𝓈𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜 1

｡𖦹°‧ pairing ｡𖦹°‧ - idol!yeonjun x superstar!oc x idol!jungkook

｡𖦹°‧ synopsis ｡𖦹°‧ - a love triangle between Hollywood’s sweetheart, Korea’s golden maknae, and Gen Z’s IT boy. Estrella is a very busy woman never had time dating with all her photoshoots, movie offers, recording sessions, dance practices, and public appearances. As she’s doing a little world tour promotions for her latest mini album ‘You & Me’, and let’s just say that stop last a little longer and it becomes a little too interesting.

Italics = korean

“We are so happy you stopped by in Australia to promote your new album called ‘You & Me’ out now! Thank you again and what’s next? Where are you heading to next?” The kind morning talk host asked Estrella. “Um…it’s a secret.” Fans in the studio whined wanting to hear new info. “I know! I want to say what’s next, but all Megan is allowing me to say that it’s worth the wait and there will be many opportunities to see me. So don’t miss me too much starrys~” Estrella had a cute pouting face, making starrys cheer even louder. “And to where I’m heading next is Seoul, South Korea. I didn’t think I had such a big fan base over there, but I’m so grateful that they love me so much and want me to promote over there and experience their culture. I’m excited.” Estrella smiled at the thought of experiencing another culture and trying new food along with meeting new people.

“That’s beautiful and I hope you continue having an amazing time during this mini promotion tour. Once again please listen to Estrella’s new album ‘You & Me’! And don’t go any where Estrella will also be performing her title track ‘Eleven’ after this commercial break.” Estrella was mimicking the talk host’s action making the audience laugh, but was all light hearted because once the talk host took notice Estrella giggles and pulls her into a hug. “We’ll be right back!” Estrella finished the monologue for the talk host.

Estrella’s makeup staff member quickly made her way onto the stage to do some touch ups. “Sana-chan~” Estrella jokingly gasped, making Sana chuckle at Estrella’s cute characteristics. “She must be a sweetheart to work with.” The female talk host compliments. “She is, but she can be a bit mischievous at times and that’s when you have to be careful.” Sana has many stories of Estrella pranking her with “accidentally” messing up her makeup, or when Sana gets close to Estrella’s face while doing her makeup and Estrella would try and kiss her.

Luckily, Estrella stood still for her touch ups and fixing her outfit before getting into position to start her performance. “Let me retuck your hair real quick,” Sana gently pulls Estrella’s under the white flower chocker (hair like in the photo). “Kill the stage.” Sana whispers, before running to stand next to starrys so she can get the perfect view. The second the lights tone down and shine on Estrella and her dancers the audience went crazy.

ೃᰰ࿔eleven (sorry the audio is bad the person that made the video said the artist of the original song was singing live and the person tried their best to blend ive’s ver and original ver together)

ೃᰰ࿔choreography

The room was filled with fanchants which made Estella smile while singing. Also seeing her lightsticks being waved around excitedly shows how many people came and took time out of their day for support her. Just as the song came to an end Estrella made sure to blow kisses at everyone, as her ending pose.

To many people it’s still weird that a non Kpop artist does and has everything an Kpop artist does, but something about Estrella just fits it so well. Maybe because she was trained like one without all the ridiculous harsh criticism instead was given constructive criticism, and actually helped her work on it. She was taught about fanservice, having fanchants, how important photocards and lightsticks are, always being thankful for your fans who got you where you are today. Estrella didn’t much help with any of those because it just came to her like a second nature; she made the fanchants and posted it on her twitter, she made sure to practice taking selfies for her future pcs, the second Megan mention making a lightstick Estrella already drew it with the thought of how pretty it will look in pictures and with starrys waving it around, and ever since the beginning Estrella was thankful of her fans even if it was just one she would give them a massive hug and express how appreciative she is with just knowing her name.

As Estrella was the last segment in the show she was able to wave ‘bye’ to all her starrys that were in the studio. Estrella was making sure to look at each and every one remembering their faces and all the small details. “Estrella could you sign this?!” A fan holds up a recent magazine cover Estrella did. “Of course!” Estrella runs to the fans making everyone around scream with how close she is to them. “What’s your name?” Estrella looks right into the fan’s eyes. “P-Priscilla.” Poor Priscilla was captivated by Estrella’s big doe eyes causing her to stutter her name. “What a pretty name~” Estrella still holding eye contact smiles while signing and gives back and now signed magazine. “I’ll make sure to come back to Sydney, bye starrys!”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒���ིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

“Another one down and one more to go.” Megan crosses off the list in her IPad Pro. The crew was currently driving back to their hotel finally being able to relax a bit before their flight the next day to Seoul. “Make sure you write down Australia for a tour stop, please.” Estrella drags out the word ‘please’, making Megan open the tour stop list. “Estrella you practically have the world map on your tour stop list already.” Megan snicker. “Good that means starrys all over the world will have a chance to see me.” Estrella looks out at the window, daydreaming about how her tour is going to look like fill with starrys and their lightstick singing and dancing– “Nuh-uh, don’t start planning the tour already missy. You still need to take a break from working so much before you burn yourself out.” Daya who is now Estrella’s assistant manager, scolds Estrella from the passenger seat erupting her daydreaming.

“Yeah after during some promotional work in Seoul let’s take a mini vacation there–oh! We can also go to Japan and I can show you guys what I grew up with. Plus don’t you love Pokémon mine chīsana hoshi?” Sana was trying to convince Estrella. “I do! Let’s do it.” Estrella’s eyes sparkle at the thought of purchasing all the little cute Pokémon plushies plus the thought of all the cute theme cafes they can go to. “Let’s just rest before planning something else.” Megan couldn’t handle booking more plane tickets and hotel rooms. The migraine was slow seeping through again.

Once everyone showered and all went to rest in their respective rooms for a good amount of time, Megan texted the group chat to meet in her room to give a little run down the schedule in Korea Estrella has. To no one’s surprise both Estrella and Sana walked in with their matching Chiikawa pajamas and matching Sanrio headbands. “Oh was I erupting something important?” Megan holds in her laughter, as she sees not only the matching pieces but they both had a pink skincare face masks on. “No. Not at all.” Estrella innocently answered. “Ah Estrella never loose your bright spirit.” Daya and the rest of the team love how oblivious Estrella could be. They just want to protect her from the world.

“Ok moving on,” Megan cleared her throat. “So once we land we go straight to our hotel rooms and immediately start getting Estrella ready for her interview with very popular television personality, Yoo Jaesuk. Have you been studying more Korean?” Megan looks up at Estrella. She hums ‘yes’, “hi, I’m Estrella Blue and please take care of me.” Everyone clapped. “That was good, and don’t worry you will still have an ear-in so they can translate for you. Next we have music bank promotions only for a week to test out the waters. During that time you can do tiktok dance challenges with some idols, and speaking of tiktok challenges we have this company called Hybe which is the home to many big artists originally know for groups like BTS and Tomorrow x Together. Who want to show you around the building and film again tiktok dance challenges with their artists including showing you around the company. The next one is the ‘You & Me pop up shop.”

“Wait! They aren’t trying to recruit her right?” Daya rises an eyebrow towards Megan. “Hell no! What they emailed me and talked through the phone is wanting to film a little video showing Estrella around that’s it.”

“Good just making sure.” Daya nods. “Then finally attending some Seoul fashion show/parties and that’s it.” Megan sighs, finishing reading the schedule. “I hope I do well guys.” Estrella was stressing a bit about the language barrier and all the new mannerisms she had to learn to make sure not to offend the people of there. “Hey, you got this mine chīsana hoshi.” Sana wraps her arms around Estrella’s shoulder hugging her. “Plus you have a large group of fans waiting for you there already ready to support and cheer you on.” Sana gives some comforting words, hopefully bringing Estrella spirits up. “Yeah, don’t stress Estrella.” Daya affectionately pets Estrella’s head. “Trust me our precious star we will always be by your side. And when things get too much just signal to us, and we’ll be there.” Megan takes a hold of Estrella’s hand gently caressing her knuckles. “Thanks guys.” Estrella pouts, feeling emotional with all the love they are giving her.

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

Waking up at the crack ass of dawn, going to the airport and checking in, finally flying then landing. The whole team were like zombies coming out of plane dragging their feet following everyone out. Estrella’s security got close to the team, as they were getting closer to the door leading out to the main airport lobby. “Wait! Before went enter chaos. Let me fix your outfit.” Sana quickly stopped Estella was moving to fix tiny details. “Ok,” Sana sighs. “You’re perfect.” Estrella snickers at Sana. “Thank you~” Estella sings.

The second those double doors slide open bright lights start flashing and the yelling starts. “Oh my god.” Estrella really underestimated the popularity she holds in Korea. Just as Estrella was going to start walking the Korean press was telling her stop and pose for them. “Just give a couple of cute poses.” Megan whispers before getting out of the shot.

“Estrella over here!”

“Heartu heartu Estrella!”

Estrella was trying to do all the heart poses she remembers. Some fans were showing her which ones to do. “Ok that’s enough we have to get going, thank you.” Megan announces to the reporters. Security immediately goes back to Estrella’s side and start their walk out of the Incheon airport. Estrella is surprise with all the phones and cameras that were filming every second of the walk along with fans trying to hand her letters and gifts. “Oh, thank you.” Estrella smiles, and took the gifts. Some fans were trying to get Estrella to complete their hearts which she gladly completed them. What really took the Korean fans’ hearts were when Estrella was saying ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ in Korean as well as giving small bows at them. The team safely made it to their car and Estrella rolled down the window to wave ‘bye’ at everyone who were still filming and yelling encouraging words at her.

“I will enjoy m-my time…”

Estella quickly asks for help, as she forgot some words. “Here in Korea.” Megan quickly helps her. “Here in Korea, thank you.”

“See nothing to worry about.” Daya hands over some more fan letters that Estella missed. “Thanks, and I guess not.” Estrella said, as she looks back at everyone that was waiting for her getting smaller and smaller. “Wow~ they work fast look-” Sana shows everyone the newly posted article of ‘Estrella Blue landing in Korea!’ Megan takes Sana’s phone and starts reading, “The mega superstar Estrella Blue finally lands in Seoul, South Korea and immediately shows her beautiful visuals and amazing fanservice. A born to be artist who has the talent, fashion, and goddess like visuals.”

“Goddess like visuals?!” Estrella is shock at all the high compliments they are giving her. “They also say your Korean sounds so cute and might be a new trend.” Megan adds. “I sound like a baby though.” Estrella chuckles, while looking at all the buildings and people that they were passing by. “Korea will definitely be interesting.” Sana has a feeling Korea might not go the way they thought it will, but in a good way.

[meryldian]

⭑ ࣪˖ 2023 Bill Kaulitz NSFW Headcanons pt.3 ⭑ ࣪˖

Pt.1 • Pt.2 I’ve been starving you guys so while I catch up with requests I thought of giving you a little present for being so patient .︿.

I hope it can satisfy you aaahhhhhhh

• Set for 2023!Bill but overall can work for *almost* any era.

• This one’s a bit different, divided in sections.

• AFAB! READER

CONTENT & WARNINGS: Sub/dom dynamics, sex toys, semi-public sex, groping, voyeurism if you squint, biting, boudoir photography, sexting & nudes, drinking, reader has a tattoo, mirror sex, clothed sex, cunnilingus, scratching. I think that’s it.

Date night sex; Starting romantic

It’s needless to say that Bill is a total gentleman. When you guys come back from your date nights he will treat you like you’re the most luxurious piece in his collection.

Will kiss you around the house, guiding you to your bedroom and allowing you to get comfortable as he fetches some champagne and raspberries in the kitchen.

Bill would untie your high heels for you if your feet hurt.

This aside, he does like it when you keep them on during sex, he thinks they make your legs look so classy and sexy. Anyway.

Sharing a toast in bed, under the dim warm light of your bedroom before you blend into a deep, slow kiss.

Likes to eat you out while your pretty dress is still on too, that way he gets to see two of his favourite things all at once. You all dolled up and how you cum from his tongue alone.

Dragging his lips up til they meet yours and get your approval to move on.

He’s always super romantic after date nights, prioritizing pleasure and connection more than anything else. True lovemaking.

You guys have these moments when you will stare at each other and just smile. The world around you doesn’t exist and it’s just your bodies tangled under your satin sheets.

Prompt yourself up on your elbows and give Bill a teethy smile while he thrusts in you, it’ll make him melt quite literally.

I’ve said this before and will say it again, no matter how long you’ve been together, he is always just as excited to roam his hands over your body, to kiss you and whisper sweetly in your ear.

I want him. Is it too much to ask for?

Admiring you

Bill loves to pay attention to detail, which will definitively come in during the act.

It may scare you at first, thinking he’ll just see the things you’re insecure about. But he proves you so wrong.

Every bump, scar and roll is beautiful to him and all yours. He would kiss every inch of your skin if he wanted to.

The consequences of living with someone that owns a tattoo machine is probably ending with a tattoo on your bum, but see the positive side, now Bill gets to bite that cute heart he tattooed on your cheek everytime you lay on your stomach.

He likes seing the results after sex. The kiss marks you’ve left on him, the scratches he put on your hips, the reddened spots on his, et cetera.

Eye contact is so important during the act, with just a look he shares so many emotions with you.

He also loves just putting your foreheads together as he thrusts in, enjoying how close you are to him.

Mornings with Bill

When Bill’s feeling needy in the morning he likes to come behind you and wrap his arms around your waist as you prepare breakfast. He starts off innocently, with little kisses on your nape and nibbling at your earlobe. Til his tattooed hand wanders down and starts teasing you through your underwear. (Or directly, if you enjoy wandering free) Meanwhile, his free hand may stay still on your waist, or travel to your breasts and massage them, or even caress your hair.

His excuse is that there is nothing better to start the day than a morning orgasm.

Your poor kitchen counter has witnessed pure filth.

Having windows all around the house can be quite an inconvenience though. You guys accidentally scarred the gardener who just tried to do his job in peace.

You were both butt naked, Bill hammering into you, on leg on his shoulder and one wrapping around his hips as you hold yourself up with your elbows on the hard surface (ouch). Your poor gardener just wanted to trim the bushes by the kitchen and not get a free show.

Some mornings are quieter. Spent under your silk sheets sharing kisses and giggles as Bill’s tattooed hand grops your ass as you bounce up and down his cock.

You attacking his neck with nibbles and kisses. Sucking on it and leaving red and purple blemishes just like when you were teenagers in heat.

You might get interrupted by your dogs ngl.

When he takes the lead

I haven’t written much dom Bill so I’ll offer some:

He has said he enjoys a challenge so I can very much see him enjoying when you play hard to get. Be bratty. Tease him, work him up then act like you didn’t do anything, like you don’t need “it”.

Remember, no matter what he does to you, you can get your revenge later on. The dynamic is fun.

Bill won’t take you from behind often, but when he’s fed up with your bratty attitude he will slam your chest into the mattress and pound into you til you see stars and all you can hear is the pleasing sounds of his hips slamming against your ass, while he groans in pleasure.

Occasionally glancing at the little heart he marked on you forever, it makes him smile. It’s like he’s marked you as his, in a very Bill Kaulitz way.

Do it in front of a mirror, you won’t regret.

He looks like a god. Sweaty and thrusting harshly into you, chest and stomach contracting from the pleasure, his shortness of breath. How he bites his pierced bottom lip trying to hold back the lewd sounds he’s so embarrassed about.

Oh and when he cums. How he throws his head back, golden locks falling into place. How can a man be so stunning you wonder.

It’s a treat for him too, seeing your fucked out expression. You look so damn cute all flustered. Who knew the one to rearrange his guts and call him a good boy could look so cute.

Teary eyes, red cheeks and a beautiful face of pleasure. He will fuck you til your lips form a perfect O.

He likes to run his nails down your spine.

Just imagine how his long coffin nails feel when you’re so wrecked a feather light touch makes you quiver.

Toys

He very much enjoys pounding into you on your side while he holds your mighty lovense wand against your clit.

Speaking of lovense wands, gosh how he enjoys handcuffing you to the bed and trying new vibrators and dildos on you.

He’ll slowly kiss you, whisper sweet words into your ear as he ravages you with your new pretty pink rabbit vibrator.

Has you between his legs, boner pressed to your back as you come once and once again from your new sparkly glass dildo and his fingers pressed to your bud.

You know the lovense wand I mentioned, use it on him too. Tease his balls with it and slowly turn up the intensity as you move up his shaft.

Bill just looks so cute quivering under your control.

He’s usually the one in sex-toy cleaning duty.

Extras

Dating Bill Kaulitz means you have your own boudoir photographer.

You just look so sexy in your strappy lingerie, he wants to immortalize the moment.

Bill will keep some little polaroids in his wallet. It’s like his dirty little secret.

Sexting plays a big part of your relationship, as with work you’re both travelling constantly.

You like to tease him with bratty messages and photos while he’s working in Germany. He actually had to excuse himself from the set of The Voice once in order to deal with the “little problem” you gave him.

Having mutual masturbation calls, imagining you’re with him.

Gosh imagine that reunion sex when you’re away for a long time.

Imagine waking up next to him every morning..

[sourwolf-sterek32]

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

Or

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Language, drugs & alcohol

Previous Chapter

Chapter 12- Unexpected News

Once the Theatre of Pain tour ended. Everyone went their separate ways.

Tommy had Heather. Mick had his new girlfriend. Vince had Sharise and Skylar. And you had them as well. But Nikki? You weren't sure who he had when he was home after the tour.

The bassist rarely answered your calls. And when he did answer it was always a guessing game as to how fucked up he was. Some days he was perfectly fine, and you'd talk together for hours. Other days, he was completely off his face and babbled nonsense through the phone until you hung up.

Nikki Sixx was going down a dark path and you had no idea how to help him. Not that he would accept your help if you tried.

It wasn't until a few months later that the band all met up again for Tommy and Heathers wedding.

It was the biggest wedding you had ever been to. There were over 500 guests and Tommy was so incredibly happy, and you were happy for him, despite feeling a little jealous. You couldn't have Tommy. You couldn't have Nikki either. But Tommy deserved to be happy even if it wasn't with you. And Heather made him happy.

The only problem on the wedding day was Nikki. The best man. He was as high as a fucking kite.

When you first arrived at the venue you could instantly tell that Nikki was strung out because he wasn't saying much. Nikki liked to talk. If he wasn't talking, it meant he was fucked up. And as the afternoon proceeded, it became apparent at how fucked up he actually was.

Vince and Mick were the groomsmen and Tommy had asked you to be the grooms-woman, if that was even a proper word. He wanted you to be up there with him and the guys and at first you were a little apprehensive about it. Heather probably wouldn't want her soon to be husband having a girl as a groomsman, especially considering the things you and Tommy used to get up to behind her back.

You should feel guilty about that.

Tommy cheated on her with you too many times to count, but you didn't feel bad about it which should probably be concerning. Any normal person would feel guilty, right? But you were just grateful for the time you got to spend with the drummer, even though it was only short lived.

The guys were wearing matching black suits, so you had gotten a tailored black suit to match them as well. You thought about wearing a black dress but figured a suit would be better to blend in with the other groomsmen.

"I think I'm ready." Heather announced.

You lowered your makeup brush and took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You didn't go overboard with the makeup, just light foundation, black eyeliner and mascara. The scars on your face had faded but were still very visible and made you feel self-conscious even after all this time, but you tried not to think about it.

"Want me to see if the guys are ready?" You asked, glancing over your shoulder to where she was standing across the room with her bridesmaids.

Heather looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was styled nicely, and the long white dress hugged her body outlining her curves perfectly.

Tommy was lucky to have her. It hurt to admit it, but it was true.

Heather smiled, "that would be great. Thanks, Y/N."

You left the room and made your way down the corridor to the room that the guys had claimed as their own when you first arrived earlier this morning.

Thankfully, they were all dressed and seemed to be sitting around on the couches waiting for the ceremony to start. Well, Mick and Vince were sitting. Nikki seemed to be passed out on the other couch and Tommy was fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Heather's ready." You announced, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you guys good to go?"

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at your voice and his face lit up with his usual bright smile as he took in your black suit before nodding.

"Nikki, let's hit it." Tommy announced, still fiddling with his tie as he glanced at Mick and Vince. "Are you guys ready?"

They both nodded but you were too busy staring at Nikki to notice. He had lost weight since the last time you saw him all those months ago. His face now thinner and paler than you remembered.

"Yo, best man. Let's go. I got a wife waiting. Come on!"

Nikki didn't respond though. He was totally passed out on the couch with his sunglasses covering his closed eyes.

You knew his addiction was getting bad. But you wouldn't have thought that he would shoot up during his best friend's wedding.

"You fucking kidding me?" Tommy muttered under his breath before he walked over and lifted the bassist's sunglasses slapping his face gently. "Hey, Nikki. Wake up, asshole!"

"What the fuck, dude?" Nikki groaned, blinking his eyes open.

"Jesus!" Tommy swore turning away and going back to fixing his tie.

"I'm good." Nikki mumbled pulling the sunglasses off his head as he groggily sat up. "It's all good."

"You're most definitely not all good, man. But, whatever, just clean- Hey!"

Nikki tripped over the glass coffee table in his effort to stand, sending the items crashing to the floor loudly as he struggled to his feet.

"Jesus, Sixx." You whispered under your breath watching him worriedly.

It had been a long time since you saw Nikki this fucked up. Not even on tour at the clubs and bars was he usually this bad.

Tommy leant over and grabbed the bassist by the collar of his shirt, "get your shit together. I don't want Heather to be embarrassed, okay?"

"I'm embarrassing? Cool." Nikki slurred taking a sip of his beer that you hadn't realised he grabbed.

"Drummer, come here." You pushed yourself away from the doorframe and walked over to Tommy and motioned to his tie that he was struggling with.

He nodded his thanks as you reached up and began to tie it carefully for him while he glared over his shoulder at the bassist who was now spilling beer while waving his bottle around.

"Let's go marry your fancy ass TV chick in this fancy ass hotel."

"Hey, are you gonna do this on the happiest day of my life, asshole?" Tommy snapped, turning away from you before you could finish as he faced Nikki.

"The happiest day of your life? The happiest day of your life was when I let you join my band."

"Sixx, shut the fuck up." You warned.

Tommy sighed, pulling his half-tied tie completely off in frustration before he turned to look at Mick and Vince.

"Shall I get someone else to stand up there with me or what?"

Vince shook his head, "don't look at me, man."

"I'll do it, Drummer." Mick declared standing up from his seat.

"I-I've already got the fucking rings. Let's just go." Nikki sighed.

Tommy stared at his best man for a moment before he turned and marched out the room without a word. You shared a quick look with your brother and Mick before following him out.

Standing up the front between Vince and Nikki during the ceremony wasn't too bad. The location was right by the beach and the fresh air seemed to be helping Nikki a little, but you had to grab hold of his arm during the vows to stop him from falling over.

He didn't comment on you practically holding him up but seemed to appreciate it though and to your relief, he didn't make any scenes or cause any issues during the ceremony.

After the ceremony, the real party started.

The guys were pretty drunk and having a wonderful time. Tommy had seemed to either forgiven Nikki for earlier or was simply now too drunk to care, either way, the two of them were laughing with their arms around each other's shoulders across the crowd.

Dinner was bought out later that night, some kind of slow cooked meat that usually would have smelt wonderful but only made you feel nauseous.

"Are you okay?" Heather asked, looking over at you as you stared at your plate of food trying not to throw up.

Food never had this kind of impact on you. And you hadn't drunk much either, so why did you feel sick?

"I-I..." You tried to say before you abruptly stood up and rushed off to the bathroom.

You barely made it to the toilet in time before throwing up the little food you had inside. Your stomach churned violently, and you spat into the toilet before flushing away the horrible stench and resting your face down against the cool porcelain lid breathing heavily.

Throwing up wasn't unusual for you. Migraines had that side effect, except, you didn't have a migraine.

"Y/N?" Heathers voice worriedly called out from the main door. "I bought you some water. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You sighed, pushing yourself away from the toilet before leaning your back against the stall wall just as Heather poked her head around the corner with concerned eyes.

"Here. Have something to drink."

You grabbed the glass with shaky hands and took a small sip trying to wash away the horrible aftertaste.

"You know, my friend used to get sick whenever she smelt pork while she was pregnant." Heather suddenly said, and it took your foggy brain a moment to catch on before your eyes widened.

"What?"

She smiled, "it's okay. I won't tell anyone. How far along are you?"

"I-I... I'm not... I can't be... oh, fuck." You went through a million different emotions within the span of five seconds.

Your period was late. Your pants were getting too tight. That bad food poisoning that lasted for a couple of weeks... holy shit.

"You didn't know?" Heather asked gently a small frown on her face. "If you don't mind me asking, who's the father? I didn't think you were dating anyone."

And then your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were going to be sick all over again.

Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee.

Oh, dear God.

You hadn't done anything with anyone else since... no. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.

-

Denial.

That had become your coping mechanism.

Complete and total denial.

That tactic worked, until another month passed, and your stomach was beginning to balloon out into a small bump that was getting harder and harder to hide.

You were yet to take an actual pregnancy test to confirm what Heather had suspected, but you didn't need to. It was pretty fucking clear what was happening despite how badly you wished it wasn't.

Vince was hosting another party at his beach front mansion. The thought of being around drunk idiots while not drinking yourself did not sound fun, but you knew Vince would be suspicious if you didn't show up. So, you pulled on a large jacket and went to your brother's house.

The party was loud and rowdy. It was filled with booze, drugs and too many people for your liking.

So that was how you ended up out on the beach behind his house to get away from all the noise while trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

Tommy was off on his honeymoon with Heather. Nikki was at the party and injecting in the bathroom. And Vince was about five beers down while snorting lines off the table... there was no way in hell you could tell them about this.

You sat on the cool sand under the moonlight watching waves crash along the shore in front of you. Music from the party thumped in the background behind you, Too Fast for Love playing for the fourth time tonight because Vince was in control of the playlist.

"What's going on, kid?"

You glanced over your shoulder to find Mick walking down from the house to where you were sitting near the water. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand but didn't seem half as drunk as the rest of the people in that house.

"Just thinking." You sighed, looking back out at the ocean as stars shimmered brightly in the sky above it.

Mick didn't say anything else before he carefully eased himself down onto the sand beside you, wincing a little at the pain in his back, but he sat down despite it and joined in watching the ocean.

"I've got three kids." He suddenly said after a few minutes of silence and your heart stopped.

He knew.

How the fuck did Mick Mars figure it out?

"I've been around pregnant women before. I can tell." He continued to say as if he could sense your thoughts. "That and, you can usually drink me under the table with rum and you haven't touched it at all tonight."

You chuckled softly but remained silent not knowing what to say.

"Tommy or Nikki?"

And there it was. The golden question you had been asking yourself since the wedding.

"I honestly don't know." You admitted before shaking your head at yourself and wrapping your arms around your knees resting your chin on top. "You must think I'm a horrible person."

"No." Mick answered and he sounded truthful. "None of my kids were planned either."

You tilted your head towards him, "do you regret having them?"

It was a horrible question, but you remembered how the older man had been struggling all those years ago when Mötley Crüe first formed. He went from sleeping on park benches struggling to pay child support to... well, he wasn't on park benches anymore.

"At the time? Yeah. It wasn't my choice, and I was broke." Mick answered honestly. "But now? I can't imagine my life without them."

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt tears starting to rise in your eyes. You quickly looked away not wanting the older man to see you cry.

"I don't know what to do, Mick." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted kids. Tommy is married and Nikki... I don't know. I don't know what to do."

Suddenly, Mick wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you into his side without a word and that was all it took before you broke down.

How were you meant to tell Tommy and Nikki? How the hell were you meant to tell Vince? How the fuck were you even meant to raise a child? Sure, you were good with Skylar, but that was different. You had no idea what you were doing, and you had no idea what you wanted to do either.

"It's gonna be okay, kid." Mick whispered, rubbing your back gently.

You leant against the older man and cried silently in his arms, but Mick never judged you for it. He kept whispering soothing words to you and allowed you to let out your emotions.

-

Nikki Sixx was banging on your front door before the sun was even up the following morning.

"Y/N! Open the door! We need to talk." He shouted from outside. "I know you're home. Answer the door."

You sighed, rolling over in bed hoping if you ignored him for long enough, he would simply leave.

You were not in the mood to deal with Nikki's intoxicated state because if he was awake this early that meant he hadn't gone to bed since the party which meant he was either drunk or high or both. Probably both. When you were leaving last night, Nikki was so fucked up. Hell, he could barely walk straight.

"Y/N! Come on!" He continued to shout, knocking loudly against the front door.

Fucking hell.

You sighed before kicking your blankets off and sitting up as a rush of nausea hit you like a truck. Morning sickness was a real bitch.

After throwing up the little contents in your stomach and brushing your teeth to get rid of the horrible taste in your mouth, you were surprised to hear Nikki still knocking on your front door. He was determined, you'd give him credit for that.

Pulling on your dressing gown covering your pyjamas and small baby bump, you made your way across the house and pulled open the front door.

Nikki was pacing along the porch looking stressed out of his mind but also extremely high. That shouldn't have been a surprise considering how much he was snorting last night on top of whatever he had injected in the bathroom.

"Do you know how early it is?" You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands.

Nikki spun around not having heard the door open, and he was marching straight past you into the house without saying a single word.

Okay. That was weird.

You watched him walk to the main room of your house before you closed the front door and joined him, but Nikki was still pacing along the back of the couch, not looking at you.

"What's going on, Sixx?" You asked hesitantly.

Something was definitely wrong.

The bassist eventually stopped pacing and turned to face you properly. He looked wrecked and you knew it wasn't just because of the drugs.

"I had an interesting talk with Mick last night after you left."

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

"Nikki-"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He asked, and his voice sounded so broken you wanted to cry.

"I-I don't even know myself. I haven't taken a test." You admitted, despite not needing a test to confirm it.

Nikki nodded, rubbing his face with his hands as he took in a deep shaky breath and returned to pacing the length of your living room. He was freaking out. That was valid, but you had no idea how to calm him down because you were still trying to process it too.

"How-how long have you known?" He eventually asked while still pacing with his arms folded across his chest.

"A month."

"A whole fucking month?!" He whirled around, his eyes wide in sudden burning anger that had you flinching back on instinct. "You've known for a month, and you never thought to fucking tell me?"

You raised your hands to try and calm him but before you could say anything he was already shouting.

"You didn't think it was important enough for me to know? I mean, fuck, Y/N. Does Tommy know? Do you even know who's fucking baby it is? Are you going to keep it, or terminate it? Are you-"

"Sixx, stop! I don't know. I... I... fuck. I don't fucking know!" You shouted back at him matching his anger because if you didn't get angry then you were going to start crying. And you did not want to start crying in front of him.

"Jesus Christ!" He swore throwing his arms in the air in frustration. "What do you fucking know then?"

"I know that you are fucked up right now. So, get out." You ordered pointing at the front door.

"No. We need to talk about this!"

"We can talk once you're sober." You sighed, all the anger deflating out of you as you walked over and opened the door for him. "Go home, Sixx. Get some sleep and come back when you're not high or drunk, okay?"

Nikki hesitated, his dull eyes shifting between you and the door before he reluctantly nodded and left the house without saying or shouting anything further. You had expected him to fight and argue more but were relieved that he didn't.

You were not in the right state of mind for this argument.

Nikki had questions, but right now, you couldn't give him any answers even if you wanted to.

-

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know

A/N: before you all come at me for this pregnancy jump scare, just wait for the next chapter. 

This is NOT a pregnancy/baby fic (not that there is anything wrong with those fics) but I know a lot of people hate that trope and I don't want to spoil anything but just trust me and wait for the next chapter. 

[boobo13cambridge]

Unexpectedly Expecting | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: kissing? Mainly just fluff.

Summary: After feeling unusually exhausted and nauseous during your weekly gym dates, you find out some really happy news

A/N: Hello, everyone! I felt so bad for posting the last request so late, so I wanted to give you this one too as an early treat. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

As you step out of the house with a water bottle in hand, Kylian is already outside stretching his muscles and taking in the fresh morning air. The sun has just started to rise, casting a soft golden light over the city. You can't help but admire how handsome he looks.

Together, you both have made it a weekly tradition to exercise. You enjoy taking long walks, jogging around the park, and lifting weights at the gym. Every time you are together, you push each other to do better and keep going. These dates are something you both cherish and look forward to every week.

But today feels different. You can't keep up with Kylian's pace, and you feel exhausted and nauseous. Kylian can sense that something is wrong as he looks at you. You can see the concern on his face as he asks, "Are you okay, mon amour? You don't look so good."

You reply weakly, "I don't know, Kylian. I feel so tired, and my stomach is queasy. Maybe I just need to lie down."

Kylian looks at you with a worried expression, "Are you sure you don't want to go see a doctor?"

You shake your head, "No, I don't want to bother the doctor. It's probably nothing."

Kylian nods his head, understanding your hesitation to go to the doctor. He gently takes your hand and helps you out of the gym, wrapping his arm around your waist as he guides you to the car.

Once you're seated, Kylian drives carefully and attentively, making sure not to jostle you around too much. "Te sens-tu mieux, mon coeur ?"he asks, glancing at you with concern. ("Are you feeling better, my heart?")

You shake your head weakly. "Pas vraiment. My stomach feels like it's doing somersaults." ("Not really.")

 He keeps a careful eye on the road, making sure not to hit any bumps or potholes.

"Is the car ride making you feel worse?" he asks, glancing at you again.

You nod, feeling the nausea rising up in your throat. "I think so. Can we please get home soon?"

Kylian nods understandingly and turns onto your street. As soon as he parks the car, he jumps out and comes around to your side, opening the door and helping you out.

"Let's get you inside," he says, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you to the door. "I'll make you some tea and we can just relax for a bit."

You lean your head against his shoulder, grateful for his support. "Merci, Kylian."

Kylian just smiles and kisses the top of your head. "Anything for you, mon amour."

As soon as you cross the threshold, Kylian takes off his shoes and rushes to the kitchen to make you some tea. He selects a delicate blend of green tea that he knows you love and brews it to perfection. He carefully adds a spoonful of honey to it, hoping that the sweet taste will help ease your nausea.

When he brings you the tea, he makes sure to sit down next to you and hold your hand. He rubs soothing circles on your back as you take small sips of the tea, hoping that it will help settle your stomach.

But the smell of the tea makes your nausea worse, and you feel a sudden urge to vomit. Kylian immediately jumps into action, holding your hair back as you retch into the toilet. He keeps a steady hand on your back, whispering comforting words to you as you try to calm down.

"Shh, ça va aller, bébé. Je suis là avec toi," he murmurs, rubbing your back soothingly. "Just take deep breaths and let it all out."

You nod weakly, feeling grateful for Kylian's presence. After a few minutes, you start to feel better, and Kylian helps you up from the bathroom floor.

"Let's get you back to bed," he says, leading you back to the bedroom. "You should rest for a while."

You nod again, feeling too tired and weak to protest. Kylian helps you settle back into bed and covers you with a blanket, sitting next to you and holding your hand.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. You shake your head, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "No, Kylian. You've done enough. Thank you for taking care of me."

Kylian just smiles and leans down to kiss your forehead. "I'll always take care of you, mon amour."

The next morning, you wake up feeling even worse. You stumble to the bathroom and vomit again, with Kylian rushing in behind you to hold your hair back and rub your back.

After you finish, Kylian looks at you with concern and says, "I think we need to call the doctor, mon amour. This isn't normal, and I don't want you to keep suffering like this."

You nod weakly in agreement, grateful for his support. Sitting down beside you on the bed, Kylian takes out his phone and calls his physician. After a few rings, the doctor answered, "Bonjour Kylian, comment puis-je vous aider?" ("Hello Kylian, how can I help you?")

"Bonjour docteur, c'est à propos de ma femme. Elle a été malade toute la nuit, elle a vomi plusieurs fois et elle se sent vraiment mal ce matin,” replied Kylian, tracing soft circles on the back of your hand.

("Hello doctor, it's about my wife. She has been sick all night, she has vomited several times and she feels really bad this morning.") 

"Does she feel any nausea or dizziness?" 

"Yes, she's been very nauseous and she feels very tired." 

Pausing for a second, the doctor continues, “I suggest you have her take a pregnancy test. Morning sickness and fatigue are often signs of early pregnancy.”

Hearing the word pregnancy made you jolt in surprise as you looked at Kylian, his eyes mirroring your expression. "Really? Do you think that's possible?” You tightened your hold on Kylian’s hand as the doctor replied, "Yes, it could be possible. Have her take the test and call me with the results.”

Kylian thanked the doctor and hung up the phone, you look at him with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Pulling you into his lap, Kylian warps his arms around in comfort, "The doctor thinks it's possible that you might be pregnant. He suggested that you take a pregnancy test. What do you think, mon amour?"

As Kylian speaks, you can feel your heart beating faster with a mix of fear and excitement. The news has caught you off guard, and you're not quite sure how to feel. You lean into him, feeling comforted by his embrace, and take a deep breath.

"I...I don't know, Kylian. It's just...sudden. But at the same time, I can't help feeling excited about the possibility." You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kylian squeezes you tighter, "I know, mon amour. It's okay to feel both scared and excited at the same time. Whatever the result of the test is, we will face it together, okay?"

You nod, but despite his reassurances your mind races with a million thoughts. You feel a wave of excitement at the possibility of being pregnant, but at the same time, you're filled with a sense of apprehension. What if something goes wrong? What if you're not ready for this?

Kylian notices the mix of emotions on your face and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead. "You're not alone in this, and I promise to be with you every step of the way,” he reassures you. “I’ll ask my assistant to go buy a test for us.”

Shaking your head, you look at him, “No, Ky. I have some in the bathroom. But, can you hold me for a bit, please?”

Kylian smiles warmly, “Of course, mon ange,” he says, pulling you closer to him. You feel his arms wrap tightly around you, and his warmth provides a sense of comfort and security. You lay there for a while, snuggled up together, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Eventually, Kylian gently pulls away from you and heads to the bathroom to retrieve the pregnancy test. As he comes back to the bedroom, he sees the apprehension in your eyes and gives you a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, je suis là pour toi,” he says, handing you the test.

Taking a deep breath, you head to the bathroom and follow the instructions on the test. Once you’re done peeing on the stick, Kylian comes in just as he hears you flush. Hugging you from behind you as you wash your hands. He gently kisses your neck trying to calm your nerves. You gently scratch the back of his head, bringing him closer to you as you anxiously wait for the results.

The timer you had set on your phone goes off jolting you and Kylian as you both look at each other with silly nervous grins spreading on your faces as your hearts pound with anticipation mixed with fear at the prospects of being parents. 

“Omg, Ky. I’m so nervous”, you let out a shaky breath tightly gripping Kylian’s arms that are wrapped around your waist. “Me too, bébé. Let’s both look at it. On the count of three.”

Nodding, you reach over to grab the pregnancy test, your husband’s hand holding yours tightly. You felt him take a deep breath, his chest rubbing against your back, “One, two, three.”

Two lines. You were pregnant.

“We're pregnant!” he exclaims, hugging you tightly as he buried his face at junction between your neck and shoulder. You both dissolve into a fit of laughter and tears of joy, knowing that your lives are about to change forever. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, matching the pace of yours. “We did it,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “We're going to be parents.”

Turning in his hold, you grab his face and kiss him passionately. Kylian's arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer as you feel the weight of the moment. You can hardly believe it - you're going to be parents! 

Your lips part for a moment, and you both gasp for air before diving back in for another kiss. You can feel Kylian's smile against your lips as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body.

Breaking the kiss, Kylian looks at you with a mixture of love and amazement. "I can't believe it," he says, his voice choked with emotion. "We're going to have a baby."

You can hardly contain your excitement, and you bury your face in his chest, tears streaming down your face. "I'm so happy, Ky," you whisper. "I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, and now we're going to create a life together."

Kylian holds you tightly, his fingers running through your hair as you both revel in the moment. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong against your chest, and it fills you with a sense of peace and contentment. You know that there will be challenges ahead, but you also know that you'll face them together.

As you pull away from his embrace, you meet his gaze and smile. "We have so much to do," you say, your mind racing with thoughts of baby names, nursery decor, and everything in between.

Kylian nods, his eyes shining with excitement. "We'll figure it out," he says, his voice filled with determination. "We'll do it together, and we'll be the best parents we can be."

With those words, a sense of profound conviction grips you, and you feel a surge of determination to face any challenges that may come your way, confident that you and Kylian will stand together as a stalwart team, resolute and unwavering in your commitment to each other and to the journey that lies ahead.

[joelsmochi]

closer

rating: E 18+ pairing: tortured artist!Joel x black!girly!f!reader summary: Joel hits a creative block with a mural, leading him down a road of discovery and intimacy in ways he's never felt before. warnings: au/no outbreak, unspecified drug use + marijuana use, unprotected piv, sex while under the influence, consenting adults!!! age is not specified but we can assume joel is mid 40s, brief mentions of death + abusive relationships, ooc!Joel (he is not the same person he was 1/2 pill ago…), third person pov but most of it is from joel’s perspective, very fluffy sex they may have said i love you wc: 5.3k a/n: Happy New Year everybody! This was inspired by Closer by Goapele and Prisoner by The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey plus I was thinking too hard about the time I ate an edible that had too much THC for me to handle and I produced whatever this is. Hopefully tortured artist!Joel hasn’t happened yet because I felt creative with this one…

ᝰ

The frayed paintbrush relentlessly slapped against the concrete wall, coating the discolored brick in thick layers of different browns, reds, and whites. Opaque smoke blurred his vision, yet he only let it inspire the strokes of his hand, creating a beautiful image that wasn’t clear to him yet.

Before he knew it, the sun had set; he sat on his hard leather sofa, massaging the twinge that had settled into his wrist while his face wore a disappointed scowl. He was displeased with his progress, the blob that was already half dry on the wall of his loft.

A rumble snuck into his stomach, forcing him to stand up and absentmindedly walk into the kitchen area. However, his disappointment grew when he opened the fridge to find nothing suitable for a proper meal. As he glared at the half-eaten yogurt and scarce 24-pack of beer, he decided to go and get Chinese food.

He lit up a cigarillo to accompany his walk around the block and across the street, tossing whatever was left into a sewer drain just in time for him to open the door to the restaurant.

“Miller,” a worker greeted with a smile, “your usual?”

Unknown to him, the smell of his cigar caught the attention of a waiting customer. She waited until he was done chatting with the employee to ask, “Cream?”

He did a double take, unsure if she was talking to him at first. She was tall, maybe five foot nine or five foot ten, with big hair and brown skin, and dressed in something far too lovely for her to be eating Chinese for dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell like cream-flavored cigars,” she said, sounding amused.

He felt unsure of how to respond, not wanting to seem rude, watching her diamond earrings gleam from the low yellow lighting. He paid for his food and answered. “Yeah, just had one.”

“Black and mild or swisher?”

“Blacks,” he answered, growing a little uneasy from the stranger questioning him despite the mundane topic. 

“My favorite,” she boasted, earning another look from him after he put his change in the tip jar. “They’re much smoother.”

The man didn’t respond, only offering a tight smile in return. The pair stood a few feet apart silently, listening to people chattering and utensils clanking behind the counter as they waited.

She smelled like expensive brown sugar perfume and cocoa butter, a sickly sweet combination that tickled his sense of smell. Her scent was reminiscent of a freshly baked cookie a kid couldn’t wait to dive into. She was dressed in a lovely skirt and a prissy top paired with a mix of gold and silver rings and necklaces and bracelets — two colors he usually hated paired together, but somehow, she made it blend beautifully.

Her makeup was soft, or so it seemed. It wasn’t too heavy, but her eyebrows were bold, as was the line drawn around her vermilion border. He noticed she blinked slowly but held her eyes wide as if she anticipated something to happen.

The employee’s voice brought the two adults out of their daydreams.

“Beef and broccoli and chow mein?” They asked.

The artist waited kindly for the woman to grab her bagged styrofoam container before reaching for his own; he walked a few feet behind her, suddenly feeling bad for his cold demeanor earlier once they were outside.

“You want one?” He called after her before she got too far away; she turned around with a frown, confused at his offering.

He reached into his pocket and held up a couple of fresh cigars. She grinned, secretly desperate for a smoke. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she strutted back towards him. She strutted like a cat, one leg crossing the other.

She allowed the man with the messy hair the privilege of placing the stick between her plump lips, keeping her eyes on his as he watched where he was lighting.

She took a long drag, waiting for him to get his cigarette lit before asking, “What’s your name?”

His eyebrow cocked up, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was amused. But he answered anyway.

“Joel.” He sharply inhaled; she responded with her name and a smile, thick smoke spilling out from the spaces between her teeth as she gently exhaled. “You from around here?”

“No,” she said, “I like to travel. See new places. Find new things… Right now, I’m fixated on museums—art museums precisely.”

That piqued his interest. “Art? What kind of art d'you like?”

“Any art that speaks to me.”

Joel smirked at her answer as if it were funny. “Oh yeah? What speaks to you?”

Instead of her usual quick response, she pondered momentarily, trying to locate proper words to avoid rambling. “Suffering or excitement.”

He could only narrow his eyes at the vague response, but she spoke again before he could ask for an elaboration.

“You must like art,” she guessed correctly.

“I’m uh…” And there’s a long pause; the rhetorical shame of confessing what his job was had risen, but for what purpose? After a short internal debate, he finally admitted, “I’m an artist myself.”

Her eyes widened with excitement, which Joel found adorable. She asked him various questions: what kind of art he created, how long he’d been painting, his favorite creations…

He admired her interest in the subject and how she listened carefully and intently, clearly trying to understand as much as possible about him.

“How do you stay inspired all the time?”

Shit.

Joel’s mind ran blank for a few seconds, and he watched the woman’s face contort into confusion. She worried she’d brought up an unhealed wound and persisted that he didn’t need to answer.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Joel assured, “I’ve honestly been at a block lately…”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Do you do anything to help get over that?”

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of an appropriate answer, yet nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “Just wait for it to pass.”

“…Could... Could I see your art?”

For the first time, she seemed to be shy. Her teeth grimaced, and eyebrows crooked out of fear of rejection, but Joel was sure he was far more nervous than she was.

"Uh, sure..." He said hesitantly. "What I have at home is nothing special, but-"

"I'm sure it's beautiful," she interrupted. "I'm free right now if that works."

ᝰ

This was unlike him: inviting a girl he'd just met into his home. She had something that enamored him. What was it, he wondered with each passing minute, was it her beauty or curiosity? Was it the way she smiled or how sweet her voice sounded? He couldn't ponder for much longer as she had already begun complimenting his home.

"A loft," she said while taking in the brick walls of his home that were littered with several paintings that all seemed to be works in progress. "It's cozy." Joel watched as her painted nails gently trailed over the armrest of his stiff couch just before she reached up to feel a painting of what seemed to be a little girl.

His staring made the woman laugh, and while he could admit he was being a bit precarious, he just wanted to ensure she wouldn't mishandle that particular piece. She didn't. She just reached to stroke the texture meant to resemble the girl's curly hair; she touched it for only a moment before pulling away and turning around.

After realizing the painting was sacred to him, she asked, "Is that someone you know?"

His shoulders and chest rose as he sucked in a melancholic breath, and she couldn't ignore the sadness that swarmed his eyes.

The woman was satisfied with no answer and moved on quickly. "May I eat with you?"

Joel gave her a stiff nod, his thoughts still filled with the traumatic memories of the girl in the photo.

They sat quietly and slowly ate their food, the lack of heat from their containers making the meal invaluable. The silence comforted him as it felt much different than the cold silence he was used to. No. Her silence was warm and comforting... Like a mother caring for a sick or sad or sleeping child. She didn't offer any awkward glances or stiff smiles. She didn't hide her joy or her optimism despite his distant demeanor.

Her eyes weren't as big as they were just an hour ago. Perhaps the food made her sleepy, he thought.

"Where ya from?" He figured he should at least be a good host.

"Rockport. It's a small town in Massachusetts. You?"

"Born and raised here," he answered.

"Really?" She squinted at him while poking at broccoli with a fork. "Never wanted to leave?"

Shrugging, he said, "Thought about leaving, never needed to."

"Is that painting supposed to be the same girl?"

She pointed to the spontaneous mural partly done on the big red wall opposite to them. He looked at it, forming different opinions and thoughts on his work.

"No. Not entirely sure what that one is yet," he grunted. "Needed to paint something, but I can't quite figure it out yet."

"You should do a self-portrait," she suggested with a wide grin. "I'd love to see how you see yourself."

"Nah, if I did that, it'd just be a college-ruled notebook with a bunch'a scribbles in it."

She chuckled at his pessimism, gaining a confused look from him. "So? Maybe someone would see something between the scribbles."

"I don't like painting myself," he said firmly.

She couldn't care less about his seriousness; she saw his need for perfection and keeping busy with work. Seeing the distress on the average person's face wasn't unfamiliar to her; all she wanted to do was take it away.

"Your art is lovely, Joel," she spoke truthfully, "For what it's worth, I think you'd paint yourself beautifully."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, taking in her warm smile and gentle words.

"You're very kind," he admitted, "thank you."

The temptress walked and stood in front of the mural to admire the thick blobs of paint that were still tacky. She saw the vision but just as quickly saw the block.

"You seriously do nothing to help the creative blocks?"

With a slight frown, he shook his head to confirm. "Just try working on something else until I find my rhythm again."

"Why not? Why not music or movies or going outside for more than Chinese on a Thursday evening?"

Feeling a bit antagonized, Joel scowled at her. "I paint what's in my head, not around me."

"Maybe that's the problem." She sat close to him on the floor and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Maybe you've painted all you know, and you're stuck right now because there's nothing new inside that pretty little head a'yours."

"Flattery only gets you so far, sweetheart."

"It got me in your apartment, did it not?"

His scowl grew, and he felt no need to hide his annoyance from her.

"Just tryna help," she smirked.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly not," she simpered; she pulled a bag of ground weed from her purse and held it up for him to see. "Maybe you need Mary's help."

"You're fucking joking."

"It helps me," she said softly. "When I don't smoke, I'm a very anxious and shy person."

Joel's eyes fell to her hands, which were beginning to work the weed into a paper very carefully, watching her roll it precisely. "Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Mock me all you want, Joel, but I must say that even a couple of hits can make you feel ten times better."

"Not interested," he quipped.

"Well... If weed isn't your speed, then maybe..." She licked the paper shut and placed it on the table, then reached in her purse again for a bag containing different colored pills. "...ecstasy would be more fitting."

"You expect me to take drugs from a stranger?" He asked.

She leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm no stranger, Joel. I'm your inspiration."

He found himself laughing at her choice of words, not paying her any mind as she climbed into his lap. She placed a pill between the rows of her teeth and bit down to break it in half, offering him whichever half was smaller.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to... But it will help."

Her voice was so enticing that Joel was sure he was already high from the affection she persisted in giving him.

"Help me paint?" He asked, still not entirely convinced.

"Help you create."

Joel thought about it: he had nothing left in his life to live for other than his talent for painting, and he even felt that it was being wasted on unproductive days and constant disappointments.

For months, all he wanted was to create one last masterpiece and to feel proud of it. If all it took was to give in to some strange form of peer pressure, then that's just what needed to be done.

Almost an hour later, however, his worries about art were set aside.

With his head lying in the pretty woman's lap, he tried remembering why he had been so angry before. He let her stroke the curly hairs on his head and trace his lips over and over again.

"You're doing good," she cooed gently.

"You're very, um," he swallowed between his heavy breaths, "nurturing."

He noticed the woman's eyebrow shift upwards, and an amused hum left her mouth. "Hm. No one's ever said that before."

"Really?" Joel began to realize how dry his throat became. "Well, it's a compliment."

"Thank you," she giggled. "Thirsty?"

"Mmhm," he moaned.

Reaching over to grab the water bottle on the floor, she took a long sip as she felt parched before holding his head up to help him drink some. He felt her sticky lip gloss around the rim and found himself latching even harder onto the plastic container.

She let him drink as much as he needed before closing the bottle and helping him stand up, urging him to paint something.

He felt a wave of heat envelope his body, the hairs along his arms and neck dancing along his skin. He wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny, so he tried to hold it in. He followed her around the room and watched the ends of her hair bend and curl around her arms. She opened a few paint bottles, squeezing some onto his stained palette and holding the brush out for him. She couldn't help but laugh at the elation in his wide eyes; he was definitely in a much better mood than before.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, not bothering with the meaningless utterance of words and just giving into his need to kiss her. She wasn't surprised by the gesture, inviting his tongue into her mouth for more. She tasted the cigar on his breath and lips, ignoring how bitter it seemed.

The paintbrush smeared itself against Joel's elbow, causing him to jolt back in shock, only to laugh when he realized the purple-coated paintbrush was bending on its own. He took it from her hand and approached the wall, immediately getting to work.

While he worked and ranted about how the piece was "basically painting itself," she undressed slowly while prancing around the room and humming to some tune that found its way into her head. Joel saw the colors blend and separate, waiting for the wall to respond with where his next brush stroke should be.

The woman found herself looking at that painting of the little girl again. She was unable to quiet her curiosity.

"Is she your daughter?"

Her voice broke the string tying him to his work, and he stumbled around a bit before turning around and facing her with an asking face. He let his tools go and followed the sound of the siren, looking deeply into her wide eyes.

"She was my daughter," he admitted freely, something he refused to do as often as possible.

"Where is she?"

He noted how concerned she seemed and took it as an invitation to confide in her.

“She uh… She died ‘bout ten years ago.”

Joel felt her fuzzy arms weave around him, encompassing him with a sense of comfort. It was the first time he could talk about the tragedy without bursting into tears. Her lips pressed warm kisses into his forehead and temples as she attempted to bathe him in consolation.

He removed his head from the crook of her neck to look at her face. Her eyes, although appearing a bit lopsided, were still wide and curious, like she was still waiting for something. He tried to focus on just her, but all he wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to pai-

A shriek broke him out of his trance: the woman seemed surprised about the splatter of paint that got on her bare chest and arms. Joel blinked rapidly and tried to decipher what had happened between talking about his daughter and... Now.

Had time managed to escape him? Was he too out of it to realize that? And who put on the jazz music?

The brown liquid dripped down her body and hid her nipples; he found the motion fascinating. How happy she seemed to be coated in the cold dispense helped him feel more at ease and join in laughing with her. Her hair, frizzier than before, somehow gave the illusion that she was underwater. It just flowed so freely.

"You are a mermaid in the most beautiful depths of the sea," Joel shouted dramatically.

"Wh-what?" She giggled before smearing a finger-lengths of paint onto his forehead.

His hand absentmindedly poked the paintbrush into her collarbone, tickling her in the process. "You are free... And kind... Did you turn the music on?"

And she's giggling again. God, he couldn't get enough of that sound. She was a siren, manipulating him with her songs of joy and laughter.

"You told me to," she answered; only Joel took a few minutes to process it. She covered her hand in yellow paint, cradled his cheek, and let the print of her hand stick to his face as if she were marking her territory. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Joel," she said quietly.

Instinctively, he beckoned for her to close the space between them. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Her arms snaked around his neck as she looked at his aura and vented. "I was supposed to go on a date tonight with my ex-boyfriend. He wasn't the greatest guy. Abusive. Angry. But my parents love him, and they say he's changed, so... I wanted to try again."

Joel's drug-induced nosiness got the better of him. "Why didn't you?"

She sighed, a smirk daring to grow on her face. "I wanted to make him feel stupid."

He wrapped his arms around her waist at her wise words, holding her close as if she would blow away had he exhaled too hard.

"M'glad I met you too," he admitted. "Did I spill paint on you?"

"Just a bit, but it was my fault. You were in a daze," she admitted bashfully.

The pair took a few minutes to look at each other, feel their spirits, and soak up the serenity between the small gap in their lips.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Those words would have left Joel speechless in any other scenario at any other time on any other day. But he was high out of his fucking mind, and once his brain had fully processed her question, he answered with a short and sweet "Yes."

He waited patiently as the vixen undressed him, and she took her precious time; her knuckles grazing the wiry hair along his pelvis sent hot shivers across his abdomen before his jeans pooled around his ankles. Lifting his arms to aid in the removal of his shirt, he flinched and giggled childishly when she placed a kiss or two along his collarbone.

She gasped at the nails digging into her sides, his hands begging for more because his voice was too weak to. The desperation grew in his eyes, and he wanted to feel close to her. To feel all of her depths and shallows and curves and grooves. Her essence rendered him helpless. The smell of her perfume was even more sickly than he recalled, but all the much more sweet.

Their bodies danced onto the floor, bending and curling around each other like snakes.

"I was always afraid of this," he spoke as she worked her hand around him, not that he needed it. "Feeling close with someone. After my last... You know."

She smiled at his words, telling him with her eyes: I know.

"I was so scared to feel close to someone..." She admitted. "After him, I wanted to be left alone. Untouched."

"What changed that- oh, fuck," Joel moaned, feeling her wetness encapsulate him.

"Someone found me, ha-ah, hmm... And took care a'me, just like I'm doing for you."

Joel clawed at her back, reaching for her hair, but his arms were too heavy, with the quick rushes of euphoria soaring through his veins. Her moans and pretty little sounds coaxing him into blindness. He couldn't see her face, covered in the universe of her bangs littered with stars and planets, until she leveled her happy face with his. The shimmer in her glossy eyes let him know she enjoyed this just as much as him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever s-seen," he moaned.

Finally able to lift his arms, he used them to hold her face gently. He admired her refreshing beauty. She moaned something about how sweet he was, though it went unregistered to him.

All he could feel was her thighs flexing against his hips every time she rode down, and he felt his cock brush that sensitive sponge deep inside of her. Her hands pressed painfully into his ribcage, but he didn't mind. He loved that she needed him so much that it hurt.

She laid her body down on his chest, bringing her lips to his chin; he whimpered at the softness of her lips, his warm breath hitting her nose and making her body shudder. His mouth parted to stick his tongue out for her to lick and suck, which she did graciously.

He never knew his tongue could feel so ticklish or that having it licked would feel so damn good. It made his cock throb against her walls, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Her nails scratched his scalp tenderly, hips rocking back and forth, creating the perfect rhythm.

Her breasts dragged against the hairs on his chest, making some of the dried brown paint flake onto him; her nippled peaked, vulnerable from the friction.

Joel wrapped his forearms around the base of her spine and rolled over as carefully as his intoxicated body would allow. With hair splayed out, she looked so ethereal, like a walking painting herself.

Then, he noticed a bucket of paint sitting nearby and dipped two of his long fingers inside, dragging the white liquid down the valley of her breasts until he reached the peak of her belly. He noticed how her body reacted: all of the little shakes and shudders signs of appreciation made his heart swell.

His hand reached around her hip to grip her ass as he rested his body weight on her and enveloped her in more kisses. His hips rocked gently and slowly, careful not to hurt her. He wanted to feel her cum and hear her beg him to keep going.

To her, it felt like he pushed deeper with each thrust, begging her body to swallow him whole and allow him the grace of becoming one with her. Her eyes were so low, yet she was seeing more clearly than ever. Seeing his aura radiate off of his broad shoulders and tousled hair - it was a haze of blue and purple. But hers were shades of reds and oranges in his eyes, a fiery tyrant that bullied him with praise and adoration.

His nose tickled her chin while his lips made their way up to plant another kiss on her sweet, sweet mouth. The alcohol in her perfume singed the hairs along his face and nostrils, pilling the hairs on his arms.

"Harder, ngh- please," she murmured.

He saw her blown pupils roll gently beneath her eyelids as beads of sweat formed along her hairline. Her breathing was shallow and short. She was close.

Licking his reddened lips, he pushed her knees back until they were flush with her jawline and shifted his body weight from his knees to his toes, then changed the force of his hips without changing the rhythm.

She loved that he listened to her: harder did not mean faster, and he fucking perfected it. Almost like he knew just how hard to go.

Joel drove into her deep enough to make her cunt squelch and clench around his thick cock. He felt clumsy inside of her like he was tripping up over his own orgasm. He felt all of her ridges and curves, the smooth and the rough; everything intensified in a way that could only be described by the God he didn't believe in.

But she had him questioning that in the back of his mind. He would have believed that she was God herself if he wasn't aware of how high he was. She looked celestial, her mouth forming an 'o', and her hair sprawled around her shimmering face. Even with her mascara flaking and running slightly, she seemed so content, so pleased.

Joel's desperation to come inside of her was almost primal, instinctive... If her nails weren't digging so sharply into his forearms, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have been able to hold back.

He didn't ease up on her throughout her orgasm. Honestly, he didn't think too much about it. He never wanted right now to end. With a sense of ecstasy coursing through his veins, he managed to turn into something he tried so hard not to be. He craved her body, her kisses.

He pulled her into his lap before resting his cheek on her breast. He inhaled the musk of her sweat deeply, cherishing the divine woman she was. She felt as beautiful as she looked. She fucked just as sweet as she smelled.

His clammy hand ran over her flexed calve as she bounced on him. Her movements were sloppy from his tight grip, not that either of them cared. She was sure not to go too high or come down too hard, allowing her pussy to drip white remnants of her orgasm onto his balls. He licked and kissed and bit her tits as a submissive thank you.

She kissed the top of his hair, strumming her fingers along his scalp. "Joel," she moaned, "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he grunted almost instantly.

Raising his head to look back at her blissed out face, he pulled her even closer. His chin dug into her clavicle, but his neediness only made her laugh softly.

Joel's face twitched as his body proposed its orgasm, his dick throbbed roughly against her sensitive walls. She gasped, taking it as a sign to fuck him faster despite the burning in her legs. He winced at her arms weighing heavier into his collarbones but just clawed at her ass to power through the pain.

She placed a hand over his heart and pushed gently, forcing him to feel the thumping against his chest. He felt so much of his anger and pain dissipate beneath her touch, instilling love and peace in place of it.

"You're so precious," he whispered. A lovely smile rose onto her face, one that drove him crazy. He looked at her with big puppy eyes that threatened to fill with tears. She licked along her teeth and bit her bottom lip. "I love y-you..." He knew he didn't mean it and that she didn't either, but he missed being able to say those words. "Tell m- oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Tell me you love me," he pleaded. "Tell me you love me 'til I cum, baby."

"I love you, Joel.”

His eyes screwed shut, face falling into the curve of her neck.

“I love you, baby. I want you to cum for me,” she moaned, breathless from exhaustion.

His nails dug deeper into her flesh, he was clinging onto his climax as much as possible, wanting to wait long enough for it to destroy him.

“Oh, Joel, fuck!” She yelped. “I love you, I love you!”

And he broke.

His nails scratched lines up her back whilst he screamed into her chest. Her pussy throbbed against his sensitive cock from the arrival of her second orgasm, heightening his sensitivity.

A few tears shed his eyes at the closeness; Joel felt like he was falling into the Earth. He was so dizzy and confused, cornered by the affection clouding his judgment.

“I love you,” she whispered into his scalp, placing one last kiss before climbing off of his lap.

He hissed at the last stroke of her cunt but helped her lay down, using his t-shirt to prop her head up.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her head.

“You should drink some water.”

As soon as she said that, he felt the itchiness in his dry throat. He grabbed water from the table a few feet away and chugged as much as his stomach could handle.

“Will you bring me the joint and a lighter?”

Joel fulfilled her request and sat the water next to her, immediately looking back at his work in progress while she got herself situated.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you coming down?”

Confused, he looked down at her but saw that the colors weren’t so loud anymore. “Think so…”

“Take a few hits. It’ll help.”

He hesitated but sat down and did as she told him. 

“Thank you,” he said after briefly coughing and handing the joint back to her. “I think whatever that… Pill was actually helped.”

“If it wasn't the pill, it must’ve been the sex,” she teased, earning a laugh from him. She tapped his shoulder and pointed her head towards his mural.

ᝰ

A rough pounding woke Joel up from his slumber. He groaned, pressing the meat of his palm to his forehead and slowly sitting up before remembering the girl was still next to him.

He watched her sleep soundly, mouth slightly parted and a gentle snore creaking from her throat. The memories of last night flooded his mind, and while they were somewhat fuzzy, he remembered clear as day how it felt.

He felt most of his questions had been answered by something more complex than communication. It was frightening yet calming at the same time.

Her body stirring regained his focus, and he knew she must have been feeling the same tension headache as he was when she groaned before her eyes fluttered open. She squirmed from the cold air and looked up at the hungover man, smiling as she remembered the night before.

“Morning, Joel,” she said with a playful tilt.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Your head hurtin’?”

“Yep,” she grunted while sitting up. “Ever been to that café on thirty-fourth street?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll take you there for some coffee and breakfast. My treat,” she told him.

Her eyes landed on the big, dull wall that had been taunting Joel for weeks, only to find it was a brightened, complete piece of art.

She admired the woman's beauty and asked him without looking away, “S’that me?”

Joel smirked and reached for his boxers, standing to put them on.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” Joel kissed her head and walked away, leaving the woman alone to admire his masterpiece…

Her.

[wesawbears]

Forehead touch nation, come get your fic!

Under the cut, 1,400 words of Andreil, who I have apparently not written in over a year. Nonetheless, I actually like how this turned out, so, enjoy!

--

As usual, Neil was the last to leave the locker room after practice, shaking his wet hair out. It had grown a little longer than he usually kept it, but being captain kept him busy, and he wasn't known for keeping up with his appearance at the best of times.

The lounge was empty when he emerged, besides one other figure lounging across the couch, who glanced over at the sound of Neil's footsteps.

"Always the last one out," Andrew droned, sitting up at his approach. "Perhaps an issue of object permanence? The stadium does not disappear once you leave."

Neil grinned slightly and stopped a few steps in front of him. "If object permanence was my problem, then I don't think a long distance relationship would have worked as well for us as it has."

Andrew stood then, bringing a hand to a lock of hair hanging in front of Neil's face. He wound it around his finger. "Then a memory issue. Six months to forget scissors exist." He tugged the lock gently before pulling his hand away.

"Not long enough to forget that you like it that way."

Andrew did not choose to confirm that, instead hooking his fingers around two of Neil's to lead them out of the locker room. Neil locked up quickly before letting Andrew lead him to his car.

Christmas break was upon him, Neil's last before graduation, and he and Andrew were headed to Andrew's apartment in Chicago in the morning. But Neil needed to finish some things up before the break, so their first night of the next two weeks together was spent alone in his dorm, the same dorm they had shared until June.

They had done this exact journey hundreds of times before, every night practice, every half asleep stumble back to the dorms, back to the room and bed that was theirs, existing in a space where the world suspended for them, for once yielding to the gravitational pull between them.

Of course, the past six months since Andrew's graduation had taken the night from them, leaving the roof and the car and all of the places that had grown roots in Neil upended.

But he had it back for tonight, and had Andrew for the next two weeks, flesh and blood and here instead of a voice craggy on the other end of a phone call. 

He peeled himself away from the window when they pulled up to Fox Tower, abandoned for break except for the two of them and maybe a dozen other athletes still there. Andrew tapped his wrist twice with his fingers as Neil looked up at the few lights still on, blending with the stars.

"Still here?" he asked.

Neil nodded, not yet free enough from the spell of the car ride to conjure an answer. Luckily, Andrew wouldn't expect one to such a mundane question.

Once they entered his room, Neil threw his things down before climbing easily into the loft. It was as easy as breathing still to leave space by the wall for Andrew to climb in.

"Not too much?" he asked, aware that Andrew might need to adjust to touch after half a year living alone.

"Not too much," he said, pulling Neil's hand closer, inspecting each scar and line and divot on it.

"I don't think my hand has changed," Neil commented with a small smile.

Andrew didn't answer, but it didn't require one, and Neil liked that he knew Andrew had every speck memorized, that this inventory was against a catalog of Neil that he couldn't forget if he tried.

"You'll understand if I wanted to check for myself," Andrew said cooly at last, settling with their hands together.

Neil laid with his chin propped in his free hand. "There haven't been any life threatening incidents since freshman year."

Andrew huffed. "One might say your luck is running down."

"One might also say you've been worried about me."

The words hovered in the air between them. It wasn't that Neil expected Andrew to answer- at least not right away. But he couldn't help but give the game away a little. Had Andrew missed him? 

"Kevin says you're going to Denver next year."

Neil snorted. "Kevin knows I haven't accepted."

"Yet," Andrew finished for him.

"Yet."

Andrew busied himself by stroking the knuckle of Neil's hand with his thumb. "If you're waiting for a call from Chicago, we're not recruiting for a striker right now."

Neil swallowed. "That's what Coach said. But maybe something closer-"

"Do not make your life choices based on proximity to me."

Anger flared bright and hot in Neil's chest. "I'm making decisions based on what I want and what's important to me. Your self-deprecation isn't a reason to take my choice away."

When Andrew remained quiet, Neil's anger deflated somewhat into the embarrassment and hurt it stemmed from. "Do you not want me there?"

Andrew's eyes snapped up to his. He took Neil's fingers and pressed two of them to his neck, where his pulse jackrabbited against them. All at once it was an airport, a rooftop and a thousand moments since. 

"You're afraid," he said simply.

"Exy is the most important part of your life. It has to be because it is your life. If Denver is the best team, that's where you have to go."

Neil moved his fingers back, hovering by Andrew's head. "Yes or no?" It was usually Andrew’s thing, but Neil had to be sure.

"Yes," Andrew said, eyes closing when Neil's hand guided his head to meet their foreheads together.

"I want you. I want this. And don't tell me there is no this when that lie ran out years ago. I told you I was done running away. I'm running towards you. And maybe I'm in Denver and maybe I'm in Chicago, but it's still you. I just need to know that it's me back for you."

Andrew brushed their cheeks together, the barest touch that lit Neil's bones up from inside. "Don't ask things you know the answer to."

"Do I know the answer?"

Andrew brought Neil's fingers down to his wrists, a reminder of the price he'd paid the last time he'd wanted to keep something. 

"Andrew, I'm not going anywhere," Neil whispered into his hair. "What more do I have to do?"

Andrew hummed, the reverberation spreading through Neil's face. His lips moved to ghost over his temple. "I want you. Saying it does not change things."

"Humor me?" Neil said. "If it could, what would you want? I told you what I wanted. You and Exy. Is it so strange to want them at the same time again? I said once to borrow from me until you found something. Have you?"

"This."

Neil scrunched his face. "Us fighting in a dorm bed?"

"You. Safe where I can see you. A stretch of road tomorrow." He paused. "A night where I know where you'll be the next morning."

Neil smiled. "It seems both of our expectations are rock bottom."

"I'd say that four years ago my expectations were in hell. It is not my fault they have farther to rise than most."

Neil huffed a laugh. "Tomorrow morning, I'll be here. And the next two weeks. And next year, I'll be with you. You just have to let me."

"I've been letting you get away with things for five years," Andrew relented at last. "One day I'll fix that."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Neil answered. After a moment, he said. "I'll consider Denver. But plane tickets aren't too bad. I can be with you every night one of us isn’t playing. I'm not saying it will be perfect. But it's ours and I want to fight for it."

 Andrew pulled him closer by his t-shirt and Neil could feel the world between them, everything of the past five years mingling together in the tiny space where Andrew hadn’t closed the gap.

“Yes or no?”

“Andrew, you already know-”

“Humor me,” he echoed Neil.

“Yes. Always, come on.”

Andrew pulled him closer and his kiss was fierce and quiet, a solid weight that anchored Neil to the moment they’re in. 

For once, he had time. The future lay stretched before them, like the open road that awaited them tomorrow. Andrew was here, now. And neither of them were going anywhere.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

[gyuletters]

★ the perfect moment! | hueningkai , (휴닝카이)

gn!reader ، wc: 2.7k ، genre: kissy fluff ، tw: none

— request (please let me know if u liked it) ♡

listen to i love you boy by suzy for a better reading.

tired of waiting. that's what the poor boy was. extremely tired.

but, it is kind of his fault as well. 

he wanted it to be perfect. it's your first kiss, for god's sake! it shouldn't be a mundane thing. 

it's the first time you and hueningkai will feel all of the sparkles, shivers and lovely torments that a kiss shares. that's why it should be perfect!

but… oh, boy! was he so tired of waiting for THE moment.

his mind keeps wandering about how it would be to have your sweet lips on his own. even though kai has no idea if your lips are indeed sweet, he already made up his mind that they will taste like candy.

you just look so tempting now. the night lights of seoul blending with your beautiful skin, the cold breeze moving your hair, your hand on his big coat (you forgot to bring your own, even after he told you a million of times it was going to be a cold night), your eyes reflecting all the galaxies in the universe. this is the right moment he has been waiting for the longest time.

isn’t it?

hueningkai stops, making you look at him. your eyes filled with worry and now he feels a little guilt for stopping at such a random moment. but… he just couldn’t wait anymore.

“y/n… i…” kai starts but you interrupt him. your hands all over him, worried he might be hurt.

“is everything okay, baby? do you feel sick? is it the wine? urgh, i knew i should have ordered soda.”

huening laughs a little. doesn’t matter how long you two have been together, you never fail at looking so adorable in his eyes.

“i’m okay, love.” - he takes your hands on his. - “i just need to tell you this before i lose courage.”

you nod softly at him, motioning that he can say it.

“y/n, i’m just so tired of waiting for the right time. honestly, i feel like it doesn’t matter how or when i decide to do this. when it comes to you i just want everything to be like it was straight out of a romance book. but if i don’t tell you this now” - both of his hands cupping your cheeks. - “i never will.”

“so tell me hueningie” - the lovely nickname falling out of your lips, making his heart skip a bit. - “tell me what you want.” 

the way you say it makes him think you want this too. that you know his mind and heart desires. maybe you have been waiting for the perfect moment as well and just couldn’t tell him.

hueningkai comes closer to you, dragging his thumb on your lips so softly, before making the final question: “y,n… can i please kiss you?”

he sounds desperate, but who cares at this point? he needs you, he wants you.

that’s when a bright smile appears on your face. making you shine in the middle of the night.

“i thought you would never ask, baby.”

with this, kai’s lips are on yours. 

and just like he wanted, sparks fly all over. everything is sweet, delicate, gentle. almost like you both are afraid of breaking each other.

huening can only think about how much he wants to imprint your lips on his brain, even if it’s impossible. so he never forgets about how they taste, how they feel like and most importantly, how they make him feel. 

but suddenly, the air gets colder. something very cold touched him, making shivers appear on the surface of his skin.

you two break the kiss and look around.

the first snow of the season has fallen. so pretty and white, that it looks transparent. as if the sky was also waiting for this moment.

you make eye contact with each other and smile widely.

in the end, it really was the perfect moment.

💌 taglist: @impureperhaps @sunoooism

status: requests closed , permanent taglist open.

© gyuletters, 2023 - do not repost, copy, or translate. // i know i took almost a month to answer your request, mumu. and im so so sorry 😞. im a little rusty with my writing, since i havent written for a while. so keep that in my mind while reading it hihihihi. 🤗 but, i do hope you all enjoy and like it a lot! love u. 💕

[nyrasbloodyclover]

a real fucking legacy (a. k. vornsky)

a/n: stop asking why because i REALLY DON'T KNOW. my fav book, my fav fictional man, i am literally an anna karenina bible

I entered the ballroom that glittered with golden lights from the crystal chandeliers. I felt dizzy from all the excitement that was following me throughout the whole day, making sure my posture was perfect, dress unwrinkled and smile bright, just as everybody expected.

It was my third year after I came out into society, and no matter how many balls I attended, each one of them held a special place in my almost empty heart. Especially the ones I went to in the last 3 months.

All because he looked at me. He danced with me. And then decided to sneak out and find a place where no one would see us. We spent hours together on some deserted balcony. He was a good man and as much as I wanted to, he wouldn't lay a finger on me let alone, touch me the way he was wasn't supposed to.

Count Vronsky had many qualities that made him different from other gentlemen I've met, but the one I loved the most was that he was an amazing storyteller. He's seen so much, he's been everywhere and as a girl who practically did nothing my whole youth I was a great listener. He painted landscapes to me with his words and even when he thought some things he said didn't make any sense, I understood it all.

As he was older and much more mature, I made myself remember the way he formed his sentences and try to use it while telling the story of us.

I wore a maroon dress, not wanting to stand out, though the patterns on it were granular.Black lace was covering the edges while the corset was tied enough to make my breathing almost painful. My hair was pinned up, making my scalp hurt, but I somehow got used to all of it.

I saw some of my friends not too far from me, but a tall figure appeared before I could approach them. A younger man. I knew him. His name was Ivan-something and my mother would be delighted if  I decided to marry him. I fake smiled at him as he asked me for a dance. He absolutely blended in with all the other men I knew. I had to say yes. They couldn't suspect me and Vronsky, It was never going to happen, so why make fool of myself?

I inhaled sharply as he took my gloved hand and led me to the center of the ballroom. I loved to dance, but with an awful partner, even life could be miserable. I felt despondent as he spun me around and stepped on my feet continuously. Music ringed in my ears.

Even if I adored this piece, I couldn't stand it at the moment. I looked around and I felt like my gown was blood-soaked. My lungs were bleeding. I needed air. I wanted to go away, far, far away. Everyone was either dancing or talking and smiling, having much better time than me. Everyone except one person. And that person was approaching us right now. His pace was fast and strong and confident, everything I wasn't right now. He looked resplendent. I was counting seconds and begging him silently to end this torment.

He heard and answered my prayers.

Ivan suddenly stopped and I couldn't be more grateful. I wanted to hug my savior and thank him properly, but the only thing I could do right now was smile and slightly nod. Enough for him to understand. Vronsky's eyes went over my figure. His expression was flat but he tried to act polite. 

Ivan and I separated and Vronsky took a chance to whisper something to him. I couldn't make out any of the words, but I could see Ivan't expression change immediately. He tried to act friendly but miserably failed and excused himself. I tried not to laugh at him and couldn't stop wondering what had Vronsky said to him to make him leave without any protest. Vronsky turned to me.

"Good evening," he smiled,  "It looked like he was bothering you?" Did we actually look that bad? I thought I put on a great performance. 

"I don't think it was that miserable. He only stepped on my shoes three times."

Vronsky let out a rich laugh that I adored and It reminded me how much I miss him. I wanted us to sneak out like before. And I wanted to listen to him talk. But most of all, I wanted to dance with him, and feel his touch even if it was minimal. It was the most I'm ever going to get from him.

I took a step closer and he noticed. I wanted him to read my mind and do the right thing. He looked hesitant. Too hesitant. I looked up at him through my lashes and he tilted his head backwards. Not too much, it was the smallest movement but I noticed. 

"I should g—" 

"Ask me to dance," I blurted out.

He practically whipped his head in my direction and I felt blood rushing into my cheeks. If he refuses I'll leave. I'll leave immediately. And die of embarrassment, while we're at that.

He looked like he was fighting with himself, trying to do what he wanted and what was expected of him. But what I said was painfully forward and I should be ashamed of that. And I would be if it was someone else. With him I felt completely different. A moment passed.

"Very well," he said as he reached for my hand.

I tried to hide my face from him because I swear it was the color of my gown. Scarlet — practically maroon.

He placed one hand on my hip as his other took mine and I forgot everything else. 

His touch burned on me as Vronsky held my gaze. His eyes were mesmerizing and I ached to be closer to him in any possible way. He led me through the ballroom as we moved to the rythm of the soft music that was not so irritating now.

His fingers traced the laces on my back, toying with them. I inhaled sharply and he smirked at me, but we didn't stop dancing. I felt like we were the only ones in the entire room—I couldn't see anything except him. And I wanted it to stay that way.

I was dazed for a couple of seconds before he let go of me and stepped away.

I felt empty and for some reason exposed without his body shielding me from the people in the room.

"I'll bring us something to drink." It was a simple offer and it made me realize how thirsty I actually was. I nodded and moved to the side, so I don't bother anyone. My face was burning. Because of him.

Vronsky appeared seconds later with two wine glasses. Smiling up at him, I reached for one glass but instead of taking it like a normal person I managed to spill it all over my dress. I wanted to cry but he didn't look like it bothered him that I was practically ruined now. I tried to not cause a scene but it was hard. That was my favorite dress.

Tears prickled my eyes, but he didn't let me roll in self pity. "Don't worry. We just need to go somewhere more...private and I'll fix this. But look, now the dress completely matches your face." And he left without letting me respond to his comment. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but instead I waited for him.

He came with napkins and took my hand looking awfully suspicious. But I wasn't sure why. 

He looked around and saw that nobody was paying attention to us, though that was unexpected. Alexei smiled like he won the biggest prize and quickly led us through the backdoor of the ballroom. The rest of the house was empty and I swear he could hear my rapid heartbeat along with pulsing in my ears.

I knew what he wanted and where he was going. I was glad I knew his mind so well that he became predictable to me. I knew his desires and dreams and I couldn't help but wish I was one of them.

His white uniform matched perfectly with my much darker dress. Though Alexei was perfectly put together, while I was...the opposite.

We entered some dark room I didn't recognize. It was large but almost empty. It looked like someone's personal gallery. There was a desk in the corner along with some bookshelves. He closed the door. Then locked it. 

My head immediately turned to him, "There is no reason to lock the door, Alexei," I smiled innocently. "We aren't doing anything wrong." 

A moment passed between us. I scanned the shelves and touched the hard spines with golden embroidery. I tried to act like a fool, but I knew.

"We are about to."

And that did it. It made me completely lose my self control as I was throwing away the last pieces of dignity I had tonight. He practically marched towards me and grabbed my neck as he gently placed his mouth on mine. He knew I had absolutely no experience with men, so he was going easy on me. For now.

My whole body was on fire while he almost unnoticeably squeezed my neck. I moaned into his mouth and Vronsky towered over me, leading me back with his body. I was going backwards until I hit the large shelves. 

"Stop me before it's too late," he gasped into my neck. It was intoxicating. Everything about him, about the way he moved to the way he touched me was addicting I wasn't sure I would be able to stop.

"I won't," was all I said, but it made him aware that I was willing to give myself to him completely.

"You said you will take care of my dress," I added, still playing innocent, even if what we were doing was far from that. 

"And I'm planning to do just that," he said as he turned me. I was now facing shelves, my back to him. It gave him complete access to my corset. Which he began to untie immediately. He was skilled with his hands, I realized just now. It made my stomach turn in very unfamiliar way. I didn't know what kind of influence he actually had on me, but I liked it. It made me careless and stupid, but I was in control my whole life. It was nice to give it to someone else now.

Corset was down and my whole body felt hypersensitive for whatever reason. I wanted him to do so many things but I didn't know how to ask or if I was supposed to anyway. So I let him play with me.

"Turn, dorogaya," he whispered from behind and I obeyed. The nickname made me want to grab him and kiss his whole face. Then he went down. "I'm going to make you see stars." 

That was the last thing he said before taking down my skirt and the rest of the undergarments until I was stripped bare in front of him. But I was surprised I wasn't the least bit ashamed. Somehow, this felt completely ordinary with him. I was scared to move. I didn't know what or how to do anything. 

He naturally noticed and smiled, but not in a mocking way. His smile was so sweet I melted. 

"Touch me wherever you want. And however you want. Don't be afraid." That gave me a bit of confidence, so I looked down at him, on his knees. The image before me made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling. I ran my hand through his hair and he closed his eyes, while his eyelids fluttered. 

It seemed like I had the same effect on him. Then I did something that made me question myself. I led his head down, in between my legs and I saw him smirk, but he knew what to do. 

The first time I felt his tongue on me was the closest I'll be to setting myself on fire. I gripped his hair on instinct. 

His mouth was doing wonders to me. I felt every sensation of it through my entire body. My head fell on the shelves and I had to press down a moan. Was this supposed to be this intense? He stopped using his mouth and continued with fingers while continuously kissing my lower stomach.

Vronsky did everything with patience and commitment. I didn't know why I thought this would be any different. I made a noise that sounded painful, but only because he was moving so slowly and torturedmewith his fingers. He shot me a concerned look, "Should I stop?"

"No, no, nonono," I cried out. I felt hard pressure building in my lower stomach and I grew dizzy. He went faster but then stopped and my hips buckled, while I was fighting the urge to do something myself. "Please continue," I pleaded.

"How could I not when you beg me so pretty?" He cocked his head and continued working me much faster this time, but still gentle. He took his time with me, looking at my reactions to certain movements, the sounds I was trying not to make, my face expressions. He knew what he was doing and he did it so well that It actually made me see stars. I choked on a scream as I was trying to catch a breath. My knees buckled and I felt I was closer to the edge.

He switched to his mouth again and Alexei's tongue finished the job. He put my leg over his shoulder to get better access and that completely pushed me.

I finished on his mouth and seconds later went down with him. He held me as I was trying to even out my breathing. "Can we do it again?" I surprised myself by asking.

He smiled down at me, "When you become countess, yes."

[yanderewritingdump]

I've read too many COD fics, and now I'm stuck on scary military dudes who use their skills/resources inappropriately to keep an eye on you.

AFAB reader, female pronouns/gender language used, MDNI.

AN: I would like to share that I know squat about the military/guns/technology, but I think they're neat in certain fictional setting. Most of my information on the world of COD/military on has come from either watching my brother play it more than a decade ago, unwillingly listening to various people rant, and social media thirst traps. Please suspend your disbelief and forgive any inaccuracies you may find.

It was too much of a habit to pull up the camera feed of your back porch, watching you rock gently as you diligently worked at what must be your latest project. Something was taking shape in your hands, but his knowledge of things outside of war and death tended to be a bit spotty. He thought it looked vaguely like a thin, holey scarf. It was the third color he’d seen you use in the last two weeks as you tried to teach yourself from the book next to your rocking chair. He wasn’t exactly sure what you were doing with the ball of twine and weird plastic tool, and he was pretty sure you were terrible at it from the way you grumbled and picked it. The breeze rustled some of the pages, lifting stray strands of hair into your eyes, before picking up and shutting the book gently on the delicate beaded chain that you had put together. That really got you muttering, and he huffed a soft laugh.

Your hair caught the light of the afternoon sun, shining and soft looking. The desire to run his fingers through it, to grip a fistful at the back of your head and pull you into his kiss thrummed through him. He wanted to suck your lip into his mouth for his teeth instead as you chewed on it in thought.

That was too common of a thought. You were always focusing intently on something, a million miles away as you gnawed on your poor lip and thumbs.

He shouldn’t watch you enough to know all these little details, to have all these little fantasies that are ingrained in him with simple habits of yours. But some nights it was the only thing to ease his troubled thoughts half a world away. He was just as addicted to you as his captain was to his cigars, and he was even less to give you up even if the others managed to find out about you.

It's hard not to notice a hulking man sitting in the far corner, no matter how much he blends in to the shadows. At least, it was hard for you and your friend where you were propped up on the bar with your drinks and dinner. When Caden spotted him, he nudged you in the ribs, not so subtly nodding at him as the normal Thursday night crowd milled around you. "Aren’t you in the market for a fun time?" he teased, “because that looks like a fun time.”

You elbowed him back harder in an attempt to hide how flustered you were. "Shut up," you hissed. You risked a glance towards the far corner table, the second of what would probably be at least a dozen more as the night went on. Even in the dimmest part of the bar, he seemed massive, sprawled out with his arm slung over the back of the chair and his legs spread wide into the aisle as he slowly sipped his liquor. The fuck-off vibes radiating off of him were clear even from this distance. “I don’t think he’s looking for company tonight anyway,” you said with a little disappointment. Caden rolled his eyes at you, and it devolved into your familiar bickering as he tried to convince you to approach him and you grumbled at him for trying to live vicariously through you.

He rarely indulged himself in these little trips to see you in person when he wasn’t on a mission. It felt too risky. He shouldn't be seen frequenting the same places as you, staring at you for hours on end. Normally, he wouldn’t even let himself be seen, but something was making him either bolder or stupider when it came to decisions about you. How was he supposed to resist pressing you into the cheap lacquered wood of the bar and leaning down to breathe in the smell of your hair and perfume? How could he not see if your hips felt as good in his hands as he imagined they would? It would be impossible not to press against you and see what sort of sounds you'd make with his lips pressed against your throat.

But he liked catching you looking at him, lip caught between your teeth for a brief moment as you flushed and looked away. Maybe if he were a different person, a more normal person, he could buy you a drink and flirt with you. Instead, he had camera covering every inch of your home and more than one pair of your underwear hidden away in his belongings.

The others would laugh at him if they saw how he was almost drooling over you.

You were in a heated conversation with your friend, heads close together as you whispered intently back and forth before he seemed to have to last word at the way you angrily got off your stool. From his spot, it was easy to tell which profanities you were hissing at him as you grabbed your drink. He was amused by it all for a moment until he realized you were tentatively approaching him instead of finding a different chair for your friend's partner, as was generally expected of this frequent ritual.

He knew what he looked like. A giant of a man drinking alone in a dingy, poorly lit bar did not generally get any positive interest. Apparently, you were braver than he gave you credit for. As badly as he wanted to actually interact with you, he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to reign himself in if you tried to flirt with him. He really didn’t want to have to turn you down. If his pretty girl wanted him, he would let you have him because he had no self-control when it came to you.

Maybe that’s why he ended up letting you flirt with him and buying you another drink. It was definitely why he let you lead him to your home, pretty, soft hands occasionally reaching back for him in the cool winter air as you giggled at his terrible jokes.

It made you seem even more like a dream than you already did.

He let you hook your finger around his, leading him into your cozy, two-bedroom home. He knew all about it, had access to all the cameras that your parents and family friend insisted you setup around the older home, and had even set up other cameras to cover the blind spots you had missed. Knowing all of that was different than you leading him by the hand inside.

Not that you knew what you were inviting inside your sanctuary.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to press you against your front door, letting his fingers dig into your waist to finally, finally let himself know what it felt like as he presses his mouth to yours. The soft, sweet noise of surprise that fades into a pleased hum satisfies something inside him. He would take care of you tonight, and he’d make sure to ruin every other man for you while he did it.

The gentle way you lace your fingers through his hair and crane up to meet him while he dominates your mouth was adorable. You were pliant against him, letting him drag you that much closer to his body with more soft, pleased noises. How could you be so soft and yielding to a man like him?

You make him crazy, he decides, letting his hands slide down to your thighs. The way you cling to his biceps, nails digging into his hoodie and as he yanks your thighs up around his waist make him smirk against your throat. “Which door?” he murmured against you instead of sucking bruises into the thin, delicate skin like he wanted to.

Fuck, it was hot how strong he was, you thought, locking your ankles around him. He hadn’t even made that discouraging grunt as he just wrapped you around his waist. Only one arm was supporting you as his other hand crept under your shirt to rest on the small of your back. Your back arched, pressing more firmly into him and the kisses he was lavishing on your throat. Each step he took made him grind against you, and you dug your nails in harder at the sheet size of the bulge against you. “Fuck,” you hiccupped when he nipped your throat.

“Which door, sweet girl?”

Surely there was a bruise forming now from his incessant, sucking kisses. “Left door. Kind of a mess. Sorry.”

He shrugged as he set you on a clear area of the bed, laying you back and caging you in for a moment with his body as he devoured your mouth. One of his hands was keeping your hips firmly anchored to his, grinding you against him while the other worked under your top to unhook your bra. When your hands tug at his hoodie, he sat back and yanked it off, letting your ass rest against his firm thighs for a just moment. You didn’t get to enjoy the view of his well-muscled chest for long before he was leaning over you again to divest you of your own top.

Propping himself on his elbow above you, he takes a moment to enjoy the view. You were flustered and flushed, lips plush and shiny from his rough kissing. You looked like you wanted to cover yourself and hide from his scrutiny, but you settled your hands on his sides, biting your lip and looking at him shyly. “So pretty,” he rumbled appreciatively before he was diving down to drown himself in you again. He nipped down your throat to your breasts, gently biting and licking one nipple as he worked your pants open and slipped his hand inside.

He wanted to skip ahead, throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until both of you were puddles on the bed. He couldn’t let himself see you against after this, though, and he knew that you wouldn’t be able to take that kind of treatment.

You were impatient to be kissed again. Hand tugging at his hair as you urged him back up your body. He let himself be tugged until his face was even with yours but just out of reach. “Patience, pretty girl,” he scolded smugly. That smugness turned into a groan with him dropping his head into the crook of your neck when he felt how wet you were for him. His fingers were practical dripping as he tried to mimic how he’d see you touch yourself. “Fuck, did you like my kisses that much, sweetheart?” he asked.

You whined, arching into the touch as best as you could under his body. His voice was sinful, low and gruff with a certainty that told you he was used to being listened to. Between that, the confident manhandling, and the way he kissed you like he couldn’t live without you, how were you supposed to stand a chance. “I want more,” you moaned instead of answering. “Vince, please.”

He huffed a laugh that registered as a little dark and sinister to some distant part of your brain as you tried to rock against his finger faster. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” he rumbled, dragging you to the edge of the bed. Before the surprise had worn off, your pants were gone and he was on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His arm was like an iron band across your hips, preventing you from jolting away at the first hot swipe of his tongue. Both of you moaned.

It seemed to set off something animalistic in him. The low grunt and groans rumbled through you as he sucked and licked at your clit with a single-minded determination. You were lost in the sensation, trying to grind against his face despite the way he held you down, and your hands fluttered between gripping his hair, his arm, and the bedding.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was in heaven. How else could he explain how it felt to hear you moan and chant his name like a pray as your thighs clenched around his head? The noise you made when he sank his fingers into you must have been the sweetest thing he’d ever hear. He was glad the camera he’d set up in the bedroom had good audio.

Your nails were digging into his arm, leaving pretty little marks that he wanted to tattoo into his skin. Your walls were fluttering around his fingers, thighs trembling against his ears as you tried to stutter out a warning that’s cut off by every muscle in your body clenching. He loved the way your body tries to pull his fingers deeper and the way your clit pulses against his tongue as he sucks on it. He only let up when you whine his name, trying to wiggle away from his grip.

He let you, taking mercy on you just this once. He couldn’t have his pretty girl tap out before the fun even started when she had begged him for more could he?

You were panting, arm thrown over your eyes to block out the light of the room. “Fuck. I didn’t know I could come that hard.”

The bed creaked as he climbed back on, manhandling you on to your stomach and shoving pillows under your hips until he deemed them in the correct spot. “Oh, darling,” he rumbled against the back of your neck, ignoring your yelp of surprise, “that sounds like a challenge to me.” Something in you clenches at the dark promise in his voice.

The bed creaked as he climbed back on, manhandling you on to your stomach and shoving pillows under your hips until he deemed them in the correct spot. “Oh, darling,” he rumbled against the back of your neck, ignoring your yelp of surprise, “that sounds like a challenge to me.” Something in you clenched at the dark promise in his voice.

His forearm was planted on the bed beside your head, supporting him as he ground his cock through the mess between your thighs. “Do you have a condom?” you manage to ask. “I’m not on anything, and I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home with me.”

There’s a bit of panic bubbling in you, ruining the nice little high you were coasting on before he flashed a small foil packet at you. “Wasn’t exactly planning on going home with anyone myself, but how was I supposed to say no to such a pretty girl flirting with me? Just want to enjoy feeling how wet I’ve got you before I put it on.”

He didn’t like the panic in your eyes when you asked, but something in him preened at the implication that you couldn’t help but want to take him home with you. You knew he’d take care of you, didn’t you? He tore the packet open with his teeth, trying to memorize the way you looked under him even as he mourned not being able to have the full sensation of fucking you.

It was a tight fit despite how wet he had gotten you, and he held your hip to keep you in place as he eased inside you. Your soft, pretty noises as you tried to rock back into him were not helping him stay in control. “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” He was breathing deeply, head pressed between your shoulders as he reigned in the wild urge to pound you into the mattress and the clench of his balls.

“Fuck me, Vince,” you whined, struggling to push back against him. None of your toys had filled you quite like he did, and you clenched around him in an effort to get him to move.

He growled something against your shoulder, forcing your knees to open more with his own before he was plowing into you. His grip on your hip and the weight of his body pressing into you kept you pinned in place as he started up a steady, hard rhythm that had his balls tapping your sensitive clit with each thrust. It had you moaning curses as your hands wrapped around his wrists in a vain attempt to do something. “You wanted me to fuck you, sweetheart. Now be a good girl for me and take it,” he said, hot breath ghosting across your overheated skin before he was sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

His firm hold hadn’t relented, forcing you to take what he gave you and scramble to hold on to something. There was already a tightness building in your abdomen, and it only grew faster as he found the perfect angle. “Please don’t stop. Shit. Please, please, please,” you hissed, eyes squeezed shut tight as you chased your orgasm. As if solely to be cruel to you, he pulled away. “No, no, no, no. Fuck. Please, Vince!” You looked over your shoulder at him to try to see why he was leaving you high and dry just in time for him to flip you on to your back and sink into you again.

He looked smug and rumpled in the best way as he found his rhythm again. His dark eyes smirked down at you while that thick, calloused thumb found your clit. You wrapped around him, trying to make sure he couldn’t do that again. He kissed you for a moment, and you could still taste yourself on his tongue. “Hush, pretty girl. I’m going to take care of you. I just want to look at you when you cum.” His shot straight through you, and it was just enough to send you over the over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around his sides, nails scratching down his back. He watched you throw back your head, whispering a choked off version of his name as he tried to keep his rhythm steady. It was hard with you clenched around him so tight and the feeling of finally having you under him. “That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he murmured, petting your waist gently. He managed to keep it together until your thighs relaxed against him and you started making that needy overstimulated noise even as you arched into his touch and rocked up to meet him.  

He wasn’t sure that he had ever cum that hard or that much. It seemed to go on forever as you kept grinding on his ridged body.

He managed to roll off of you before he collapsed, taking a moment to let his bones solidify again before he got to work cleaning both of you up.

[sunasite]

with loss, comes love.

yandere!concubine x gn!reader

wc: ~1.0k

You were dressed in commoner's clothes, a big change from your usual royal attire. The plain, desaturated colours helped you blend in amongst the many people in the tavern. It wasn't the cheap kind, you're not sure you knew how to navigate those, but it was enough that nobody batted an eye at you.

You were sitting in the very corner of the place with a few empty glasses on the table in front of you. You normally didn't drink this much, and they (your adviser, your personal knight, and... well, everyone else) tried persuading you out of it, but they laid off once they saw your tired eyes, devoid of anything but grief. They could let you off just this once. Grief is very hard to deal with, after all, and everyone grieves in different ways. Maybe this was yours, they thought.

You were sleepy, and bordering drunk. You held your alcohol well, but tonight you had too much in your system. Exactly what you needed, after dealing with the loss of your parents. A distraction. You weren't sure the alcohol was enough, but you didn't need to worry about that. Not when somebody suddenly took the seat in front of you, making you lift your head from your arms, resting on the table.

A vaguely familiar face was smiling at you, sharp yet kind eyes gazing at you far too affectionately for a stranger. Ah, you know him, you think. He's from the one of the rich families whose parents your own were close to. You never bothered trying to get close to them and their only son, who was a couple years older than you, but you knew they were nice if your parents had nothing bad to say about them. They weren't nobles, though they were well off. A family of merchants, if you remember correctly.

"Florent Monet, if my memory serves me right," you murmured, uncaring if your words were slurring together. Now that you got a better look at him, he was very beautiful, even in this dull light; freckles scattered across his tanned skin, perfectly pink lips, expressive dark eyes, and a long blue earring adorning his right ear. His long black hair cascaded down his shoulders, as he runs a finger through it, as if to show 'yes, that's me'.

"What a surprise seeing you here, Your Majesty," he said, with a gentle smile on his face, and perhaps a hint of sympathy in his eyes if you bothered looking closer. "But I suppose grief is kind to no one. I'm truly sorry for your loss, I can't begin to imagine how it feels."

You let out a heavy sigh, as if you were suddenly reminded why you were here in the first place. You take another swig.

"No, I suppose not," you hadn't meant to be snappy, but it's not like you were in the right mind. Florent had both his parents, and they were thriving so no, he can't know how you feel. Immediately after though, you catch yourself, reminding yourself that he was a family friend, "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

His eyes met yours; they were understanding... and kind.

He waved you off, "No, do not apologize. I know you're not feeling like yourself right now, so I understand," Florent's voice was peaceful, but with a teasing undertone that you suspect is always present.

You sent him a gentle, grateful smile, but you didn't notice the way his eyes widened ever so slightly. You didn't notice the way he subtly licked his lips. And you certainly didn't notice the way his heart sped up at the sight of your smile. He's been wanting to get close to you all these years, and now was his chance. You were so close yet so far; you were always within vicinity, yet the second he reaches out... he misses you by a hair, his fingertips chasing the ghost of you. After years of gazing at you longingly, desperately needing your attention (which was always elsewhere, the child of the Emperor was always busy), he finally had his opening.

"Thank you, really. I feel... bad that you had to catch me in this state, but it— it can't be helped," you tripped over your words as you find a way to avoid mentioning your reason for your grief.

Florent takes your right hand in his— his touch so soft and gentle. You can't help but tighten your grip slightly, desperate for any kind of comfort. He seemed to sense that, as he carefully cups your cheek in his free hand.

He's warm, you thought, and kind.

You catch yourself leaning into his touch, as his warmth was just so inviting. Your eyelids feel heavier, but you're not sleepy anymore. You hear your heart racing, and you hope he can't feel it too. Why, you wondered, why is it so fast?

Oh, he's getting closer to you. Your noses were only a hair's width apart, and you can feel him breathe in.. and breathe out shallowly. You don't want to push him away.

"If you'd let me help you, Your Majesty, I will. I'll give you a distraction, if that's what you need," his words were breathy and quiet, and if you were more sober you would probably notice an ulterior motive. But you weren't, and you were hungry for comfort, affection, whatever it may be. "Just allow me, and I will give all of myself to you."

You lean in, slowly shutting your eyes until your lips meet his. His lips were soft, just like his touch. And suddenly you needed more; more of him, more of his lips, more of his words. Tonight, Florent was all you could see— all you could feel.

You brought him back to your room, and anyone could take a guess what happened there. The knowing looks your staff shared didn't go unnoticed, but you didn't have it in you to care nor tell them off. After all, all your attention was on Florent. From his honey voice to his melodious moans, all you could hear was him.

If you were more sober, you would have seen the sheer emotion that clouded his eyes; it could have been something akin to love. Something worse or better than love, it didn't matter, for you've found what you were looking for tonight: a distraction. And if he played his cards right, he would be your distraction tonight, and forever.

you've now met: Florent Monet, your devoted concubine.