#you should listen/watch just roll with it

[gojonanami]

“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.

warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man

w/c: 1,184

“I’m home!”

You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.

Now where was your home?

“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.

You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.

You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.

But even so, you know he needed more.

As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“

“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”

He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.

“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”

He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.

“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.

“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.

“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”

But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“

“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“

“But—“

“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.

“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.

“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”

“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.

“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.

He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”

“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.

“Promise.”

Bonus:

Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”

“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.

“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”

“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.

“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.

“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.

“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.

If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.

Your husband.

“Let’s see, hm?”

a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.

taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains

[luveline]

hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.” 

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent. 

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?” 

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?” 

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it. 

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.” 

“You don’t have to go?” 

“What?” 

“You have rugby today.” 

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.” 

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out. 

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.” 

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.” 

“So it’s definitely the battery?” 

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your breath gets caught. 

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… maybe I did. I think so.” 

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?” 

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.” 

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face. 

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car. 

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends. 

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert. 

“What are your plans tonight?” 

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.” 

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?” 

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.” 

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?” 

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?” 

“You come in different cars.” 

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.” 

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome. 

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much. 

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

[bucks-babe]

Plastic

Summary: Bucky using a fleshlight for the first time

Warnings: Smut, toys(fleshlight, vibrator), dirty talk, watching porn, overuse of the word fucking, anal?, cum eating, degradation, use of the word bitch, slut and whore, surprise guest at the end

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour so be warned. I’m kind of in the same headspace I was in when I wrote Be Mean to Me so this is quite dirty and a little mean. Anyway, you are responsible for your own media consumption. Any and all mistakes are my own. Huge thanks to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however any and all mistakes are again, my own. Bucky’s a loud, horny, little boy but he is so hot. THIS IS SOOOO HOT!🤭🤭

Bucky knows that he looks insane, standing by the door of his apartment with his ear pressed against it, listening for the footsteps of his delivery driver. He knows it’s coming soon, having his phone in his hand, obsessively checking the progress of his order. His cock, already hard and throbbing, twitches when he hears the elevator ding and he knows that it's his package. Bucky knows the sound of everyone’s steps on his floor.

As soon as the coast is clear, Bucky whips his door open and grabs his box, barely remembering to lock the door before sprinting up to his room, tearing the packaging open on the way. Flinging himself down on the bed, he moans at the sight of the fleshlight in his hand. “Oh, sweetheart, pussy’s so fucking pretty. Look at that pretty clit. Want me to rub it, huh? Make you cum around my cock?”

He tosses the toy to the side, quickly getting rid of all his clothes and grabbing the lube from his bedside stand along with the TV remote. Bucky silently thanks Sam for showing him how to use a smart TV. One of his favorite things about the 21st century had to be porn. He never had this type of porn back in his day. It would only be magazines of naked women, not that he was complaining, but watching people having sex was much hotter to him.

With the TV in his room and no one living with him, Bucky was able to watch porn in HD as loud as he wanted to, and fuck if he didn’t have the strongest orgasm of his life the first time. 

“That’s gonna be too bad, baby, because I’m fucking your ass today. Don’t give a shit if it hurts, you’re gonna take what I give you and let me fill that tight little hole up as much as I want.” He grabs the fleshlight again and pulls the silicon out, only to flip it to the other side where the fake asshole was before putting it back in its casing. 

Without thought he sticks his tongue in as far as he could, ignoring the plastic taste, and groaning at the tightness of it. “Fuck, you’re gonna choke my cock aren’t ya? Yeah, you are, bitch.” He grabs the remote and quickly gets to a porn website and logs in. “What should I watch, slut while I ruin your little ass?” He already knows exactly what video he was going to watch, there was no doubt about it. It’s the same video he’s been playing on repeat for weeks, never able to last the whole time.

The sight of the woman’s ass swallowing that huge cock sends him over the edge. Maybe it was because the man’s cock looked just like his, making it that much easier to imagine he was fucking her, making her hole gape. Her ass bouncing has him hypnotized, not able to comprehend how it was so perfect.

“Can’t wait to fuck that little hole. Leave you open and sore. Makes my dick so fucking hard.” Clicking the video and grabbing the lube, Bucky puts the tip of the bottle in the hole, squeezing until the slick was dripping out. He doesn’t wait for the intro to finish, quickly skipping past it and to his favorite part, moaning immediately when he clicks play and they’re fucking full force, both moaning, skin slapping, and ass jiggling. 

Bucky has to rewind the video to just before the man slides his cock in, wanting to imagine that he was the one fucking her. He spreads his legs out, feeling his sack hit the bed and another idea enters his brain. Rolling over he grabs the vibrator from the drawer before settling back into his spot, this time with the wand nestled under his balls. Turning it to high, Bucky grinds his sack down further, staring at the way they vibrate over the toy.

If he didn’t have as much control as he did, Bucky could have came just from that. He wants so bad to have her lay down on his bed while he straddles her face, smothering her with his sack, grinding and sliding his balls around face, listening to her choke on them, all while fucking into his toy, pounding, pouring load after load into it.

With that thought in his mind, Bucky lines the fake hole with his cock, the cold lube leaking onto his dick causes him to jerk, his tip grazing her hole. “Fuck, bitch, can’t even get the tip in. Don’t worry, I won’t stop. Don’t cry, you’ll get used to me fucking you whenever. Your little holes are gonna stretch and swallow my cock without problem eventually.”

He has to press to get his thick tip to pop it, and when it does Bucky loses his mind. “Ohhhh, fuccckkk. So fucking tight, shit, gonna make me nut already. So fucking wet, fucking made for me. Shitshitshit.” He has to use every bit of self control in his body to not shove the rest of his length inside, not wanting to blow just yet, not when he hasn’t even seen his girl swallow his dick in her ass while bouncing on his lap.

For just a moment, Bucky regrets placing the vibrator on his sack, but it feels too good to take off, now adding wiggles to his grind, moving the vibe all over his huge sack. “Ready for the rest of it, whore?  No? Well too fucking bad because I want it and I’ll fucking take it, bitch.” It takes him a minute to find the remote, pressing play and turning the volume up, fuck the neighbors. 

He groans in frustration when the people decide to take their good ol’ time getting to the fucking, but when he sees her squat over his lap Bucky feels his cock pulse in anticipation. Her perfect ass swallows his cock without hesitation, and Bucky follows. As soon as he gets past the tip, he slams the rest of his length in, frantically bucking his hips to meet the toy, head falling back and eyes shut.. The sound of his cries, the lube squelching and leaking down to his balls where they bounce between the base of the toy and the vibrator, all drown out the video playing.

“Ohfuckohfuck, so fucking good. Oh shit, ass so tight, cock fucking choking. Can’t. Shit, I, oh fuck.” Bucky’s mind becomes mush, only the carnal urge to fuck and fuck hard drive him. “Love this, love th, fuck! Bet it fucking hurts. Can’t do anything but get fucked. Does my big fat cock hurt? ‘S it tearing you open? Just meant to take this fat fucking dick. Don’t care, bitch. Don’t give a fuck that it hurts. Better get fucking used to it because I’m gonna keep you on my cock all the time.”

When he opens up his eyes, that’s when he truly starts to fuck. He’s almost positive that the bed is going to break any second, creaking and shaking with every thrust. He puts all of his strength into fucking up into the toy while both of his hands come down to help his brutal pounding. “Look at that fucking ass, oh my fuck. Take it, fucking take it. See, slut, told you. You fucking like that shit, fucking like being my cocksleave.”

His moans get higher in pitch, balls still slapping against the vibe with every thrust, practically being thrown around with the speed of his fucking. “‘M’gonna fucking nut. Gonna pour every fucking drop in you ass. Fuuuccckkk, wanna cum on it, watch it bounce while I keep fucking you. Gonna bust so fucking hard. When I’m fucking done you’re gonna be gaping so fucking much I’ll shove my sack inside. Uh, huh, you’ll fucking like that.”

He takes one hand off, searching for the remote that’s been bouncing all over the bed, and turns the volume up all the way, not able to hear over the cacophony of sound he was making. “Ohhhhh, shit, ready? Ready for this fucking nut? There’s so much fucking cum, oh fuck. So much, gonna blow. C’mon, keep bouncing that big ass on me. Don’t you fucking dare stop when I nut, you fucking hear me, bitch? You’re gonna milk every fucking drop from my sack. Gonna be more than one tonight. Have me so fucking horny.”

His thrusts become sloppy before he decides to just stop bucking and let his sack rest on the vibe and his hands take over the work. “Ohhhhh, fucking gonna blow, gonna nut. Ready, fucking ready? Bouncebouncebounce, just like that, just like that. FUCK, YES. GIVE ME IT. GIVE ME THAT FUCKING HOLE. TAKE THIS FUCKING NUT.”

The string of curses doesn’t slow down for minutes, his orgasm not abiding at all. “Fuck me! Leaking everywhere. All over the fucking bed. Cum’s filling you up so much can’t even handle it.” He keeps going until he’s almost too sensitive, pulling the fleshlight off wasting no time bringing it up to his mouth, swallowing mouthfulls of cum until it’s all gone. “So fucking good, but I’m not fucking done. Get over here, baby.”

Still laying on the bed, Bucky looks over to you, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m surprised you heard me over all that noise you were making.” Bucky just chuckles and lazily reaches an arm out for you, beckoning you over, which you happily do.

You take off all your clothes before joining him in bed, grabbing the fleshlight and licking the drops of cum he missed off, humming at the taste. “You know, you could have just called me over instead of watching our videos? I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get another noise complaint. The whole building probably heard you.”

Bucky rolls to his side. “Can’t help it, baby. You’re so fucking sexy and the way you take my cock. Can’t get off to anyone else, only my favorite pornstar.” He cuts himself off with a groan.

“I don’t know if it counts as being a pornstar if we only have sex with each other, Buck.”

“Of course it counts. Last time I checked, thousands of people come to watch us fuck each other dumb. Speaking of, we haven’t made a video in a while and I bet they would love to see you squirt on my dick, don’t you think?”

At your giggle, Bucky goes and sets the camera up, making sure not to show anything in the room that would give away who you both are, knowing that you would blur your faces when you go to edit. As much as he loved to hear how crazy men and women go over the two of you, Bucky didn’t want them to know your identities. 

“Sweetheart, you are so fucking beautiful, can’t even put it into words.”

“Don’t have to, show me, big guy because I’m dripping and I need a big cock to fill me up and my boyfriend's right here.” And Bucky’s going to do just that.

[amourane]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second. 

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead. 

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine. 

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him. 

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened. 

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze. 

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything. 

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

[tvseries-writings]

Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

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[ilyrafe]

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅'𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: ex-boyfriend!rafe cameron x ex-girlfriend!reader

warnings: angst

word count: 1k

“hi, rafe.”

just your voice is enough to decentralize him entirely. he didn’t expect to see you at sarah’s party, only because he didn’t know you were back to kildare.

you look beautiful as always. your hair is shorter, but that’s the only thing that has changed about you, at least, it’s what he can assume. the flower crown you’re wearing adorns your sage green dress beautifully.

“hi.” he takes a sip of his mock tail, trying to pretend he’s cool with you there, as if he knew.

“how have you been?”

“good.”

you know rafe too well. his short answers tell you he’s not at all amused by your presence, and that breaks your heart even more. he looks so handsome with a buzzcut, and it’s like he knows it.

“i guess you didn’t know i was coming.” you chuckle quite awkwardly. “sarah convinced me to come, she said it wouldn’t be an issue, but... if you want me to leave, i will.”

“i really don’t care what you do, y/n.”

you sigh, defeated. he’ll never forgive you for what you said. you thought that maybe he would have changed, or at least, understood your point, but you see that he hasn’t done either.

“okay, um... i’ll see you around, rafe.”

he watches you leave, and you’re not even pretending to be happy. he ruined your mood and he knows it. rafe sees sarah comforting you, and she shoots him a glare, making him roll his eyes and leave his spot at the bar.

he should probably leave, too.

when he turns his back and makes his way inside tanney hill, he doesn’t look back. he goes straight to his bedroom and plops down on his king sized bed. the music is muffled, thank god.

he’s been trying to make amends with sarah, even letting her come back home and be with john b in peace. sure, he doesn’t get along with the pogues, but if accepting them is what it takes for him to have the smallest sense of peace, he’ll do it.

rafe has also decided to get sober. after almost dying of an overdose, he was really scared and decided to quit. he wants to make ward proud. staying away from alcohol is a lot harder than quitting coke and marijuana, it turns out. the mock tails aren’t as enjoyable.

as if doing all that isn’t hard enough, you’re back. and with you being back, all of the feelings he’s successfully repressed are coming back up again, stronger than ever.

he hates that he’s given you this amount of power over him.

rafe never did feelings before, and the one time he did, you left him because of himself. rafe is his worst enemy.

he really loved you. well, scratch that. he never stopped loving you. you took care of him, you improved his relationship with ward and sarah. you asked him to quit drugs and selling it. you listened to him and you took none of his bullshit. you held him accountable while giving him grace.

deep down, he knows he fucked up. he wasn’t ready to grow up, but no one likes to say they’re wrong, do they?

“i just think it’s funny how you really believe this little island is an entire world for you.” you snorted. “but i know why you don’t wanna leave this shit hole. you’re a nobody outside the outer banks. there is no “kook versus pogue” once you step out of this place. you’re just another trust fund baby with drug issues to everyone else, rafe.”

he never understood your incessant need to “explore the world”, it’s so childish. you always talked about how you wanted to live in paris, toronto, tokyo, london, seoul, or berlin or whatever (honestly, you have mentioned so many cities, he has lost count), and you always said that you would be happy anywhere else, but rafe doesn’t see himself being happy far from north carolina. from kildare. from tanney hill. it’s where he comes from and where he wants to die. it’s what he knows.

a knock on his bedroom door interrupts his thoughts. rafe huffs and rolls his eyes. when he opens the door, he comes across you.

“what do you want?” he questions, irritated.

you enter his room and close the door behind you, drowning out the noise of the music once again. you’ve missed his bedroom. his bed.

“i think... i think i owe you an apology,” you say. “i shouldn’t have been so mean to you that day, it wasn’t right.”

rafe remains quiet, sitting on his bed, just listening to you talk.

“i just… i never liked it here, and i end up projecting that onto others, and i did that to you. i’m sorry.”

in theory, hearing you apologize should be gratifying, but rafe can’t identify any sign of regret in you. it’s not that he doesn’t think your apology is insincere, it’s that the regret he wanted to see doesn’t exist. you don’t regret leaving kildare nor leaving him.

“apology accepted.”

“thank you.” you smile.

“y/n, are you happy?” he asks.

“hm?”

“are you happy there?”

your smile and small nod tells everything he didn’t want to know. you are happy. in fact, you’re happier than ever.

“i am.”

rafe has vivid memories with you, and your smile has never been so wide, your eyes have never been so bright. maybe this will take him to hell, but he hates that you’re genuinely happy away from there, especially because he isn’t happy. and if he is not happy in where he feels he belongs most, there is no place in the world that makes him happy. 

maybe happiness isn’t an option for him, and the most upsetting thing about this is that money really can’t buy happiness. not the one rafe really needs anyways.

you want to tell rafe how you’re enjoying life for the first time, how being independent is amazing, but also sucks, but it’s still amazing, how the feeling of achieving something on merit is indescribable... but rafe would never understand.

it’s funny how two people who are so similar at first are so different in the end.

“that’s all that matters to me, then.”

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

[sku-nk]

May i request somwthing with, Sam and reader on a movie date but reader is a nerd and rambles to Sam about the movie after and Sam finds it cute 🥹 you can do it however, I would like it nevertheless 🫶🏼 (I love grumpy x sunshine trope srry)

Whatever You Say

Synopsis: You've rediscovered your new favorite movie, and with that comes lots of rambling. Sam doesn't mind much.

Warnings: Language, my neck hurts, my foot hurts, fluff, The Outsiders spoilers I suppose

A/N: Let's hope "constructive criticism ☝️🤓" anon finds this up to par.

"I feel like... this is one of the few movies that do their book justice, you know?"

Sam looks up from the stove with a raised brow. It's been almost half an hour since the two of you finished watching The Outsiders, yet your enthusiasm hasn't wavered one bit since the moment she clicked play to the moment the end credits rolled (your tears, too, to Sam's secret amusement).

"Right," she says as she looks back to the spaghetti, more so to assure you she's still listening than anything else. Honestly, she's almost completely sure you wouldn't care if she wasn't.

"I mean, yeah, some people say it's not the best option, or, like... some aspects could be whatever, whatever, but it's good to me, though. You know?"

"Sure."

"Especially Johnny, I think. Like, Ralph was probably... one of, if not the best casting choice. He, like- he looks like a kicked puppy. Not saying that like- you know."

Sam lowers the heat on the stove, turning to grab the pesto sauce from the fridge. "I know, Y/n" she sighs as she opens the door, glancing in for a moment before reaching in and pulling out the pesto. She straightens up and turns back to the stove— and you, now that you've moved to lay half your body on the island— nudging the fridge door closed with her foot.

Sam opens the glass jar, dumping the remainder of the sauce into the pan unceremoniously. You watch with mild interest as you continue with your little analysis, or whatever it is you're doing. She has to admit, it is slightly endearing to see you so passionate about something, even a movie.

"I think people who still say the movie could have been better should remember the actual horrible movie adaptations out there. Like Avatar the Last Airbender," you say, tapping your hand on the island.

"I don't know what that is," Sam mumbles absently, stirring everything together, watching as meatballs disappear and spread out in the pan.

"It's something you never, ever wanna see, Sammy," you tell her matter-of-factly. Sam snorts.

"Anyways, those people are probably the same people who say the book didn't make sense in the first place. I didn't even know The Outsiders haters existed. Like, it... it makes sense. It does."

"Okay, Y/n, whatever you say," Sam says. She'll take your word for it. It was a good movie, she sort of sympathized with Darry. But she didn't really get into it the way you did.

"I mean, the whole movie is extremely symbolic, you know?"

"Uh..."

"I think it might be one of the best movie adaptations ever. I'll be honest, though, it's probably because the book was so good that the storyline does most of the work for the movie but..."

Sam looks up from the stove at you as you ramble on. She watches as you completely lose yourself in it, the way your eyes sort of light up and you have this little smirk whenever you get to a topic you especially enjoy. Sam leans forward on the counter.

After a long moment of you speaking with the absence of Sam's little hums of acknowledgement and 'sure's, you look up from the loose string on your shirt you'd been playing with, voice trailing off. You cock a brow at the look on Sam's face, something that makes her almost laugh.

"What?" you ask, confused. Sam just shakes her head and reaches over to turn off the stove, chuckling to herself. She turns away from you, making her way over to the cabinets where the plates are.

"Nothing," she says, though her tone is a little too amused for it to be nothing. You watch as she grabs two forks and brings it all back to the stove, piling both plates with generous amounts of spaghetti.

She puts a lid on the pan with the remaining spaghetti and carries the two plates to the table. She sets them down, in next to each other in front of your usual seats. You hop off of the island and take a seat in one of the chairs.

Sam settles herself in beside you and picks up her fork as you let out a little sigh.

"It looks good," you say, grabbing your fork as well. You use it to pick up some spaghetti, but when you lift it to your mouth you pause.

"You know what? I think if you watch the movie while you listen to the book it'd be a cool thing. 'Cause some parts will line up and you can see the stuff happening as it's being read, and stuff. Also, it's cool to see what's different."

You take a bite. Sam drops her gaze to her own plate and digs in. It's comfortably quiet for a moment. Your fork clatters against the table.

"I just feel like Johnny's death was such a necessary thing, like it was something we as an audience needed even though it broke our hearts, and— What?"

Sam sighs, though a soft smile takes over her features. She shakes her head, just looking at you for a moment.

"Eat your food, babe," she finally says, her smile still present as she looks back to her own food.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Fourth Drink: A soulless, non-empathic, and unloving man emerging from a hurricane cocktail. Isn't it nice to tempt him? 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Heartless

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: fluff (surprisingly), angst, cursing, dreamies appearance, college setting, tutor reader x rich kid haechan, bullying, tsun tsun confession, implied enemies to lovers, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You sigh and look at your wrist watch, annoyance bubbling up and you can't fight the need to punch the man that is supposed to meet you here in the library.

It's been two hours since the designated meeting time, and he's late. Too late and you're wasting your time waiting for him to arrive.

Just then, a commotion was heard at the front of the library, hushed whispers and a door being shut rather harshly confused you. But no worries, the perpetrator showed himself within a few seconds.

"Hello, miss." he mumbles dismissively, sitting in front of you without much care while he chews his gum loudly.

"Donghyuck-."

"Haechan." he cuts you off, leaning onto the table with his arms sprawled over it, "That name is reserved only for my friends."

You roll your eyes at his rudeness, "Well then, Haechan. Let me tell you that you are two hours late and I think it's only good manners for you to apologize for it."

He laughs mockingly, pointing at himself like he couldn't believe that someone is telling him what to do.

"Me? Apologize?" he asks, gritting his teeth, "Do you know who I am?"

"Listen," you moistened your lips, his eyes flicking down to the action to which you actively ignored, "I do not care who you are. But I care about the money that your parents are paying me and that I have to create satisfying results for it."

Haechan was dumbfounded to say the least, never has he been spoken to like that before.

He is the son of a famous model and a fashion designer. Most people would want to be with him or want to be him. People would worship the floor he walked on. Thus, he does not know how to act in such a situation where a person is not.. enamored with him.

You dropped the stack of books, notes and copies of worksheets in front of him, faking a sweet smile, "Let's start."

Insufferable. Annoying. Over the top.

That is how you two describe each other to your friends.

You hated him with passion. He must have some kind of god complex because how on earth is he managing to think of himself as a person that all people should respect and bow down to?

The only thing that you're thankful for, is that he's a fast learner. He is easy to teach once he puts his mind into it. (you have to call his parents so they can threaten him every time he acts like a stubborn child, and he says that it's a low blow even for you.)

The boy is not stupid, just someone who doesn't take studying seriously. Probably because he thinks that his future is already secured, knowing that he comes from a well-off family.

And you're breathing in relief the moment you realize that you won't be tutoring him anymore for the next semester.

Haechan, on the other hand, chatters about your preposterous attitude. The way you don't fear or ogle at him. Oh, he absolutely hates it whenever you mock him too. Rolling your eyes, whispering a snide remark, smirking at him rather condescendingly.

The smirk is given only during special occasions, and that is when you see the results of his assessments.

High marks and almost perfect, which means that your methods of teaching are effective.

As much as it kills him on the inside, he does admit that you're one hell of a good tutor. And maybe.. just maybe, you aren't that bad to spend some time with.

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

"Hyuck, you're not coming with us today?" Mark asked Haechan who was leaving the classroom in a haste, "We have no exams coming up."

"No," Haechan showed the test paper to his friends, the piece of paper hanging between his thumb and index finger, "I have to submit this to my tutor."

"So, you're not attending the party?" Chenle now inquires, looking at the older male with judging eyes.

Haechan sighs, waving them off, "I'll follow." then he takes his leave, trudging to the library where you usually stay at the end of classes.

His circle of friends look at each other with knowing smiles on their faces. Choosing to gossip about their troublemaker friend before leaving.

"I thought that guy's heart doesn't function properly. What a pleasant surprise." Jaemin laughs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"It's refreshing to see him like that though." the youngest, Jisung, comments on the uncanny situation at hand.

Jeno intervenes, pushing them all towards the door, "I haven't seen the guy with other girls ever since he met his tutor. What's her name again?"

"Y/N? L/N Y/N, I think?" Mark answers, remembering that one time when Haechan accidentally spilled your name when he was drunk, rambling about how your pretty face doesn't match your shitty manners.

"Well, I'm happy." Renjun mumbles, "I'm happy that he's down bad for Y/N. Finally, I have something that I can tease him for."

The rest agreed, all of them cackling at the joke but they can't deny the fact that he is truly, utterly, pathetically down bad for you.

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

Haechan did not see you at your usual spot, deciding to find you in the library space, thinking that maybe you're out there finding a book or something.

Then he hears your voice, but there are others as well. Leaning closer to the shelves, his inner nosy ass eavesdrops at the ongoing conversation.

"We're telling you, Y/N. Leave our Hyuck alone!" one of the girls shoves you, making you stumble a bit but you held your ground against them.

This has been happening for a while now. Crazy fan girls who want to get in his pants harassing you for the sole reason of being jealous simply because you get to spend more time with him.

You scoff, "And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Do you not know who I am?" she screeches, his high-pitched tone makes you cringe.

"Yeah. No. Who are you again?" you say sassily, and you chuckle at her mortified expression.

"You bitch!" she was about to grab your hair, but luckily, your knight in shining armor comes in to save the day.. or you.

"I suggest you do not land your filthy hands on her, or else." he steps in front of you, voice low and his glare is dangerous.

"Donghyuck! But.. but she started it!"

"Yena, stop playing the fucking victim. Do you want me to actually tell people this stunt and possibly ruin your non-existent reputation?" Haechan announces, keen on making her leave as soon as possible.

The girl has gone rigid, mouth agape, and before she could say a word in, Haechan speaks again.

"Now, get out of my sight. You're making my eyes hurt. And stop calling me by my given name, we’re not even close." he throws an arm over your shoulder, guiding you out of the awkward situation and leaving the teary, humiliated girl in the aisle of shelves.

"Haechan, what are you doing?" you raised a brow, removing his arm and facing him properly.

He then smirks, showing you his test paper with a perfect score. Your eyes widen, a bright grin appears on your lips, heart swelling with pride and joy.

"Oh my god! You've actually done it." you praised him in a hush voice, clapping your hands quietly. "Congratulations Hae-"

"Donghyuck. Or Hyuck, please call me that from now on." he interjects and you were surprised for the third time that day.

"But why?" you asked, blinking at him in pure confusion.

"Because I said so." he side eyes you, scratching his neck and avoiding eye contact, "Also, you're coming with me to the mall."

"Why?"

Haechan groans at your never-ending whys.

"Because we're attending a party, you will be my date. No objections allowed. So, you're coming with me to the mall and we will shop for a matching outfit."

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @mystverse @shakalakaboomboo

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 6

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 3k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 6: A Heist Gone Wrong: Part 1

It was the ass crack of dawn when Nami's unceremonious shake roused you from slumber. The determination in her eyes shut any protest you had right out of your mouth. She hastily guided you to the galley as you fought the sleep off your limbs. As you stepped inside, you were met with an unmistakable aura of anticipation. Each member of the crew focused and awake, their eagerness to embark on this new adventure palpable in the air. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, muffling a yawn as you sat down in your usual seat.

Nami swiftly took charge, unfolding a map on the table. Her voice cut through the idle chatter like a blade, demanding attention. "Listen up, everyone," she commanded, her tone unwavering. "We're on a tight schedule, and our success hinges on flawless execution." With a decisive gesture, she produced a hat filled with slips of paper, each containing a number. "Everybody take one," she instructed, her gaze firm. "We need to form teams."

The hat passed from hand to hand, finally settling on you. With a deep breath, you reached into the hat, fingers brushing against the slips of paper until you found one. Pulling it out, you unfolded it to reveal the number 2 scrawled in bold print. A sense of anticipation mingled with your nervous energy as the realization that you were about to infiltrate a Navy base hit you. You passed the hat on to Chopper, sitting next to you.

Nami’s eyes scanned the room, her expression expectant as she waited for everyone to draw their fate. As the last paper was chosen, she nodded in satisfaction. “Alright, who’s team 1?” She asked.

“Me!” Luffy and Sanji, said in unison.

“You’re on food duty. Like usual, try to bring back as much as you can.” She said. “Team 2?”

You hesitantly raised your hand, watching your surroundings in search of who was going to be your partner. The swordsman visibly scowled before saying “Me.”

You matched his expression.

Nami couldn’t help the amused smirk on her face at the twist of fate. “You two, are in charge of retrieving these medical supplies.” She handed you a list. Chopper’s clear handwriting outlining the equipment and supplies he needed. “There isn’t too much on there so it should be easy enough to do as a first mission with us.” She said with a reassuring smile. “Just make sure to keep an eye on Zoro so he doesn’t get lost.” She added with a playful wink, eliciting a grunt of protest from the swordsman.

“I will?” You agreed, question in your tone.

“I won’t get lost” Zoro retorted voice still rough with sleep.

Nami rolled her eyes at his comment. “Just trust me, don’t let him get out of your sight, alright?”

You nodded.

Satisfied, Nami continued. “Who’s on team 3 with me?” She asked.

“That would be me” Brook shot his hand up.

The smile on Nami’s face was downright evil as she said. “We’re in charge of the treasury.” She didn’t have to say more, understanding flowed between her and the skeleton.

“Aye, aye, Nami-san! Let’s make sure not to leave a single Berry behind!” He chimed in, bony fingers tapping excitedly on the wooden table in a rhythmic manner.

She seemed pleased with the answer. “Good! Team 4, you’re in charge of the distraction. Make sure they don’t see us leaving.”

“Leave it to us!” Franky said with a booming voice pointing at him and Robin.

“That leaves Chopper and Usopp, you guys make sure to keep the Sunny safe and sound.” She instructed. “Now, here’s how we’re going to go about it.” She pointed at a spot in the makeshift map. “Franky, you’re going to take the Mini Merry and bring each team to this entrance. If we’re quick enough about it, they shouldn’t notice anything through the shift rotation.” She explained. “The kitchen should be around here, and the infirmary around here.” She pointed at two different points on the map.

You took a mental note of the rough directions you’d have to follow.

"Now, let's get suited up!" Nami declared, her voice commanding as she put down a stack of Marine uniforms atop the map. With efficient movements, she distributed the attires, handing you and Zoro a nurse and doctor’s uniform respectively.

As you unfolded the short pink dress and apron, a small hat tumbled to the ground, eliciting an incredulous remark under your breath. "You can't be serious," you muttered, eyeing the costume with a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

Nami offered a sympathetic smile in response to your incredulity. "Come on, guys, we're leaving in 15 minutes!" she reminded, her tone laced with urgency.

Zoro grumbled unintelligibly as he reluctantly began to strip off his usual attire, joining the other men in the men’s quarters. With a resigned sigh, you headed back to the women's quarters to change, the fabric of the absurd outfit feeling uncomfortably tight against your skin. Clearly tailored to fit Nami and Robin's curves, it left you feeling constrained and awkward.

As Nami helped you tie the apron into a neat bow at your back, you couldn't help but voice your discontent. "Next time, I swear I'm the one playing doctor. Put the idiot in the skimpy nurse outfit instead." you grumbled, the absurdity of the idea not lost on you.

Nami laughed, her amusement infectious as she offered an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, (Y/n), but sometimes we have to make do with what we've got," she replied, adjusting her own uniform with practiced ease.

Robin chimed in with a chuckle, her gaze soft as she looked at you through the reflection in the mirror. "Don't worry too much about it. Besides, you look absolutely adorable," she reassured, her tone gentle.

Rolling your eyes at the compliment, you couldn't help but smirk slightly. "Adorable until I have to run for my fucking life through a Marine base in this," you retorted bitterly.

Nami's laughter only grew louder at your remark, the sound echoing through the room. With the final touches to your attire complete, you hurried back to your forge, hesitantly grabbing Yokubari before rejoining the crew on deck.

Zoro emerged from the men’s quarters, looking less than pleased with his attire. His bright green hair was concealed under a doctor’s cap, the stethoscope draped around his neck seemed entirely out of place. His swords protruded awkwardly beneath the clearly too tight doctor's coat. The swordsman’s scowl deepened as he took in your form but despite his clear discontent, he took his place next to you without protest. You let out a sigh, his own getup somehow making yours feel a little less awkward.

You were about to ask the swordsman your usual question when Sanji's voice cut through the tension, his flirtatious charm in full swing. You couldn't help but roll your eyes shyly at his predictable antics. "(Y/n)-chwan! You're a vision straight out of paradise," he crooned, his gaze fixated on you with unabashed admiration.

Zoro's muttered curse next to you only added to the amusement, his irritation palpable as he shot a scowl in Sanji's direction. "Freaking pervy cook," he grumbled under his breath, his exasperation evident in his tone.

Amidst the banter, Franky's booming voice rang out from the Mini Merry below, announcing their readiness for action. "Alright, everyone! The Mini Merry is all set to go!" he called out, his marine attire contrasting with the usual flamboyance of his style.

Let's go, Sanji!" Luffy shouted eagerly, the chef still twirling around you in exaggerated admiration. When Sanji failed to respond, Luffy’s arm shot up from below, seizing him by the collar and hauling him down on the small ship, leaving the deck feeling silent.

Left standing awkwardly next to each other, you and Zoro exchanged a glance, the tension between you momentarily broken by the absurdity of the situation. The soft hum of the steam engine filled the air as the Mini Merry set off towards its destination, each rhythmic thud of the waves against the hull a reminder of the impending mission.

It didn’t take long for the small boat to return, cutting through the water with precision as it reapproached the ship. Nami's voice carried across the deck, calling out to you and Zoro with a sense of urgency. "Hurry up, you two! Get on board!" she commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

You exchanged a quick glance with Zoro before heading down the ladder.

"Don't screw this up, witch," Zoro's remark cut through the air with the sharpness of his tone, his gaze piercing as he looked down at you from above.

Your indignation flared instantly at his words. "Huh?" you screeched in disbelief, the insult stinging your pride. But before you could unleash a retort, Zoro had already leaped down onto the smaller boat, his movements nonchalant.

"Freaking asshole! What's that supposed to mean, 'don't mess this up'?" you shot back angrily as you followed suit, stepping onto the wobbly surface of the Mini Merry.

Franky wasted no time, guiding the boat swiftly toward the island once more, his focus unwavering.

"You heard me loud and clear," Zoro retorted with a smirk, his expression unapologetic.

"Cut it out, you two," Franky interjected, his tone firm as he glanced back at you both. "Save the bickering for later. Sound carries over water."

You glared at the swordsman, hoping it carried all the colorful words you wanted to throw at him in this moment.

He ignored you.

Stepping onto the firm ground with angry strides, you couldn't help but watch in disbelief as Zoro sauntered past the glaringly obvious entrance. With sudden urgency, you hurried after him, catching up to the swordsman with determined strides.

"Zoro, wait!" You called out his name, an unusual sound on your lips, your voice a mixture of frustration and urgency. "We're supposed to go this way," you insisted, gesturing towards the clear entrance to the base.

The swordsman paused, his expression a mix of annoyance and begrudging acceptance as he followed your lead, allowing you to guide him towards the correct path.

“Just so you know, I knew exactly where I was going” He said as you closed the door softly behind you.

“You can’t be serious, the door was right there!” You retorted in amazement, sprinting to match his pace down the cold empty corridor.

“I wasn’t lost, witch” He said with certainty.

“What the fuck is your problem, swordsman?” You snapped, whisper shouting at him.

He looked down at you unimpressed. “My problem? Maybe if you stopped being such a pain in the ass, I wouldn’t have one.” He whispered back at you, his pace increasingly fast as he navigated through the corridors. You followed suit with quick strides.

You scoffed, feeling the anger bubbling inside you. “Oh, poor Mr. Brooding swordsman! Maybe if you weren’t so damned stubborn, we could have a civil conversation for once!”

Zoro’s eye narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering in his gaze. “Civil conversation? Ha! That’s rich, coming from you.”

You both took a quick turn, the end of the corridor was a dead end.

You blanched as realization hit you.

You were lost.

“Shit!” You swore under your breath. “This is all your fault” you barked at him, uncaring how loud you were being in the moment.

Zoro's gaze hardened as he turned to face you, his irritation palpable. "My fault?" he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he continued. "Last time I checked, you were the one who was leading the way."

You bristled at his accusation, the tension between you reaching a boiling point as frustration threatened to consume both of you. "I was following you! You bastard!" you shot back, your voice rising with each word.

Zoro's jaw clenched visibly, his temper flaring as he took a step closer to you, his proximity heightening the intensity of the confrontation. "Listen, witch," he growled, his tone low and menacing. "We don’t have time for your temper tantrums.”

“Fuck!” Your voice reverberated against the walls. YOUR temper tantrums? He was the one behaving like a fucking child!! “Fine, but this isn’t over, you asshole.” You whispered violently back at him. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down. “We need a map.” You admitted after a few seconds.

“Agreed.” He said, crossing his arms.

“This is a marine base. There has to be a map plastered on some wall somewhere.” You said thinking hard on how you could salvage this major fuck up. “I say we go back on our steps and figure this out.”

Zoro's nod of acknowledgment eased the tension between you slightly as you both turned back towards the intersection. Your heart raced with a mix of frustration and urgency as you struggled to recall the path you had just taken. The haze of anger had clouded your memory, leaving you disoriented in the labyrinthine corridors of the marine base.

Glancing down both sides of the corridor, you weighed your options. To your left, the passage ended abruptly in a dead end, while to the right, it seemed to stretch on indefinitely. With a determined breath, you formulated a plan.

"You go check if there's a map on the left, I'll check the right. We regroup right here, understood?" you instructed Zoro, your voice firm with determination.

He grunted in approval, his gaze meeting yours with a silent understanding of the task at hand. You watched him go, ensuring he headed in the right direction before turning your attention to your own task.

Scouring the walls for any sign of a map, you felt a pang of frustration as you came up empty-handed. Sighing in resignation, you turned back towards the intersection, expecting to find Zoro waiting for you.

But he wasn't there.

Panic surged through you as you scanned the empty corridor, the realization sinking in that Zoro had vanished from sight. It was impossible, there were only dead ends that way. He couldn’t have taken a wrong turn. Had he encountered trouble? No. If it had been trouble, you would have heard something.

Heart pounding, you retraced your steps, racing back to the intersection in search of any sign of the swordsman. But the corridor remained eerily silent, devoid of any trace of Zoro's presence.

You frantically opened door after door, hoping that it was some kind of bad joke.

“Swordsman, this isn’t fucking funny” You said in the void.

No answer.

“Zoro! Get back here!” You said, voice reverberating in the silence of dawn.

Still nothing.

You grit your teeth. Nami had warned you but still, how could someone get themselves lost when there was nowhere to go? Your mind raced with worry as you desperately called out Zoro's name every few steps, each echo bouncing back to you. But there was no response, no sign of the swordsman returning. The bastard had vanished into thin air, leaving you alone in the maze-like base.

With a frustrated growl, you clenched your fists, fighting back the rising panic threatening to overwhelm you. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you made a decision. You couldn't afford to stay rooted in one spot, hoping for the swordsman to miraculously reappear. You had a mission to complete, and every wasted moment increased the risk of discovery by the marines.

Pushing aside your concern for the asshole, you squared your shoulders and pressed forward, determination driving you to find the medical supplies on Chopper's list. Each step forward felt like a leap into the unknown, the silence of the base amplifying the sound of your own footsteps.

As you navigated the winding corridors, you kept a vigilant eye out for any sign of a map or the infirmary. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the oppressive atmosphere of the base weighing heavily on your shoulders as you prayed you wouldn’t encounter anyone.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching, you stumbled upon a door marked with a red cross, a faint glimmer of hope igniting within you. You pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room beyond.

The infirmary was surprisingly well-equipped, rows of medical supplies neatly organized on shelves lining the walls. Your heart leaped with relief as you saw no one in sight.

With a sense of urgency, you retrieved the list from the small pocket nestled against your breast, your eyes scanning its contents with rapid precision. Each item was committed to memory as you mentally checked off the necessary supplies, your focus unwavering despite the mounting tension in the air.

You set Yokubari of a small wooden desk before facing the multitude of shelves before you.

As you approached the rows of neatly organized bottles, your hands moved with efficiency, selecting each item with careful consideration. The soft thump of your heart was loud in your ears as you added each bottle in the small bag Nami had entrusted to you.

That was it! You felt a small sense of accomplishment wash over you, at the completed task. You reviewed the list once again for good measure.

Gauze.

You’d forgotten gauze.

Frantically, you scanned the shelves, searching for the missing item, but it was nowhere to be found. Something moved in the corner of your eye. Then a sharp pain in your neck. You turned back in shock.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" a deep voice cut through the air like a knife. A man in a lab coat was staring down at you, a syringe in his hand.

Panic seized you, stumbling backwards, you felt your legs give way beneath you. The tips of your fingers felt numb, but your mind was still sharp. With a trembling hand, you reached for your sword, the familiar weight providing a sliver of reassurance amidst the chaos.

In a desperate bid for survival, you drew upon the depths of your strength, unsheathing Yokubari. Its haki instantly dominated your mind, taking over your senses. A wave of power rippled through the air, the man instantly dropped down unconscious in the wake of its power.

Good. He wouldn’t be able to sound the alarm. Everyone was still safe.

Yokubari clattered to the ground instants before you did. You tried to get up unsuccessfully.

Fuck.

Everything felt numb.

Fuck.

You’d messed up.

Fuck.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[time4blood]

happy 4/13 everyone. have an art piece planned but it will be delayed a little on account of me not being able to stop watching JRWI

[patrickztump]

i understand the point of the yellow eyes is to show that he is no longer himself, he's been brainwashed, possessed by evil forces beyond his control, all that. but they didn't have to make his eyes so mesmerizingly pretty, beautiful even, in this scene to emphasize that

[tariah23]

https://x.com/imlost_mp44/status/1734726462605779390?s=46&t=QiKHdDdvKoMxWGyakqTvxA

But until then they will be at each other’s throats

Tbh, If you aren’t Black or Asian then I don’t think it’s fully appropriate to comment on like, any of this, especially even mentioning “the being at each others throats,” part if I’m being honest, like. Black ppl as a whole don’t really have much of an issue with anyone else, it’s usually just the other way around really and for the most part, we accept everyone (sometimes to a fault,) into our space and culture. Just as long as it’s not appropriative or making fun of us then it’s like, what can you do? There will always be conversations needed to be had in order to build some kind of common ground between poc but yeah.

[pebblezone]

Idk how welcome home has overrun literally all of my social media but I guess I welcome it

[drdemonprince]

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway.  Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free.  Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity.  You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find.  Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.”  As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries. 

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Nothing breaks Simon’s heart more than seeing you cry.

He hates it, it makes his skin crawl, and he feels helpless.

He watches the tears roll down your cheeks, leaving shiny streaks down your face. Your eyes red rimmed as you wipe at them furiously with your hands.

He feels terrible as he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. One hand on the back of your head pressing your face into his large chest. The other around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

His grip tightens when your knees give out, both of you slowly sinking to the floor. Until he’s on his knees trying to hold you together, trying prevent you from shattering to pieces in his hands.

His lips press to your hair as he rocks you slowly back and forth. Soft murmurs fill your ears as he tries to assure you that it’ll be okay even though he knows it very well might not be.

He holds you, long after his legs start to ache, his muscles tense from being in the same position for so long. He listens to your sobs quiet, your breathing slowing as you manage to calm down.

The soft “sorry..” that comes from you makes Simon feel sick. You should never apologize for showing emotion, for being human. For experiencing sadness.

Rage bubbles in his chest as she listens to you try to explain your emotions away, listens to you apologize for “falling apart” and saying “it won’t happen again.”

Simon suddenly wants to rip whoever made you feel like you couldn’t express hurt to shreds. To feel them shake beneath him as he makes them take back what they said to you. Makes them say sorry for making you feel like you weren’t allowed to cry.

But he doesn’t show you how upset he is that someone had made you feel like you can’t cry. He doesn’t tell you hoe his knees have gone numb from kneeling on the hard floor. He just continues to hold you, his arms sore.

As you collect yourself all Simon wants to do is see you smile. To see your lips turn up in even the smallest smile. So he does what he does best in situations like this.

“What do you call an angry veggie?” He asks, pulling back ever so slightly so he can see your face.

“Uh…” you pause, your face scrunched slightly, “what?”

“A steamed veggie,” he grunts, and for a moment he’s worried he said the wrong thing. But then your lips twitch, and a small smile breaks out on your face. along with a dramatic roll of your eyes has Simon letting out a small breath of relief.

Simon hates to see you cry, but he also loves being the one to make you smile after.