#[ t: cake before dinner ]

[tonycries]

Cake or Fake - G.S.

Synopsis. The only birthday gift your brother’s best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-dating…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brother’s best friend! Gojo, annoyances to lovers, fake dating, PINING, jealousy (Gojo’s side), past Sukuna x Reader, matíng presses, vírgínity loss (Gojo), oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, size kínk, cervíx kíssing, he’s such a tease, cúmplay, p talking, making him WHÍMPER, spítting, pánty-steaIing, slight chokíng, reader is Geto’s sister, matchmaking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k

A/N. In honor of my hubby’s birthday!!

“Wait, who’s coming to your party?”

“It’s not just a ‘party’, it’s my surprise party-” 

“Satoru, it’s not a surprise party if you’re the one organizing the surp-” You’re cutting yourself off with a heaving sigh, massaging your throbbing temples. “Anyway- continue.”

Growing up, you didn’t suffer through years of endless torment from Gojo Satoru to hope that he’d ever use logic. No, of course not. 

Instead, he’s brandishing the oversized birthday banner he’d bought himself, softly smacking the top of your head. “Besides- it’s not like everyone’s going to be there. Just our group, Nanami’s troupe, some Kyoto people, I invited Yaga but he kicked me out of his office- oh- and Sukuna.”

Ah, there it was. 

The one person you didn’t want to see just as much as you didn’t want to be roped into your brother’s best friend’s “surprise” party planning for his own birthday. But, alas, here you were. 

And here tumbled the next few words that would likely haunt you for the rest of your life. 

“I need you to date me.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“Listen I know it’s stupid and I know-” Wait…what? Cutting yourself off with a choked-up wheeze- for the first time since he’d barged into your life, Gojo had truly and absolutely stumped you. “Wait- you agreed?”

He’s shrugging one broad deltoid, tinted glasses that you’d bought for his last birthday sliding down that high nose bridge of his. And the grin you’re graced with is blinding. “Well, I knew it was about time before you fell for my charms~” Before one strong arm swings its way around your shoulders, manhandling you against the thin black t-shirt wrapped around his sculpted body. He wiggles his cloudy brows, “What was it- the hair? The eyes? The body? Y’know I’ve been hitting the gym more-”

“Gojo Satoru.” you’re gritting out through tight lips. “I need you to date me- just for one night.”

“So it was the body-” he’s gasping dramatically, beefy arms frantically wrapping around your middle. You could feel the curves of his washboard abs against your palm. Purring voice pitching up into what almost sounded like a whine, “At least take me out to dinner first–! To think that you just want me for a one night stand-”

In a split-second, your palms slap over his nonsensical mouth - hard enough that you almost spy a stinging stamp of red on his skin. 

And yet, Gojo doesn’t complain. Doesn’t display anything but a brazen gleam in his gaze that practically screamed out kinky~! 

“Shut- up- my brother’s in the next room.” You’re hissing, eyes flickering behind Gojo’s toned figure and towards the kitchen door for any looming sign of Geto. “I need you to date me-” Your digits tighten over his mouth as soon as you feel it moving to prattle away once more. “-just for tonight- no, not as a one night stand, put that banner down- We just need to ah- pretend?”

Damn, it sounds more of a garbage idea out loud - and you didn’t even know that was possible. 

At the question in his summer blue eyes, your hopefully explanatory words spill out a mile a minute. “S-so Sukuna has been getting around since our little break-up a few months ago- if you can even call it that…”

Ah, melding into such a big group with your brother’s friends and your own in university had always meant that there would be a few bumps along the way. 

From explaining to an overeager Haibara that no, you and Gojo were definitely not dating, to making sure that your brother and his best friend didn’t make Nanami suffer from an aneurysm too early in life, to perhaps the biggest of them all - your fiery, yet short-lived fling with Ryomen Sukuna. 

The most dramatic bump, according to Shoko.

Sukuna wasn’t a close friend, but it’d taken work to get over the worst of the awkwardness after he’d dumped you without a moment’s notice. And you weren’t exactly dreaming up a wedding with him…sort of, but you certainly did skip out on a few invitations to hang out if you knew that he’d show his smug face.

And right now it left you ironically wishing you’d heeded Gojo’s words when he’d first warned you that Sukuna “wasn’t right for you.” 

Though, you think part of it came from his own unexplainable love-hate animosity with the man.

“-but I’ve still been painfully single since the last time I saw him, and you know how he is. I can’t face him like this.” You, in particular, knew too well. “You two still have that weird rivalry thing going on, right? So help me show him up just for tonight- then later we say it fizzled out and everything goes back to normal. It’s a win-win really if- eugh!”

You snatch your hand back as far as it would go the very second you feel the sodden drag of something against your palm. Staring in horror at your clammy skin…he licked you.

And Gojo almost winces at the loss of your touch - he almost drags your hand back himself. 

But oh, it was worth it just to see the way your gorgeous features get scrunched up into an even more gorgeous glare - one that said if looks could kill, then he’d already be six feet under and having his surprise party thrown on his grave already. 

Truly the way to a man’s heart, he swoons internally. 

“Fine.”

And when has that particular tone from Gojo ever boded well for you?

“Fine?”

You find yourself gulping at the slight bob of his smooth Adam’s apple, the flex of his back muscles when he hunches downwards to crowd your space. Mere inches away. Somehow, he seemed too close and too far away at the same time. Too intoxicating with his cold, pinewood scent.

“Fine I’ll let you- heh, use me for my body.” Tone intentionally dipping into a low, rumbling territory. Gojo’s batting his long snowy lashes in a way you’d almost deem innocent - if it wasn’t for the next few words that tumble urgently from his mouth. “-only if you give me something back. A kiss.”

You jolt, “What?”

“I’m the birthday boy, and I say-”

Cutting him off with a thoroughly practiced scoff, “Well, I have common sense. And I say I should just ask Nanami instead-”

“Is the common sense in my five-star getaway cabin with us right now?”

“Okay! You two!” Geto’s roughened hands clap down on your shoulders with a little more force than necessary. His voice is patient - used to this. “Please try not to make this a funeral before we can make it a birthday party, Satoru’s decorations are non-refundable.”

Oh, shit.

How long had he been standing there?

Judging by Geto’s slight shake of your shoulders as if scrambling the practical part of your brain back into functionality - and the way he wasn’t lecturing your ear off just yet - you guessed that the two of you had been lucky this time. 

Face burning, you pray you didn’t look as guilty as you were. Swatting your older brother’s well-meaning hands away. “Speaking of, for a busybody hosting his own surprise party, I’m shocked you didn’t want any gifts.” Quirking a brow, “Is there even anything you want? Anything else?” 

Gojo knew what you meant - you weren’t just talking about the party anymore. 

And, well…he avoids your eyes. Yes. Yes, there is .

You. 

But, woe, even the utterly shameless Gojo Satoru couldn’t possibly say that out loud - especially in front of his best friend, and your brother - so he settles on an obnoxiously dragged-out, “Awww- Trynna make my birthday special f’me, sweetheart~?”

And even that was toeing the line.

He can’t help the way his rosy lips curl smugly at the edges when you’re hissing out a heated, “S-see if I try and have a civil conversation with you ever again, Gojo.”

“Ouch!” Gojo’s clutching dramatically at his heart with a willowy faint that leaves him hanging off of Geto’s shoulders - and it wasn’t too hard to fake with the way his heart lurches uncomfortably at the sound of his last name on your pretty tongue. “Right for the jugular- is this your way of throwing the towel on our truce?”

Truce…is that what he’s calling it?

You catch your own brother - that traitor - stifling a bout of laughter behind his hand when his towering best friend seems to cower in your mere presence. Because, really, who was Gojo Satoru against you? 

Sighing with that slightly infuriated pout you haven’t lost since you were a whiny, teary-eyed brat meeting him at his Digimon-themed birthday party many, many years ago. 

Gojo takes the moment to truly appreciate how you’ve grown since.

He hadn’t technically invited you back then - but what else was there to do when your older brother was off making friends in kindergarten already and being invited by his “new best friend”?

You’d been pouty the entire evening at that, he remembers, and his mother had gotten a ton of photos just of your bickering duo. A year younger and just barely an inch shorter than him, but to a freshly six-year-old Gojo that made all the superiority - enough to tease you badly enough that you’d left him with a tiny, throbbing pink handprint across his cheek, and his poor heart in your palm.

“No.” Your voice rips him out of his reverie, as it always seems to do these days. “So you better k-keep up your end of the truce, too.”

With you stomping your way back to your cabin suite, Gojo finds his twinkling eyes straying right after. Hot on your heels. Unable to tear away. You really have changed since then, all grown up - as is he - and yet-

“That’s after a truce?” Geto wonders out loud for the both of you.

Well, he’s eyeing his best friend. And Gojo was nothing if not a good- well, he was good at everything, quite frankly. Everything except for when it came to you. “Suguru, we might have to plan a surprise engagement party tonight instead of a surprise birthday party.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Because he still feels as much the bumbling six-year-old with his first-ever crush as he was back then.

---

“Matching colors?”

You sigh, “Check.”

“Matching backstories?”

“Check.”

“Kiss me?”

“Ch- wait not yet-” you’re managing to shrill out, fingers curling even tighter around where Gojo had insisted you latch onto his bicep. And you feel him flex boastfully under his velvety button-up, “And do we really need to make some grand entrance? You literally planned the entire party.”

He’s flicking your forehead - softly, you’ve seen Gojo roughhousing with your brother before and he didn’t use even half his strength on you. “Surprise party- the birthday boy has to make a dramatic entrance with his girlfriend. How else will we make a statement?” 

You’re grumbling to yourself about why you needed to make a statement at all - but you can’t argue, this was your idea after all.

And Gojo seemed well and fully intent to excel in his role…perhaps too intent. 

Now, you always knew that his family was disgustingly wealthy; but Gojo practically dragged you to the nearest high-end mall this morning. Insisting on the latest twinkling bracelets and bejewelled necklaces to match his fitted shirt. Cooing that you looked “absolutely gorgeous” in every single one. 

Was this official girlfriend treatment from Gojo Satoru himself? You’ve never known him to have had a long-term relationship in all the years he’s been your brother’s friend but…but it was all so much for just one night of acting. 

And when you’re twirling that flowy silken fabric of your dress around your fingers, you wonder if that’s all he was thinking. 

“Hey?” The rounded pads of his fingers skim over your cheeks, “Nervous?”

“A little.” you admit, trying oh-so-desperately to escape from his blazing sapphire gaze. 

And Gojo crushes you close to his body, one massive palm resting firmly on your hips, hardened front pressing up against yours. Warm. Steady. Voice so close now that you could catch every slight crack towards the end, the heat of Gojo’s feverish breath - practically burning - against your ear. 

You wanted to feel his hands more - everywhere. 

Woah. You’re shaking your head, thankful it simply looked like you were gathering your wits. Maybe you were more tired than you thought.

“We’ll be alright. Trust me, it’ll go smoothly.” Was- was Gojo Satoru comforting you? He’s cracking a smile, like the thought just occurred to him, too. “And if it doesn’t then I can beat up that b-”

SLAM!

“Why are you taking so lo- What. The. Fuck.”

Your first instinct is to wrench away from Gojo’s hold - but unluckily for you, his first instinct is the exact opposite. And you find his firm digits tensing to dig into the plush of your hips, both of your heads snapping towards that gravelly new voice. 

Catching a jaw-dropped Shoko with her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor, she looked nowhere near even thinking of picking it back up. You could practically see the gears curdling around in her head.

“Ah-” You’re gasping out in what you hoped was believable scandal, fingers latching around Gojo’s own cold ones. Not to remove - no, Gojo almost has a heart attack when you intertwine them with yours. “Hope we’re not too late, Sa- Toru here wanted to go shopping.”

“Wait-” Shoko runs her hands through her silky locks like she was pleading to the skies above. “Wait wait wait- wait- when did this happen no-” She’s baring you with her most aghast look, “Why did this happen?”

Gojo comes to your rescue, face falling into the crook of your neck with a grin. “Told ya she would fall for my charms eventually~”

“Yes, but I didn’t think she was that stupid-”

Yes! You have to fight to hide your smile, despite the blatant insult. One down - if you could get everyone at this party to believe in your little act, then Sukuna would have to. 

“Still here–” You’re deadpanning, hoping that your friends didn’t catch the slight tremors in your voice. Damn- why did Gojo have to be so warm. “-and uh- maybe we should head inside? After it is a certain someone’s-”

“Shhh! You’ll ruin my surprise.”

It all goes according to script - well, your entrance with Gojo and his entrance into the party. 

As soon as your duo steps in, the dim lights flicker on and you’re deafened with the cheery yell of surprise! Blinking your startled gaze to adjust to the blinding decorations upon decorations that Gojo himself had put up, you can’t help but let out a chuckle at the smiling faces that meet you. 

Geto and Haibara holding exploded party poppers, the rest of the group from Kyoto standing around a brightly lit cake you’d baked, Nanami the one turning on the lights - the farthest away from the birthday boy. Purposefully so, you imagine.

And there - in the center of it all - Sukuna. 

Arms crossed, a pink brow raised as he drinks in the sight of you - all of you. 

As was the rest of the room, eyes widening in true surprise. 

Gojo’s clutching the front of his shirt with almost-frightening theatrics. “You guys- You did this all for me? You’re the absolute best-”

“Eugh.”

“What did you blackmail her with?”

“Congratulations on your relationship!”

Your eyes latch onto Geto - who only takes a long look at you and cackles. 

Gojo’s huffing ever-so-slightly as he gets cut off, and that’s what it takes for you to realize that you still had his fingers looped undeniably with yours. In fact, he’s tugging you even close to wrap one heavy arm over your shoulder, the very picture of sappy devotion when he nuzzles his cheek into your own. “They’re bullying me~”

He was laying it on thick.

He’d barely steered you into the living room before you catch a flash of white and two firm arms curled around your neck - away from your supposed boyfriend. 

“My lovely!” Utahime cries, cocktail abandoned somewhere to wrangle you free from Gojo’s treacherous grasp. She’s cupping your face with visible concern, “Is your head okay? Did you knock it somewhere? I know a good doctor that can help with-”

“Hey! She’s my lovely-”

“I’m fine, Utahime.” You’re subtly stepping on Gojo’s toes before things can escalate any further. Eyes meeting red ones from across the room, “-I promise. We’re just ah- giving it a go. It’s very new and we didn’t want to make such a big deal out of it, honestly.”

Lies. The entire point is to make a big deal out of it. 

Shoko crosses over in a flash, droopy eyes flickering between you and a sheepish Gojo. “Giving it a-” Slicing their way over to the decorative blush on his cheeks, “-go…huh.” 

And as you’re surrounded by the tittering crowd, you’ve never felt more like one of those cell samples that Shoko would dissect in medical school and proudly show your reluctant self pictures of. 

Ogling everything from the weight of Gojo’s hand on your shoulders to that soppy smile on his face when he smushes his cheek into yours like some overgrown cat. And you can’t help but wear a grin of your own.

Can’t help but feel relief when she cracks a wicked smile, “Fucking finally.”

Haibara gathers your hands in his own, “I-I’m so proud of you two! Nanami and I have been hoping for this for the past five years-” Flitting his strangely wet eyes to a Nanami who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried. “-isn’t that right Nanami?”

“No it’s not.” he’s rolling his eyes, but you catch the slightest hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips. And it hits you that he’s happy for you. 

Really, truly happy.

“Right right!” Haibara plows on, and you have half the mind to wonder if the obliviousness was a skill. “It’s been more like the past seven years-”

Geto slaps! his hand on Gojo’s shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So he finally grew the balls, huh?”

“Eh? I mean-” you’re strangling out at your brother’s sudden comment. “-I mean of course. Had to practically force it out of him though, y’know?”

Shoko nods, eyes far away like she’s remembering something you can’t. “Of course, you did- pining fool.” And in the corner of your eye, you sneak a glimpse at the way Gojo’s sharp jaw clenches. Grinding ever-so-lightly as she calls out, “Well, I was almost at my wit’s end with your horrible taste in men. No offense, Sukuna, not that this one’s any better- let me know if you ever need his balls chopped off in his sleep–”

Utahime’s narrowed glare stays locked on Gojo, “Hurt her and it’ll be more than your balls.”

Sukuna, notably, says nothing.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was a liar. 

The guestlist for his birthday wasn’t simply your friends - it was damn near the entire campus by the time the cake had been cut and you’d all settled into your usual conversations. 

Body after body filtering in through those towering mahogany doors of his. Invitation or not. Rapidly and steadily, it was growing into another one of Gojo’s famed parties. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d actually bumped into Professor Yaga somewhere in there. 

“Eheh- whoops.” His apologetic words hit hotly against your ear over the thumping music. Your body jostling precariously where you were sat all prettily in his lap on the overpriced living room couch. “I don’t even know half these people.” 

And, yet, more than half the people seemed to know you - or, at least, your relationship with Gojo. 

Sure, you were aware that your brother and his best friend were amongst some of the most popular students on campus, but this was ridiculous. You couldn’t pass two minutes without a few guests sauntering up to wish the two of you well and leaving Gojo with a “congratulations for finally growing the balls.”

“They sure know a lot about your balls, huh?” You’re raising a brow, back pressed up against the massaging ridges of his abs. And some part of you felt guilty for deceiving all of these people - they really did look curiously happy for the two of you. 

Gojo’s bemoaning, “I can assure you that you are the only one allowed to talk about my b-”

“Ugh, couples.” Comes your brother’s voice to the side of you, the cushiony couch dips as he takes his seat. “Though, it is much better than having him mope around.”

“Suguru…” Gojo murmurs. Low. 

“What? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?” Geto was such a provocateur despite that serene expression he’d constantly wear on the outside. Taking a long swig of his beer before musing, “Remember, she’s my sister, Satoru. And I think she should know about that book of pick-up lines you bought for her. And that picture in your-”

Immediately, two engulfing hands find their place on either side of your head, covering your ears so blatantly. Gojo’s strained screech is only slightly muted when he drags out, “W-we haven’t gotten to that stage yet!”

“Oh, I see I see-” And Haibara - dear, sweet Haibara - always chooses the worst times to pop up from behind the two of you. Ringing voice commanding the attention of about half of the room nearby when he’s humming, “So you two are still in the honeymoon phase, then? How romantic!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

There’s such dangerous possessiveness in Gojo’s limbs when they tangle in a mess with yours. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gliding its lecherous pathway up and down your exposed thigh. Slowly. Savoring. 

Gojo’s fingers twirl over the short hem of the dress he’d bought, lips pressed up against your throat as he mutters. “Aw, c’mon– no need to be shy, sweetheart.”

And you’re sure whatever strange little flip your heart did showed on your face - because immediately, you’re being showered with awww’s and squeals from all around you two- when did you even draw in a crowd?

“Then why dontcha give ‘er a pretty peck to prove it.”

But of course, Sukuna was in it, too.

“What?” 

You try not to let your true feelings bleed into your words when you take a long look at that unchanged smirk, the way he’s tilting his tattooed neck in defiance. Shrugging up sculpted shoulders, “M’just saying. If you were my girl, I’d want to prove it to everyone here.”

Damn.

Geto nudges his best friend, and you grit your teeth - because proving it was exactly what Sukuna did when you two were dating. Often these parties found you sneaking away if he felt generous, and Sukuna’s lips hot against yours right on the dance floor if he didn’t. 

All in front of a fuming Gojo.

And, hell, if he could be petty then so could you. 

You’re ignoring the boiling in your veins to run a few stray fingers through Gojo’s angelic hair. Soft. It drags his steely gaze from Sukuna over to you with a gulp, “S’that okay, Toru–” Oh god, that nickname has Gojo wondering whether he’s in heaven. “-wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Tch, are you kiddin’ me-” He recovers quickly, and you didn’t know whether the raw awe in his voice was part of the acting or simply just Gojo being himself. “-provin’ to losers than I’m yours is the best birthday gift I could get.”

The last thing you see is that tiny, curvaceous dimple at the end of Gojo’s grin before he’s smashing his lips onto yours. It’s messy. Disorganized. The very beginnings of a sodden French kiss. 

Sheer teeth and lips and need as he suckles lightly on your lower lip, pearly white canines sinking in ever-so-lightly until you keen. Lost into the wolf whistles erupting from the party-goers - it seems to knock some sense into you two.

And Gojo breaks the kiss with a panting pah! sugary sweet taste of his birthday cake lingering on your tongue - over as soon as it started. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You are so corny-” you’re croaking, more so because you didn’t know what to say than anything. Because all your mind was whirling with weren’t words - it was the feeling of wanting more more more-

Shit. Your eyes widen, peering down at Gojo’s half-drunken gaze - even though you’re sure his lightweight self hasn’t had a single drink tonight. You wanted to kiss him more. 

“I-I think I’m going to get a drink.” you’re mumbling out, hastily standing on two unsteady feet. Mere moments away from stepping into the kitchen - from making your escape - before long digits clasp around your wrist. With a plastered smile, you turn to Gojo, gaze flickering down between his begging eyes and that vice-like grip of his. “You need anything, babe?”

“Ah-” Gojo lets you go as if your skin scorched him - as if he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding onto you this way. “No no, nothing for me- don’t take too long, m’kay~”

Every step you take, Gojo’s watching after you like it couldn’t be fast enough.

Because after that? That kiss that had him feeling like a pathetically melty puddle of teenage hormones? Shit, he’s almost on the verge of getting out of his seat and running after you like a maiden himself-

“So…ugh- was that part of the truce?”

“Huh?”

“Was that- dammit, Satoru fuckin’ look at me- she’s not even in your line of sight!”

“Oh- what?” Gojo’s veering his eyes over to his best friend, gaze still trailing after you like a lost puppy even when he registers the other man talking to him. Your little audience had mostly dissipated by now, leaving him to act as much of a fool as his idol-like persona on campus didn’t allow. 

Geto lets him stew in the strobing silence of the party music for a little longer, before heaving out a sigh that was much too worldly for a young man of twenty-something. As a younger sister, you really did give him grief - and he finds himself almost wishing he hadn’t interrogated Gojo after overhearing your strange agreement earlier today. “Man, you really are stupid, huh?”

“I know.” 

“And this charade of yours is even stupider.”

“...I know.”

“And you realize that you might just be helping her back into the arms of that Sukuna all over again, right?”

“WHAT?” He’s so desperately loud that a few guests in the vicinity jump. But Gojo didn’t care - he didn’t give a shit about anything other than grasping onto Geto’s collar, shaking him stupid. “Have you lost your mind- I’m supposed to be the nonsensical one in our duo-”

“I-I’m just saying.” Geto’s putting his hands up as if a shield, “Getting an ex-boyfriend jealous using the same man he was threatened over when they were dating? Sounds like the textbook recipe for jealousy sex if you ask me.”

Oh, Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone. Brows marrying together, he only wobbles his best friend harder. “B-but no- that can’t be- they hate each other, don’t they?”

And, ah, he hated how Geto always knew what to say. 

Hated how he already knew by the devilish curve of Geto’s lips that nothing that was about to fall out of it was going to do his sanity any good. 

Gojo flails, “No wait-”

“Don’t you two claim you ‘hate each other’? And yet, here you are.” Geto’s patting his best friend on the back as if consoling him, shaking his head with the patience of a mother with a few problem children. “There there, you complete imbecile. Now you might want to stay here sulking with a singleton like me, or- you might want to go over there and avenge the honor of your fake relationship, because I see an ex-boyfriend coming in hot.”

“What?”

He’s jerking his head around so urgently that Gojo’s vision blacks out for a bit - and that’s exactly the excuse he’ll use for years to come when he shoots up to his full height. Snatching a glass of liquid courage from Geto-

“Satoru, that’s-”

Knocking it back within seconds before storming off to just where he could just peak your beautiful self in the kitchen being crowded by Sukuna. That adorable furrow in between your brows betraying your thoughts, lips moving furiously with a frown.

“Do you think he knows that what he drank was just water and not alcohol…” Geto tilts his now-empty cup at a lounging Nanami nearby, head bowed like he couldn’t give a single fuck if this party burned with him in it. 

“No.” 

“Do you think he realized the ‘jealous sex’ was a bluff?”

“No.”

Geto lets out a slight huff of laughter, “And do you think he realizes that more than one person in our group knows it’s pretend?”

“No.” Nanami didn’t care if he risked sounding like a broken recorder, after spending almost a decade with you two dancing around each other, he thinks he’s owed that privilege at the very least. “I don’t think he realizes that had your sister so much as looked his way, let alone date his sorry self, then the entire campus would have been hearing about it for the past month.” For the first time since he’d found himself accidentally dragged into Geto’s conversation with him, Nanami raises his head to catch the tail end of Gojo’s lanky legs disappearing into the kitchen. “After all, Sukuna did break up with her because they were in love with each other. Just too stupid to see.”

Now, you might not exactly be his yet like he’s wished on every single birthday candle since he was six - but Gojo Satoru was to be damned if was going to let any other bastard steal his fake girlfriend.

“Sukuna-”

“Awww…what happened to ‘Kuna’, baby?”

You snort, arms crossing over each other while you fixate your glare on Sukuna’s leering form. God, the kitchen just seemed too small for the two of you. “I think you lost that privilege when you dumped me.” Attempting- failing - to sidestep, “Now if you’d excuse me, my boyfriend is-”

Scoffing, “Girl- what boyfriend?”

Sukuna looked to be on the very verge of laughter, and you were on the verge of breaking into a nervous sweat. He’s rasping out a rumbling snicker at that look on your pretty face, “Oh come on, now- you can’t really expect me to believe that sorry excuse of a kiss came from the same man that’s been wantin’ you for years, right?”

Shit. 

Wait…years?

Your fingers curl tighter around the beer bottle, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you watch as Sukuna’s mouth drops - now fully laughing in your face. “Damn- not even a hint? You really did downgrade after me, ma. At least I was honest.”

“Honestly an asshole, that’s for sure.” 

But the rest of your fire swims down the drain as he inches closer. And closer. Heat radiating off the rippling muscles of his body when a big, beefy arm of his cages you against the polished marble counter. Head inclining slightly towards the door, “Well- why don’t you and I-”

“Take your fuckin’ hands off my girlfriend.”

“Satoru?”

But the sight you’re met with seems anything but - gone is that softly teasing demeanor, vanquished is Gojo’s easy smile. His pretty features are twisted into such a feral snarl; and where his tone was ice-cool, his eyes were blazing with raw fury.

Gojo looked like he didn’t even hear you as he echoes, “I won’t say it again.”

“Well alright then, Mr. Boyfriend.” Sukuna lets go of the cool counter surface with a knowing chuckle, walking horrifically towards a seething Gojo himself. The two stand eye-to-eye, glare-to-glare. “Are ya sure you and your third-rate acting wasn’t interrupting anything between myself and my girlfriend?”

“Satoru, ignore him–” You’re pleading, trembly voice jolting Gojo out of his hypnotized stupor, and making him drag his heavy legs around to you. Fuck, that was close. You didn’t know what-

“That’s right. Comfort your friend the only way you know how- s’not like you can do anything other than pine for decades until the next one comes around to steal her away, anyway.”

CRASH!

In a split-second, Gojo has Sukuna pinned against the wooden cabinets by his cotton shirt. Ego and desperation wafting from the two men as his feet dangle a few centimeters off the floor. Gojo had his teeth bared - eyes wild, looking like he was seconds from foaming at the very mouth. And Sukuna’s own lips quirked upwards into a grin. 

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” Gojo hisses. 

“You wanna tell her or should I-”

“What is happening here-” Shoko’s sharp voice snaps the three of you from your little bubble of violence, and it’s like all of a sudden the music and the party comes pouring back into the kitchen. Strangers and friends alike hot on your heels to watch the drama unfold, being pushed back by a frantic Haibara. “You’re acting like children.”

Sukuna shoves the other man off of him, and makes his way out. “Well, I know one of us hasn’t grown up.”

And Gojo is just about to stride forwards- until you catch him with a hand hooked around his elbow. Feeling the washing sense of deja vu from not too long ago. Hastily spitting out, “N-now- oh! Look at that, let me get that bruise cleaned up-” There was no bruise, and there was no reason for you to drag Gojo from the kitchen as fast as you did. Yet, you did anyway. “We’ll be upstairs–”

“Man…Sukuna.” Geto whistles lowly, watching you lug his 6’3 mess of a clingy best friend up the stairs and into what he assumes to be Gojo’s bedroom. “I know you wanted to set them up together badly but wasn’t that a little much?”

“Oh shut up- I don’t give a shit if they get together or- or if she’s happy or not.” he gruffs, stalking off. 

Yet, Geto guffaws at the angry rouge that colored the very tips of his ears, and the slight wobble in Sukuna’s lower lip when he stops to watch you two make your escape.

Yeah. “Didn’t give a shit” his ass. 

“Ugh.” Utahime rolls her eyes, signalling at the DJ to raise the volume on the music just a tad louder. She had a dreading feeling they’d strangely need it. “Men.”

.

.

.

Ugh, men. 

You roll your eyes, the soft pads of your fingers tracing over where Gojo’s knuckles were slightly reddening after knocking against the cabinets. You were only glad that it didn’t escalate into something even worse - damn this stupid idea. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gojo breaks the thickened silence between you two, his sullen voice echoing across all four wide corners of the master bedroom. But all you can hear is the thundering of your own pulse when he blinks his eyes up at you, “I didn’t…didn’t think it would go this far.”

The two of you are sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, practically sinking into the plush mattress. And you can’t help but notice how much the room smells like him.

“Ah, well- y’know…” you’re trailing off, and the way you look at him - so soft and raw will forever be etched into his honeyed mind. You were comforting him…what a night. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. B-beside- it’s over now, isn’t it?” 

He can only nod.

And you feel your fingers twitch where they were cradled in his much larger ones. Fuck. Here goes nothing…

“So that means I have to hold up my end of the bargain now, doesn’t it?”

Oh. 

Gojo blinks.

Oh.

“Wait- so was it the body or the char-”

“Unless you finish that sentence right now. In that case I’m never speaking to you again.”

And shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut Gojo Satoru up then you’d have been wielding this power much, much sooner. Breath hitching when his plump, pinkish lips instantly zip shut, and he’s scrambling off the bed to kneel in front of you.

Kneel.

Gojo was kneeling in front of you, knees clacking to the floor so hard that you think it must hurt. But all that he wears on his expectant face is the rosiest of blushes, and the slight pucker of his lips when he leans in. “I-I’ll shut up- but can I have my kiss now?”

You couldn’t gift an answer even if your dizzy mind could somehow conjure up one.

Because with the slightest nod of your head - barely motioning even a few millimeters - Gojo’s crashing his lips onto yours like he was starved. 

Like he didn’t want to breathe - didn’t need to - when his mouth was meshing against yours. Addicted from that faux kiss downstairs. Keening out a low whine at the very back of his throat, he’s gulping in steady heavals of your essence. Greedy hands circling your body-

“O-oh shit.” he kisses, mouth parting from yours ever-so-slightly because fuck, he had to breathe. But he’s completely and utterly sure that he could die happy right here and right now, lips firmly pressed against yours. 

You’re half-heartedly sputtering, “We should– the party–”

“D-don’t talk to me about a fuckin’ party, pretty.” His teeth pull lewdly on your lower lip, “One more- that was a practice run. O-one m-”

This time, it’s you cutting him off. 

Swallowing up the rest of Gojo’s sentence and forcing his body to wreck with a sudden bolting of lightning. And Gojo swears he tastes heaven on your lips, thumbing open your jaw further to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. 

You moan out what sounds like a slurring string of his name over and over - praying that these walls were as soundproofed as they looked. 

Fingers nimbling their way over to the first few open buttons of his shirt - the very graze of your skin down his burning one sends shots of electricity down Gojo’s body. It makes him jolt. It makes him drag in a heaving lungful. It makes his heavy palm drop its way to the curve of your ass and squeeze. 

“Wait-” he’s drunken. Seething. Silvery strings of rope snapping in the heady lack of space between you two when Gojo pulls away. “-what’s it that they say- one more for luck?”

One more. And another. Another. Another and another and it’s still not enough even when Gojo’s mouth was throbbingly red and raw from crashing against yours, whimpering at the slightest wet glide of your candied lips across his.

Meshing in a sodden pucker he’s trailing his plumpened lips down the splatters of dribble that’d made its way down the corner of your mouth. 

As lazy as his hands were, long digits drawing circular massages up, up, up your thigh. You’re gasping when the fat curve of his thumb nudges in through your drenched panties, drawing a sopping wet line down your teary slit. 

“I think…” Cutting himself off to let his tongue slide out and lick a languid stripe down your drivel. “...think I needa hah- kiss those other lips of yours for good measure, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Fuck.

He looked like he was seconds from drooling at the very thought. Nervous energy bleeding into his words, making them sound almost like a whimper. Gojo Satoru wasn’t asking - he was begging on his knees right before you to eat out your pretty cunt.

Sharp inhales being sucked through his drunkenly parted lips when you slide your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and pull. “Th-then you better make it worth all the trouble, Toru.”

Oh, his head tumbles backwards at the sound of that nickname on your lips once more.

Chuckling - chuckling - all humorless and crazed. Bleary eyes locked on you and only you, he doesn’t move them a singular inch once all the while dipping his fingerpads into the hem of your panties and pulling. Dragging out the drenched excuse of your panties, they’re splotching a glistening coating of your sweet, sweet juices down your thighs. 

And Gojo only turns to look once he brings them eye-level - up to his face and-

“Toru, you’re so nasty–”

“Ya think?” Gojo huffs out through the slicked-up fabric of your underwear, breathing in your essence like it was his favorite scent. And you swear you catch him sneaking in a few droplets of your syrupy juices that splatter onto his mouth. Groaning, “Oh, sweetheart- m’gonna make you realize just how nasty I really am.”

Without any apologies, without any warning, your thoroughly hypnotized self is being shoved down roughly onto the mattress. You bounce a few times against the navy sheets, legs hiking up on autopilot - exactly the way that Gojo wanted them. 

You really were made for him. 

Mewling, “Wh-what-”

“Shhh sh sh-” he’s whispering out in ragged rasps, still pressing a few pretty pecks against the mound of your translucently glossed panties. It was taking everything in him to part- to set them down…Well, perhaps not that far. Gojo stuffs your panties mindlessly into the back pocket of his pants, tongue swiping a moisturized coating over his lips when he takes back in the sight of you. “M’talking to her.”

All splayed out on the bed for him - it was like all his dreams materialized into real life. 

Literally. 

“Oh, look how wet she is–” His creamy fingertips push up your dress to make such a slurring mess all over your pursed lips. On purpose. Swirling the edge of his manicured thumb over and over in the tiniest of circles over your pulsing clit. And Gojo snickers at how greedy she was for his attention…how cute. “-whaddaya think she’s ngh- tellin’ me, pretty?”

Rubbing your fists over your eyes, you’re seeing stars when Gojo’s rude digits give your clit a sudden pinch. “I-I don’t know–”

“Awww- are you sure?” You’re being showcased the most innocent pout you’ve seen him plaster on his entire life, lower lip jutting out and looming so dangerously close to kiss the drizzling trail at your puffy folds. “Because she’s so talkative to me- might jus’ be nicer than you.”

You wish you could snap back as you usually would - oh, how you wish. 

But you’re sure that any and every noise that showers out from your dazed mouth wouldn’t even be heard. Because for one infuriating time in your life, Gojo was right. 

Those sugar-coated squelches from your dripping cunt replayed in your ears over and over. Every teasing pattern of Gojo’s fingertips has you rambling in a saturated song that sticks to your ears like cotton. And Gojo couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t falter no matter how much he wanted to keep up this ever-cracking facade of being suave. Heeding to practically every word from your pretty pussy when his heated mouth gruffs closer and kisses you.

Slow. Filthy.

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, your fingers entangling with his snowy locks. And no matter how hard you tug, Gojo doesn’t move even an inch. “-make sure you ngh- b-breathe- fuck-”

“Don’t need to..don’t- don’t need it…” Gojo’s slurring out into your saccharine pussy lips, intentionally dragging out his words so that they vibrate all down your spine. 

Button nose massaging against your ample clit, the decadent room rings! with a sultry squelch. And you’re peeking down at that sinful sight of Gojo’s tongue smearing your puffed-up pussy lips agape. Swiping around and around the circular hole of your entrance before plunging in-

Oh.

Gojo looked like he was so in bliss. 

Eyes sliding all the way to the back of his head with one taste of your bawling cunt on his tongue- shit. Shit.

Shit shit shit. He’s out of control when he gasps, two hands curling under and around your thighs to haul you down the bed. Maw hanging ferally open when he’s gashing your poor pussy with the most sodden French kisses - Gojo’s never kissed a person like this before. And he doesn’t think he ever will - other than you. 

Doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as feverish as he does right now when he’s craning his deft fingers into his mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Each and every one with a messy pop! pop! pop! 

He really was nasty.

You gape at the way your slick hangs all down his lips and coats a sparkling glaze that drips down his chin and forms a little pool at his neck. His collarbones. Trickling down with pearly beads of sweat that sift between his perky pecs so mouthwateringly.

“F-fuuuuck-” Gojo’s hissing, brows scrunching together like he couldn’t even believe what he was seeing. “You jus’ got ngh- wetter. S-so much wetter…”

It’s said like a prayer. 

Like a plea because your cunt was driving Gojo crazy.

“It’s all because of ah- you–” You squirm at the way that these were the words tumbling from your mouth. And you already know that Gojo was about to tease you for this for the next few years - if he even remembered, that is. 

Because just about the only thing that he can do right now is twirl the edges of his fingers over your winking hole. Once. Twice. Before feeding you inch by long inch of his middle finger - in your lusty haze you think you manage to count about six inches from his staggering size. 

And it only had you imagining his size down below. 

“Don’t squeeze around m-me- fuck who am I kidding-” Gojo’s sleazy pumps of his hand has your cunt slobbering all down to his working wrist. Adding in one more, two. “-drool all over me- make a mess- hah- fuckin’ ruin me.” Mouth bumbling a mile a minute when his drives build up sloppily, swiveling around your gummy walls to nudge over all your tenderized sweet spots. “Yeah- heh- yeah suck me up like that. S-such a slutty girl, aren’t ya?”

“S-stop being so-”

So what?

Talkative with your cunt? So greedy when he shovels his face back in between your tottering thighs? So heated when he utters. Like a death sentence. All that he could. “I-I can’t stop- do you know how long I’ve ah- imagined this? Dreamt of this?”

Your palm constrict on his silky strands and Gojo’s so pliant when he lets himself be rummaged even deeper against your pussy. So ready to be used. “Th-think I like you better when you ngh- shut up–”

And even through it all, Gojo finds it in himself to roll his eyes - though, you think it’s a way to disguise the way he’s agonizingly swimming in euphoria more than anything. Chuckling out wetly, “Th-think I like it better when you’re ah- actually on m’tongue and n-not jus’ in my fuck- dreams when I have my cock in hand.”

Shit.

He’s so shameless. 

Fingers jackhammering in and out in and out in and out- 

“Where is it-” he’s spitting out into your squirming pussy, the lower half of your body being pinned to the mattress with one of his strong arms. You’re feeling the way his biceps bulge against your skin. Getting faster. Faster. “-where is it where is it where-” 

“What are you even ngh- looking for, Toru?” you’re crying out - it was all so much now. So close. 

But the only answer you get are your ankles being tugged to wrap around Gojo’s fervent head, pinned with one hand behind his back. “Lock it.” Keeping you held there until the ends of your feet knot as vice-like as possible to mash his face into your drooling cunt. 

Gojo wraps his rose pink lips around your weepy clit and sucks through furrowed brows when his thorough digits surge upwards at a bruising pace into a bulbous magical spot. That spot. 

“Found it.”

And you find yourself cumming with such a loud yelp of Gojo’s name - throat rubbing sore with every peak of your high. Your orgasm crashes into you over and over as he laps up every bead, every splatter, every drop that you’re giving. 

And he’s still parched. 

Spitting out a wet slew of saliva into your quavering hole, Gojo’s making such a mess of you. Absolutely ruined when he sucks up every wet smear that waterfalls from your cute cunt - so thirsty. 

It’s only when your high has died down to a few tingles, when your limbs twitch with overstimulation, that Gojo finds himself pulling away. His lips stinging rawly, nose slicked and dripping with your sweet, sweet juices - you’re hearing the most pained grunt from between your legs as he pulls away.

It hurt him to.

“Oh, w-would ya look at that—”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him enough to look - already knowing that whatever it was would have your mind reeling.

But how could you not when Gojo’s fat fingertips squeeze your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, opening your glazed mouth just wide enough for him to salivate. A thick wad of spit hitting your lolling tastebuds, his thumb swipes over the stray slops that’d made their home on the corner of your slack jaw. 

He grins, “I said look, sweetheart…”

Groaning, your eyes blink downwards - and you weren’t even sure what you were witnessing at first. Not even sure if you were daydreaming - because Gojo had his black dress pants unbuttoned. Shoved down until his thick, milky thighs just enough for you to witness his massive length.

Yeah, his fingers were definitely an indicator of something.

Because Gojo was so big that you felt nervous. His length swollen and thickened to an incredible girth. All pretty with a red, rotund ruby tip that blushes a cute strawberry pink all the way down, down, down until neatly trimmed tufts of white at his base. Saddling his tight, hefty balls that looked much too heavy.

He made your mouth water. 

But that wasn’t all - no, what really catches your eye and snaps you from your orgasmic haze and into a half-lucid state were the creamy rings upon rings that laminated his shaft. Frosting-like dredges of cum sliding lazily down his angry cock, spurting out a few more from his weepy divot at the very end at your unwavering attention. Did he-

“Yes.” Gojo gasps out in a condensed puff, his voice sugary and embarrassed. Shit, did you just say that out loud? “I-I came just from…you’re just so-” 

Damn, he curses his stupidly babbling mouth. So drunk on you that he can’t voice all the sinful thoughts sprinting through his melty head right now - all the thoughts that have been already for years now. 

It was impossible - even for his big fat mouth.

So without another word, Gojo tuts as he’s rolling his shoulders as if on instinct to pop a few joints; in one, fluid motion your body is being sidled into such an easy princess carry. 

Patting you down right into the cushiony middle of the bed, he looms over you - stalks over to you. And you can’t deny that the absolutely feral smile twisting his features makes your cunt twitch. 

“Too many clothes.” Gojo tugs on your dress - that darkened glint in his eyes not boding well for you or-

RIP!

-for this dress.

At the sight of your jaw dropping in adorable surprise, he chuckles out a rough, “Don’t worry- I’ll buy ya that again. I’ll buy ya the ngh- whole fuckin’ store jus–” And oh with a few masterful flicks of his fingers on your bra, you’re left in nothing underneath him. Nothing to hide your perfect body away from the way he was fucking you with his half-lidded eyes. “-just let me f-fuck this cute cunt, please?”

It takes you a few sloppy seconds of Gojo nibbling down your neck for you to realize that he’s waiting for you. For anything. 

Huffing, your shaky fingers clench around the glaringly open lapels of his button-up. “S’unfair th-that you’re the only one in clothes-”

And, well, who was Gojo Satoru against you?

You’re demandingly helping him shrug off that branded shirt, buttons hitting the ground, his pants hitting the floor-

“Whoops.” Gojo grins sheepishly when his pants and those tight boxers collapse onto the floor in a tatter of fabric and your panties. “Jus’ consider it a uh- birthday gift, pretty–”

No longer having his flaps of fabric to reel him in by, your fingernails dig neat little patterns of crescents on his heated skin as you drag him down to you. Heady breaths mingling with one another, “You said no gifts, remember? If you ngh- really want those panties- y-you’re gonna hafta earn it, Toru.”

And earn it he will. 

Because as soon as the bulging spherical shape of his fat head swipes a sopping kiss down your pussy lips, you feel yourself already moan. He was so hot. 

Already so pussydrunken when he says, “Hope ya don’t mind–” Teeth sinking into your tender earlobe, “-this is my first time.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

You barely even have the mindpower to register those words before you’re being split apart - gasping at the almost-unnatural feeling of being so thoroughly full. Of having our steamingly hot insides being fucked open with just the simple tip of Gojo’s staggering cock. 

“C’mon- c’mon–” He’s lunging up in slow, mindless gyrations trying to force his thick length inside. Powerful arms keeping your wrangling legs spanned wide open for him, they barely even let you budge. Biting down on his lip in frustration, “F-fit inside- shit, your pussy’s so tight, sweetheart– s’it too big for you?”

Stubbornly, “No-”

And Gojo only has to glissade the curves of his palm down to that inflationary nudge of where he was drilling into your cunt. “No?” 

“...no.”

Pressing down. Hard. “No?”

“Fuck- yes- you’re just too big-” And you meant it as a complaint - you really did. But those words only have every ounce of blood remaining in Gojo’s shivering body galloping down to his gluttonous cock. Pushing at the seams to make him expand even fatter, bigger- “Why are you getting bigger?”

Shit, you really needed to watch that mouth of yours. 

Because it has Gojo’s hulking body falling onto two elbows on either side of your head, like a heavenly cage you didn’t ever want to get out of. 

Sweat-simmered forehead bumping into yours, you feel his large fingers interlace dangerously on top of your head. “You need to-” He’s crashing his lips against yours in such a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “-s-stop talkin’ outta ya ngh- pussy. Leave that to her.”

Her. 

And you’re so utterly distracted by all his little ministrations that you didn’t even realize the way he was snugly fitting himself into your cunt. 

The stretch is impeccable when it hits you like a train at full speed, feeling the tiny nooks and crannies of your magical spots being brushed up against the thrumming upright curve of Gojo’s cock. He’s leaving no millimeter of your elastic walls unturned, unstretched. Untainted. 

Gushing out a sweltering hot wave of buttery pre that sloshes all the way against your womb. “Oh- oh what the fuck-” Gojo hisses, chest heaving. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered if he was in pain. “-what the fuck- th-this is what you feel like?”

Right - shit. In all the chaos, you’d forgotten those words he’d confessed just earlier - Gojo Satoru was a virgin. Because of course, he was. Don’t make him laugh, who else would he have ever wanted to see him like this other than you? 

A virgin that was currently pacing his slender hips back and forth to instrument the most syrupy squelches from the very gooey bottom of your cunt. His drooling mouth spreading wider and wider with every sultry half-thrust. 

You mewl, “H-how does it feel, Satoru?”

“I-I feels so- so–” But the words are failing him - the words are escaping him with every gummy squeeze of your walls like you wanted to swallow down more and more of his solid inches. And hand on your hips swirls your hips around ever-so-slightly to feel his sobbing tip paint tiny circles of gluey precum inside you. Gojo snaps his eyes open - wild. “-is it even l-legal to have ya cunt feel this good, sweetheart? This- oh! Heavenly?”

And he was sounding genuinely concerned. Genuinely worried for his sanity once Gojo manages to feed your needy cunt all of his length. 

Now in.

Fully.

And it feels too good - too blissful to have almost every single prayer in his life finally answered that Gojo can’t help but scrunch his eyes shut and cum.

Loudly. Pathetically. 

One hand dancing downwards to give your plump clit a punishing little squeeze as if it was your fault. The other curling around your throat to have you meshing your mouth with his panting one, you can feel it in the vibrations how his voice cracks at the very same second your gooey cunt is filled with such copious dumps of his seed.

There’s so much. 

As if he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life, every splatter of stifling hot cum managing to paint the bullseye of your g-spot in pure white. Ounces of his seed creaming around his hefty base, it smears and slide around your thighs as Gojo continues to fuck you into the mattress. Pound after pound that make him see overstimulated stars. 

And it makes Gojo giggle - giggle - head lolling deliriously into the crook of your neck, now covered in a slather of his drool. Every slow ram into your splurging cunt has him grunting out the tiniest ah! ah! ah! 

“Shit- fuckin’ embarrassing-” You hear him groan into your neck, licking a languid column from his tongue before biting. Hard. Hard enough that you’re wondering whether he’d draw blood, “Can ya believe- s-saved my virginity for the ngh- girl of my dreams n’ m’cumming already~?”

He leaves a few final pecks against your lips, “Th-this pussy’s got me too haaaah- addicted, pretty–” As he’s moving to part sloppy ways, you’re gasping at the splatter! of something warm. Wet. And only then do you register the literal tears crinkling at his eyes from overstimulation. Crying. 

“A-are you okay– Satoru?” You’re whining, limp fingers skimming away the strands of white that cling to his prespired forehead. 

“No.” Comes the answer, comes the heaving gasp when Gojo’s fatigued limbs force themselves through his trembling muscles to heave back upright. “One m-more. That was a practice run.” Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, you feel his flexing deltoids underneath you when Gojo brings one ankle up to his mouth and kisses. Muttering - more to himself than anything. “B-but m’gonna make y’feel good- oh- fuck- m’gonna make you t-take this big cock.”

His words have you just as stupidly fucked as his fat shaft does. 

Those lightning bolts of his veins thump down the upperside of your goopy channel, massaging your sweet spots over and over and-

“Th-think it was here-” Gojo’s palms feel everywhere and anywhere down your tummy for the vicious back and forth of him inside you. To feel that bulging opening, the way your snug channel clenches every time his bouncy tip recoils back from your cervix. Wanting more more more- “-or w-was it- here.”

“Fuck!” The entire expanse of your spine arches off of those thoroughly and filthily dampened sheets now, meshing up sluttily into Gojo’s body until his prespiry-glossed abs cushion your front, plush pecs so comfortably collapsing on top of you. “There- there there hngh- more-”

“More-” Gojo chuckles, hitting that precious spot over and over. His chubby head mashes in slurping soppy collisions until he was out of breath. Dizzy. “More she says- Greedy girl, wh-when you have me already ngh- dripping out of you. Shit- squeezin’ me so. Oh-”

And his vigorous fingers scoop up such lecherous volumes of his own milky cum, toying with the gushing waves of white your poor pussy leaks with every pound. 

He’s bullying them between your lips - cerulean eyes dilating, mouth sagging unsealed when you eagerly suck on his digits. Tasting his candied self, tasting you. Somehow managing to muffle out, “M-m’not greedy.”

Gojo can only grin, “S-say that to me when this oh- cunt of yours isn’t sucking the fuckin’ soul outta me.”

And Gojo would love to tease you more for this - to mouth away for hours on end into your ear about how drenched you were getting and muse out loud whether you’d dreamt of this just as much as he has, too. 

But instead, he’s pecking a flurry of lovely kisses all down your face. Gasping into your lips, “M-move that pretty hand f’me-” So rudely swatting those fingers of yours that’d snuck their way down to toy with your neglected clit, Gojo’s taking over himself to rub steady, methodical circles. Thumb peeking pressure on the hood of your clit just the way he’d read online. “-I’ve always w-wanted to ah- do this. To fuck you raw. T-to ruin you and ngh- fill you up-” As his words spill, so do a few ropey wads of pre. More. Frequent. “-a-and eat you out all over again. See how you taste like mine…”

“Y-you’re gonna-” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. “Again?”

“Of course, sweetheart- why? Scared I- oh.”

That’s when he does it - the mistake of peering his barely-open eyes down.

His weightily smacking balls that smooch against your ass with each thrust clench oh-so-painfully at the vision of your puffed-up pussy lips gaping around him. Drooling. Swallowing. Accommodating his ruthless cock for all you can, practically broken in half and still yearning for more.

Shit, the sight’s so hypnotic that Gojo doesn’t even realize when he’s letting his thoroughly overwhelmed body lock into yours like a puzzle piece. So hefty and sculpted. 

His abs practically melting into your body, and his sloppy hips pistoning into you even deeper. Harsher. Every raring grind of Gojo’s lengthy shaft probes into your g-spot so hard. Like he wanted to leave widely battered bruises of his circumference on your sweetened spots, your cervix, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop. 

Doesn’t even know the very word right about now in this filthy, filthy mating press. “C’mon- c’mon one more for ah- luck?” Whimpering, “My sweetheart, I-I’m gonna-”

Gojo sees white when he cums once more this night - and you do, too. 

You’re not sure if it’s because of the violent streaks of electricity that run down your entire body, or because of the treacly spurts of cum that overspill from your poor cunt. But fuck- did it feel so good. 

Your entire body tingles all the way down from your toes up to your bleary head - and the entire room feels like it’s fucking spinning at this point. 

Black tinging your vision with ever overfilling thwack! of Gojo’s tight, cum-filled balls as they empty out, out, out into your depths. It’s coating your insides like a sticky second skin, leaving stringy drizzles of seed seeping from between your slit. Adding to the ever-growing puddle before. 

You’re feeling it swashing around you with every drivel of his hips. Overstuffing your elastic walls until you felt like they were about to burst. 

And all you can do is simply grapple your nails into the bulging muscles on Gojo’s back, whimpering out a broken, “T-Toru–”

“M’here I-I’m here–” Yet his voice sounds airy, hitching like he was on cloud nine. A beefy arm wraps around your body and manhandles you close to him like some sort of ragdoll, “M’here- shit-” His lips graze against yours in what you assume must be a kiss, too oversensitive to even perk his head up and peck you senseless like you knew he wanted to. “Never lettin’ ya go- haaah- never- ah-”

Whatever promises Gojo always imagined whispering into your ear can be said and done later. 

Right now, the only thing he can streamline his body into doing for him is to search blindly for his discarded pants by the side of the bed. Searching for that bulge in the back pocket- no, not the panties he’d swiped right in front of you - instead, he’s feeling for the shape of his wallet. 

Pulling your tired body back into his, Gojo’s carding it lazily open to show you that. 

Exactly what they were talking about.

Splayed out proudly in the front and center of his wallet was a picture of the two of you. Years and years ago exactly on this date, the aged photograph showed a smiling Gojo Satoru in front of a candlelit birthday cake, tiny cheeks all pinkened. A small, surly you standing by his side - eyeing his Digimon hat more than you were eyeing the camera. 

But that didn’t matter, because Gojo wasn’t looking at the camera, either. 

He was looking at you - exactly the way he was right now.

Glowy eyes half-lidded, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. Gojo nuzzles his face against yours and breathes out a tiny, “I…I might have loved you ever since then, y’know that?”

You’re gasping, eyes shining with…something. And Gojo’s heart stutters as he wants to find out. Wringing your hands to wrap around his broad chest, you’re coiling your legs together until you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts. 

Whispering three lovely words into his ear - and three more into the honeyed  air. 

“Happy birthday, Satoru.”

---

Gojo’s one wish was to wake up next to you - like this. Under soft blankets, with your sleepy breath puffing softly into his collarbone, your body tucked safely into his. 

And he never wants to let go - could never even dream of anything that could ruin this precious moment-

“Mind explaining who ordered wedding decor last night on MY account?”

Ah, that would do it. 

Bleary blue eyes wrench open, taking Gojo every shred of will in his body to not jolt at the unwelcome greeting of Shoko peering down at him…while he was all wrapped up with his best friend’s sister in a bedroom that could almost be mistaken for a crime scene. 

Would it really be too late of a birthday wish to hope that she hadn’t noticed your tattered clothes on the floor, the ruined state of the sheets, and the way that the bedframe sagged suspiciously on one side?

Gulping, he’s pressing your body even tighter into his, careful not to let you stir - well, at least it couldn’t get worse than this-

Footsteps. 

Close.

And an unmistakable few voices - and laughter. “Is that my sist- SATORU, YOU BASTARD-”

“Eugh.”

“WHAT did you blackmail her with?”

“Woahhh- congratulations on your relationship!”

A/N. Lowkey has the spirit of a crackfic, I fear. This was SAUR fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[finelinevogue]

hi!! can I get an azriel fic where he and the reader had a fight before a battle or mission and then she is presumed dead so he spends his days spiraling with guilt and he misses her a lot and that stuff. And then when she makes it back he finally confesses his feelings to her and happy ending :) bonus if she's rhys' sister but not necessary. thank u so much and happy new year!!

please come back

thank you so much for your request - i hope this lived up to expectations since i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for ages 💫

word count - 1.6k

“Where is she?”

“Az.. We… We don’t—.”

“I said where is she?” Azriel bellowed, readying Truthteller for anything.

Rhys rubbed a bloody hand over his chin whilst Cassian hung his head low.

Rhys looked at Azriel with those deep violet eyes, conveying a whole conversation to him without having to use any words.

Truthteller dropped to the ground.

Azriel followed.

His knees let out an earth shattering crack as he crumbled onto the floor. His whole body went slack, his entire demeanour changing from how he had been seconds before.

How evil a few seconds could turn life into.

“No.” He whispered to the wind.

“Az…”

“No!” He screamed, spit and blood flying from his lips - blood from the battle which he didn’t feel like they’d won anymore.

Why had any of that been worth it?

Days of war and fighting, and for what?

The peace and safety of the Night Court wad restored once more, but was life worth truly living without his person living beside him? He couldn’t even comprehend the thought of figuring that question out.

He could feel the bond slipping away. That once golden-feel thread, rusting and greying away.

Azriel tried pulling on the bond with all he had, whispering pleads under his breath. “Please, please.” He pulled and pulled, but the void when nothing pulled back was too empty to deal with.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Rhys said, kneeling down in front of Azriel. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me it isn’t true.” Azriel looked from his blood-caked hands and into his brother’s eyes once more.

Azriel’s own eyes pooled with tears. He didn’t think he had any energy left to think, let alone cry and yet the tears would not stop falling.

His body rocked as his cries took over him.

He felt like the world was ending and he was ending with it.

He pulled that bond again, wishing for anything to give him a sign that you were at least trying to pull back - to give Azriel reason to believe you were still there - but all he felt was nothing.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

The sun was setting when Azriel woke up.

He sat up in your once shared bed, holding himself up by his hands behind him.

He looked from the setting sun to your side of the bed. He’d set up your pillows so it looked like your body was underneath the sheets. They had dents in from where he’d been holding them at night - trying to replicate the feeling of you.

He can’t believe you were gone.

Azriel took one of his hands and placed it over his heart, tugging at that thread - he wasn’t giving it up so easily. He could feel it still there, only it felt distant. Distant didn’t mean forever gone, though.

And so he pulled.

Every morning - or evening - he rose, he pulled.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

“You look…” Cassian started as Azriel entered the kitchen.

Cassian was sat at the table eating some bread and sauce - forever snacking.

“Handsome?” Azriel asked in a teasing voice

“You don’t want me to answer that honestly.” Cassian shook his head, tearing off a bit of bread and throwing it across the table for Azriel to catch.

Azriel caught it with one hand and immediately took a bite from it. It didn’t take an intelligent someone to know that Cassian was just trying to make sure Azriel remembered to eat, seeing as he kept ‘forgetting to’ recently.

Azriel hadn’t attended family dinner in 2 days - the battle having ended 3 days ago.

Cassian was impressed that Azriel was even out of bed - proud, even.

“Answer me this, then.” Azriel counter offered, “If… If you thought there was still a small chance the bond was still alive between you and Nesta, even though she’d… gone, would you pull it? Persue it?”

“Without hesitation.” Cassian nodded.

Azriel nodded in agreement.

“Why—.”

“It’s nothing.” Azriel shook his head, leaving the bread on the table and disappearing from the room once more.

“What a weird guy.” Cassian spoke to no-one as he dipped his bread into a spicy-red sauce.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

You looked peaceful.

Madja had dressed you in lilac robes - traditional to your homeland for your upcoming memorial service.

You were lying to rest in a room away from the main part of the House of Wind. You looked so beautiful. Your Fae skin had not yet withered or cracked.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel said, brushing the tips of his fingers over your cheek.

Azriel had been coming down to speak to you every spare moment he had, not wanting to miss a single second he had to watch over you.

“Are you ready to come back yet?”

He tugged that bond and he tugged it hard.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

It was the third morning.

Azriel was at his desk, writing away as he often did in the mornings. His diary was the one constant - other than you - that he had always known he could turn to each day.

Now with you gone, he–

Mor burst through the door, panting like she’d run up the steps to reach the House of Wind.

Azriel hadn’t noticed he’d dropped his pen and spilt the ink everywhere. Mor had startled him, but his shadows had calmed him.

Mor caught her breath long enough for her to speak two words.

“She’s awake.”

And that’s when he noticed he could feel it; the bond.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

Azriel was running faster than he had ever before.

He sprinted down the halls, apologising when he knocked over a vase but continuing nevertheless.

When he approached the end of the hallway that led to that door, he spotted Rhys speaking to Madja just in front of it.

Azriel slowed down his pace until he was actually apprehensively approaching the door.

He looked at Madja first, needing medical reassurance more than anything. If this was real, how did the Mother pull this off? He would owe his soul for this.

Madja gave Azriel a knowing look that made Azriel want to crumple to the floor and kiss at the feet of the Gods.

Madja, Rhys and Mor stood beside the door as Azriel didn't waste a single moment more waiting behind the doors. He pushed them open widely and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he saw your eyes open.

You smiled at him from across the room and he was done for.

Azriel's shadows went into a frenzy to reach you and you laughed as they hugged and tickled you, moulding around your body in a protective cocoon.

"I came back." You said.

Azriel nodded, not understand how this was even possible. How was this possible? Could Madja even explain this phenomenon?

"You.. You were..."

"I know." You nodded sadly. "I can't imagine how that must have been for you."

"I pulled on the bond every other moment." Azriel walked towards you slowly, careful to tread carefully in case he blurred the dream that he was sure he was dreaming.

"I know." You rested your hand on your chest. "I could feel it."

"You could?"

"I'm certain that you brought me back, Az."

His shadows met back with him but only because he was so close to you now. Close enough to be able to reach out and make sure you were real.

He brought a scarred hand up to your cheek, hesitating in case this was some cruel trick. His hand hovered where he wanted to cup your cheek, like he was internally stuck with choosing what to do next.

"It's okay. I'm here."

You moved for him and pressed your skin into his.

Azriel gasped as he felt how real you were beneath his own body. He quickly brought his other hand to cup your other cheek and greedily bring your lips close to his so he could seal this moment with a kiss.

The kiss poured all of his love for you back into him.

He felt that bond grow tighter in his chest, begging to burst out and fill the room with the endless happy that you brought him.

"You're here." He said between kisses, not letting you go for a moment.

"I am."

Azriel's kisses were hungry and desperate. It was almost like he refused to believe this was real and that he would lose you the moment he stopped. As much as you loved him and his kisses, you did need to breathe and so you reluctantly pulled away.

"No..." Azriel whined, desperate to pull you back.

You cupped his cheeks this time, grounding him to you. "Hey, sweetheart, I am here. I am right here. We have all the time in the world. I'm okay."

"We're okay." And he sealed the fact with another kiss.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

"Az, get off!"

You laughed as you tried to push him off of your side of the bed.

"You're too big." You grunted as you tried to move him off you, but he was too big of a lump of muscle to move. Of course you were only struggling to suffer - you actually quite enjoyed the feeling of him on you. If it comforted him then it comforted you.

"I am, aren't I." He said cheekily, like a teen Illyrian.

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes, but were glad to see he'd gotten his spark back. "I give up."

You stayed laid down, Azriel's body completely wrapped over yours and his legs intertwined with yours. His arms were wrapped so snug around you that you couldn't move even if you did want to. Seemed like he was attached to you from here until forever.

"Good." He said. "Now, let's sleep."

He gave one last tug on the bond before you tried to go to sleep and he was only comfortable enough to go to sleep when he felt you tug back.

[harrysfolklore]

30th birthday

i just can’t believe harry is 30 and this is my way to cope, i hope you like this 🥲

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The calendar marked February 1st as the date, which meant that it was finally Harry's 30th birthday.

You woke up earlier than him, in order to make him his special birthday breakfast that was a tradition by now, and as you stood alone in the cooking in the kitchen, you couldn't help but reminisce about all the previous birthdays you've celebrated with Harry.

From celebrating his birthday at a restaurant with his brand new band mates and friends after a day of The X Factor rehearsals, having big parties thrown for him with celebrities in attendance, flying off to Japan to celebrate there and throwing a concert to spend his special day with his fans, you couldn't believe Harry was turning 30 and you were able to grow up by his side.

"Love, where are you?" his raspy morning voice made its way to your ears, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Over here, in the kitchen!"

You turned around to see Harry stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing an oversized t-shirt that you recognized as one of your favorites.

"Morning, birthday boy," you greeted him, leaning in to give him a soft kiss.

"Morning," he replied, his eyes still half-closed. "What's all this?" Harry gestured towards the spread of pancakes, eggs, and bacon you had prepared on the table.

"It's your special birthday breakfast, as always," you pecked his lips again.

"You know, you could've woken me up with a 30 minute long blowj-"

"Harry!" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, "Every single year, you say the same thing! When will you stop being a menace."

"Can you blame me?" Harry shrugged, "You still look as hot as you did when we first met fourteen years ago."

"Fourteen, huh?" you said, tilting your head, "How does it feel to not be a twenty something anymore? You're basically an old man now."

"I feel good, honestly," he said sincerely, his eyes locking with yours, "I mean, I'm happy and healthy, I have the job of my dreams, a family that loves me, supporting friends and the best girlfriend in the world, I'm a very lucky old man."

"You're too cute," you kissed him again, "Now eat your breakfast, we have a lot of celebrations to do today."

The day went by smoothly, Harry answered a couple of calls and texts from friends and family and you spent the afternoon cuddling up before it was time for his birthday dinner.

Harry wanted something small and intimate, with just a handful of close friends and family invited, so you decided to host the birthday dinner at your home. As the evening approached, the house was filled with the delicious aroma of the special dinner you had prepared for him.

Jeff and Glenne were the first ones to arrive, carrying a homemade cake that Glenne insisted she had baked all morning. Sarah and Mitch came next with their baby boy who giggled and clapped as Harry made silly faces, clearly enjoying the attention from the famous Cool Harry, because he refused to be called uncle.

"Damn mate, I can't believe you're 30 now," Jeff said, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders, "I still remember when you were twenty and my parents basically adopted you, I feel so old."

"You feel old? Imagine how I feel, that's my baby brother!" Gemma chimed in, entering your house with her boyfriend Michal and Anne, "Happy birthday, H."

"Thanks, Gem," Harry smiled, hugging his sister tightly. "And thanks for reminding everyone that I'm officially old now."

As more friends and family arrived, the laughter and chatter of loved ones filled the air, the dining table was adorned with candles, flowers, and a beautifully set dinner that everyone enjoyed.

Once your bellies were full, Mitch opened the champagne bottle Harry Lambert brought with him, filling everyone's glasses to make a toast.

"Alright, everyone, gather around," Mitch announced, holding up his glass, "To Harry, on his 30th birthday, may this year be filled with even more success and love. Cheers."

Everyone clicked their glasses, smiles on everyone's faces.

"I think the missus should give a speech!" Gemma teased, pointing at you.

"Not a missus yet, still no ring," you teased back, raising an eyebrow at Harry and hearing the whistles from his friends.

"Well, uh, maybe we'll have to do something about that soon." Harry chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

The room erupted in laughter and even more whistles, and you couldn't help but blush and roll your eyes with affection.

"Alright, alright," you began, holding up your glass, "Here's to the man of the hour. Harry, you've filled my life with so much joy, laughter, and love all these years. It's been an incredible journey growing up with you, I still remember when we were just kids, celebrating your 16th birthday before you became the star that you are today, I'm so proud of you and living life by your side has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. Happy 30th birthday, my love. May this year bring you everything you desire."

Harry couldn't help but melt at your words, standing up and hugging you tightly and kissing your lips.

"Thank you, everyone," Harry began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia, "I can't believe I'm standing here, celebrating my 30th birthday. It feels like just yesterday I was a wide-eyed 16-year-old auditioning for The X Factor, not knowing what life had in store for me," he paused, glancing at each person in the room with watery eyes, "But here I am, and I couldn't be more grateful for each and every one of you. To my family, who has been there from the start, and to my friends who have become family. And to this incredible woman right here," Harry said, placing his hand on your waist, "who has been with me since I was I was an annoying teenager, growing up by my side."

"You're still as annoying as a teenager," Jeff interrupted him, making the entire room laugh, "But we love you, mate. And we're grateful for you."

As the night continued, the homemade cake adorned with candles was brought out, and everyone in the room sag "Happy Birthday" together, Harry made a wish and blew out the candles, surrounded by the people he loved the most.

After the cake-cutting and more chatter, everyone decided to call it a night and head home, leaving you and Harry at me comfort of your house.

"Thank you for everything," Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

"It's your day, love. I'm just happy I could make it special for you," you replied, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You always make every day special," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You stood wrapped around each other for a few minutes, enjoying the final moments of his birthday.

"This has been one of my favorite birthdays ever," Harry admitted, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I'm glad you think so," you smiled, snuggling closer. "And, by the way, the 'no ring yet' comment earlier, totally just teasing."

"Oh, really? Because I was serious, maybe it's time," Harry smirked, giving you a playful look.

"Don't tell me you're about to propose, not on your own birthday, Harry!" you said nervously.

"Not right now love, but soon enough," he winked and you let out the breath you were holding, "I love you."

"I love you more, Harry. Happy birthday."

[my-castles-crumbling]

promise - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 229

"I'm going to end you," eleven-year-old Barty Crouch growled to Evan Rosier, furious the other boy got the bed by the window before him.

"I welcome it," Evan smirked at him, offering a hand. "I'm Evan. Nice to meet you."

-

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," thirteen-year-old Evan rolled his eyes at Barty, angry that the other boy had once again taken the last of the chocolate cake at dinner.

"Go right ahead," Barty replied thickly, cake still in his mouth.

-

"Oh, I'm going to murder you," fifteen-year-old Barty snarked at Evan, holding up his favorite t-shirt, which now had a giant stain. "Stop stealing my stuff!"

"Make me," Evan retorted, eyes rolling.

-

"I'm going to hex your prick off!" sixteen-year-old Evan screamed at Barty, fuming that Barty had once again walked in on him when he'd brought back a girl to their dorm.

"Go ahead!" Barty yelled back, emotion that Evan didn't understand filling his eyes.

-

"Oh, Rosie. I'm gonna destroy you," eighteen-year-old Barty grinned down at Evan, hovering over the other boy, pinning his hands to the bed with his own, their lips inches away from each other.

"Promise?" Evan asked with a suggestive smirk, moving his hips a bit to make Barty gasp.

And their lips crashed together, a tangle of tongues and teeth and heat and seven years' worth of built-up tension.

[izvmimi]

cw: comfort, minimal hurt. implied break/break-up with retained feelings on both sides.

Midoriya is nothing if not persistent, and you have to hand it to him, he knows exactly how to pinpoint the soft center of your very heart. 

(Alternatively, perhaps all of it is soft for him, much to your chagrin, but that’s an issue to settle in due time.)

You can see from the inside of your apartment that he is standing at the front door, an overly ornate boxed and ribboned cake in his hands, and notably still clad in his hero suit, rocking back and forth slowly on his heels as he waits for you to open the door. He must have just gotten off patrol, you figure, as it is close to ten p.m. but in just a little over 2 hours, it will be Christmas and he should be at home with family, or perhaps someone that he loves, not here at your doorstep making another desperate bid for attention. 

You didn’t expect to see anyone tonight.

Exhausted from your own late shift, you’d immediately changed into pajamas, deciding that tomorrow’s hotpot dinner with Class 1A and a call to your family overseas would be as much Christmas as you would allow yourself to have. Your home is barely decorated, a simple wreath on the outside of your door being the limit of your effort for cheer (although the few scattered gifts in the corner of your living room from friends may add an extra element of festivity despite your best efforts, or lack thereof). By no means are you a Grinch, but Izuku must have the wrong door and wrong set of expectations.

He knocks again and you watch, deciding how believable it would be for you to pretend to go to bed. As you contemplate, you can see him pull out his phone and text, and you aren’t exactly surprised when your phone vibrates a few moments later, but you are surprised by the message.

Merry Christmas! If you don’t open the door, I’ll just leave the cake out for you, but I think it would taste even better if we shared it.

He knows you’re wide awake. You open the door quickly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, but he’s unsurprised, smiling widely at you.

“Hey.”

His generous smile makes your stomach turn. 

“Why are you here, Midoriya?”

His smile doesn’t flicker in the least; rather, it widens.

“I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

You’ve already let him in naturally, so it’s almost patronizing that he asks. You follow him inside, watching him take his shoes off at the genkan before asking any more questions, and he quickly deposits the cake at the kitchen table, before looking back at you. 

Your arms are crossed over your oversized T-shirt, just as wrinkled as the cotton shorts that peek underneath. Izuku considers for a moment that perhaps he is overstepping and frowns.

“Were you going to bed?”

You shake your head no. “You look like you’re coming right off the street, is everything okay?”

Izuku nods. “Perfect. I thought if I got home and changed first I’d be here too late, and I’ve been holding onto this bad boy since the bakery closed at 6pm so I thought my luck was about to run out.”

You glance at the strawberry sponge cake that looks somehow still pristine through the clear packaging and wonder if he just had a really uneventful night or he just took a special amount of attention to making sure nothing came to harm it. 

The idea of him holding it close to his chest makes you scrunch your face.

“Christmas Eve is for dates.”

Izuku’s emerald-like eyes are bright and hopeful as he agrees, as if you’re stating the obvious.

“Yeah. I’m thinking I came to the right place.”

Despite yourself, you bite your lower lip, the warmth in your cheeks now spreading to your ears. Unable to look at him any longer, you go to your cupboard and search for forks and plates. He makes his way to the kitchen sink as you fumble around to wash his hands, grabbing a few napkins on his way back to the table.

Izuku thanks you as you slice equal pieces for the two of you then waits, expectantly, until you bring the first bite to your lips before he does so himself. There’s something about the way that he watches your lips move that has you feeling a little too seen, but some of that has always been his natural superpower, quirkless or not. 

Observation. Knowing you as if he could sense your soul, and responding accordingly.

“Is it good?” he asks, as you take another eager bite, and you nod.

“Amazing,” you admit, and he beams, smiling from ear to ear. You expect him to give you details of where he got it or how but he chooses to say nothing instead, allowing you space to speak first.

You keep quiet as you eat at first, but find yourself looking at him a little too long, fixating on the way his suit spandex fits a little too snugly at the shoulders these days, and how thick his bicep is for the simple act of lifting a fork to his mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps you should simply do it for him, but dispel that thought with a bit of shame.

You’re supposed to be playing hard to get, even if the fact of the matter is that you’ve been gotten, long ago perhaps even. 

How long will you continue to do this? He’s already told you he’ll do anything he can to win your heart back, even if it’s barely his fault he lost it in the first place.

You cut yourself another slice.

“Izuku, I still need more time,” you finally admit in a small voice. Izuku doesn’t look up from his cake slice, and you can tell this time it’s because he is still somewhat upset by your words, but he hums in assent.

“I understand.”

There’s the smallest waver in his voice that makes your heart wrench, even if it’s just for a moment.

The strawberry slices in every bite sweeten the bitter taste in your mouth regardless, and perhaps the truth is you’ll never truly know how to conceive of his name in your mouth as anything other than the finest sugar.

“Izuku…” you whisper again.

He looks at you directly in the eyes this time, warm and attentive. You’re reminded of the first time he told you he loved you, then the second, then the third, then more.

You set your plate down and come around the table, and as if he knows - he always knows - he pulls back his chair, and you find yourself settling into his lap, your arms around his neck.

Perhaps by time, you meant a matter of seconds.

Your head tilts upwards and your lips meet, and he tastes like Christmas cake and love.

“I need more time,” you repeat again, between kisses. His arms hold you tightly around your waist, and he nods, lids heavy with desire as he waits for you to continue.

“... so can you please stay the night?”

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello!! Could I please get an order for Charles leclerc for chocolate cake and berry trifle on the house?? Thank you I love your writing :))

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu for more information! i know some folks have been asking if i write for other fandoms and i do! i accept from the likes of bg3 to call of duty, but i'd love to experiment outside my comfort zone! all i ask is that the person or character is over 18 (for obvs reasons)! as for this sweet little prompt, i couldn't say no to a lovely little fic starring charles! i chose for the on the house order to be an AU for school, just to switch things up (i hope that's okay!) but thank you!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + on the house: coconut water (alternate universe - university au) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, university au, missionary, gentle sex, praise, romantic, student!reader, student!charles

it had been a busy last couple of weeks, with the wind down of university. you were rather tired, often spending nights in your boyfriend's apartment due to it being closer to the university you both attended.

the apartment was three bedrooms, where charles and his two brothers all lived. it was a bit of a party when you slept over, and you were certain that arthur was using the shampoo you left there. regardless, you still got a good night's sleep and breakfast in the morning.

dinners were more your forte.

charles wrapped his arms around you and dipped his nose into the crook of your neck. he moved you from side to side as you checked on the pasta noodles. he whispered in your ear, an intimate moment between you two, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

you giggled and looked over your shoulder to get a better view of him, "are you sure you're not trying to seduce me to get my recipe."

he kissed your cheek softly, "no, no. if i wanted that, i'd simply marry you. then you can make it for me for the rest of my life." he laughed.

"where's my plate?" you heard arthur's voice at the front door. you froze for a moment as the youngest brother put his bag down and headed towards the small kitchen.

charles looked his brother and said, "wrong. try again."

the two men looked at one another and arthur said, "you can't be hogging all the food, charles. you have to share too!"

charles glared at his brother, "my girlfriend is making it! you can make your own. don't you have somewhere else to be tonight?"

you chuckled and got out of your boyfriend's arms to strain the noodles. you couldn't deny, it wasn't a day without interest when you stayed with them. you'd like to say that the three of them got along quite well, but they were all brothers after all.

after dinner, you and charles went to his bedroom, leaving the dishes to be done in the morning. once the door was closed behind you, he started to pull at the bottom of your t-shirt, getting it over your head.

your lips touched his and you started to undo the buttons of his shirt before it was off your shoulders and your hands were splayed across his chest. the kisses were tender, but they were slowly starting to grow more hungry.

he stripped you of your clothes with a little help from you then he was taking his own clothes off. he loved the sight of you by him, in the low light of his bedroom.

the city was alive outside and the lamp on his nightstand cascaded a warm light throughout the room. his hands trailed along your body and you kissed him deeply on the lips. he loved the taste of the chapstick you often wore, he melted a little further into your kisses before he got you onto your back.

he propped himself by his hands on either side of you. he looked down at you and rubbed his cock up against you. you blushed and wanted to cover your face with your hands.

"no, no." he said softly, "i want to look at you, you're so beautiful. especially when i am having sex with you." he guided his cock into you and watched you squirm a little bit.

oh, you were so beautiful was all he could think about as he slipped in nicely. you tensed up and clung to his shoulders. there was a soft intimacy to it as the two of you kissed once more. you could feel the pleasure wrap in your gut as you moved against him.

"i love you." you said.

"i love you too." he panted, "you're beautiful. stunning and so smart. i want you for the rest of my days. i cannot wait until we have our own home together." his kisses were sweet as he rutted against you.

you smiled up at him, "you're such a sucker for me."

charles said, "then i'll be your sucker" he knew you loved him too, you just had a hard time accepting his praise. but too bad, he'll keep praising you for the rest of your lives! even when you are old and grey.

you leaned into his touch and moaned against him as your bodies moved together. you held onto his shoulders and your expression changed when he rubbed up against the sweetest parts of you.

"i want you forever, charles." you said softly, "i'm so happy to be with you. thank you, you've made university more manageable because you're with me. so thank you."

he chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours, his body still moving, "no need, my love." then went in for another tight kiss.

you two were a good fit, you studied together, ate together. you both had friends of course, but charles enjoyed spending time with you. you remembered one time he went clubbing with a few people in his program and you received a photo from carlos of charles passed out on a couch with his phone open. on his screen was a picture of you, he had fallen asleep looking at you.

it was endearing, and it made the blush got up to your ears.

"i need you." you said softly.

"i need you more." he replied with the same tenderness.

you held onto him and kissed him deeply as you tightened your legs around him. the kiss grew hotter as you felt yourself reach the peak of climax. you moaned into the kiss and clung to him tightly.

his pace started to stagger after you climaxed. he groaned into your kiss as he started to really push his cock as deep as it would go. his head felt heavy with lust as he moved against you. when he broke the kiss, he looked at you with a big smile on his face and said, "i love you." before he got every last centimeter into you and climaxed.

he continued to move against you for a couple more moments before he slowed down to a stop. he kissed you roughly on the lips and said quietly, "mine." before he laid out beside you on the bed.

both naked, sweaty and tired. charles pulled you against him and kissed the side of your neck. he basked in your warmth and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

"you're still not getting the recipe." you giggled.

he held onto you tighter and said, "my love, i already told you my plan. once we're finished with school, i want to marry you. and you can make me that pasta for the rest of my days." he laughed a little and kissed you once more.

you felt gooey inside and nestled against him. you sight contently, that sounded like a plan. <3

[apuckishwit]

When Your Boyfriend's a Reformed Mean Girl

100 percent inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR75sjkf/

Time seems to do wierd things for Eddie Munson.

It's something Steve has gotten used to, in the year they've been dating. Eddie is attentive and affectionate, always makes sure Steve needs are being met, always goes the extra mile to let Steve know how much he loves him, how much he cherishes their time together. In many ways, he's the best partner Steve's ever had.

Just...sometimes things like approaching deadlines and important dates seem to literally not register in his brain until it's almost too late. And not even then, sometimes.

Eddie acknowledges that it's a problem. He puts every effort into finding workarounds. There is a calendar hanging at both his (brand new, government-funded) trailer and Steve's house, hanging right by the door with color-coded schedules and a pack of Post-It notes and a cup of pens sitting on a little table below it in case something changes or comes up. Steve has a dedicated half hour every night where he's allowed to remind Eddie of things they have coming up, or ask if they've been added to the calendar and Eddie is one hundred percent not allowed to gripe about being nagged in that thirty minutes. Not that he would, because most of the time there's at least one, "Oh, shit, forgot about that." When something slips through the cracks, he apologizes promptly and sincerely if it's something that affects someone other than him and he is always trying to do better.

Steve understands. Hell, after as many concussions as he's had, details get away from him too sometimes. There's several color-coded blocks on the calendar for Steve, as well. Sometimes, Eddie just forgets things despite his best efforts.

But their anniversary? The date that Steve has been carefully planning for almost a month to celebrate their first (of hopefully, many) year together as a couple? Really?

Eddie is going to be horrified.

He is going to feel so bad, and so guilty, and he is absolutely going to go all out to make it up to Steve. Steve knows this. He knows Eddie loves him, and that Eddie was looking forward to tonight as much as he was, and that this is just an instance of Eddie's brain betraying him, and not him actively trying to hurt Steve, or be dismissive of him. Eddie is going to feel awful when he realizes that he stood Steve up on their one-year anniversary to fight imaginary dragons with the boys. Hell, the boys are probably going to feel awful when they realize they gave Eddie something else to focus on in the lead-up to his one-year anniversary.

Well. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are going to feel awful. Mike will probably think it's hilarious.

The point is, Steve knows Eddie didn't do this on purpose, and it's not that Eddie doesn't value his time with Steve enough to remember the date, and so he's merely irritated. Maybe a little exasperated. Not truly angry.

All he has to do is radio over to Wheeler's place and remind Eddie what the date is. His boyfriend will literally drop everything, will probably not even bother to pack up his precious miniatures and dice before he's tearing out of the driveway and breaking every traffic law imaginable to get to Steve's house. Steve doesn't actually want Eddie to get a ticket or anything, though. Besides.

He's feeling a little petty.

There's steaks waiting to be tossed on the grill, twice-baked potatoes in the oven, and a fucking homemade chiffon cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream chilling in the fridge. Eddie's gift is sitting on the counter, in an elegant little gift bag tied with black ribbon.

"Hey Rob, you wanna come over for dinner?" he says into his walkie, deciding to let Fate decide if his boyfriend is listening and catches a clue.

"Do I get a piece of that cake you made?" Robin replies immediately, amusement already dancing in her voice because she's his (platonic) soulmate and she can read his mind.

"You can take the leftovers home," he says.

And then his (romantic) soulmate, who can usually read his mind, comes over the channel as well. "Have fun, babe!" Eddie says brightly. "This is probably going to run later than I thought. I'll probably just pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Okay."

"Love you!" Eddie says, and signs off.

Robin brings a bottle of wine she stole from her parents' pantry and they demolish the dinner and half the cake. Steve does get another package of steaks out to thaw in the fridge for tomorrow, though, and blows out the fancy candles he'd lit before they burn too low to be used again. Fuck if he's making another chiffon cake, though, persnickety little thing. He calls Enzo's and orders a chocolate marble cheesecake to be picked up tomorrow.

"So you gonna milk this for a nice present or what?" Robin asks as Steve is packing the remains of the cake for her to take home, as promised.

"Nah. He's fucking perfect like 90% of the time...I'm not gonna get mad at him for the other ten." Robin smiles at him, a little gooey-eyed. Steve returns it with a smirk. "But I'm not letting him off the hook entirely."

He has just finished putting the dishes away when he hears the rumble of Eddie's van in the driveway. He glances down at his watch, laughing to himself a little when he notes that while late, it is far, far too early for a gaming session to be done. He scoops his little gift bag off the counter and saunters to the front door just in time for a frantic knocking to sound. He schools his features and opens the door.

"Steve! Stevie, baby, I am so, so sorry. I swear to God, I had tonight written down in like five different places, but Dustin wanted to try a new character class and we haven't done this campaign yet, and I got so excited...I'm so sorry I forgot, but I'm here and I SWEAR I will make it up to you!" Eddie pauses for breath, wild-eyed and panting.

Steve holds the silence for a moment, and then shakes his head, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Eddie's cheek. "You're such a nerd," he says, affection dripping from his words. He sighs. "I hope you know, now I'm expecting flowers tomorrow. And I get to pick the movies for, like, two weeks with no complaints."

Eddie almost wilts in relief. "Absolutely none," he promises, reaching out to grip Steve's hand. "I will make tomorrow night AMAZING. I promise."

Steve smiles at him, his chest aching with the love he feels for this man. But he's still feeling just a little bit petty. He holds the bag out to Eddie, tilting his head coyly. "You can still open this tonight, though."

"Babe! I thought we said no gifts." He takes the bag in his hands, plucking at the ribbon.

Steve's smile turns just a little sharper. He worked fucking hard on that cake. "It's kind of for both of us, really. It's what I was gonna wear up to bed tonight."

Eddie peeks in the box, his brow furrowing. "Stevie...there's nothing but strawberry lip gloss and a bottle of lube in here." He looks up, and freezes as his brain catches up with what his mouth just said.

Steve leans forward and kisses him, hard, long, and absolutely filthy. "Suffer," he whispers against his boyfriend's lips.

Then he shuts the door in his face.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

i didn’t miss it (ln4)

lando norris x reader , oscar piastri x reader (platonic)

summary: lando nearly misses out on wishing his crush a happy birthday

notes: we’re going to say that the reader works for mclaren for convenience sake but i’ll let you decide exactly what the job is

Lando, with the help of Oscar, had everything planned down to a T. After months of pining for you, of sending you longing looks in the paddock, of making sure that he could take his lunch around the same time you took yours just so he could eat with you, of practically stalking your social media, of staying longer at McLaren at night so he could “conveniently” be there to walk you to your car, he was finally going to confess his feelings to you.

Oscar was proud. Well, he was happy he wouldn’t have to hear Lando drone on and on about you anymore. He liked you just fine, but Lando was very clearly head over heels for you.

It was strange seeing Lando act this way. Oscar had heard that Lando was a bit of an introvert, but he had never really experienced it firsthand. He had always been a friend to Oscar, an older brother type. Then there were his relationships with the other drivers, Lando was quite popular, half the grid claimed he was their best friend. But as soon as you were anywhere near the older McLaren driver all of that went out the window. He turned into a shy, blushing boy, who fidgets with his fingers and can’t seem to look you in the eyes for longer than a minute.

Birthdays were a big celebration at McLaren. Lando’s and Oscar’s were usually met with loud fanfare and cameras so that the fans could see the drivers celebrating. But even all of the other members of the team had parties when it was their birthday, complete with a cake, a rousing chorus of an off-key happy birthday, and essentially a break in the usually chaotic workday.

Lando had your birthday marked down. It was in the calendar on his phone, there were little doodles around the date on the calendar in his house, he even had a reminder set for it just to make sure he wouldn’t forget.

The plan was simple really, you would have your little McLaren party at work, then go out to a nice dinner with Lando and Oscar. Oscar would stay for a little while but eventually excuse himself for not feeling well, leaving you alone with Lando. He was going to use the romantic atmosphere to confess his feelings, and hopefully you’d tell him that you felt the same and within the week you would be the paddock’s new favorite couple.

What Lando hadn’t expected was to wake up late that morning, rushing to get ready in an attempt to get to work on time, not sparing the calendar on his wall a glance. He didn’t expect his meetings to run longer than expected, pushing his time on the simulator back as well.

You found him hunched over a table in the break area, quickly scarfing down a wrap.

“Hey Lando, are you okay?” You ask, sitting down next to him.

He wipes the crumbs away from his mouth with a napkin, then looks over to you. “Yeah, I’m good, just, busy day, you know?”

You smile, sure he’s alluding to the fact that it’s your birthday. You’re about to bring up how much you’re looking forward to dinner with him and Oscar as he stands up and starts gathering his trash.

“I have to go get some laps done on the sim, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a reply before leaving you alone with your lunch.

You feel giddy as you’re led from your work area in the afternoon to the lobby area of the building. The lights are low as you walk in, and the brightness when they’re turned on is close to blinding.

You grin as McLaren employees all give a resounding “Happy Birthday!” shout, but your heart sinks a little when you search for the familiar head of curls and only manage to find Oscar who gives you a small smile.

He finds you later in the gathering, pulling you aside to talk privately.

“Happy birthday Y/n.” He says, pulling you into a hug.

You return the hug, wrapping an arm around his frame. “Thank you Oscar.”

When you pull away there’s a moment of awkward silence. You’re close to both the drivers, your job requires that you be, but you were arguably closer to Lando than Oscar.

“I don’t know where he is, I’m sorry.”

You don’t have to ask to know that he’s referring to his teammate. You plaster on a smile and shrug your shoulders.

“It’s alright. If he’s busy, he’s busy. I’ll see him at dinner.”

“Definitely.” Oscar nods.

While you were downstairs eating cake, Lando was upstairs, completely unaware, driving lap after lap in the sim. Music blared in his ears coming from his headphones that he’d put on, in hopes that it would help him concentrate and get some good lap times.

He was doing well, practicing on the Singapore track over and over until his music cut out. He finished his lap, then looked down at his phone. The screen was dark, and didn’t turn on when he’d pressed any buttons. Great, his phone had died.

He took that as a sign that he’d spent enough time working. He logged his final times, then gathered his things and headed towards his car.

The parking lot was nearly empty, most everyone having already gone home for the day. A few stragglers left as well, wishing him a goodnight.

As soon as he’d made it home, he threw himself down on his bed. He was exhausted after having run around like a headless chicken all day from meeting to meeting to meeting to sim practice. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

He reached for his phone, plugging it into it’s charger before he lets his head fall back against the pillow and lets sleep consume him.

The restaurant that the drivers were meant to bring you to is nice, overtly so. It’s dimly lit, the servers all wear matching vests and ties, and the clientele are equally as dressed up.

Oscar sits across from you, an awkward smile resting on his face. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes constantly dart between the door to the restaurant and his phone in his lap. He sighs as he types something out on his phone, then looks back up at you.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“He’s not coming, is he?” You ask.

Oscar gives you an apologetic smile. “I can’t get a hold of him.”

You can feel a tightening feeling in your chest as you shake your head. “That’s okay. We can still have a nice dinner.”

You try to make the most of your meal, talking with Oscar about the season so far and the upcoming races. You tell him about fun things you’ve done in the upcoming cities, usually accompanied by Lando and Daniel back when he was still at McLaren.

You leave the restaurant with Oscar, giving him a quick hug and a thank you before you separate to your cars.

Once home you change into your pajamas and lay down in bed. You check your phone and see happy birthday texts from various people, even some drivers from other teams. You scroll to your messages with Lando, and sigh when you see nothing.

You didn’t expect anything big from him, you had just hoped for at least a text from him. Maybe an apology for missing out on your party at the office and for ditching you at dinner.

Lando awoke to an incessant dinging sound coming from his phone. He groaned, and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, but his phone would not stop sounding off.

He slung his arm over to grab it, and looked at all of the notifications he had.

7 missed calls from Oscar

23 new messages

He furrowed his brows as he opened his texts. There were two texts from Max.

Did you do it?

I’m going to assume you did it and it went well if you’re too busy to text back

Then 21 messages from Oscar, the first few from that afternoon.

Are you coming down soon?

Where are you?

Party’s over, I guess we’ll see you at dinner

Then more from this evening.

Seriously man where are you?

Are you on your way?

When did you leave the office?

The varying texts all have essentially the same message, until he reads the most recent three.

We had a plan

She’s trying to put on a brave face but I know she wants to see you

You’ve been missing all day and now you don’t show up to dinner?

Dinner. He can practically feel his heart in his throat. He checks his calendar on his phone, and there on today’s date, in all uppercase lettering it says “Y/N’S BIRTHDAY”

He scrambles out of bed, grabbing a hoodie, and runs for the door. He throws himself in his car and speeds to your house. He’s surprised he isn’t pulled over by anyone on the way there.

He sprints from his car to your front door, knocking a little too aggressively for someone showing up at your apartment in the pitch black night.

Your heart startles at the loud knock on your door. You slowly make your way too it, then look through the peephole. Lando stands outside, fidgeting with his hands as he waits for you to answer the door.

You open it, giving him a questioning look. “Lando?”

“Happy birthday!” The words tumble out of his mouth as soon as he sees you.

“What?”

He looks down at his phone, the time reading 11:57 pm. “Happy birthday. I didn’t miss it.” He holds his phone up so you can see the time.

“Thank you Lando. Did you drive all the way over here just to tell me happy birthday? You know you could’ve just sent me a text…” You tell him.

He’s at a loss for words, he knows he could’ve, but it wouldn’t have been the same. He’d already ruined what was meant to be a special night, he couldn’t possibly imagine not really seeing you at all today.

“Do you want to come in? I’ve got some leftover cake from the party.” You step to the side when he nods.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he steps inside your apartment. He follows you as you lead him to the kitchen, pulling out the cake you had mentioned.

Most of it is missing. He can see the left side of the McLaren logo with letters that read “Hap Birt” and the first few letters of your first name. You hand him a slice and a fork.

The two of you eat the cake quietly on opposite sides of the kitchen, unsure of what to say to the other. The silence is only broken when Lando takes a breath, then starts speaking.

“I’m sorry for missing your party. And dinner.”

You stop eating the cake and shrug your shoulders. “It’s okay. There will be other parties, other dinners.”

Lando scoffs. “Right.” He stabs at the cake with his fork, just moving it around his plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look up at you. You step over to him and lean against the counter.

“Lando, what’s wrong?”

He sighs. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

You brush a hand over his arm. The soft orange fabric bunches up a little against your hand as you feel the toned muscle in his bicep.

“I don’t believe you. You know you can tell me what’s wrong. It’s just me.” You say.

Your voice is sweet, and is close to lulling him into a sense of security, but then he remembers how tonight should’ve gone.

“That’s the problem. It’s you. And I’ve somehow managed to fuck it all up.” He groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“What do you mean?”

He looks up at you. You can see unshed tears start to form in the soft blue eyes you love. It takes everything in you to not lean forward and softly wipe them away.

“Tonight was supposed to be special. I was going to celebrate with you, then go to dinner with you. But instead I had a shit day where I was so busy that I completely forgot what day it was. So I missed the party, and I didn’t even show up to dinner, so Oscar couldn’t leave and-”

“Why would Oscar leave?”

Your question makes him freeze. His mouth opens and closes as if he’s searching for something to say, but just can’t seem to find the right words.

He stutters, then asks “What?” as if he didn’t hear your question.

“Lando, why would Oscar leave?” You ask him again, this time slowing your words down.

He runs a hand through his hair as his eyes meet the ground in front of him.

“Oscar was going to leave so that we could have dinner together… you and I…” his voice is soft, just barely a murmur.

Your heart skips in your chest. “Lando-”

“And I missed it. I can’t believe it. I had so many reminders set up so that I wouldn’t forget it. That’s why I came here, so that I could tell you,” he looks at his phone “but now it’s after midnight, so it’s not even your birthday anymore.” His words come out quick. He’s rambling, too afraid of what you’ll say to give you a chance to speak. “It was a stupid idea anyways. Why would I even think that there would be any chance that you’d feel the same way I do? Especially when I can’t even keep track of the day-”

His words are cut off when you lunge forward to press your lips to his. They taste sweet, like the cake you had been eating. Your hands softly cup his face, brushing against the scruff he’s started to grow out.

His hands hover in the air awkwardly, unsure of what to do, or if this is really happening. It only clicks when he feels you start to pull away, the warmth of your body moving away from his triggers something in him as he plants his hands on your hips pulling you back to him.

He kisses you now, his lips moving confidently against yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

You’re both out of breath when you reluctantly pull away from one another. His lips are pink and a little swollen. You can’t imagine yours look much different.

“I do have feelings for you Lando.” You lean your forehead against his.

He smirks, a newfound confidence taking over. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

You lightly push on his chest, escaping his hold. “Go away.” You laugh.

He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you against his chest. His eyes travel down to your lips, then he gives you another quick kiss. His smirk is replaced with a grin when he pulls away. “Never.”

[laurenairay]

Baking traditions - Q.Hughes

Summary: Noticing that you’re homesick, Quinn makes sure to include some of your autumn traditions.

The second of my Autumn & Halloween blurbs! How could I resist this slice of domestic life with Quinn?

Word Count: 778 words

Tagging: @fallinallincurls @starshine-hockey-girl @lam-ila @kurlyteuvo @tonyspep

@cixrosie

~

“Babe? What’s all this?”

When you’d gotten home from work that evening, you hadn’t expected your kitchen counters to be covered with ingredients.

Your boyfriend just smiled a little sheepishly, but shrugged innocently.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Quinn said simply.

“When congratulations, I’m surprised,” you mused.

Quinn just laughed, cheeks a little pink with blush as he leaned down to kiss you in greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured back.

He smiled sweetly, pecking your lips in another kiss before standing upright again.

“I know you’ve been missing home…”

Well that was blunt. Quinn wasn’t wrong though. You’d moved to Vancouver to live with Quinn and take your relationship to the next level only six months ago – and while everything had been fairytale-levels of amazing, that didn’t mean there weren’t stumbling blocks. Like your homesickness, that you’d thought you’d done a good job of hiding.

“…and I just wanted to do something to cheer you up. I called your mom, and she said that you love baking in the Autumn, like all the spices and stuff are your favourite, so I thought maybe we could bake together?”

His voice trailed off in a hopeful embarrassment, but it was all you could do not to cry. This man. How were you gifted a man like this? Quinn noticed the tears in your eyes and immediately groaned.

“You hate it. This is making your homesickness even worse. I’m so dumb, I’m sorry, I-”

“Quinn, no, you’re not dumb at all. You’re the sweetest man ever. I love this idea,” you interrupted, laughing a little watery with a big smile.

The relief that spread across his face was immediate and dramatic.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really really,” you nodded, “What are we making?”

“I thought we’d try something easy? Chocolate chip pumpkin banana bread?” he said, “I found a recipe online that looked okay and I double checked with your mom too.”

So sweet.

“That sounds amazing, Quinn. Are we baking now?”

“It takes an hour to bake in the oven so I figured we could order take out now and eat dinner while we wait for the banana bread to cook?” he suggested.

Your man with a plan.

“That sounds great to me, baby, thank you. I’ll get changed out of my work clothes and we can start?”

“I’ll order dinner while you get changed,” he added, smiling.

In no time at all you were back in the kitchen in comfy sweats and an old t-shirt, take-out order being processed, while Quinn scrolled through his ipad for the recipe he saved.

“Okay, so first off, we’ve got to mash all these bananas. Shall I do that while you measure out the dry ingredients?”

You nodded, smiling up at him as you reached for a mixing bowl he’d already put on the kitchen counter. You whisked together the flour, pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, dark chocolate chips, baking soda, baking powder & salt, and after mashing the bananas, in a separate mixing bowl Quinn whisked together the oil, sugars, eggs & vanilla extract until no lumps remained.

“That’s lump free, right?” he frowned, peering down into his bowl.

You glanced over and nodded. “Yeah that looks great baby.”

Quinn beamed back at you.

“Now we’ve just to combine the bananas into my bowl with a cup of pumpkin puree, before carefully stirring your dry ingredients mix into my bowl too,” he explained.

Somehow the two of you managed all of that without making too much mess.

“Last step is pouring it into the lined loaf cake tin and baking it for an hour. I already pre-heated the oven so we should be good to go?”

After you’d combined all the ingredients, Quinn’s face was as serious as you’d ever seen it as he carefully carried the loaf tin over to your oven, and you tried to hide your smile as you opened the oven for him.

He really cared, didn’t he? He cared so much.

“I’ll set a timer for an hour. I don’t want it to get burnt,” he frowned.

“It’s going to be amazing, I already know,” you said softly, resting a hand on his chest.

His frown softened to a sweet smile. “I just want this to be good for you.”

“The fact that we did this together is what made this good for me. The cake itself is an added bonus,” you said, smiling up at him.

A light blush spread across his cheeks and he nodded, sliding his arms around your waist to hold you closer to him.

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said warmly.

“With you, how can I not be?”

[klaus-littlestwolf]

I Will Always Believe You -Aemond T.

He had been inappropriate for a week now and no matter what you did, he always found a way to watch you.

You had been betrothed to Aemond as children, him having requested you as his wife with his mother when you were young and dragonless together. You were the best of friends and it had been devastating to be torn from him when your mother decided to leave the Red Keep for Dragonstone. Your mother however, knew that she couldn't break off the engagement that the King had ordered himself, loving to see his granddaughter happy with his son and insisting you stay that way. Viserys had a soft spot for you as the only daughter his daughter had.

Since you turned 16 with Aemond now 18, it was decided that you would come back to Kings Landing and prepare for the Wedding. You and Aemond had been getting to know each other again and it was great fun, the only problem was your guard. He had been keeping a very close eye on you and it had been unsettling for the first week but nothing to really complain about. It wasn't until a week ago that it became a problem.

He had come into your chambers while you were getting dressed, shushing you before you screamed in fright for help, reminding you how it would look for a Princess to have a guard in her chambers with her. He insisted no one would believe her if she told them and all he would have to do is tell them that she invited him in. She would look like a whore, her innocence would be questioned and the wedding would be cancelled.

More than anything though, the idea of the look on Aemond's face was what stopped her. She couldn't imagine the disappointment and disgust on his face when he found out that his betrothed had allowed another man into her bed. So now instead, he watches whenever she gets dressed, a truly discomforting look on his face as he leans against the door just staring.

He was her personal guard and so he followed her everywhere, to all of her meals, to the library when she wanted to read, and even on her outings with Aemond as they strolled through the gardens. As the days went on he got bolder, eventually sitting himself on her bed as he watched her undress, palming his crotch and groaning. It caused bile to rise in the back of her throat every time he did it, nearly making her vomit.

Aemond had noticed a change in you. No one else in the world knew you like Aemond did and you loved that, he had been your favorite person since you were a toddler and if something was wrong he always knew. He ignored it for a while since you didn't seem to want to discuss it but as it was coming up on the date of your wedding, he refused to ignore it anymore and he scheduled a date for the two of you.

It was night and you had just had dinner an hour before when he sent for you. He had told you not to have dessert that night and while you found it odd, you did as your betrothed asked, finding yourself on the beach later that night with Aemond. He had laid out a blanket and brought several desserts and wine, shooing off all the guards as Vhagar laid about 50 feet away and there was no telling what she would do around anyone but Aemond and his soon to be wife.

'This is absolutely lovely my Dragon! Thank you for thinking of me like this, no one has ever done something so sweet.' You were blushing like crazy as he poured you a cup of wine .

'Of course Princess, you know how much I enjoy spoiling you. Hungry?' He asked and you nodded before he handed you a plate with a lemon cake on it. 'I had hoped to speak with you about something.'

'Of course. What is on your mind, My Love?' He hesitated a moment before just coming out with it.

'You've been acting strange lately, as if you're uncomfortable-' as he started speaking you gasped, choking on the cake and coughing like crazy with him patting your back, a worried look on his face as you finally took a deep breath again. 'Is there something you want to tell me?' Aemond asked but you shook your head, a bit too quickly honestly. 'Y/n, I won't marry you if that's not what you want, I don't-'

'Oh Aemond! No! Of course I want to marry you, I've wanted this since we were children-'

'Then what is wrong? You've been acting odd and...scared almost. I will not have my wife afraid in my presence for any reason...what's going on?'

He sat there waiting and you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him so badly but what would he think of you? Of a Targaryen too afraid to defend herself? Of his soon to be lady wife having a man watching her undress every night?

'I am afraid that you will think less of me...' his eyes widened in shock before he moved to pull you into his arms.

'Byka Zaldrīzes, that is impossible! I love you more than anything else in this world, I could never think less of you. Please? Tell me what is bothering you so much that you think you need to hide it from me.' His hand came up to wipe the tears that escaped down your cheeks.

'There is a man that is making me uncomfortable...and I am scared that if I say something that...I will not be believed, or worse, my innocence will be called into question and he...he used to just stare at me and make me feel unease but now he...he watches me...he-' you cannot stop the sob that explodes from your chest and Aemond's arms tighten around you.

'Tell me my love, you are safe I promise you.' He tucks your head under his chin as he holds you firmly and you can tell by the way he is breathing that he is enraged.

'He watches me change in the evening-'

'He what?!' He exclaimed, pulling you back to look at your face just as you hear Vhagar rumble in displeasure (at Aemond's anger or at being awoken you aren't sure). 'He has entered your chambers and you have not told me? How has your guard not done something about-' It seems he answered his own question as he realized why you were so afraid. 'Oh my love...I am so sorry you were forced to endure this, the man that should have been protecting you was the one hurting you. That is despicable!' He pressed his lips to your head and held you close once again. 'Rest assured, he will never do this to you again, I promise you my love.'

'Thank you!  Thank you Kepus!  I'm sorry that I did not tell you sooner, I-'

'Shh, no more of that.'  He shushed, brushing his fingers through your hair and moving to rest you back against his chest.  'There has been no moment before now that he was not with us and I understand your fear, but just know-'  he turned my face towards him to lock his eye on mine.  'My Princess is no liar, and as long as you do not start lying to me, I will always believe you.  I believe in your innocence, and I believe that some men are horrid enough to take advantage of my Princess.  Your next guard will be vetted by me personally, I will insist upon it. I already have one in mind, don't you worry.  You will be free of that man tonight and I will have Ser Criston watch over you...Vhagar will enjoy getting rid of him, she hasn't burned anyone in quite a while.'  I giggled as he said that, snuggling into my soon to be husband and protector, loving being fed my dessert like a queen until it was time to retire.   'You two, with me!'  Aemond demanded as we walked into the Red Keep, 2 guards doing as their Prince told them and following behind us, another one going to fetch Ser Criston as we made it to my chambers and found my guard outside the door.

'Princess.'  He greeted, opening my door but I didn't move from my Uncles side.

'Guards, I want you to escort this...man...to the Black Cells until morning, when he will join me in waking my dragon for breakfast.'  Aemond told them.  'You will watch over his cell and if he is somehow not there in the morning, you two will escort me to Vhagar instead.  Is that clear?'

'Yes, my Prince!'  They replied in unison, my guard looking at me angrily.

'My Prince, I don't know what she has told you but I only did as I was told-'

'My future wife told you to watch her changing, she told you to threaten her with my displeasure and having her innocence questioned?'  It was at that moment that Ser Criston arrived, Aemond's mother right alongside him which shocked us all.

'My son, what is the meaning of this at this late hour?'  She asked, confused and tired.

'I am sorry to wake you mother, I require Ser Criston to guard my bride tonight until I can replace this vile creature with a proper guard for her tomorrow.' 

'What's happened?'  Alicent demanded, looking me over and taking hold of my face firmly, inspecting me.

'It seems my brides guard has taken it upon himself to threaten her and force her to allow him to watch her while she dresses.'  Aemond explained and Alicent looked up at the guard, glaring hatefully.  She had always loved me and I loved her as well, despite the fact that my mother didn't.

'Kill him!'  Alicent ordered but Aemond stopped Criston quickly.

'He will be Vhagar’s in the morning mother, for tonight he will be taken to the Black Cells.  I just need Ser Criston to watch my bride for the evening if that's alright.'  Alicent looked contemplative.

'She will spend the evening with me.  Come darling, you must be exhausted.'  Aemond quickly kissed my head before I was dragged off to the Queens private rooms and helped change by a maid.  'I am so sorry you had to endure that.  He did not touch you, did he?'  She asked me as I crawled into the overly large bed, though it was the most comfortable bed I had ever experienced.

'No your Grace, only himself.'  She nodded, taking my hand in hers.

'You are to be my sons bride, you will be protected here. Do you understand?'

'Yes, thank you.  You have made me feel most welcome, despite your trouble with my mother and I cannot express my gratitude.'  She smiled, petting my hair as I laid down and felt truly safe for the first time in a weeks.

'Of course.  You know how I feel about you, and I adore how you love my son.  I've always worried for him...even before Lucerys cut out his eye...but you've never wavered from his side.  You are truly meant to be his bride.  Sleep well, sweet one.'

The next morning I was awoken with the sun and quickly dressed, being escorted into the chilly morning before even breakfast, though as I stepped out of the castle a cloak was thrown over my shoulders by my soon to be husband who walked with me towards the beach where Vhagar slept soundly.

Aemond didn't even need to wake her, her head peeking up as we stepped onto the sand while 2 men dragged along my guard who was whimpering like a 3 year old as he stared at the largest dragon he had ever seen.  'Dohaerās Vhagar!'  His voice was loud and commanding as the old dragon sat up and looked down at the people that had come to witness the spectacle, Aemonds mother and grandfather as well as his sister and many of the Kingsguard.  I suppose Aegon couldn't have been bothered to wake up this early...if he was even in the castle.  'Let this serve as a warning and a lesson to any who would bring harm to my soon to be Lady wife!  I will make sure that you suffer 10 times what you put her through...should there be a next time...I will not be so kind.'  I held tightly to his hand before he pulled me close and kissed my head.  'Dracarys!' 

I could instantly feel how intense the flames were even from 50 feet away from them, flinching back into my betrothed who held me to his side protectively.  'Thank you for believing me, Aemond.'

'I will always believe you my love...like I said, should there be a next time, don't wait so long to tell me.  I will always ensure your safety, you have my word.'

With that, he escorted me back into the building for breakfast as Vhagar snorted, the ashes that were left of the man blowing away in the wind and letting me know that no matter what happened, I would always be safe with my husband.

Aemond T. Masterlist

[ataliagold]

trouble's always gonna find you baby, but so will i

For Whumptober prompt 10, I used "blow to the head" and "slurred words." Title from Western Nights by Ethel Cain.

Also on AO3.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1546

Tags: post-vecna, established steddie, whump, assault, injured steve, pistol-whipped, hospital, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Summary: Steve's found by some men looking to pass Al Munson's drug debt on to his son.

But he'll die before he gives Eddie up.

___

“You ready to talk?”

The man’s leaning close to Steve’s ear, rancid breath filling his nostrils, his fist caked in blood.

Steve’s blood.

Steve gasps for air, bats at the man’s wrist again, kicks out futilely. He receives a boot to his leg for his efforts, the second man grunting at the force he puts behind it.

His head’s swimming. Distantly, he wonders just how many concussions a person can take before their brain just sort of…leaks out their ears.

Surely he’s almost at the brain leaking stage by now.

Blood dribbles from his mouth, sticks to his teeth.

“Where’s Eddie Munson?” The first man growls.

Steve keeps his mouth shut. He’ll never give up Eddie, certainly not to these lowlifes, these associates of Al Munson looking to pass a drug debt onto the jailed man’s son.

He’ll die first.

When he says nothing, there’s the tell-tale click of a gun being cocked.

Steve really thinks he might actually die tonight.

If no one walks past this back alley, he’s toast.

Cold metal presses against his temple. Lucidity grips him for a moment, and Steve squirms in the grip of the two men, trembling all over.

“No…no, you can’t…I don’t know where he is, I don’t.” It’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie but he can’t.

“I ain’t fucking playing,” the man spits out, pressing the handgun harder against the side of Steve’s head. “You’ve got about five seconds before I decorate these walls with your brain, pretty boy.”

Steve swallows. He tastes rust and salt, coughs as it goes down. Heart hammering, ears ringing, fingers scrabbling at the hand fisted at his collar.

He’s going to die. Here, in the pitch black, in the dankest, dirtiest alleyway in Hawkins, where Jonathan had once beat him to a pulp while his friends looked on.

His tongue darts out over his lips. The barrel of the gun’s against his head still.

He thinks of Eddie.

Of cracked lips and gentle hands, long curls and pale skin that Steve loved to touch.

He’ll die before he gives him up.

In a moment of defiance, he locks eyes with his attacker.

The man curses, raises his hand, and whips the butt of the pistol across Steve’s face.

Steve’s head is slammed to the side at the force, his cheek immediately wet with blood where the skin parts.

“Last chance.” The man spits at the ground beside him, and then the gun’s lowered in front of Steve’s face again.

The world’s a blur in front of him. Steve blinks sluggishly, listens to his pulse pounding in his ears.

Eddie would be home from work by now. He’d be at the cabin by the lake, where he and Steve had been staying after…everything. They’d just wanted some peace in the wake of Vecna, away from the prying eyes of the Hawkins townsfolk, the ones that still blamed Eddie for everything that had happened to the town.

Steve was going to cook dinner for the two of them.

He’d been halfway through when he realized they didn’t have any butter, had driven back into town to buy some. It lay beside him now with the rest of the last-minute groceries he’d grabbed scattered on the filthy concrete. Even when he’d been jumped in the empty parking lot, he’d kept hold of his bag, too shocked to drop it until they’d slammed him up against the wall in the alleyway.

Eddie would be worried, he’d be wondering where Steve was, he’d come looking…

Steve hopes someone else finds him, after. Anyone but Eddie.

“Fuck you,” Steve slurs, with the last of his strength.

The man’s expression hardens.

Steve’s eyes drift close, and he waits for death.

Instead, there’s the wailing of a siren several blocks over.

The other man, the younger one who’d been sending the other nervous looks the whole time, lets go of Steve. He slumps sideways, lacking the strength to stay sitting upright.

“We gotta go,” the younger man urges.

“Nah, he’ll break,” the elder scoffs.

“That’s the fucking police.”

“They’re still a ways off. Probably doing something else.”

“I’m out, man.” The younger one backs away, turns on his heel, and runs.

The older man swears. The siren gets louder, and Steve thinks he can see red and blue lights in the distance, but maybe it’s just his injured brain firing on all cylinders.

“We’ll be back,” he hisses at Steve, kicks him one last time for good measure, and then he’s gone.

Steve sucks in a breath. Winces as everything hurts, his ribs and his stomach and his face all on fire.

He needs to move. Needs to get out to the road where someone might see him, because there’s no way he’s going to make it back to his car.

A whimper escapes from between clenched teeth as he braces against the wall.

He thinks of Eddie.

Shoves himself to his feet, one arm looped against his stomach protectively. His ribs crunch, and he knows there’s broken bone there, cracked under the onslaught of savage kicks the men had delivered to his sides.

It starts to rain.

And that, on top of everything else, has Steve almost breaking out into hysterical laughter. Because of course it’s fucking raining, just when he’d thought his night couldn’t get any worse. Rain mixes with the blood on his face, leaving watery streaks, and Steve slips and staggers his way across the concrete, past the butter turning to a damp mess, past the carton of eggs smashed across the ground.

Several times, he ends up on his knees, everything spinning.

But slowly, every inch of him screaming in agony, he makes it to the road.

There’s a patrol car up ahead, the siren cut now but the lights still flashing on the roof, reflecting off the rain falling.

Steve’s shirt is soaked through as he hobbles towards the car.

“Help,” he tries to call out, but it comes out as a croak, blood spilling out behind it.

He stumbles again, sobs, scrabbles against the concrete with ragged nails and forces himself upright again.

There’s a familiar figure in front of him, hauling some drunk guy to his feet, waving him away from a storefront.

Hopper.

Steve’s crying in relief now.

“Hop,” he rasps.

The chief turns. His eyes go wide, and he runs to Steve, catching him before he can fall again.

“Steve? What the hell happened?”

Steve’s mumbling into Hopper’s chest, he’s trying to tell him, but his tongue’s heavy in his mouth and his words are all merging together.

“In the car, come on,” Hopper’s telling him, guiding him to the passenger seat of the patrol car and easing him in.

Steve leans against the door, shivering, distantly aware of Hopper saying something, but then his eyes are falling closed and he slips into darkness.

*****

He wakes to a steady beep.

There’s a hand on his, warm and familiar.

He’d know it anywhere.

Slowly, he cracks open one eye, then the other.

Eddie’s beside him. He’s pale, bags under his eyes, his bottom lip gnawed to shit, but he perks up now.

“Stevie? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

Steve goes to speak, but no sound escapes his raw throat. Instead, he nods, his head feeling heavy and stuffy.

“Steve, I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s crying.

Steve hates that he’s crying. Hates that he’s the reason for Eddie’s tears.

“Don’t cry,” Steve whispers, his throat rattling. He feels the unmistakable tug of stitches on his cheek when his mouth moves, feels tender skin stretch and flex under bruises.

Eddie only cries harder, scootching his chair closer, forehead finding Steve’s chest and resting there lightly.

“Hopper told me, he said he could barely make out what you said but he heard men, and drugs, and you said my name…Stevie, they wanted me, didn’t they?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Steve slurs, “promise.”

“Baby, I don’t…I don’t care about that, I’m worried about you!” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, swipes at the tears across his face, before taking Steve’s hand again. “You’ve got two broken ribs, a serious concussion, and two lots of stitches in your head. You…you could’ve died.”

Steve’s feeling…fuzzy. He recognizes the warm, soupy sensation of painkillers pumping steadily through his veins, knows without them he’d probably be feeling a whole lot worse than he is now.

He reaches a hand up, paws at the air a couple of times before it finally settles where he wants it, on the back of Eddie’s head, soothing over his curls.

“S’ok,” he mumbles, “I’m ok. Gonna…gonna make you dinner. When I’m outta here. Promise.”

Eddie splays a hand across Steve’s stomach, tears soaking into the crisp white sheet on the hospital bed.

“No, you’re not,” Eddie tells him softly. “When you’re out of here, I’m going to look after you. Gonna make you your favourite meals, I’ll fucking…spoon feed you, I’m not letting you out of bed until you’re completely healed.”

“Sounds fun,” Steve drawls, halfway to sleep because Eddie’s here, he’s warm and his voice is soothing and he’s safe.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers, “so fucking much.”

“Love you too,” Steve slurs out, and then he’s asleep again, secure in Eddie’s arms.

___

[archived-junkissed]

happy ending

member — husband!junhui x f reader genre — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count — 6.6k synopsis — a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time. warnings — female reader, planned pregnancy, there's a big argument but i tried to not make it too toxic (jun and reader have a happy & healthy relationship i promise), swearing, there is a happy ending lots of fluff !! notes — requested by anon — this has been sitting in my drafts for months bc every time i look at it i get shy and wanna change my mind but i'm proud of how this turned out so i'm posting it finally! i know pregnancy fics aren't everyone's favorite but this was honestly very comforting to write so i hope anyone who chooses to read can find comfort in it as well <3 also the last time i proofread this was like april and if i try to proofread it rn i'll get shy again and chicken out so if there's any mistakes pls ignore! i hope you enjoy :)

you sat on the bathroom floor, trying to comprehend the weight of the news you held in your hand. you couldn’t believe it. you could? you couldn’t. 

after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded. the slim plastic stick with two tiny pink lines was the last piece of evidence you needed. it had been months of carefully tracked cycles, fertility doctors, and new positions that seemed too weird to actually do anything. but now, everything was finally falling into place.

you don’t know exactly how much time you spend sitting on the floor and staring at the pregnancy test; thinking, planning, and thinking some more. but when you finally stand up and place the positive test on the counter with shaking hands, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet what’s happening. something you’d wanted for so long, and finally it was all right in front of you.

what do you do now? no— you know exactly what you need to do, and it’s a long list of things. the real question is, where do you begin?

you thought back to all the videos you’d watched over the last few weeks. somehow every social media algorithm knew exactly what you wanted to see, and it had given it to you in abundance; baby showers, gender reveals, those “get ready with me - new mom edition” videos. all getting your hopes up before you could confirm whether or not it had finally happened.

with your hopes high and expectations even higher, you were already beginning to plan how you would break the news to junhui. as your husband and your soon-to-be baby’s father, of course you wanted him to be the very first person to know, so you couldn’t wait too long to tell him. you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

maybe you’d get a little gift box and give the test to him before dinner. but, then again, it was literally a piece of plastic you’d peed on. surely you could give him… something a little nicer than that.

maybe you could buy a baby outfit and wrap it up for him. but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. you would want him to have the honor of picking out the very first one, going to the store together and looking through the whole section before finally settling on the perfect one.

what else was there you could do? bake a cake? make a crossword puzzle? buy him a t-shirt that says “dad-to-be”? so many ways you could do it, but none of them seemed perfectly right.

from the other room you hear the door opening, and hurriedly you stuff the test into a drawer, not wanting to tell him just yet. you need a plan first; waiting another day or two couldn’t hurt, so you’ll just have to figure out how to tell him later.

you flip off the bathroom light and stride into the hallway, barely able to contain the grin on your face. you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, and with news as big and exciting as this you have no idea how you’re going to be able to hide it from him for more than a minute.

but luckily you don’t have to wonder about it for long, because as soon as you see jun you can already tell he’s in a sour mood. 

you know it’s usually best to let him have some time alone when he’s upset, but not for too long because he starts getting frustrated with himself and won’t stop working until he’s exhausted.

but you’re still on a high after everything today, so you decide on being a little bit sweeter to him in the hopes that your happiness will be contagious and that it’ll lift his spirits, despite what was probably a really awful day at work.

you find him sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, long fingers pressed against his eyes trying to block out the light.

“hey, junnie,” you call out, sitting down in a chair next to him. “bad day?”

“yeah,” he answers shortly.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you hum, putting your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches and your hand falls away in surprise. he’s never done that before. weird. you try something else. “um, any requests for dinner?”

“not hungry.”

“alright. well, i guess i can cook up some veggies and leave them out, you can heat them up whenever you get hungry.”

he moves his hands away from his face and onto the table, sighing as he leans back in his chair. “can you just— leave me alone for a while? i’m sorry.”

you nod and stand up. “no, it’s fine. i get it. i’ll bring you some tea later then, maybe. text me when you’re feeling better.” you reach out and gently touch his hand before walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

it’s definitely one of his worser days, you note, so you retreat to your bedroom to watch more videos on your phone, trying to bring back your excitement from earlier. hopefully later he’ll be more open and you can sit down and eat something, and maybe by then you’ll have come up with a good way to tell him the news.

an hour passes and you come out of your bedroom to look for jun, having a question from one of your friends about the dinner you’d arranged to have together next week. but he’s no longer in the kitchen, so you peek your head into his office room and find him exactly where you expect him to be, trying to work himself to death.

you clear your throat before you enter, not wanting to startle him again. “hey, junnie, i know you’re in a bad mood, and i’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“what do you want?” he snaps, never turning around from his desk. just from the way he’s hunched over his computer, he looks like the most stressed you’ve ever seen him, and your chest tightens with worry before your brain registers what he’s just said to you.

“i— excuse me?”

“i said, what do you want?” he repeats, still facing away from you.

you resist the urge to glare at him, knowing he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and you aren’t trying to add to it. “you don’t have to be rude, jun. i just came in here to double check about next weekend, minghao’s texting me.”

he finally lifts his head, slamming his hand down on the desk. “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief, your voice lifting in tone. “well, i’m so very sorry to inconvenience you then, but i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, jun.”

“and i don’t appreciate you talking to me like i’m a child! when will you get it through your head?”

his comment stings, but you brush it off. “well, maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit and hiding in your office then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” you’re starting to get tired of how he retreats in on himself every time bad shit happens. all you want to do is let him know he doesn’t have to do it alone, and he’s just… exploding at you for no reason, so you don’t try to hide the snarkiness behind your words.

he scoffs angrily and stands up, towering over you at his full height. “oh, grow up! you’re so moody all the time and you expect me to just put up with it! as if i don’t have enough other shit to worry about, i have to worry about what you think of this and that and everything all the damn time!”

you’ve never seen him get so angry like this, and it’s almost scary how completely different this jun is from the jun you know and love. “okay, jun, fine, i’ll just—”

“no, don’t fucking “jun, fine” me. it’s like you’re doing it on purpose at this point, you act like everything is just so perfect and then when it’s not you act like it’s your job to fix everything! you can’t fix everything!”

“i said fine! just forget it, i’ll leave you the hell alone like you always want!”

he pushes past you and crosses the room in two strides, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. “i need to get some air. i’ll be back later.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying to look unphased but inside your heart is breaking. “you’re really gonna walk out like that? you’re just gonna run away from this? real mature, junhui.”

he spins around, and the look in his eyes is cold. “if i don’t get out of this house right now i’m gonna say something i actually regret.”

and in a flash the door is slammed shut and jun is gone. you can hear his car starting up in the driveway, and seconds later everything is dead silent.

you stand frozen in front of the door, unable to move. you can’t believe it. you can’t. what just happened?

jun has never just… walked out like that.

his words ring in your ears; though your argument wasn’t very long, a lot was said in a very short time and you can’t even begin to think about how to process it as it starts to hit you all at once.

say something he actually regrets? what the hell does that mean? so he’s saying he doesn’t regret everything else, the cursing and the anger and the pointed words that were clearly meant to hurt you?

minute after long minute passes and you realize he’s not coming back anytime soon. finally you drag yourself away from the door, dropping down on the couch in a daze.

there’s never been a time where you and jun haven’t made up immediately after an argument. sure, maybe you take a little bit to cool down in your own space, but neither of you like letting the tension sit unresolved for very long. so what was it this time that made him leave without even a goodbye?

so many reasons, so many excuses, so many words you could’ve said instead. you shouldn’t have reacted like that, you shouldn’t have kept it going, you should’ve just left him alone. would that have made him stay? if you’d backed down sooner and just let him work through it on his own?

despite all the what-ifs and the doubts in your mind, your conscience won’t allow you to let him worry about everything by himself without at least offering your help. you’re a team, husband and wife, and you’ll be damned if you let him forget that. maybe you trying to help actually made things worse in the end, but at least you know you tried… right?

it’s not until you check your phone and realize that jun’s been gone more than half an hour that you finally let yourself cry. you’d been so focused on worrying about where jun was and whether he was okay that you’d barely even thought about what might happen after this.

will he just… come back and pretend nothing happened? will he come back and still be angry at you? it would almost be worse if he was calm and acted like everything was normal. would he even apologize? would you even apologize? of course you would. both of you said things that were fucked up, and you’ll be the first to admit it if it means this whole thing can be over. right now all you want is to have junhui back.

the tears keep falling but you don’t even feel yourself crying, your face rigid as the tears continue to stain your cheeks.

after an hour you force yourself to get up off the couch and move somewhere, anywhere around the house to try and get your mind off things. but you can’t erase his voice from your head, the look in his eyes as he walked out the door and the way his shoulders hunched from anger mixed with exhaustion.

you find yourself back in your bedroom and you fall onto his side of the bed, wishing you would wake up to find that this has all just been a very bad dream.

it’s after 10pm when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand and you sit up in a panic, scrambling to see if it’s something from jun. your eyes sting from crying so much, and you blink away the remaining tears as you unlock your phone with shaking hands. your heart drops even further when you realize it is, in fact, from jun, but not the news you want to hear.

you let your phone slip out of your grasp, tumbling to the carpet with a thud. when he’d said he’d be back later you had assumed that meant he’d be coming back tonight. clearly you thought wrong.

tomorrow seemed so far away; too much time to spend alone in a house that was supposed to be filled with happy memories, but now all you felt was pain. you felt it in your chest and in your stomach and in your head and everywhere. the whole room was suffocating, heavy weight crushing down on you from every angle.

you slide to the floor and pick up your phone. you don’t text junhui back. you’re not sure anymore if he’d even read your message. 

instead you type in your friend seokmin’s phone number, listening to the line ring as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes.

as soon as he picks up, he can hear the anguish in your voice and he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong, but all you can muster up is a soft, “can i stay with you tonight?” because you can’t bear to be in this house another second without junhui. 

and of course he says yes, and of course he’s immediately on his way over to pick you up. and of course he stops at mcdonald’s on the way back to his house to buy you something to eat, because you haven’t eaten and even though you don’t particularly have much of an appetite right now, seokmin would rather die than let you skip a meal, especially on a night like tonight when you could really use something to keep you going.

you throw your overnight bag on the floor of seokmin’s living room with a small sigh. in a haze you’d tossed in whatever items you thought you might need; a toothbrush, pajamas, something to wash your face with. 

he gives you space for a while as he pulls out the folding bed part of the couch and brings out blankets and pillows for you to sleep with. you don’t say it, but you really appreciate his help. he’s been one of your best friends for so long, and you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

you hadn’t thought about it while you were packing, but as you stand in seokmin’s bathroom you think about the cleanser you’d grabbed; your favorite one, the one jun had gotten you for your birthday last year and you’d never switched to another brand since. 

every single thing reminds you of him, and you push down a fresh wave of emotion as you scrub the foam into your skin, trying to wash away all your tears.

when you’re done getting ready for bed you find seokmin in the living room with a pot of tea. he was just trying to help, but unluckily for him, he’d made green tea. it was your favorite… but it also happened to be jun’s favorite.

and this time you can’t hold back your tears, and seokmin is sitting wide eyed and bewildered, wondering why you’re crying over tea, but he doesn’t ask. he just reaches out to let you hug him, and you squeeze him so tightly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets you hug him as hard as you can and lets your tears stain his t-shirt.

it takes another half hour for you to calm down enough to talk. you’d spent the time watching whatever was on tv, not really paying attention and instead playing everything back in your mind. seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready.

“jun and i… had a fight,” you say finally, interrupting the commercial playing on the screen.

“i figured,” he says, offering you a comforting smile as he mutes the tv. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“i don’t know. there’s not much to talk about.” you take a shaky breath, remembering it all one more time. “we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean. at least, i know i didn’t mean them. then he just… left, and he texted that he’d come home tomorrow. that’s it.”

you don’t tell him about the pregnancy test. you’ve mentioned once or twice that you and jun had been interested in starting a family, but you’d never gone into detail about it and you weren’t going to now. you still wanted jun to be the first person to know, even though you didn’t know when that might be anymore.

you tell him about other things instead, about your day at work and your plans for the weekend. eventually you finish your tea, and seokmin retreats to his own room and shuts the door with a quiet click, leaving you alone in the quiet of his living room.

it takes you a long time to fall asleep, but soon your exhaustion catches up with you and you let yourself rest, physically and emotionally drained. at least the silence here isn’t as bad as the silence at your house.

across town in his friend seungcheol’s guest bedroom, jun can’t stop tossing and turning. he’s fucked up, he knows he fucked up, big time.

why did he leave? he shouldn’t have left. you had been absolutely right, he was running away from everything and it was stupid and dumb and immature. but in that moment all he could think about was what the next awful thing he might say to you was, and he knew if he had stayed for any longer he wouldn’t have been able to stop what came out of his mouth. he was out of control, and immediately he knew it.

not even the worst day in the world could make you deserving of all the things he said to you. you were the only thing that wasn’t bad in his life; even on shitty days like today, all you did was care about him. and all he did was hurt you.

jun barely sleeps that night, finally forcing himself out of the extra bed at dawn. he’d been too anxious to sleep, too frustrated with himself to do anything other than think about everything he did and wonder if you were okay without him.

he’d already gotten an earful from his friend last night, and he knew he was still in big trouble. the things he said wouldn’t just go away overnight. in fact, they’d probably gotten worse by leaving them to build up overnight, and again he’s kicking himself for ever leaving in the first place.

he packs up his things as quickly as he can, eager to get home and see you again. on his way out the door, he thanks seungcheol for letting him stay the night and he apologizes for bothering him so late.

“i’m not the one you need to apologize to. you better figure out how to fix this, jun.”

with a straight face he nods, bowing his head as he closes the door.

in his car, jun takes the long way home, trying to find an open grocery store. he knows it won’t make up for how he acted, but the very least he can do it buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he walks through the aisles, basket in hand, trying to think of something else for you. maybe he’ll get the ingredients he needs to make your favorite dinner tonight; he hadn’t eaten last night, though you had offered to cook for him and he’d shot you down.

he feels another pang of guilt at the thought, remembering yet another kind gesture you’d tried to give him that he’d brushed off like it meant nothing. it meant everything to him, and in the middle of the frozen vegetables aisle he swore he wouldn’t ever do it again. 

he’d taken you for granted, and he was so lucky that things hadn’t ended worse than they did. he could’ve said something truly unforgivable, or he could’ve even lost your relationship altogether. but he was still yours, and you were still his, and he would just have to work extra hard to make sure you knew how sincere he was.

he’d been a little worried that you hadn’t texted him back last night, seeing that you’d read his message but never responded. you were probably still hurt, and he didn’t blame you; still, he’d hoped you would say something back.

with grocery bags loaded full of ingredients for dinner and the special things he’d bought for you, the drive back home feels a little more hopeful.

he plans out everything he’ll do in the car. he’ll bring the groceries in and put them away quickly; it’s still fairly early in the morning, so hopefully you won’t be awake yet. he’ll arrange your flowers all nice in a pretty vase, and he’ll come in and wake you up with the best apology of his life and hopefully a really big hug. after the last 24 hours he really could use a hug, and he’s sure you could too. and then he’ll explain how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean any of it and then everything will be better again. yes, everything will be okay.

the first part of his plan goes perfectly. he sneaks into the house and when he’s met with silence he continues putting everything away, quietly so he won’t wake you up in the other room. then, he puts the flowers in a vase and with everything in place, he walks down the hallway to finally face you.

but when he twists the bedroom door handle, the bed is made and the room is empty. you aren’t there.

he frowns, leaving the room and poking his head into the bathroom, then his office. he calls your name loudly, hoping you’re just in a corner of the house and you’ll come out once you hear him. but no reply.

he goes back into the living room and sets the vase down on the coffee table, trying to think. you aren’t usually up this early, but maybe you hadn’t been able to sleep and you’d gone out for a walk, or maybe you’d gone to the store to get more cereal? 

a sinking feeling rises in his chest, and he walks back into the bedroom to confirm something, sliding open the closet door to check. your overnight duffel bag is gone.

he ducks back into the bathroom to check something else. your toothbrush isn’t sitting in the jar like it usually is. he slides open the bathroom drawer to check one more thing, and—

his hand freezes on the knob, staring at something in the drawer that wasn’t there before. he’s not sure it is what he thinks it is, but either way there it is, clear as day in front of him: a little white piece of plastic, sticking out from underneath a tissue. 

gingerly he pulls it out, holding it up to the light to see it better. when he sees the two pink lines he nearly drops it in shock, but he stops himself, setting it gently on the counter instead.

this is something special, something precious, and he knew he had to take care of it. you’d saved it for a reason; you could’ve easily just thrown it away once you knew the results, but you had kept it instead. were you going to give it to him?

he covers his mouth with his hand, still staring at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. it was just a cheap piece of plastic, but to him it was the most important thing in the entire world.

he deflates when he realizes you’d probably been planning on telling him last night, before he’d blown up at you. if he’d been paying attention to anyone other than himself, he would’ve noticed your mood was happier than usual, your face glowing with contained excitement. he should’ve been paying attention.

there’s a sense of urgency in his stride as he dashes around the house, looking for any other sign of you, but it’s clear you weren’t there. there were so many places you could be, he can’t even begin to think of where to look. your parents, friends, family; hell, you could even have stayed in a hotel, alone and upset. he should’ve been there. none of this should’ve ever happened.

immediately he presses the speed dial for your phone, but of course– no answer. he calls again, and again you don’t pick up. he curses, resisting the urge to slam his phone down on the table in frustration. no, he has to stay calm. that’s what got him into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

he remembers that your parents are out of town on vacation, so you probably wouldn’t have gone there. you wouldn’t have gone to a hotel because you always lecture him about the importance of saving money “just in case”, so you wouldn’t have paid to stay somewhere. your sister is still in college and shares an apartment with three other people, so probably not the best idea either. 

that narrows it down to one of your friends’ houses; seokmin, who lives a couple blocks away, or joshua, who lives on the other side of town.

he figures seokmin is his best bet, so jun takes a deep breath and finds the contact in his phone.

“what do you want?” seokmin’s usually cheery voice has an edge to it today, and jun knows he’s picked right.

“is she there?” he asks anxiously.

“she is,” he confirms, and jun exhales, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “but she’s asleep still. i’ll let her know you called.”

“wait,” jun adds quickly.

the line is silent for a moment, and he’s afraid seokmin’s already hung up, but finally he gets a response. “what is it?”

"can i–are you sure? please," jun pleads. if he could just talk to you, just explain what happened and that he's so fucking sorry—

“hold on,” seokmin says, and the phone goes quiet again.

jun’s heart is in his throat as he waits for a response, and he stops when he finally hears your voice. “hello?”

he breathes a sigh of relief. “sweetheart. i’m so sorry.”

you don’t reply, so he continues.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he starts, trying to put the right words together. “i shouldn’t have said any of that last night, and i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry.”

“thanks” is all you say, and he hates how small and sad your voice sounds. it’s his fault you sound like that.

“i found your test,” he bursts out, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

“oh." you pause, swallowing. "so… you know.”

“yes, i do know, baby. i’m so sorry, if i had known before—”

you cut him off, your tone suddenly rising with anger. “‘if you had known?’ so you won’t yell at me if i’m pregnant, but you’re just fine with yelling at me when you think i’m not? is that the only reason why you’re even apologizing to me right now?"

“no— fuck, no, of course not. i shouldn’t yell at you, period. and i’m not going to ever again.” jun pauses for a second, rubbing his hand over his eyes. he’s done nothing so far but make everything worse. “i really messed up, honey, and i’m sorry. i can’t say it enough. but— please, come home. i don’t want to talk over the phone.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall again. you don’t want to cry about this anymore. “okay,” you say finally. “i’ll be home in a little while.”

“thank you,” jun says, and the way his voice breaks makes your heart sink. you can tell he feels awful about everything, and you do really, really miss him.

“…i love you," you add, changing your mind at the last second.

“i love you, too!” he says immediately. “i love you, too, honey. text me when you’re on your way.”

“i will.”

he says “i love you” twice more before you end the call. you sit in silence for a second, processing everything before you stand up off the couch and head to seokmin’s room to give him back his phone.

"can you take me home now, please?" you tell him softly, and immediately seokmin stands up and hugs you, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"of course. let me know when you're ready."

half an hour later you find yourself in the front seat of seokmin’s car once again, this time sitting nervously in his driveway as he puts your bag in the trunk for you. you're still not sure if you're ready to face jun yet, but you know you have to.

reluctantly you unlock your phone and open your text messages with jun, your eyes landing on the text he'd sent last night that had gone unreplied. with shaky fingers you type out that you're leaving seokmin’s house, and jun replies almost instantly with a long string of heart emojis.

seokmin gets into the car and starts it, and you exhale and set your phone in the cupholder.

"are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at you. "because you can always let me know if you need anything. anytime, day or night."

"i'm alright," you say, taking a deep breath. "i'm fine. but thank you, seok. i really appreciate everything."

he smiles, shifting the car into reverse. "of course. it's no problem at all."

the second he hears the car pull up outside the house, jun jumps up off the couch, smoothing his shirt down anxiously. through the window he watches seokmin hand you your bag and close the trunk, giving you one last hug before he gets back in the car. he doesn't drive away until you're at the front porch, and with a deep breath jun swings open the door, before you can even knock.

you both stand there in silence for a second before he blurts out another apology. "i'm sorry," he rushes to say. "i'm really sorry."

you give him a weak smile. "can i maybe… get in the house, first?" you ask quietly, motioning with your free hand at the doorway.

"yeah, i— yeah, shit, of course," jun says as he practically jumps out of your way, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

you set your bag on the floor by the couch as he closes the door behind you. the sound of the lock clicking seems too loud in the uncomfortable silence that settles over the room.

"can… can i give you a hug? please?" he asks, and you stay quiet but nod. 

he closes the distance between you in one stride and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly and holding you close to his chest. "i'm so sorry, honey. i didn't mean any of it. i promise."

"i believe you," you finally manage, your voice a little muffled from how he's pressing you against him.

he doesn't say anything more, just holds you and holds you, and it feels so good to be home where you belong. there's a lot that needs to be said, but for right now you don't need any more words. you're just glad to be back together again.

after a while you pull your head away from him so you speak. "i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong, baby. i'm the one that needs to be apologizing."

you shake your head. "no. i said some things last night, too. granted, not as bad as you, but…"

jun breaks out into a grin at your joke, and you feel your mood start to lighten. "…which is true. and i'm sorry."

"jun, you can stop apologizing now. i get it, you're sorry. you don't have to tell me a million times," you say, trying to laugh a little.

now it's his turn to shake his head. "well, i'm going to anyway. because i am sorry." you look away from him, feeling embarrassment start to boil up, but he continues talking. "i'm serious. i'll say it as many times as it takes to make it right."

you turn your head back to him, struggling to keep a straight face. "why did you leave, jun?" you ask softly.

he takes a deep breath, and still trapped in his arms you can feel his chest expand with the breath. 

"it was stupid," he says finally. "i left because i didn't want to stay and risk hurting you more. but i realize i did that anyway, by leaving. i was just… i needed some air. but i shouldn't have stayed away, and i'm not gonna do that again. i won't do it, ever again."

"i just don't want you to leave me," you manage, trying and failing to hide the crack in your voice as you feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

he hugs you tighter and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair with his thumb. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. i'm not going to, i promise."

you don't respond, but you know he's telling the truth. the last 24 hours have been hell for the both of you, and you don't doubt he means every single "i'm sorry" he's said.

"so…" jun starts, and you tilt your head up at him.

"so?" you know what he's going to say next, and despite the excitement you had yesterday you feel yourself dreading this part of the conversation.

"you're pregnant?"

you sigh, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "yeah."

he hums. "but you don't sound excited?" he asks.

"well, i was, last night."

"i'm sorry," he winces. "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?"

you shake your head. "no, it's fine. the moment's kinda… ruined, already."

he sighs. "yeah, i know. i'm sorry i ruined it."

"i said it's fine, jun."

"no, it's not fine," he says firmly. "it's one hundred percent my fault. this is important to you, and to us, and we should be celebrating right now. last night should never have happened."

"jun, it's in the past. it was messed up, but i forgive you," you say, lifting you head to look at him once more. "it's not a big deal. we're okay now."

"i just want you to be happy about it," he says with a sniff. "we've been trying for so long, and finally…" he trails off, staring at you with watery eyes. 

you smile at him. "i am happy about it, junnie. i'm so happy, you can't even believe."

"did you tell seokmin?" he asks, and his brows furrow when you shake your head no.

"no, i didn't. i wanted you to be the first i told," you say shyly. "i knew you would want to be the first to know."

"i love you so much," he says, still hugging you. he's never going to let you go, never again. "do you know how far along?"

"no, i didn't go to the doctor. probably like two or three weeks, though, if i've been counting it right."

"wow," he sighs, a smile on his face as he stares off into the distance behind you. "i can't wait."

you watch his eyes, practically able to see the thoughts running through his head. 

after a while he loosens his grip around you, moving to swipe at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. "well—anyway," he starts, giving you an awkward chuckle. "i bought stuff for breakfast. if you haven't had any, yet. and i'm making dinner tonight, too."

before you can even respond his eyes widen, like he's just now remembering all the things he had planned, and he lets go of you, bounding into the kitchen. he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you. "and i got these for you, too. sorry they're not the best, it's all the store had this morning."

"junnie, if this is the best the store had, then i don't think i wanna see their best," you laugh, holding the flowers up and admiring the dozens of bright blooms. "this is gorgeous, but you really didn't need to get me anything."

"but i wanted to," he counters, still running around the room to grab the gift bag sitting by the couch. "consider it an 'i'm very sorry' slash 'congrats you're having a baby' gift."

you set the vase down on the table next to you and take the bag from him, pulling out the tissue paper and crumpling it into a ball.

"i didn't have a whole lot of time to look this morning, but i found these," he says nervously, waiting for your reaction.

from the bag you pull out a miniature plastic hanger holding a set of tiny pajamas covered in little kitties, attached to a matching set of striped orange socks.

"i wanted to be the first person to get you baby clothes," he explains as he fidgets with his hands. 

"i knew you would," you smile at him, setting the empty bag and the clothes on the table along with the bouquet of flowers. "and they're perfect. they're so… you."

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another hug. "i love all of it. thank you, jun."

he grins, rocking you back and forth in his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheek. "i love you too, baby. i missed you so much. i won't ever do that again."

"i know," you smile. "now… you promised me breakfast, isn't that right? because i'm starving. crying is exhausting."

he laughs. "no crying anymore. and i did promise you that, so tell me: do you want blueberry waffles, or strawberry?"

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[10byten]

Meeting Jaehyun’s friend

So here's part 2 of this publication ! The dinner with the rest of 127 and how you manage to charm them all over the course of one evening. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 💘

As soon as Jaehyun steps into the apartment, he’s hit by the most delicious smell teasing his senses. In the living room, a table filled with Italian dishes catches his eye. You’re standing in the kitchen, carefully spreading lemon glaze over a cake. He can’t resist. He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you close, hugging you from behind. You tilt your head slightly, giving him access to your neck, and he starts placing soft kisses along your skin.

“You’re incredible. What is all this?” “I wanted to do something nice for you… and make sure your friends eat well tonight.” He chuckles, looking at the food. “I’m worried they’ll start coming over too often after this.” You laugh, “Would that be such a bad thing?” In one swift move, he spins you around to face him, a playful glint in his eye. “Hmm, yeah, actually. That would be a problem. I wouldn’t get enough alone time with you.” He leans in, kissing you deeply, savoring your lips as if it’s been years instead of just a day apart. His hands wander lower.

“Mm-mm,” you murmur against his lips, breaking the moment, “your friends are literally going to be here in one minute.” “I’m starting to regret inviting them. Who even needs friends, anyway?” “That’s a great question. We could just pretend no one’s home. Let them get bored of ringing the bell.” Jaehyun groans dramatically, pressing his forehead against yours. “This is exactly why you’re dangerous. You’re always so perfect.”

Before he can pull you in for another kiss, the doorbell rings. You laugh softly, escaping his arms, leaving him pouting like a kid. He trails behind you as you open the door, his gaze still glued to you, stars in his eyes.

The night kicks off better than anyone could’ve imagined.

The boys are all immediately charmed. They compliment your cooking nonstop, their plates barely staying full for longer than a minute.

“I have to admit, I had my doubts when we got to the door earlier,” Haechan jokes. “For a second, I thought we’d open it to find Jaehyun standing there alone, and it’d finally be time to stage an intervention.” You raise an eyebrow, amused. “An intervention? For what?” “Well, we’ve heard a lot about you… like, a lot, and Jaehyun was so secretive about everything, we kinda started wondering if you were even real.”

“Oh, I see,” you tease. “Or maybe you’re all just crazy and have been talking to an empty chair this whole time.” The room erupts into laughter. Johnny raises his glass. “Damn, dude. Now I get it. She’s a keeper.”

Jaehyun grins, looking completely smitten. “You can bet I’m not letting her go.”

Yuta’s eyes light up when he realizes you know a bit of Japanese. You both slip into a quick conversation, leaving the rest of the group completely mesmerized.

“Uh, are we allowed to know what you two are saying?” Mark finally asks, looking between you and Yuta like he’s missing out on the most exclusive secret.

“Nothing all that exciting,” Taeyong replies for you, his tone a mix of intimidation and admiration as he glances at Jaehyun. “But, honestly? It’s impressive. Respect.”

Johnny leans back with a smirk, looking directly at you. “So let me get this straight—you cook, you’re funny, interesting, multilingual, and, no offense Jaehyun, you’re absolutely stunning. Are we sure he’s the one? I mean, if you ever start doubting or if things don’t work out, call me, yeah?”

You laugh, playing along. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the offer.”

Jaehyun shakes his head with a small laugh, his eyes softening as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Not even a chance I’d let that happen,” he murmurs, his voice firm but full of affection.

When you stand to grab dessert, the guys erupt into dramatic gestures of approval toward Jaehyun—thumbs up, silent cheers, all of it. You giggle, shaking your head as Taeyong gets up to help you clear the plates, following you to the kitchen.

“That’s really sweet, but you didn’t have to,” you say as he starts collecting dishes. “It’s the least I can do. I know what it’s like handling a big table like that.”

You laugh, teasing him. “Yeah, I guess you’re kind of the dad of a huge family.” He nods, chuckling. “But I can’t cook half as well as you. Honestly, I think you’ve stolen everyone’s hearts—and their stomachs—tonight.”

“Hmm, not sure I’ve won Jungwoo over yet, though.” Taeyong laughs softly. “Well, before you, it was him sharing a room with Jaehyun. Just a little case of jealousy—it’ll pass, don’t worry.”

In the living room, the guys can’t stop talking about you.“Where’d you even find her?” Mark asks, clearly amazed. “And do they have more in stock?” Johnny leans back, grinning. “Honestly, I get why you hid her from us for so long. If it were me, I’d move her to some remote cabin in the woods and never let anyone else see her.” Doyoung, never missing an opportunity to tease, smirks. “Dude, I hope you know she’s way too good for you.” Jaehyun just rolls his eyes, grinning smugly. “I knew she’d blow you guys away.”

Haechan squints dramatically. “Unless she’s secretly, like, an assassin or something. You know, using you as a cover story.” Jaehyun smirks. “She can use me for whatever she wants.” “Yup, there it is. You’re done for. Completely whipped and hopelessly in love,” Yuta laughs, shaking his head.

Jaehyun blushes slightly, his confidence slipping for just a moment. It’s obvious to everyone in the room just how head over heels he is for you.

You and Taeyong return to the table, carrying the cake and a stack of plates. The moment Jungwoo takes his first bite, his eyes widen, and he practically lights up.

“This is amazing! You have to tell me the recipe,” he gushes, showering you with compliments.

You smile, feeling a wave of pride. “I’d be happy to make another one just for you, Jungwoo.”

And with that, you’ve officially won over the last holdout at the table. Taeyong gives you a knowing wink, as if to say, Told you so. You grin back, proud of yourself.

Jaehyun, watching the whole thing, can’t help but marvel at you. Seeing you charm his friends so effortlessly makes his heart swell. Somehow, he feels like he’s falling even deeper in love with you—if that’s even possible.

As everyone moves to the living room to settle down with some tea, Jaehyun puts on a vinyl, letting soft music fill the air while the conversation flows. The guys start shuffling around, competing to make space for you to sit next to them, but Jaehyun steps in, cutting through their suggestions.

“You’ll be just fine right here.” His tone leaves no room for debate as he grabs your hand, guiding you gently. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

You settle in willingly, your arms sliding around his shoulders as his arm tightens protectively around your waist. His hand rests firmly on your hip, just above your thighs, his touch possessive but comforting.

You’re too wrapped up in the conversation with the guys to notice, but Jaehyun doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second. Watching you laugh, hearing your voice, and feeling you this close—it’s driving him crazy.

The self-control he’s been clinging to all night in front of his friends is wearing thin. His thoughts drift to everything he’s been wanting to do since he got home. He leans into your neck, burying his face in your hair as he breathes in your familiar scent, the one that he’s absolutely addicted to. A wave of desire hits him, and you feel his hand tighten on your hip as the muscles in his thighs tense beneath you.

You know what that means—your man wants you, and he’s done hiding it.

Yuta, who knows Jaehyun better than anyone, doesn’t miss a thing. He notices the shift in Jaehyun’s mood, how his mind has clearly left the room and wandered to other plans for the evening. With a knowing smirk, Yuta takes charge.

“I think it’s time we head out,” he says, signaling the end of the night.

Johnny takes your hand and kisses it lightly. “Dear Y/n, I speak for all of us when I say—please, don’t break our Jae. We’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”

You smile at the heartfelt declaration, warmth spreading through you. Looking over at your boyfriend, you catch him walking toward you with that familiar look in his eyes. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing against you like a puppy craving attention.

All he’s waiting for is for the door to close so he can sweep you off to his room and make sure every bit of your focus is on him—and him only.

“I promise, I’ll do my best,” you tease, giving him a playful smile.

The guys thank you once more before heading out, leaving the two of you alone.

-

On the way back, the guys chat excitedly about you, sharing their individual impressions. They all gush about what they loved—how effortlessly you fit in with Jaehyun and how glad they feel that their friend found someone like you. There’s one, however, who stays quiet.

“Taeyong, what did you think of her?” Yuta asks, a playful curiosity in his voice.

“I agree with you guys,” Taeyong replies, his tone soft. “She’s... unique.” Guys keep talking on.

But Doyoung, ever observant, notices Taeyong’s distant expression—his eyes unfocused, as though lost in thought. He starts to wonder if maybe one of them has been a little more taken by you than the others.

For the rest of the night, and even the days that follow, Taeyong can’t get you out of his mind. He finds himself replaying your interactions. And in his head, the same words keep echoing: It’s just a crush. It’ll pass…

-

As soon as the door shuts, Jaehyun’s lips are on yours like he’s been starving for days. Between each kiss, he whispers, “Thank you, my love, for tonight.” When his lips trail down to your neck, you take the chance to reply.

“It was my pleasure. I really loved meeting the guys. I’m so happy you introduced me to them.” “Hmm, yeah, but now I’m worried they’ll want to see you way too often.” You laugh softly. “What, afraid you’ll have to share?”

That’s when he pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye, his expression darkening in the most delicious way. He presses you gently against the wall, his voice dropping. “I don’t share. Not when it comes to you. You’re mine. Completely.”

Your knees practically give out at the serious tone in his voice. Everything about him in this moment—his gaze, his touch, his entire presence—screams love and desire.

“I’m afraid you’ve made me selfish,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jawline. “And maybe a little too possessive.” You shiver at his words, at the heat they stir in you. “I’m sorry for that.” “Don’t be.” His voice is low and rough now. “But you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

“I think I can manage,” you whisper back, breathless. “Good,” he growls softly, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

In no time, he’s carrying you to the bedroom, intent on showing you exactly how grateful he is for tonight—and how much he adores every little thing about you.

-

[noosayog]

003 the grudge

✧ wc: 4.1k

✧ warnings/content: itoshi rin x reader, no gendered pronouns used but lease lmk if I missed any! sfw, angst to fluff (hopeful ending), arguments and lots of swearing. another fic where I project bc of messed up things my old romantic partners have said to me, hope y'all enjoy!

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

“How come you never ask me how my day is?” you ask. It’s quiet, like you’re scared of how he will respond. But you can’t help it. Every day, when Rin comes home from practice, you’re there to greet him at the door. You always have dinner ready no matter how tired you are. And every day, Rin grunts. On a good day, he gives you a peck on the cheek. On bad days, he throws his gym bag down and heads straight for the bath. Then, he comes to sit at the dinner table and eats silently. 

Just once, you’d like him to ask you how your day was. Maybe come home with flowers or a cake from the neighborhood bakery occasionally. You wouldn’t think it too much to ask, but the years of this routine make your question your every thought. You start to forget that being in a relationship shouldn’t consist of you walking on eggshells every day.

Rin looks up from his meal, swallowing before responding, “because you always tell me whether or not I ask.” 

It’s a reasonable response. But it’s cold and callous. Not the answer you were looking for. 

“But why can’t you just ask?”

He cocks his head. Confused, not annoyed. 

Not yet at least. 

“Why would I? If there’s something you wanna tell me, just say it.” 

“I just want you to want to ask sometimes. Makes me feel less like I’m forcing you to listen to me.” 

“You’re not.”

“I know, but that’s not the point.” 

“So what’s the point then?” 

You recognize the change in his tone. He’s starting to become irritated. 

“The point is that I just want you to show you care sometimes. Without having me to ask you to do it.” 

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it loud and clear all the same. 

“Is it that unreasonable for me to ask that of you?” 

“Fine. How was your day?” he grits out, forcing a smile that looks more like he’s baring his teeth at you. 

“Rin, this isn’t what I want.” 

He puts his chopsticks down loudly. “You just said that’s what you wanted. So I’m doing it.”

“Not like this, Rin,” you say frustratedly, not sure how else you can communicate. “I just want you to want to be here with me. Act like you’re my boyfriend and that you’re happy to do it.” 

“I wouldn’t be here, living with you, if I didn’t. What else do you want from me?”

It’s condescending and patronizing. It makes you feel like you are being the childish one here. 

“Is it so hard that once in a while, you do something extra to show it?” you ask, voice small. “Like getting me flowers or even surprising me with a treat from the bakery I like?” 

Rin runs a hand down his face, not even bothering to hide how foolish he thinks this conversation is. You feel the sting behind your eyes start to build. 

“If you want flowers and a cake or something, just tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader. How would I know you want those things unless you tell me?” 

“I’m not saying I want flowers or a cake specifically. But-” 

“Then what do you want!” He's yelling now. “I’m telling you I’ll buy the damn flowers if you ask. You’re always expecting people around you to read your mind. Use your fucking words!” 

At that, you shrink away, closing in around yourself as you recall the phone call between the two of you months ago, having very much the same conversation. 

“You always expect the people around you to read your mind. Why don’t you use your fucking words when you want something?” 

That’s unfair, you think. In every other situation, you would agree. You do have a problem with communicating what you want. You know that. But should you really have to ask to have Rin tell you he loves you once in a while? For him to just show he cares by taking initiative and doing something nice for you? To want him to want to do something for you, even as simple as asking how your day was when he gets home without you having to ask? 

But your insecurities get the best of you and objectively, he’s right. You answer in a small voice, “Sorry, Rin.” 

There’s silence on the other line and for one second, you think that he’s going to apologize too and the floodgates would open and you two would open up and share everything that’s been building up. 

Instead, you hear a click. Rin had cut the line. 

When you have nothing else to say, Rin stands up, storming towards the bedroom, muttering, “Jesus, you’re always like this. Don’t start an argument if you can’t finish it.” 

The bedroom door slams. 

– 

Rin is used to silence, prefers it actually. He gets enough noise from the daily racket the Blue Lock team makes. So at night, when he comes home to you, he appreciates the way you let him be. He’s content to sit there, listening to you talk quietly about your day. Your voice is a soothing one in comparison to the rowdy, grating ones of his teammates. 

So when you ask him to take initiative to start the conversation sometimes, he’s uncomprehending. Your daily routine is fine as is; don’t his nods and noises of acknowledgement show that he’s listening to you? He gets enough nagging from Isagi and Bachira to talk more; he really doesn’t need to hear it at home too. 

He can’t understand what it is you want him to do, because you were the one who strong-armed yourself into his life, persistent in trying to converse with him at the coffee shop you both frequented, until he finally asked you out on a date. You were always the one to initiate conversation. 

So when you propose change to the relationship dynamic, Rin feels like you’re throwing a big wrench in the cogs that seem to be working perfectly fine. 

After a long, hot shower, Rin goes back into the bedroom, expecting to find you curled up in bed. Rin isn’t worried. Regardless of whether you were still sulking or ready to go back to your usual self, he knows from experience that he just needs to reach his arms out and you would be eagerly pushing yourself into his side of the bed to get as close as you possibly can. 

But when he enters the bedroom, the room is empty and the beddoor he slammed shut before remains closed. It’s then that he hears some shuffling in the living room, a couple of muffled sniffles and the quiet click of a door shutting. That wasn’t the sound of the spare bedroom door. That’s the sound of the front door. 

Immediately, Rin bolts out to the kitchen. There, he finds all the dishes cleaned and put away, the dining table wiped down. You are not to be found. 

Waves of frustration wash over him again. If you were going to be so upset about this, why won’t you just come find him and tell him? Rin thinks you could not have proved his point from your earlier argument any better than just up and leaving in a tantrum. 

He should call, he thinks. If it were him, he’d just prefer space, quiet, and some alone time, but knowing you, he thinks you’d appreciate at least a gesture. 

No, he rethinks. Just give them some time to calm down. 

Pushing down the wave of worry, he slumps onto the couch, telling himself you’ll come home soon. The seconds drag by like hours so he puts on game footage to rewatch to pass the time. The seconds do not pass by any quicker as he continues to glance at his phone between plays. 

Finally, he can’t handle it anymore and dials your number. The line rings once, twice, then he hears buzzing from the kitchen. Rin walks towards the source of the sound and finds your phone on the kitchen counter. It sits there, the buzzing continuing, mocking him. 

Rin lets it ring for a couple of moments longer before he grabs a coat and bolts out the door. 

Stupid! Who leaves without their phones? 

It’s well after sunset and dark outside. Even if the two of you live in a nice neighborhood, you should know better than to wander around by yourself after dark. Without your phone no less. 

How long has it been since you’ve left? 

As he runs by all the convenience stores in the area and the minutes go by without being able to find you, his irritation at your irresponsibleness morphs into guilt. He should’ve come out much sooner to find you, shouldn’t have let you cry by yourself. Now you’re out somewhere, crying all alone on the night streets of Tokyo. Irrational panic wells up in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of your vulnerable state. 

When he exhausts all of his options, he sighs, knowing the only place left unchecked is one of your friend's places. The same friends who he knows dislike him. The same ones who think you can do better. 

He reluctantly pulls out his phone to give your friends a call; if they pick up, he’ll come get you and the two of you will go home together. But the first thing that greets him is a text saying you’re fine and that you are indeed at a friend’s place to crash for the night. Unsure of where that leaves him, he returns to your shared apartment. 

And as Rin sits with the sterile kitchen and unusual quiet of the space, for the first time ever, he really contemplates the idea of you finding someone better. He dimly remembers a similar conversation the two of you had, perhaps over the phone a while back? Through all the years he has known you, he supposes it is a habit of yours to want things without vocalizing them. Like the times the two of you are watching a movie together and you look between his cup of tea and the kitchen until he gets the hint to go make you a cup. Or when you’re eating together and you stare at his plate until he spoons some of whatever he’s having into your waiting mouth. Rin’s not too sure how those unremarkable situations are different from what happened at dinner tonight. 

And while Rin has never minded taking care of you and learning all the ins and outs of your body language, he’s realizing that these little things that rarely register in his mind may have been snowballing in yours. 

But on days when he comes home, totally spent from practice, he acknowledges that he won’t be able to put the effort into fulfilling your unsaid desires. And that’s almost every day. 

So as he sits on the couch, visualizing a life of yours without him, he thinks it might be for the best. He waits at home for you. When you come home, the two of you can have a mature conversation about a future where you are with someone who can make you happy. 

–

It’s late morning when you return home, unsurprisingly but not unexpectedly finding the apartment empty. Rin has gone to practice. 

You berate yourself for even wishing for one moment that Rin would have skipped practice to wait for you.

You suppose it’s like all your expectations of Rin: things piling up that you wish he would do but you never ask him for. 

You busy yourself cleaning, reading, watching TV, napping. The day passes by painfully slowly. You finally hear the click of the front door right as you finish preparing dinner – an elaborate meal of Rin’s favorites as your way of meeting him in the middle. 

You greet him at the door and after he takes off his shoes and drops his bag, he meets your eyes. There’s no detectable expression; he doesn’t look particularly surprised, upset, nor happy to see you at home waiting for you. 

What he does do, however, is walk up to you and pull you into his arms. 

His gesture overwhelms you. It’s not exactly what you’ve been asking for, but it’s enough. You sniffle lightly into his jacket. He just holds you and you let him – it’s precisely what you want and need. 

After a while of the two of you simply standing together in the entryway, your arms around his waist remain tight as you ask, “what are you thinking about, Rin?” 

He’s silent but squeezes your shoulders. 

A smile overtakes your lips. That’s when you remember you had prepared dinner for him. This seems like an appropriate time to offer it up as an apology, but Rin doesn’t seem to be ready to move. 

You let go, intending to lead him to the dinner table, but even as your arms unwind from around him, his hold remains tight. 

“Rin?” 

“I’m thinking about how I’m going to let you go.” 

You freeze. 

Rin doesn’t say anything more. He lets the words hang in the air and no matter how long the two of you stand there, the words don’t change. 

“I thought you came home to make up with me,” you say. 

Rin still refuses to let go. “I’ve thought about it,” he says quietly, slowly. “I think I finally get what you want from me. But I can’t give you that. I can’t be different and that might mean that I can’t be what you want. At least not in an emotional partner.” 

You shove him away. “You don’t know that! How can you know what I want! I never-” 

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t think I can give you what you want without needing you to ask for it. And I think you deserve someone who can.” 

You shake your head, different tears rearing to make an appearance. “You said it yourself, Rin. You’re not a mind-reader. I know I have to do a better job of telling you when I…” 

He shakes his head too. 

“No, I don’t think you’re asking too much. I think you’re completely right. But I can’t do it. There’s definitely someone else out there who can do it for you.” 

“If it’s not too much to ask, then why can’t you try! Why are you just giving up? You’re so unwilling to try that you’d rather break up?!” 

You’re hysterical at this point. Rin’s calm demeanor just makes it worse. 

“I love you,” Rin says solemnly. “but I can’t keep hurting you like this. Especially when I know I can’t change.” 

Rin says every word deliberately, with finality. Every word drains more and more fight from you. 

“Cant? Or won’t?” 

Rin only meets your gaze steadily. 

There are no more words, no more fight you have left. What more can you do but say okay? 

– 

For Rin, everything has gone exactly as he had expected. He would go even as far as to say that the night the two of you agreed to break up, he slept dreamlessly. He went to practice the following day and performed just as usual. He had dinner alone, but he’s no longer in a position to wonder where you spent dinner and so he cleans up and showers and falls into another fitless sleep. 

It’s only when the weekend comes around that something starts to stir. 

As agreed, you decide to move out despite Rin offering the apartment to you. It was a strange feeling when you had told him the apartment had too many memories for you to remain in it alone. He has never thought of it that way before, associating a tangible thing to an intangible feeling, unless it was a soccer ball flying into a goal. 

Sae had come over to help you move out. 

During your years of dating, Rin was aware that you and his older brother got along well. While your friendship with his brother had never really bothered him, he had also never considered you closer to Sae than he, himself, to Sae. 

So he finds it uncomfortable that Sae is the one helping you leave. 

But despite his initial reservations, the morning goes by uneventfully, the two brothers packing your things away into boxes. 

After lunch, you decide to join Sae to pack your half of the kitchen while Rin takes the bathroom. It takes him less than 30 minutes to separate all your items from his, a variety of colorful bottles and jars that he’s never touched. It takes even less time to pack them away into one single plastic container. 

Something strikes Rin in the gut when he realizes how easy it is to pack years into a single box. Unable to shake the punching feeling in his gut, he picks up a bottle of lotion that has been untouched by either of you for years to ask if you’d like to take it. He could care less about the lotion but he needs to walk away from the unfamiliar sight of the sink now only decorated with a sparse scattering of his grey-tone products. 

When he turns the corner to the kitchen, he sees you sitting on the counter, dictating items for Sae to grab from the cabinets. The domesticity between the two of you in his home makes the punchy feeling he wants to run from punch harder. 

He watches Sae point at a matching set of mugs, ones that Rin remembers easily. He surprises himself with how easily the memory of those mugs resurfaces: a vivid image of the two of you in a home goods store picking your first couple’s mugs. You shake your head and Sae moves to the next items in the cabinet. Rin’s gut wrenches at how easily you make your decision to leave those mugs behind. 

The next items are a set of glasses the two of you had bought as a souvenir on a weekend trip to Osaka. They weren’t matching, one of the glasses littered with various cute images associated with Osaka and the other with only printed lettering of “Osaka” on it. Despite the contrasting designs, he remembers you putting the glasses that each of you individually picked out together and squealing over how they look like a matching set. He didn’t understand then but as he watches you direct Sae to pack the glass with the cute images and leave the glass with the simple lettering, he starts to understand. His glass gets left in the cabinets. 

When the cabinet has been picked and chosen through to your liking, Sae moves over to where you’re sat on the counter and offers his hand to help you off. You take it and hop off. The scene that unfolds next is what finally makes Rin realize that the uncomfortable feeling in his chest is akin to that of a heart attack, no, even more pedestrian – jealousy. 

He watches as your expression crumbles and you bury your face into your hands. It hits him that it’s the first time he has seen you cry after the breakup. And on instinct, he begins to walk to where you are to offer comfort, but it’s Sae who wraps one arm around you and runs his hands up and down your arm. 

It strikes Rin then. 

It's one thing to think about letting you go be with someone who is the partner you deserve. 

It's another to actually do it and see it. It's another thing to go through with it. 

And the most jarring realization today is that maybe Rin is more capable of what he had originally thought. Maybe he can’t read your mind, but the years of being with you, living with you, loving you, has taught him that he can understand you without needing you to say anything. 

Like right now. Sae has one arm around your trembling figure, pulling you into his side, but what you really want is someone who will wrap both arms around your shoulders. You’d push your damp face into the nearest neck or collarbone when one arm comes up to cradle your head. You’d whimper when the one holding your nuzzles their face against your hair. It’s muscle memory. 

For both you and him. 

And just like that, Rin changes his mind. 

He charges onto the scene. 

“I’ll take it from here.” 

– 

“I’ll take it from here.” 

Sae lifts his arm from your shoulder, but by instinct, you cower, stepping behind him, just enough to hide your face. It takes you a few seconds to pull yourself together, school your expression to face Rin. When you look up, you find that the brothers have come to some sort of silent understanding, Sae nodding and patting your head before vacating the apartment, leaving you and Rin and the thick haze of tension. 

Sae forgotten, you swipe messily at your face one last time for stray tears, playing it off as wiping the sweat from your forehead. 

You turn back to the cabinets, busying yourself by reaching up for the remaining mugs. “We almost finished the kitchen. I just need to go through a couple more cupboards and…” 

“Hey.” 

You feel him before you hear him. Rin is all up in your space, one hand resting on the counter to your left, caging you against the counter. 

“Stop,” his commanding voice tells you. 

You turn around. 

“Can I take it back?” he asks. 

You fluster. 

“Oh! Um,” you respond, voice startlingly loud. “The mugs? Which one did you want to keep? I didn’t mean to take-” 

“Not that,” he stops your rambling. “Can I take what I said back? About breaking up. I want to take it all back.” 

He pries the mug from between your fingers and sets it back into its home in the cupboards. 

“What does ‘take it back’ mean?” you squeak out. 

“It means I don’t want to break up anymore.” 

Your mouth moves faster than your brain. 

“You can’t just take a break up back.” 

“So how can I do it then? I’ll do anything.” 

“You can’t!” you raise your voice then. “You just… can’t.” the last word uttered as a whisper. 

“Yes, we can. Tell me what to do. I’m sorry. Sorry. I know you do a lot for me and I thought I couldn’t do that for you. But I know I can. I can do it better than anyone else. So please, let me take it back.” 

“Do you even know what we were arguing about in the first place? Do you remember that one time, so long ago, you said the same thing to me over the phone? To use my fucking words? Well maybe you don’t, but I remember every word.”

“I remember,” he says honestly. “And I’m sorry I said it that way. So much that it hurt you. So much that you still remember the exact words I said to you. But I don’t need to read your mind.

“Though I would like you to tell me explicitly what you like sometimes,” he adds thoughtfully. 

“But, I’ve loved you for long enough now that I don’t need to read your mind to know what you need. Maybe I won’t always know what you want, so I’ll still need you to tell me sometimes, but I always know what you need.” 

A lot of the things Rin says are very matter of fact and this is no different. He knows before you do that you’ll give in. 

He closes the small distance and pulls you into a tight embrace. It’s enough to open the floodgates. 

“Do you even know how many hours I’ve spent practicing arguments against you in my head? In the shower, in the car, when I’m getting ready for bed? You can’t just say a few sorry’s and think it’s enough.” 

“Mhm,” he nods, cradling your head in a way you know he knows makes you the most vulnerable. 

“I make you feel so guilty in my imagination. I don’t want to feel like that anymore,” you sob. 

“Yeah,” he says, continuing to stroke your hair.

“And you can’t talk to me like that anymore.” 

“I won’t,” he promises. 

He lets you soak his shirt with tears and after what feels like hours, you finally bring your hands up to clutch tightly at his shirt. 

“So how was your day?” he asks. 

You pinch his sides. “Not now, idiot.” 

You hear him chuckle a bit, the vibrations against your body comforting. He continues holding you, though, just the way you know he knows you like.

[c-o-t-o]

Unsure if you're still taking requests, but if you *are*.... is it possible for me to rq denji (csm) x fem!reader with fluff prompt #2 leading into n.sfw prompt #6?

I Wanna Taste, Part 1

Author: c-o-t-o

Character: Denji x fem reader

CW: s.fw, character aged up, descriptive kissing scene

Misc: 714 words, Part 1 of ?? Requested by anon (cooking with them, them licking food off your lips). Thank you so much for the request! I didn’t know how n.sfw you wanted this to go, but feel free to request again and I can continue the fic with another part and make it spicier~!

About: You and Denji make your own food and dessert, but Denji wants a taste of yours.

*Do not remove info or credit from posts when reblogging or sharing!*

Denji has really been enjoying cooking with you lately. Probably because he loves to eat, and he knows that there's a delicious reward that comes with cooking alongside you. He's not always… successful when he cooks by himself. So he has really come to love doing that with you.

Dinner was simple tonight though, after a long day of working all Denji wanted was instant ramen. But you made it a little nicer by bringing home some meat and veggies you could both put in it to make it a little more substantial.

The real fun tonight though, was putting some dessert together. You brought home plain cheesecake and you both made your own slices special with some fresh fruit and different kinds of sauces. Naturally, Denji put every kind of sauce on there all mixed together like he was a mad scientist mixing together some kind of concoction. But you made yours nice and elegant with some strawberry slices and chocolate sauce.

The whole time that you're both eating your cakes, Denji looks back and forth between you and your dessert. You notice this and smirk to yourself.

“How's your cheesecake, Denji? Does it… actually taste good with all that stuff on it?” You ask with a chuckle. Denji drags his last piece of cheesecake through the pool of sauces and jams on his plate before bringing the dripping piece of goop to his mouth.

"Sho’ good,” Denji manages to say with his mouth full. "I really like all the sweet stuff you brought home to use.”

"But you even used the jelly we already had, wasn't it all too sweet?” You laugh as you bring a bite of your cake up to your mouth. Denji has stopped answering, now that his gaze has become fixated on your fork bringing pieces of cake to your mouth, like a dog jealously watching its master eat.

"Denji…? You okay?" You stop and ask him, your head a bit tilted because he looks like he's suddenly in a trance.

Denji's mouth is hanging open slightly. He swallows hard and breathes out heavily. You realize that his eyes have locked onto your lips, and he hasn't looked away from them. Although it's only been about a minute, it feels like forever, with how deeply he's been staring at them. Realizing that, you start feeling your heart flutter in your chest.

Denji grabs the corner of the table between the two of you, slowly pulling himself towards you. His eyes still locked onto your lips, oblivious to everything going on around him now, including you asking him what's wrong.

He continues to pull closer, standing up now to close the distance between the two of you. His hand reaches out, fingertips gliding up your jaw towards your cheek.

Speechless from how quickly this is all happening, you can't get the words out anymore and can only look back at Denji's lustful eyes with a hint of nervousness.

He pauses inches away from you, still breathing hard. You can hear his voice quietly, deeply panting as he tries to calm him breathing. Swallowing hard one last time, Denji cups your face with his hand and leans in to licks your lips.

Immediately, you feel a surge of body heat rush between your thighs in response. You close your eyes to savor the feeling and try to kiss Denji back.

But no, that's not quite it. Not quite what Denji was looking for. With his free hand, he grabs the corners on your lips with his thumb and forefinger, causing your lips to pout. He keeps licking them and suddenly sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You can hear his moans with your tongue in his mouth now, the vibrations traveling from his tongue to yours. Denji's tongue laps yours for a few seconds before finally pulling away from you.

You gasp for air as your mouths part, and you see Denji lick his fingers that were holding your lips. He looks you straight in the eyes, wipes his mouth with his forearm, and grins with his sharp teeth.

“You had some chocolate on your lips," Denji whispers, grabbing your chin delicately. “After seeing how good your dessert looked, I wanted to see how sweet you would taste, too."

[togrowoldinv]

Timeless

Milf!Wanda x Female Reader

After you meet Wanda’s boys for the first time, she finally takes that next relationship step with you

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (W receiving), thigh riding, slight mommy kink, Wanda and R’s first time

Note: I just think that milf Wanda… enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you first met Wanda, you knew something shifted. You weren’t usually one to go to parties, but your friend Natasha had convinced you to come.

All it took was one glance at Wanda from across the crowded room and you knew she was someone special.

You got up the courage to speak to her, and the two of you talked for hours. Even with the loudness of the crowd, it felt like no one else was there.

She told you about her sons. You listened intently as she recalled a story about the boys tricking her into letting them have cake batter for dinner. Wanda giggled as she spoke about the twins. You couldn’t wait to learn more about the woman.

So, when Wanda asked for your number, you gave it to her happily. You’ve been on three dates since then. Tonight, Wanda is introducing you to her sons.

You swallow your nerves and knock on her front door.

“Y/n! Come on in,” Wanda says, opening the door further.

“These are for you,” you say. You hand her the bouquet of flowers and she kisses your cheek in thanks.

“The boys are upstairs playing,” Wanda remarks. “They’re excited.”

You follow her further into the house and watch as she flawlessly cooks dinner and puts the flowers in a vase simultaneously.

“I’m excited too. And nervous,” you admit.

“Oh, don’t be nervous, baby. I promise I am doing this because I know they’ll like you. Me and my boys are a package deal, you know?”

You nod in understanding. You want this to go well so badly that you are practically bursting with anticipation.

Wanda starts some small talk as you recount how your respective days went. When dinner is ready, she calls for the twins.

“Billy! Tommy! Dinner!” She calls up the stairs. “They got some new video game, and I can’t drag them away from it.”

Before you can reply, the boys come running down the stairs.

“What did I say about running?” Wanda scolds them lightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” they reply.

“That’s alright,” she says. Then turns to you. “Boys, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Mommy’s friend y/n.”

“Hello Ms. y/n,” one of the boys greets you. “I’m Tommy.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. And that makes you Billy,” you greet the other boy. “You look so much like Wanda.”

“Is that a good thing?” He asks, his eyebrow sweetly raised in question.

“It’s a great thing,” you say, shooting Wanda a smile. Her cheeks tinge a light pink.

Wanda shuffles all of you into the kitchen. She made spaghetti, one of the things she knew the boys would eat, and it smells delicious.

The family enjoys light conversation, and you add comments randomly. Everything seems to be going really well. There is lull in the conversation, so you decide to make an effort to learn more about the boys.

“So, your mom tells me y’all have a new video game,” you say. The boys’ attention turns to you. “What game is it?”

“The new Mario one,” Billy says.

“Yeah, it’s so fun!” Tommy adds.

“That’s so cool! I used to play Mario when I was a kid,” you reply.

“We can show you after dinner,” Tommy says.

“Now, Tommy our guest may not want to play Mario,” Wanda jumps in. “Plus, it’ll be your bedtime.”

“But- can we play just 30 minutes?” Billy asks. He pouts. “Mom please!”

“Yeah, please Mom!” Tommy adds.

Wanda looks to you.

“I’m with them. Please Mom may we play?” You ask. Wanda can’t ignore the way it makes her core ache when you called her mom.

“Fine. 30 minutes and then bedtime,” Wanda relents.

A chorus of thank yous comes from the other three of you. Wanda shakes her head affectionately.

The boys run off to get the game set up and you help Wanda clean up dinner.

“You know I’m beginning to think I’m going to be teamed up against very often,” Wanda says, handing you a dish to put in the sink.

“Sometimes I’ll be team Wanda,” you say. You kiss her cheek. “Hey, did you see how happy they got when I said I’d play?”

Your beaming smile makes Wanda lean in and kiss your lips. You kiss her back.

“I told you they’d love you,” Wanda says.

“I’m happy,” you say.

“Me too, dorogoy.”

You and Wanda scale the stairs to meet the boys upstairs in the bonus room. Tommy is already playing and Billy hands you a remote. They are surprised by your skills at the game, especially Wanda.

You try to impress her with every move you make. It works. Wanda is completely enamored by you. Especially when you take the time to show them both how to pass a hard level.

Bedtime comes too soon. You stay in the room as Wanda escorts the boys to the bathroom to brush their teeth. She stops back by the door on the way to their bedroom.

“They’re requesting you help tuck them in,” Wanda says.

“Is that okay?” You ask her.

“Of course,” she says.

You walk with Wanda to the bedroom and keep your distance, but you still say goodnight to the boys. You hear them ask if you’ll be there in the morning. Wanda says you just might be. With that, you turn off the light and Wanda closes the door behind you.

“Can you stay a little while?” Wanda asks a little shyly.

“I can stay as long as you’d like.”

Wanda smiles when you take her hand. You two go back downstairs. She pours you both a glass of wine. You settle on the couch together. Wanda is practically in your lap as she snuggles close.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Wanda says. When you throw her a confused glance, she continues. “They haven’t had someone interact with them like that in years. Their dad, he was much more into playing the games and all of that. Since he passed, they haven’t had as much fun as they did tonight.”

“Oh, yeah of course. I want to get to know them. They are your whole heart and that’s what I want to love and protect,” you explain.

“They are my whole heart,” Wanda agrees. You place a hand on her thigh. She feels butterflies in her stomach. “But I think I have plenty of heart to go around.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Enough for me?”

“More than enough for you.” Wanda grins. “Do you want to go to my bedroom?”

“Wanda, are you sure?” You ask her. This hasn’t happened yet. You’ve been respectful of her boundaries, knowing that she hasn’t been in this situation in years.

“I’m ready,” she says. “If you want to, that is. I understand if-”

You cut her off with a kiss. One with more passion than you’ve ever shared before. You take the wine glass out of her hand and place it on the coffee table. As you keep kissing her, Wanda stands up and pulls you into her bedroom.

You reach your hands under her shirt hem and wait for her permission. She nods. You slip the fabric over her head to reveal a perfectly sculpted chest and abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful Wanda,” you tell her. You reconnect your lips with hers. Her hands wander over your body as she slips your shirt off as well.

You reach behind her to unhook her bra, but you stop and once again wait for permission.

“Yes,” Wanda says. “Yes to everything. Just do it.”

Her eyes are hungry. You’ve only dreamt of this moment, so feeling her right now is absolutely unreal.

You take her nipples in your mouth and suck. Wanda gasps and holds your head in place. She hasn’t felt like this before. One hand plays with the other nipple while the other unbuttons Wanda’s jeans.

You slip your hand down the front of them, and she groans. Her wetness seeps through her panties as you brush your fingers over her.

“That feels so good,” Wanda mumbles. You grin and pull away from her breasts.

You take her pants the rest of the way off and pull her panties down to join them. Wanda moves to lie back on the bed. Taking off your own pants, you watch as her perfect legs spread for you.

“My god, you’re stunning,” you tell her.

“Me? Look at you,” Wanda says. Her eyes rake over every inch of your body.

You straddle her waist and kiss her again. This time your breasts brush against hers and she grinds against your leg that’s slotted between hers.

“May I?” You ask, moving to lay between her legs.

“I already told you yes to everything,” Wanda says. The sass dripping within it makes the wetness between your own legs increase.

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

“I plan on it,” she replies.

You dive into her core. You lick her pussy, and she shivers. Her hand comes to your hair as she keeps you against her.

“Oh, right there,” Wanda groans. “Fuck.”

It doesn’t take much longer before Wanda falls apart at your touch. You work her down from her high. You lick her clean and she pulls you up for a kiss.

She moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. Her noises make you try to relieve the ache between your legs. You rub against her thigh.

“Do you need to come, baby?” Wanda asks, her voice dripping with lust. She pulls you closer so that your folds align with hers. “We’ll do it together. Okay? Can you come with mommy?”

Her eyes go wide at her own words, but when you close your eyes in pleasure and move your hips faster, she grins.

“Fuck mommy, please,” you say.

“Come on, baby,” Wanda says.

Your movements become erratic. Wanda’s do too. The two of you come together, shouting each other’s names. When your movements stop, you two kiss and Wanda rests her head on your shoulder. You continue to straddle her lap.

“That was amazing,” she mumbles against you.

“So worth the wait,” you say.

“Thank you,” Wanda says. “For waiting. And for taking a chance on me.”  

“It was meant to be, Wands. In another life, you still would’ve turned my head.”

The woman pulls her head away from your shoulder and you kiss her properly. You spend the rest of the night holding each other close and discussing your future.

You wake up to the sound of little feet running around the floor. Wanda grins at you in the morning light.

You were always supposed to find this. Your relationship with Wanda and her boys is timeless.