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samkerrworshipper · 5 months ago

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underneath the surface

umm so i’m back.. kind of? this fic was a rollercoaster but i hold it very near and dear to my heart. i hope you all enjoy it and find some comfort in it because i definitely do <3

warnings: no warnings just some medical jargon and talks of endometriosis!

Alexia has always been credited for her attentiveness.

Most people say that it’s the reason she’s such a good captain, and of course, she denies to everybody that she just goofs around less than some of her teammates.

But, inevitably, it’s true, Alexia is a lot more attentive than other people. She pays attention to the small things, the under the surface things, things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at.

Although, in her opinion, she doesn’t need to be observant nor attentive to be curious about this one part of your relationship.

It doesn’t take brilliant observation skills to recognise a pattern, from the age of two most people are able to recognise patterns. For a two year old, it’s colours and shapes and different farm animals. For Alexia it’s become an observation.

It’s routine, a pattern, a constant repeat in your relationship that for the first few months she ignored.

Like a broken record constantly repeating itself, every month, without fail, you disappeared for a couple of nights.

Not literally, for those days you’ll retreat of the pitch and inside to the gym but Alexia still sees you everyday, and for the most part, you’ll still go out for coffee with her and go on walks together, but for at least three nights, sometimes up to 7, there are no sleepovers, no late night movie binges, no dinners.

It went unnoticed by Alexia for longer than normal, love was Alexia’s biggest weakness and it subtly impaired her abilities to be as observant as she prided herself.

Who could blame her? It was hard to be detail oriented when she was too busy enjoying the puppy dog love that came from realising that she was so in love with her life with you, even if it was still relatively new.

But, even with her focus partially impaired, it didn’t take a whole lot of skills to recognise the abnormality of what was occurring.

It was particularly abnormal, because for every other day of the month, you spent your nights at Alexia’s. Alexia would even go as far to say that you're pretty much moved into her apartment. Your dog had a bed in her apartment, your training kit and bag had a permanent spot at her door, most of your clothes were now sitting next to Alexia’s in her wardrobe.

Your apartment, for the most part, existed purely for the sake of storing all of your furniture. Alexia had brought up leasing it, you’d been dating for almost a year now and whilst it was a short time to move in with each other, the two of you spent so much time together that to her it made the most sense. Beyond that, it was her way of testing the water, to see if her observation was as real as she began to think it was.

Your immediate denial of the idea confirmed what she had been beginning to think.

Originally, she’d thought that maybe you were overwhelmed from constantly being around Alexia, it was a lot being at training together all day and then heading home to each other.

It didn't make sense though.

When you were together, you were attached at the hip. You were both naturally clingy towards each other and after questioning Mapi about it, as ambiguously as she could, she was backed up in that it wasn’t normal behaviour for an overwhelmed person to be so eager to be so connected.

So, the theory was canned and when the following month the same thing happened, Alexia’s curiosity peaked once again.

She moved onto a theory that maybe it was some kind of homesickness, that you just needed to sleep in your own bed a couple of nights every month.

But not only did you constantly complain about your own apartment and how unhomey it felt in comparison to Alexia’s, it was always the same week every month.

Which should have been the biggest clue, and yet for whatever reason it had completely slipped past Alexia.

It was only when one of the team doctors had approached Alexia about her cycle changing, that it all clicked for her.

Alexia’s period had skipped, and they’d logged it a couple of months ago. Obviously, without noticing, it had been because the two of you had synched up, which made plenty of sense.

Alexia’s period was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a true bother, just something she had to put up with. In all honesties though, for her, her period was nothing to her, she had hardly any symptoms, her body functioned the exact same way, everything was almost the exact same.

Yet, every month, when apparently your period came around, you happened to disappear for a couple of days. Alexia would have loved to think it was a coincidence, but with her new knowledge, she decided to put it to test.

She wasn’t surprised, when the following month her own period came, a couple of days later you were back to hiding out at your place for a couple of nights.

Like lightwork, when you came back to Alexia, you were the exact same, like nothing had happened, and yet Alexia was certain that there was something being hidden underneath the surface.

A lot of people were insecure about their period, Alexia had grown up in a house full of girls, her period had been anything but stigmatised, and she was grateful for that.

She was self aware enough though to know that not everybody was fortunate enough to have that same experience. She was also aware that unfortunately, sometimes peoples partners could be unaccepting and close minded about those kinds of things.

So, when the following month, Alexia got her period and without fail, four days later you mentioned that you would drive yourself to training so that you could head back to your apartment afterwards, Alexia was already plotting away.

She had time to think about it during video review that day, there wasn’t a lot to focus on then when the team was coming off of a 4-0 win to Atletico and anything that was of importance, aAlexia had already noted when she’d watched the immediately after the game.

It was a sound plan in her mind, chocolate, a heat pack, your favourite italian takeaway, Alexia’s favourite hoodie that you always tried to steal and your favourite blanket from her apartment.

Alexia wanted you to know that you could be just as comfortable in her home, regardless of what was happening. Hopefully, in knowing that, you’d let go of the part of you that was so clearly avoiding Alexia.

Alexia, above being observant, liked to be a problem solver. She liked to take initiative, she liked to fix things.

So, after a shower and a quick snack when she’d returned home, she packed up all of the supplies. On the way to your apartment, which she hadn’t visited in months, she picked up food and then was on her way.

In the early months of your relationship, it had just been easier for the two of you to spend time at Alexia’s because it was closer to the training grounds and more lived in.

Whilst you’d been living in Barcelona now for nearly three years, your home was still in England, and it had been hard for you to fully settle into Barcelona even if it was your home for now.

Alexia knew it, so she’d welcomed you into her home with open arms. It had been heartwarming for her to slowly watch you integrate yourself into Alexia’s life, it made her happier then anything else.

So, she made her mind up that whatever this bump was, she was going to help you get over it, so that she could have all of you, and most importantly so you would feel like Alexia cared.

The feeling that Alexia got as she pulled up next to your car in the lot of your apartment was chilling, in her gut it felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that set into Alexia's stomach as she stepped out of her car and hurried to collect her things before making her way over to the elevator.

Alexia stays as composed as she can manage, even though on the inside, the worry is starting to set in.

It’s not like theoretically she has anything to worry about, it’s not like this is an abnormal situation, but the weird feeling in Alexia’s stomach is putting her off and the only thing that she can think will make it better is seeing your face.

All Alexia wants to do is wrap you up in her arms for a moment, for her own peace of mind, to stop the off feeling that has been resonating inside of her as she’s tried to get to the bottom of this problem, that’s not really a problem. It’s an inconsistency, and one thing about Alexia is that she doesn’t like inconsistency. She fixes problems, she doesn’t enjoy living life whilst there is something that isn’t quite right, and she needs to make this right.

Alexia knocks at your door quietly, two little raps that she hopes you hear.

When she receives nothing in response, she knocks again, this time a little bit louder.

Alexia waits a few seconds, whilst it’s been a couple of hours since your session there is the off chance that you're in the shower or bath.

After quite a bit of waiting with no noises from the other side of the door, Alexia knocks once more, already pulling her keychain from her pocket and feeling for the spare key to your apartment.

When she finds it, she pulls it up to the lock, waiting just a few more seconds before slotting it into the keyhole and twisting it until it clicks.

The first thing Alexia notices is that your apartment is completely pitch black and if it weren’t for the fact that she saw your car earlier, she might have just left.

Alexia tiptoes her way through the entryway and into your kitchen, it’s hard to see much with all of the blinds pulled shut and none of the lights on, so she blindly feels around for the light switch until she finally finds it and flicks it.

The immediate groan that comes from the direction of your couch definitely does not go unnoticed by Alexia.

“Lights off.”

As fast as she can, Alexia turns the light back off, before curiously tiptoeing over to the edge of your couch.

You’re a lump under a pile of blankets, but she’s able to make out the shape of your body underneath it.

“Hey baby.”

You groan again, and the feeling in Alexia’s stomach only gets worse.

Alexia takes a few steps forwards, assessing you in front of her.

Her hand reaches out tentatively for you, she feels around the mass of blankets until she feels a part of your body underneath the pile of fluff, she follows the lump until she makes her way up to your head.

Your whole body is warm, or the blankets are warm, she isn’t actually quite sure where the blankets end and your body starts.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice is all croaky, and Alexia is certain you must be sick and she’s somehow missed all the symptoms of it.

“I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Alexia’s hand finally finds a bit of skin on your neck and she traces her fingers until she finds your jawline.

“Go home, Ale.”

The sound of your voice is making Alexia antsy, she can’t believe she’s missed the fact that you are sick.

“No, bebita, you’re sick and I’m here to look after you. I have your favourite food and chocolate, we can cuddle up in bed and you can sleep this off. I brought my hoodie for you.”

Alexia turns your head up, so your hair is peaking out of the blanket mound and she can see your squinted eyes.

“I’m not sick, Alexia.”

You keep your eyes crammed shut for the sake of not making the pounding headache you have any worse.

“Bebita, you’re all hot and croaky, it’s okay to be sick, I’m here to look after you.”

If you weren’t working so hard to keep your eyes closed you’d roll them, but that seems like far too much work for right now.

“Alexia I’m not sick, I’m just on my period.”

Alexia’s brow furrows, if your eyes weren’t closed you’d catch it. It’s the same furrow that always happens when Alexia thinks somebody else is wrong and she’s right.

“Bebita, this seems like a little bit more than a period. It’s okay, I’m here.”

You groan and Alexia recoils slightly.

“It’s just my period.”

Your deadpan makes Alexia confused.

“Your period shouldn’t be this bad. Are you having some heatstroke? It’s been warm out today, or are you having a migraine? You need to remember to hydrate.”

Your head is throbbing and Alexia’s theories aren’t helping.

“I have endometriosis Alexia, this is what my period looks like.It’s not fucking heatstroke or a sickness it’s just how my body is..”

Out of everything Alexia had been suspecting, that wasn’t it.

It suddenly dawns on Alexia that she can’t fix what you’ve just told her, she’s standing in front of you completely dumbfounded at what to do in this moment.

Alexia is a problem solver, she finds solutions for the biggest and smallest problems, and yet she doesn’t have a solution for the problem she is being faced with.

“Baby, just go home, the first night for me is always the worst, if I feel better I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

Alexia doesn’t have a solution to the pain you are going through, but she knows she isn’t going to let you suffer alone. The information that you’ve been doing this by yourself for a year now is making Alexia feel like the worst girlfriend ever and she’s going to change that.

“No, bebita, no. I’m staying here tonight, I’m here for you mi vida. Would it make you feel better if we got you into bed or into a bath? What’s going to make you more comfortable? Have you had medication? How about some food?”

When another groan leaves your lips, Alexia becomes aware that she’s approaching this the wrong way.

“How about I go and put the food in your kitchen and you decide what’s going to make you feel best. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

Alexia quietly tiptoes back into your kitchen, taking her time to put her things away and pulling two bottles of water from your fridge before making her way back into your living room.

You’ve emerged from your pile by the time she is back, your eyes are still closed but just seeing your face makes Alexia’s nerves settle just a little bit.

“Can we go to my bed, please?”

Alexia smiles at you softly.

“Of course amor, do you want me to carry you or do you think you can walk?”

The apprehension on your face is enough of a answer for Alexia.

She walks over towards you, picking up your blanket fort and body like it’s nothing and gently lifting you up, stepping carefully in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan out at the change of position, nothing feels good at the moment but Alexia’s arms are more comforting than the scratchy material of your couch cushions.

When she makes it to your bed, she lowers you down like you are the most delicate piece of glass, making sure that you’re tucked underneath the sheets before easing you out of your arms.

“Do you need anything? Heat pack? Water? Talk?”

Again, all Alexia’s words do is make the itching pain all over your body ten times worse, it’s all consuming and makes you feel choked.

“Bed, hugs, that’s all I want.”

Alexia is antsy, she wants to make the pain you are in better, she wants to know what to do right now instead of being completely blind in the situation.

“Are you sure? How about some pain relief or a cold compress?”

Alexia is no doctor, and up until five minutes ago she had absolutely no idea about this whole situation and whether she feels like she can admit it or not she’s terrified about it all.

She’s made up her mind that as soon as you're asleep she’s going to go on a deep dive of google searches to get to the bottom of this whole situation, but that will have to wait.

“Alexia, if you want to be here, just get into bed and give me some fucking hugs. I’m not in the mood to be told what to do with my body when I’ve been dealing with this for years, make up your mind of whether you want to be here or not.”

Alexia avoids conflict with you at all costs, she’s earned the title around your football friends of being your puppy dog, because she simply agrees to anything and everything that leaves your lips, and hearing you remotely mad at her makes her crumble.

“Sorry bebita, I’m so sorry, you’re right. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Alexia makes quick work of slipping her shoes off, something she never got around to in the darkness of your entryway.

She follows by taking her socks and outer layers off, stripping down until she’s in her tank top and a pair of old Barcelona training shorts.

Once she’s done she creeps around to the other side of your bed, slipping underneath the covers as subtly as she can manage.

When she’s completely covered, she lies back, unsure of how to approach all of this new information.

“You’re lying like a rigid corpse.”

Alexia gulps, she can see you in her peripherals, you look absolutely exhausted and in the kindest way possible, ten years older with the amount of wrinkles across your skin, bumps and ridges she can only imagine are the tightness holding in all of the struggle that you’re going through underneath the surface.

“Alexia, I’m okay, I’m not dying.”

Alexia knows theoretically that is true, she doesn’t have endometriosis and she’s not close to anybody who does, but she knows what it is. She knows it’s not cancer or something life-threatening, but the depth of the realisation that you’ve been suffering for so long and have kept it from Alexia is slowly pulling her apart at the seams.

You roll over slightly, it causes shocks of pain to go up and down your back and stomach, but you need the comfort as much as Alexia does, even if she isn’t ready to accept it.

She’s going through her process, compartmentalising all of it so she can be the brave and stoic face she always is.

You’re used to it, and you’ve come to realise that even though in these kinds of situations it seems like Alexia needs to be left alone, in reality she needs to be kept close by her nearest and dearest.

So, you worm your way on top of her body, it makes the cramps ten times worse and the nausea takes control of your stomach, forcing somersault after somersault, but when Alexia’s arms reach around you out of instinct it’s worth it.

You’re in pain, your uterus feels like it’s got knives embedded along the lining of it, like there are needles poking in and out of your back and gunshots being fired across your lower abdomen. But you’re well used to it, you’re used to the feeling of needing to throw up from having such intense throbbing pain across your whole core.

You’re used to the pounding headaches and migraines that come naturally from your body being so inflamed and agitated that all the tension eventually spreads to every single inch of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the edges of your toes.

Your head settles on Alexia’s shoulder, and her hand snakes it’s way down to the outside of your thigh, she’s being more cautious than she’s ever been with you and the normal you would probably be heartwarmed by her sweetness but the part of you that is currently seeing the worst kind of stars because of the cramps coursing through your body is just desperate to climb into her bones now that she is here with you.

It’s been ingrained in you since you were a kid that it was best to not bother other people with your weakness, it was your own struggle, your own burden.

You’d kept it from Alexia for this sole purpose, for the purpose that you knew she would take it all on as her problem, that she would try and fix it all and spend all of her time and energy trying to solve it all when you just wanted her to treat you the exact same.

She treated you like a princess everyday, but add a crippling reproductive condition and you knew she’d treat you like a priceless artefact. You were grateful you had a person in your life who would move heaven and earth in such a way for you but it was suffocating sometimes, when you were functioning on a normal level.

It was with those thoughts running rampant in your head that you slipped off into the same light sleep that you were lucky to drift into in these circumstances.

Whilst you drifted off, Alexia was left alone with her own thoughts.

Insecurity wasn’t something Alexia experienced often, she was secure in her body, she is as secure in her football as she has been since her knee injury, she’s secure in her family and up until today she felt completely secure in her relationship.

Now, she doesn’t know how she feels.

She knows that it’s likely you have a good reason to have kept this a secret, or a reason that you’ve justified to yourself. She knows underneath it all, you’re the one who’s secretly been hiding a big insecurity from her and she has no right to be truly mad about it, she’s disappointed that you haven’t felt able to share this with her when it feels like Alexia has bared all of her deepest, boniest secrets with you.

She does what makes sense, she reaches for her phone from her short pocket and begins to google all of the big questions that are swirling around in her mind.

You might have wanted to keep this a secret from Alexia but now that she knows about it she’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t educate herself on this.

So, instead of drifting off to sleep, Alexia drifts off into the land of medical journals and words that she doesn’t understand the meaning of but she’s determined to figure out.

You wake up in the morning in less of a state of excruciating suffering, instead of being stuck in a fiery inferno of hell you feel like you're dancing more on the periphery.

Your body is warm, in a way that makes you feel less like your insides are scorching you from the inside and more like you're generally just hot.

It feels like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as you try to unroll from the blankets that you’d swaddled yourself in the night beforehand in an attempt to try and make yourself feel as small as possible in hopes it would somehow shrink down everything you were feeling.

It’s a feverish dream, and as you recall your night, blotches begin to come back to you and the memory of your girlfriend appearing somewhere along the way makes the dull cramps across the front of your stomach beat in a way that makes you uncomfortably uneasy all over again.

As you assess your surroundings and open your eyes for what feels like the first time in months, you notice that Alexia is no longer in bed with you.

It’s all extremely faint in your head and there is an off chance you’ve dreamt it all up, but the very faint smell of coffee drifting through the air and folded up clothes sitting on the dresser on the wall across from your bed.

You’re feeling less deathly than last night, so you wager your chances with slowly sitting up in your bed, when you don’t feel any different you begin to lift your legs up.

Your muscles ache in the same way they do every time your period comes around, they tweak and they constrict like you’re an eighty year old instead of a twenty something.

It’s rough, it’s uncomfortable and it’s painful but it’s life.

It’s your life, it’s your burden, it’s your problem and knowing that Alexia is now a part of it all makes you queasy in a completely different way.

Your heavy on your feet as you stand up and begin to creep towards the door of your bedroom, with every step every one of your toes grinds against the floorboards. Your heel digs in, your ankles crunch, your body moves in a way that mirrors the way that you are crumbling from within. On these kinds of days, weeks and months, everything hurts. Everything is an effort.

Once you make it to your open door, you steady yourself against it, your nerves are working against you, everything inside of you is actively trying to stop you and you’ll be damned if you let it happen.

You only stand still long enough for it to be classified in your brain as a stall, not a break, not a stop. You can’t stop in times like this, if you stop then you’ll never get going again and that is a whole pit of fuckedupness that you aren’t ready to dive into.

From the door, you try your hardest to tiptoe your way through the hallway to your living space, but it’s impossible in your body.

As you inch closer, the sound of Alexia only becomes more apparent and obvious, and as you creep closer the agitation across your body only gets worse.

As you reach the archway between your hallway and living space, the sight in front of you makes your heart throb and your uterus ache even worse then it already is.

Alexia is swaying in your kitchen, apparently to whatever music she has playing in her head. There is coffee on the counter, accompanied by two bottles of juice and water, like she couldn’t decide what would be best. To accompany the extra drinks is toast, eggs, bacon and pancakes on the stove.

It’s too much.

With the combination of hormones in your bloodstream you’re honestly impressed that you don’t burst into tears.

Alexia’s still here.

Alexia, sweet, loyal Alexia.

You’ve been conditioned to keep all of this a secret, that during this week it’s best to keep yourself and everything you’re going through hidden, for the best of yourself and for everyone around you. Yet, here Alexia is doing way too much for you.

You’re downward spiralling when her voice breaks you out.

“Hey bebe.”

Her voice is close to a coo, the same voice she uses with Irene’s son. You don’t let it affect you in the moment, but you’ll think about the tactic of it later.

“I have food for you, and coffee if you want it, but google told me that sometimes that’s not always good for endometriosis. So I got juice as well, because google also said it might help with inflammation.”

The thought behind it is extremely sweet, and you feel slightly overwhelmed by all of the options.

“You didn’t need to do that for me.”

Alexia frowns, it’s slight and hardly noticeable, but the little wrinkle between her eyebrows is an immediate tell.

“I wanted to, I want to help you, however I can.”

The sentiment behind her words is lost in the sudden shock that you experience as her words settle in, you’ve never met a single person, besides a doctor whose job it was to help you, that gave a shit about this.

When you have no words, Alexia finds some for you.

“I want to talk to you about this, I want to know about it, I want to help you. We’re partners, we do everything together, and I want to do this with you. I don’t want you to lock me out and I don’t want you suffering alone. I’m here for this, I’m here for you to lean on.”

You nod your head, her words feel like a drug, like it’s lifting away some of the pain you’re going through.

“I’m serious, this isn’t something you can hide from me. You looked after me when I hurt my knee and I am here to look after you in the same way when you’re in pain. Bebita?”

Alexia’s hand falls to your side, caressing your hip gently.

“I’m not used to people knowing about this, and I’m even more not used to people caring, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to process.”

Alexia’s face softens, and before you can say any other stupid mumbles, she pulls you from the hip into her body. Her arms are warm, and yet oddly they soothe your prickly skin.

You melt into Alexia, you feel like shit but she makes you feel marginally better.

“Coffee, or juice?”

You stifle a giggle that falls from your lips.

“Juice, please.”

Alexia relaxes her arms, taking a step back.

“Can I get you any pain relief, or a new heat pack? Is your headache better?”

Alexia looks at you with so much genuine care that it’s hard to not feel embarrassed.

“Pain relief doesn’t sit well in my stomach on a good day. I save heat packs for when the cramps are really bad or else they don’t have the same effect. My headaches normally are at the end of the day as a result of tension build up during the day.”

Alexia looks as if she’s taking mental note of everything you’ve just told her, for later.

“How about some food, hmm?”

You want to say yes, because Alexia’s clearly gone to so much effort for you, but you know that if you eat this early and then train your stomach contents is going to end up on a pitch or somewhere inconvenient.

“My stomach won’t keep it if we train later, I’m better to eat afterwards.”

Alexia’s brow furrows once again.

“I called the doctor and Pere this morning, we’re both taking today off.”

Everything warm and good about the moment fades, and suddenly all you feel is confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

Alexia steps away from you and retreats into your kitchen, grabbing a glass for you and picking up the bottle of juice that she knows you prefer.

“Because I thought you were dying last night, and you can’t tell me that all of that has just disappeared this morning. You’re struggling and you don’t need to push through pain to prove that you are worthy or good enough. You’re self worth shouldn’t be dictated by you proving to yourself that you can work through a chronic disease. I’m sorry that I didn't notice earlier and that I wasn't there for you earlier but I'm here to advocate for you now.”

You want to tell Alexia that you don’t need an advocate, you can advocate just fine for yourself. But a part of you knows that she doesn’t want to hear it and that part of you is also the part that is crippling from the inside and simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with your girlfriend.

“I train just fine normally.”

Alexia can’t argue that, even though you spend the time in the gym, she’s never heard of anything out of the ordinary occurring.

“But you don’t have to. In fact when I talked to our doctor she told me that she’d been insisting on you being more cautious of your cycle and spending more time resting during it considering your history.”

You roll your eyes, taking the glass of juice Alexia offers you.

Alexia plates up a breakfast that could feed a family of four, but it makes you feel less bad for not eating any of it.

“It’s my body, I know my limits.”

You focus on your glass of juice and not the face Alexia makes at you.

“You know how to continuously meet and exceed your limits, but what about just leaving them and giving yourself some peace. I know nothing about what you are going through, I can only sympathise. But I know this must be incredibly hard and I know you definitely do not give yourself enough grace and definitely don’t care for your needs enough. I’m here for you to confide in, I’ve done my research, I’m prepared to help however you need.”

It’s endearing how clearly prepared Alexia has made herself.

“You’ve done your research, hmm?”

Alexia nods proudly.

“Lots of it. Like about how orgasms can help with cramps.”

She looks like she’s going to say more, but you splutter your juice straight back into your cup, causing her to stop.

Alexia’s always been more open with her sexuality then you are, it’s culturally more acceptable in Spain but she also grew up with it being slightly more normalised.

“Alexia.”

Her grin is broad, like she’s proud that she’s managed to embarrass you.

“It’s true! Although for some people endometriosis can cause pain whilst having sex, so if you’re one of those people then it may not work but if you want to try I’m happy to help, fingers, toys, everything but mouths is on the table.”

Your blush only gets more cemented.

“I’m okay for right now, the thought of any kind of intimacy makes my fallopian tubes ache.”

Alexia nods her head, you are certain that sometime in the future this topic will arise again. Alexia’s rabbit-like sex drive makes it hard to not involve sex in everything you do together.

“Can I ask what your symptoms normally look like?”

Alexia’s lip is caught between her teeth, it’s the first time she’s looked nervous this entire conversation.

“Of course. Normally for me, I get bad pelvic pain which never really goes away, sweats, fever sometimes, cramps everywhere, i bloat, i get quite nauseous and occasionally it can make me moody. Furthermore, it can cause me to have migraines, some joint pain, insomnia, there are other things but those are the main ones. Overall it just makes me drained, i’m more fatigued but I can’t sleep, it makes me feel pretty lifeless.”

Alexia nods, she listens to every single word with so much attention.

“I always assumed the scars on your stomach were from getting your appendix removed, but I’m assuming now it’s a laparoscopy?”

You’re impressed by the level of detail Alexia has gone to for you.

“I have had my appendix removed but also yes, I’ve had two laparoscopy’s and I’m putting off getting my third done.”

Alexia nods.

“Do they make it better?”

You bite your lip before nodding.

“It’s never perfect, but for a bit it definitely makes my symptoms better. I’m putting off getting my next one because the last time I did it put me out of action for two months and it took me a while to get back to where I was. My body is different, it changes you. Before you ask, I’ve tried birth control, I’ve tried IUD’s, I’ve tried other forms of contraception, they all made it impossible for me to play football.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that, it’s your decision what you do and don’t put in your body, and I’m sure you’re just making whatever decisions work best for you.”

It’s refreshing having somebody not question what you do and don’t do for yourself.

“That means a lot to me.”

Alexia puts down her cutlery, her food somehow disappearing into her stomach.

“It’s just what love is, and I’m here to love you for forever, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve put off crying, you’ve tried your very best, but it’s not possible anymore.

The tears fall freely, and before you know it Alexia has pulled you into her lap.

It hurts, everything hurts, and yet everything feels so much better knowing you’re in her arms.

“I’ve got you bebita, I’m here now, I’m here to help you work this all out.”

——————————————————————

whelp that’s done! thoughts, feedback and general opinions would be appreciated! i’m so happy to have made something for yall and it’s rushed and super unedited and definitely not my favorite work but i hope you enjoy it all the same 🫶

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pepperyduck · 5 months ago

Text

cheater, pt.2 - satoru gojo

word count: 1.2k

warnings: heartbroken gojo, jealousy, spiteful cheating, descriptions of suguru geto x reader, marriage problems, pathetic gojo. (18+ mdni!)

notes: gosh thank u for all the love on the last part!!! please read pt. 1 before this one, or don't, it's rly up to u.

you can find part one here

masterlist

multitudes of shopping bags rustle when you enter your home, a home that’s been silent for months now since satoru left you for his girlfriend. he didn’t actually leave, traces of him still lingered around the house from time to time when he wasn’t out with her, but those encounters remained faint traces, you had barely spoken to him unless it was to discuss something important.

you had mostly talked to satoru about a possible divorce – he brought the subject up after weeks of his girlfriend begging him to be with her for good now.

“your parents will disown you, satoru,” you had said, physically ignoring the man that sat across the kitchen from you, “and mine will hate you. plus, you don’t make that much money now, anyway.” you passively insulted the man. satoru agreed, however, his parents adored you since birth, and divorce was one of the things they wouldn’t put up with. the marriage started for convenience, and it would stay that way until one of you mustered up the courage to make a divorce final.

the current situation wasn’t all bad, though, it was an agreement without words that you and satoru lived married while he had his fun. and with the more fun he had, the less you began to care. it was the first time in your life you were genuinely able to focus on yourself without a husband to worry about. you concocted many hobbies, you learned how to cook healthier – no longer having to adjust your tastes to satoru’s liking – and decided to hit the gym a few days a week. progress started slowly, but you could see the tone in your body begin to show after a few months.

now, you had time to think about your appearance more, you tried new things with your hair and makeup, you bought a new wardrobe to fit your liking better. your old clothes stayed pushed to the side, growing wrinkly as you filled your closet up with better designer brands, you no longer worried about what satoru thought of you. satoru had moved his things into a different room, leaving you the space of the master bedroom to fill up with décor you fancied. your confidence grew more than ever, beginning to feel beautiful after a while.

you were always beautiful, of course, but it’s a much better feeling when you can see it in the mirror.

deciding to give your husband a taste of his own medicine, you start to date around and dip your toes into the wonderful world of hookups and first dates. you think it’s insane how easily men are on their knees, begging for you to go on a date with them, just one date, please! you got better treatment over the course of a month than you ever had with satoru; men would vow their loyalty to you, something satoru never did, obviously.

after satoru’s refusal to divorce you, his girlfriend left him, but the fact was unknown to you. sure, you noticed him moping around the house more often, but you figured he finally got tired of her and needed space. but his time at home forced him to see you come home with all kinds of guys, ones that were taller, handsomer, and stronger than him.

satoru saw the change in you, and god, he had never felt so in love with you since you found your new confidence and style. you were simply ravishing, and now satoru feels a pang of guilt for failing to realize what he had in front of him for so long.

the envy that boiled in his chest was a new feeling for him. he never thought he would be jealous of you giving him the same treatment he had been giving you. yet, there he was, watching from the kitchen as you giggle wrapped in someone else’s arms, furiously making out in the entryway without paying any mind to satoru. it bothered him.

and, oh boy, when you walk through the door with his ex-best friend from college, suguru, satoru swears he could go crazy.

satoru’s eyes focus their attention from some tv dinner to the door when you and suguru stumble though, laughing and carried away in one another’s presence. he had never seen you feel so alive, not even when you didn’t know he was cheating, you never acted that way with him. satoru has a look in his eyes the instant he sees you, the same look he had when he was about to kill someone, a crazed, insane look.

suguru flips you around and pins you to the wall, so he’s facing right at satoru, and he looks him in the eyes as he fiercely makes out with you.

if satoru had a gun, he’d point it right at the both of you.

yet he doesn’t have a gun, or anything really, just a fit of jealously growing stronger and stronger the more you make out with someone that hurt him so badly.

so this is what it feels like, huh?

satoru stands up and slams his chair back under the table, only growing angry when it doesn’t seem to phase you at all. he goes upstairs and slams the door to his room shut when he enters. he doesn’t…he can’t do anything. he can’t stop you from having free will, and he definitely can’t call you out for doing the same thing to him that he did to you. he sits down on the bed, a bed he should’ve been sharing with you, and he tangles his fingers in his hair, insecure thoughts clouding his mind.

for once in his life, the smug bastard known as satoru gojo was pitiful.

the screams of suguru’s name keep satoru up until the early hours of the morning.

the next day, you’re cooking breakfast later in the morning after suguru leaves. it feels like a very successful night. satoru walks into the kitchen, having had a sleepless night, and plops down at the table while he stares at you.

you’re so perfect, you always have been, why did he have to be so stupid about ruining his marriage with the perfect woman?

“so, suguru, huh?” satoru questions, crossing his arms.

“hmm?” you hum, viciously smiling inside because the bothered tone satoru had was so deliciously obvious.

“listen,” satoru starts, hesitating for a moment because he might pity himself for the way he’s about to speak to you. “i’m…sorry,” he mutters, almost inaudible, sighing afterwards.

you glance over your shoulder, seeing your husband look so tired and…hurt?

“don’t apologize, satoru. you and i both know it’s much too late for that now,” you aptly reply, “you should’ve thought about that long ago.”

your words are a knife in satoru’s chest, and it only feels as if you’re stabbing him over and over the more you speak, looking away from him again to focus on the stovetop.

“don’t apologize to me because you feel bad now. you’re only saying sorry because your feelings are the ones getting hurt this time,” your words send waves of guilt, sadness, and downright pain through your husbands body, “and quite frankly, i don’t care.”

satoru wants to retort, he wants to reply with something smug but his mind draws a blank as he only stares at you, ultimately betrayed by his own actions — his once kind, sweet wife has left him behind in a mess of himself.

his apologies no longer mean anything to you. you’ve grown too strong for satoru. he’ll continue to be a pathetic mess, until one day, hopefully, you choose to forgive him for what he’s done.

maybe you will, maybe you won’t. it’s up for you to decide.

taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur @painted-hills @kundere20000000

let me know if u wanna be added!

#satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo angst #gojo x reader

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chuusmuts · 7 months ago

Text

imagine innocent!kabukimono losing his mind

smut. afab reader, fingering, slight boobs and nipple play, oral (female receiving), marking, fingering. not proofread.

yeah, it's been a while ig... anyway, new ver of innocent kabukimono because why not (can't really call him innocent now but idk and tbh idc).

who would've thought that the day when he had to rate your dress would come? oftentimes, you would wear a casual outfit everyday, even to gatherings. but this, this was different– you were meeting your girl friends which you hadn't seen in years. so obviously, you wanted to look as pretty as you could.

therefore, here he was, seated on your bed as he watched you picked all kind of dresses from your wardrobe before throwing them beside him. he could feel his cheeks heating up at seeing you in just a towel as he tried his hardest to play it off as if he wasn't affected by your presence. but the fact that his dick was tenting his kimono was a dead giveaway.

"oh... uhm..." he fumbled over his words as blush dusted his cheeks and ears. "i- i can help you with that." he stuttered out, shifting uncomfortably on the soft mattress. his gaze flickered between the dresses laid out and your exposed skin, torn between choosing one and admiring you. his heart rate quickened as you took a step closer to him, choosing a few dresses.

"but i- it might be better if you picked something yourself." he suggested timidly, his voice barely above a whisper. he couldn't bear the thought of seeing you uncomfortable because of him. you put your index finger against your chin, indicating you're thinking before speaking up while holding up two elegant dresses, "then, i'll try both of these dresses and you tell me which one is prettier, okay?" without waiting for his response, you ran into the bathroom and changed into one of the dresses you chose.

minutes later, kabukimono watched with wide-eyed as you emerged from the bathroom wearing a short, black dress. It clung to every curve of your body, leaving little to his imagination. his breath hitched in his throat, and his mouth immediately went dry. "what do you think? mind rating from one to ten?" you spun around, a happy smile plastered on your cute face. the way your hips tilted gave a glimpse of ass crack showing just how short your dress was.

his eyes trailed down your body, taking in the way the fabric hugged your hips and accentuated your ass. he swallowed hard as unholy thoughts started to filled his mind. this was too much for him, and yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. subconsciously, his gaze dropped lower to where the hem of the dress rode up slightly to reveal a hint of your crack, causing the urge to touch you and to feel your soft skin under his fingers was mind-blowing."t- ten. i-it's... it's really pretty..." he murmured, shakily.

your smile grew even wider after hearing his response. you grabbed another dress excitedly and quickly ran to the bathroom. "i'll try this one next. don't go anywhere!" you said while you did so. he nodded jerkily, his eyes glued to your retreating form. he tried to look away, but he found himself unable to resist watching as you disappeared behind the bathroom door. this was definitely strange— he was just a puppet, a failed, innocent puppet who was thrown away and was exposed to this cruel world. this wasn't supposed to happen, but he couldn't help it as the image of your fresh ass crack flashed in his mind, making his dick throb even harder.

he groaned softly, rubbing his free hand over his throbbing member through the fabric of his kimono. it was becoming more and more obvious that he was getting turned on by this whole situation. he waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to ignore the ache in his groin. he knew that he shouldn't be touching himself like this, but he couldn't seem to stop. just the thought of you coming back out in that other dress was driving him wild.

though, as soon as he heard the creaking of the door, he immediately removed his hand from his member and tried to act normal. it's amazing how you're so oblivious to his abnormal breathing and the way he's sweating and blushing so much. nevertheless, you stepped out of the bathroom shyly with a blush coating cheeks, "w- what do you think about this one?" you looked breathtaking in the new dress– a pastel pink number that clung to your curves even tighter than the previous one.

kabukimono's eyes widened as you stood in front of him. the low neckline revealed more of your cleavage was mouthwatering, and the off-the-shoulder design left your shoulders bare, accentuating your slender neck. he loved the way the dress fell just above your ankles, creating a sense of elegance and grace.

"fuck." he cursed to himself. "it's..." he paused, struggling to find the right word. his gaze kept darting between your face and your breasts that were practically spilling out from the dress, lost in the beautiful sight of you. "...breathtaking." the word slipped out before he could censor himself. without realizing it, he took a step towards you, his eyes filled with desire. his tongue swiped over his lips as he fought the urge to reach out and touch you.

the blush on your cheeks darkened and you instantly turned shy. you didn't know what got into you but your smaller fingers swiftly reached out to him, holding his hand gently and pulling him closer, "do you want to touch my dress, kabuki?"

and the next moment you knew, you were pinned by him.

it was quick when he pushed you against the bed, his weight was pressed into yours, on top of yours. he found himself breathing heavily as if he didn't know how to breathe at the first place. his hands were beside your head, trapping you and suddenly he didn't understand why he needed to wear clothes anymore, why YOU needed to wear that gorgeous dress anymore. it was as if his sanity had left him, the desire to touch you, to fuck you getting stronger and overwhelming him.

he was desperate, desperate for you.

"...kabukimono?" you asked confusingly, your hands crawling up to caress his cheek and your thumb brushing against his lips which caused his breath to hitch and his eyes fluttered shut. the sensation of your thumb brushing against his lips was almost too much, sending shivers shooting through his veins and making you irresistible.

he opened his eyes again, looking down at you with a mix of desperation and longing. his hands tightened around yours, pulling them away from his face and bringing them down to rest on your waist. "i... i can't help it." he whispered, his voice husky with arousal.

his hips grounded against yours, the hardness of his cock pressing insistently against the thin fabric of your dress and he bit his lower lip, stiffling the moan he accidentally let out. "you're so fucking sexy." he breathed out, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

your eyes dilated slightly before the corner of your mouth curved upward into a soft smile. then carefully, and without a word, you lifted up his head and pulled it back down until both of your lips met. it was slow, sensual and soft kiss, one that he'd never expect from you.

but he groaned into your lips, urging you to go faster and kept up with him. he drank your lips in a quick and careless way without any thought about the future as you tried your best to keep up with his intense speed. a moan escaped your lips and your eyes were closed as his hand found itself on your nape.

kabukimono's world narrowed down to the feeling of your lips against his own. he kissed you fiercely, hungrily, as if he was starved for the taste of you while his hand on your nape tightened, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. the other hand slid up from your collarbone to you shoulder before slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

his fingers danced across your skin, teasing over the swell of your breast before cupping its softness. he squeezed them gently, massaging the firm mound as he continued to ravage your mouth with his, causing soft moans continued spilling from your delicious lips. a soft growl rumbled in his throat, vibrating against your lips. in that moment, kabukimono was consumed by need, he wanted nothing more than to tear away the layers of fabric separating their bodies and claim you completely.

and he did just that.

unwittingly, you whined loudly as he ripped off your dress and left you naked. arching your back, you felt his tongue licking the tip of your nipple. "fuck..." he growled against your tits as he sucked them eagerly. he tasted of sweat and need, and it was driving you crazy. your body trembled under his, but instead of pushing him away, your legs parted subtly, inviting him to move lower.

he leaned forward once more, kissing and sucking all over your skin until red and purple marks were all over you. each nip and lick sent shivers running down your spine, until you could feel yourself growing wetter beneath your dress.

kabukimono's attention was solely focused on your body, on every inch of skin he could see and touch. he lavished attention on each breast, suckling and nibbling until they were flushed and throbbing. his hands roamed over your curves, squeezing and kneading the flesh as if trying to imprint his touch onto your skin.

as he moved further south, his kisses trailed along your stomach before reaching the apex of your thighs. he glanced up at you, his indigo eyes burning with lust as he saw the slick evidence of your arousal. without hesitation, he inhaled your scent deeply before burying his face between your legs.

his hands firmly spread your thighs wide, giving him full access to feast upon your dripping cunt, exposing your clit to his eager mouth. a lewd soud keened from your throat as he dipped his tongue into your folds, tasting the sweet essence of your arousal. a guttural moan vibrated against your clit as he licked and lapped at your pussy. he was relentless as his mouth worshipped every inch of inside your walls, making your breath hitched endlessly and your hips bucked involuntarily every time he let out a loud slurping sound.

feeling your body react to his ministrations especially your hands which were gripping and pulling on his hair tightly only spurred him on further. his tongue delved deeper into your warmth, lapping at the sensitive walls of your pussy. his hands held you steady, one gripping your hip tightly while the other wandered upwards to tease your hardened nipple. he sucked hard on the little nubbin, using his teeth to give a slight pinch before returning to your needy slit.

kabukimono was lost in the taste of you, in the way your body quivered and squirmed beneath his touch. it was intoxicating, driving him wild with desire.

the previous hand had slipped between your legs and he slipped two fingers into your wetness. he curled them, seeking out that sensitive spot inside you that would make you scream. his thumb circled your swollen clit, making sure to apply pressure that had jolts of electricity coursing through your body and you writhing beneath him.y

he pumped his fingers slowly, setting a rhythm that made your toes curl. every thrust was accompanied by another slurping or a sharp nip of his teeth teeth on your clit. tears gathered at the corner of your eyes and perspiration began to run down your forehead as you pulled his hair harder due to the dual assault on your sex.

kabukimono worked his fingers and mouth in perfect harmony, intent on drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling mess beneath him. his tongue flicked over your clit, alternating between gentle licks and rough sucks.

the sounds of your moans and whimpers as well as his filled the air. once more he curled them, finding that sweet spot that made you gasp and arch your back. with his free hand, he reached up to stroke himself through the thin fabric of his kimono. the friction was deliciously torturous, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience. he grunted softly and his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own edge. he felt like he could cum just by eating you out and hearing your whimpers.

with every stroke, he felt you tighten around his fingers, your body ready to explode under his relentless onslaught. yet, he quickly stopped before you could cum, pulling out his mouth as well as his fingers from your drooling cunt, making you whined needily. chuckling breathlessly, he licked your slick off his fingers before slipping off his kimono, revealing his hard length and pushing it entirely into you.

and instead of letting you cry out, he pressed his lips against yours, silencing you as he jerked into you. your walls immediately clenched around him, signaling that you were close to cumming. kabukimono broke the kiss momentarily, panting heavily as he thrust into you. his cock was thick and hard, stretching you deliciously while he began to move. he grabbed your ass firmly, angling his hips so that he could hit that sweet spot inside you.

his thrusts became more urgent, more fast and hard. with each push he grunted, his voice a low rumble against your skin. you could feel his pulse quickening and his strokes becoming erratic. his lips found yours again, muffling your cries of pleasure. though, there was no hiding the way your body shook underneath him as well as how your inner muscles clenched around him as you teetered on the brink of release.

you yelped in pleasure as he continued to abuse your hole. once more, he pulled out his entire length and slammed it back into you, succesfully making you saw stars as you came with a loud mewl. you breathed heavily, head still dizzy from the pleasure.

he didn't gave you a chance to rest as he relentlessly pounded into you until he could hold back no longer. but before he reached his climax, you could hear him sobbing quietly. "fuck, you feel so good, i don't want this to end..." and he released his seed, filling you up with a cry just as loud as yours.

kabukimono was shaking, his body tensing as he spilled his seed deep inside you, as tears streamed down his cheeks. he slowed down his pace, his thrusts more gentler now as he rode out his orgasm all while his cock twitched inside your clenching walls.

he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. his sobs were quiet, barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat. his body trembled slightly just as he came down from his high and his grip on your thigh loosening. despite everything, there was something undeniably comforting about being close to you. resting his forehead against yours, he took a moment to catch his breath before lifting himself off of you. but even as he did, he couldn't help but pull you closer, craving and needing the contact.

and now you're in his arms as he planted feather-light kisses all over you, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your hands, your arms and your neck as he murmured. "i'm sorry, i apologize deeply, i didn't know what came into me. that must had hurt."

you stared at him dumbfounded, eyes still glassy, speechless as he grabbed the back of your hands and kissed them, including each one of your knuckles. a soft smile then appeared on your face before you placed your hand on his hair, caressing it gently. "don't worry about me, i'm fine. how about you? you should worry about yourself too."

kabukimono looked up at you, his indigo eyes shimmering with unshed tears. he let out a shaky sigh, leaning into your touch. "i'm alright... i think," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the remaining tears.

he leaned forward, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips. there was nothing forceful or demanding about it; instead, it was slow and gentle, almost reverential. it wasn't often that kabukimono allowed himself such moments of vulnerability, but with you, he seemed unable to resist. he needed you, craved your touch, your affection. and right now, in this moment, he felt truly content.

in the end, you had to wait for him to sleep before getting up and getting ready again for the gathering. the event almost came to an end when you arrived there.

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neovillains · 23 days ago

Text

10,000 TIMES OVER | GOJO SATORU

syn. they would choose each other ten thousand times over.

── gojo satoru & fem-bodied!reader, black mirror!au, futuristic!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au in an unorthodox sense, alternate universes & different lifestyles, longing, infidelity, angst to fluff, suggestive, minor pairings: gojo satoru & utahime iori, geto suguru & fem-bodied!reader | word count : 7.0k words ( minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact )

special note. this fic is based on the black mirror episode, hang the dj. also, please note that every instance is a different universe, so it's a different lifetime for gojo and reader. [ a small playlist ]

FIRST INSTANCE

It took you two hours to get ready. With hair that is as stubborn as you are, it’s the main culprit as to why you’re running late. In the satin white dress that traverses down your body, what your wardrobe assistant had voiced to be the best attire for this event with a pair of royal blue heels to go along with it. You held up a questionable glance at the ensemble when it was all put together, but again, the artificial assistant persisted that this was the best look for tonight. The baby blue taxi sits in front of your house, the engine running lightly as you jog slowly down the pavement, rushing as the motion sensors of the vehicle lights up and the door automatically opens.

Hopping in, the robotic hum of the driver comes to life, its stiff neck twisting as it places its arm against the seat of the front passenger side. “Welcome,” the taxi android thrums, speaking your name. “You are ten minutes late. Due to your tardiness, we will be arrive at La Grande past your schedule. Are you fine with that?”

“Yes,” you breathe. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting in this car. With a curt nod, the android faces forward, arms moving to put the car into drive as his foot lightly taps on the gas pedal. The car ride is occupied with the sweet melodies of melodic rain patter as the taxi computer assistant can detect your distress.

Do not worry, it states, hooking up to your phone data, pulling up your dating app. Gojo Satoru will adore you. You scoff, shoulders dropping as you fall back into the seat. “How are you so sure? You don’t even know if we’re compatible yet.”

I am trying to offer you words of comfort, the female automated voice states. I apologize if I’m failing to meet your standards. Would you like to complete a survey to help better your experience?

You roll your eyes, propping an elbow up against the car door as you start staring out the window. “Maybe another time,” you whisper.

This got exhausting. Going out on dates in hopes to meet your match, only for all this effort to go to waste when the data collection to finally be complete and given a low score. Though, Gojo Satoru’s dating profile did pique your interest. A handsome man with strikingly white hair that it looked unreal and blue eyes to match his impossible, the algorithm seemed to be bettering itself everyday for such a handsome man to be paired with you.

With every dating profile came the standard information. Your date of birth, gender, star placements, and anything that the computer system deemed important. Little fun facts and quirky shows of personality prohibited as it only allowed for everything relevant. He’s a Sagittarius, which seems interesting enough. You didn’t know what to make of any of the information, but you just needed something to keep you busy during the drive. You tapped away on the screen, your recently done cutiles shining as your nails are adorned in simple French tips. A timer starts to flash in front of you, indicating that there are three minutes left until arrival.

Clicking the power button to your phone, you slip it into your purse as you look through the car window. You can see the restaurant a distant away, ash brown walls and tinted windows as a sign hangs over, a light gray reading its name. You’ve been to this restaurant countless of times before, where you’re sure that the moment you step foot inside, the employees will quickly recognize you. They probably deem you as that girl who has yet to meet her one hundred-percent match yet, finding it completely and utterly embarrassing.

The moment the taxi was safely parked and the door was opening, you jumped out. Heels clicking on the pavement as your hips swayed with your movement. You stopped getting nervous over these dates a long while ago, but there was something on your chest that made it feel so tight as every step you take sounded against the ground. When you approached the door, you were immediately greeted with a friendly nod as the man reached for the handle, holding it open for you.

You reached for your phone from your purse and pulling open the dating app, holding it up to the scanner. With a quick chime, the machine before you buzzed as green lit up and your name reading across the screen. Glad for you to finally arrive, it greeted you. Your date, Satoru Gojo, waits for you at booth ten. Good luck!

You started walking over the moment it told you the table number, memorizing the restaurant by heart as you took a right turn. You manuevered yourself past the tables, making sure to be cautious of rushing hosts and waiters before you see the number ten in one of the booth racks. Immediately, your phones buzz the moment you’re in close proximity of one another, calling for the gentleman’s attention before he realized your presence. He lets his phone drop back on the table, standing up tall.

Your eyes widen, realizing just how tall 6’7” is as he looks down at you. You ignore his greeting, it all coming out muffled as you take in his large statue. Instead, you guffaw. “Wow…”

He laughs, pearly-white blinding you as he nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He helps you by pulling out your chair, not sitting back down until you do. “I know we know each other’s names already from the dating app, but my name’s Gojo Satoru.”

“Gojo Satoru,” you say, trying his name on your tongue before introducing yourself. He reciprocates, tasting your name on his lips before smiling, “That’s a pretty name.”

You don’t get a chance to comment on his statement when the waitress comes over, a cheery smile on her face as she clasps her hands together. “Hello and welcome to La Grande. I’m Utahime and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Have you guys started your order yet?”

“No,” you shake your head, reaching for your phone. “Can we get a few more minutes, so we can, please?”

Utahime nods, glancing at the both of you before disappearing from your sight. Gojo scrunches up his eyebrows, eyes flickering from you and back to the waitress. You’re scrolling through your phone and something tells me that he should be doing the same. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been on one of these dates before. What are we supposed to be doing?”

Your thumb stops as you scrunch up your eyebrows together at his statement, bewildered at his admittance. “What?” you gasp. “You’ve never been matched before? That’s one of the first things you do the moment you turn eighteen. How old are you?”

Gojo chuckled. “Yeah, typically, but there’s a route that you can take if you don’t want to initially start. I decided to do that first before I wanted to take things serious.”

“Oh,” your eyebrows raise, sitting back in your seat as you cross your arms. “You’re a little player.”

Gojo meets your challenging eyes, pointing at you. “I didn’t say that. I meant that I focused on more pressing matters than finding my match.”

“Really?” you ask, finding him intriguing. As well as the fact that you could’ve delayed this all if you had known there was a way to. “What’d you do before—” you gesture around you “— all of this?”

“Prioritized college,” he shrugs. “Not that I had much of a choice. It was that or get disowned by my father.”

“So it was your father’s doing that you haven’t started matching yet?”

“No,” Gojo smirks. “You weren’t necessarily wrong when you said I was a player.” He throws you a wink that you’re ashamed to admit that it made your heart flutter.

For the rest of the night, the two of you were engrossed in each other’s conversations. You showed him the ropes of the dating app and how it functions when going on dates. Though, you were hoping by the rest of the night, neither of you no longer needed it. He told you stories of his childhood— the positive ones— and telling you what life was like without having to worry about your next date. Not only that, but the two of you seemed to mesh well.

When the time allotted for the two of you had ended, the waitress leading you through the door, a taxi waited for the both of you. “We’re supposed to spend the night together,” you tell him, motioning him to the car. “That’s how the app furthers its data.”

“Oh?” Gojo quirks an eyebrow. He has friends who had found their match early, but he was never interested in knowing the process. Right now, he felt like a toddler learning his alphabet all over again as he stopped in his tracks, watching how you walked so seamlessly over to the car, waiting for the door to fully open. You were a gorgeous thing, the way the white dress hugged onto you as your heels shone in the moonlight. He concluded there that he wouldn’t mind spending a night with you.

The moment the two of you stopped at your new destination, the designated place after all first dates, you punched in the code that you read off the phone before the door swung open and lights started flickering on. It was a cozy cabin that was accommodated to all current technology, but still gave the feels and comfort that it had as portrayed in old television shows from back in 2024. Climbing the short three steps, you turned to watch Gojo following you as he took in the small abode.

It was spacious, but in the same word, congested. It was all one room, fitting in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. Only a secluded room for the bathroom. It differed a lot from what he was used to. “This is where we’re supposed to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It took some time getting used to, but we don’t have to do anything. We can just… go to sleep, and wait for the next day.”

“Okay,” he breathes. He followed your words, letting you guide him and show him around. He didn’t have much knowledge on this. His parents only ever spoke good things about the process, but never the finer details of things. However, he remembered them mentioning the process is usually quick. It only took three dates for his parents to find out they were each other’s hundred-percent. However, the way you run around, memorizing everything lets him know that this isn’t even your third rodeo.

“How many dates have you been on?” That question has you stiffen up, turning your head as you reach for a glass from the cabinet. Your eyes flicker away as you set it down on the marble countertop.

“Oh, um…” You hum. “This would be my… twenty-ninth, I believe.”

What? “Oh…”

“Don’t worry,” you try to lighten up the mood. “I’m pretty sure you won’t have bad luck like me. Maybe you’ll find your hundred-percent on the next date.”

You sound so sure that this one will fail. It makes him feel sympathetic towards you, how you’ve grown so accustomed to the failed matches. He inches near you, leaning against the countertop as he grabs your glass. He slides it from one hand to the next as his eyebrows wiggle and a smirk plasters on his lips. “How are so you sure that you aren’t mine?”

You don’t like how he’s gotten you all so flustered. He has a point. Maybe you don’t have to do anymore chasing, spending your afternoons and nights getting ready for a date instead of lounging at home. There’s a possibility that it could be him. However, there’s been guys like him before. Guys that you thought were decent, but didn’t make the cut. You didn’t want to get your hopes up. You didn’t want him getting your hopes up only to feel like a fool.

You don’t answer him, simply going to the fridge and pulling out an unopened bottle of apple juice. You gesture towards the bedroom area, taking the glass from his hold. You ignore the feeling of electricity that runs through your fingertips when your skin touches his. “In the left dresser, there are men’s clothes. You can use the bathroom to get changed while I use the bedroom.”

His shoulders slump, but he nods, body moving involuntarily as his posture straightens and does as he’s told. When he leaves the bathroom, he’s caught you at the wrong time. Fortunately, your back turned to him as you pull on the oversized t-shirt over the night shorts before spinning around.

The bare skin of your back seemed to glisten under the lighting before it’s hidden away before you’re reaching for the bed sheets and feeling his presence. “Oh, hey!”

The air’s lighter as you pat the spot next to you, the tension from before dissipating as you get under the covers. Over your head, there’s a bonnet that you look adorable in as you find yourself getting comfortable. “Don’t get shy. I don’t bite.”

Gojo smirks. “I’m not too sure of that.”

Underneath the covers, the two of you spend majority of the night talking amongst yourself, speaking into the darkness as the moon wisks itself away and the stars seemingly saying goodbye. Nonetheless, the two of you enjoy each other’s company and laughter before eventually falling asleep. It’s six in the morning when both of your phones chime. To you, it’s the familiar notification of the app announcing that the data has been completed. Might as wel get this over and done with.

You didn’t realize that Gojo had reached for his phone before you, long having opened up the app as it’s loading. A slew of pearls going in a circle before the numbers pop up on screen. “Oh.”

Through the sound of devastation, you go to look at your phone as well. And while you weren’t trying to get your hopes up when you read that ten-percent. Yeah… Oh.

500TH INSTANCE

Gojo adjusts his cufflinks, pulling at the fabric of his shirt as the sleeves rise just below hiss elbows. The baby blue shirt becomes more crinkled as he glances at his phone— Utahime Iori is on her way. He’s fidgetting on anything he can find, his stomach starting to growl the longer he waits. He really shouldn’t have arrived early, but listening to the app, he wanted to make a good first impression.

Are you nervous? The male voice of the dating app assistant sounds in his earbud. Absentmindedly, he shakes his head, grumbling while he’s at it. In a low voice, he responds, “No, moreso annoyed. This is my fifth date.”

I’m sure this one will be just fine, the chirpy male voice responds. I have good faith in this one.

“How are you so sure?” Gojo sneers. “You’ve said this three times before already.”

I’m just giving you positive words to cheer you up, the bot voices. If you feel like my vocal services are inadequate, please feel free to turn it off in the settings.

Gojo does that, following the bot assistant’s instructions as he goes to the menu. Clicking on the blue slider, he chucks his phone to the corner of the table before a soft, feminine voice calls for his attention. “Gojo Satoru, right?”

Immediately, Gojo comes to stand, holding out his hand for her to shake. She takes it, appreciating the kind gesture. He takes in the woman— jet black hair and fair skin. She’s pretty, chestnut-colored eyes that seem sweet and friendly with her hair styled down, a white bow in the back, clipping some back. The most noteable thing, however, is the large gash that decorates her face. A few shades darker that her skin, Gojo watches as the light in her eyes falter as she grows self-conscious. Her soft voice alerting him, “Hey, it’s rude to stare.”

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “It’s Utahime Iori, correct?”

“Yeah,” she nods, with the faint of roll of her eyes. “Just like it says on my profile.”

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Utahime only hums in acknowledgement before clicking the button at the center of the table, signaling that the two of them are ready to be served. Without having to order, two plates are brought out for Gojo and Utahime. And just like the last date he was on, he’s been given the same dish. A shrimp alfredo with green beans on the side, Utahime a filet mignon. Her plate looking more appetizing than his as he picks up his fork. Usually, he’d start off each date with compliments, his flirtatious personality coming off so easily on his tongue, but he finds himself tongue-tied. So, instead, he tries starting up normal conversation. “So, what do you do for work?”

Utahime darts a look in Gojo’s direction, scrutinizing him. She grimaces at the app’s choice of date for tonight. He’s really not my type. “Did you not read my profile at all or something? I’m a teacher.”

Gojo’s shoulders droop as he comes to realize that it’s going to be a long night.

When the two of them are brought back to a condominium, one that Gojo’s starting to familiarize himself with, he watches as Utahime kicks off her shoes. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to shower.”

“Second door on your right,” he voices absentmindedly. Again, she says nothing, only humming in acknowledgement before trudging her way down the hall. Gojo pulls out his phone, opening the app as it still reads ‘Collecting Data…’ He lets out a sigh. Why couldn’t she be like my second date? He received the results within twenty minutes of dinner, glad that the results rung out a thirty-five percent. And he was immediately grateful for it, the woman obnoxious the entire time she was there. Why couldn’t I also get lucky with this one?

Gojo finds himself perched at the dining table as the shower runs. He doesn’t bother to get changed, slouching down in the chair as he settles in his misery and into his mind. He thinks back to his first date. The girl he saw hurrying on in only to trip and land in a muddy puddle. You ruined your dress, a black and backless dress that flowed nicely at the skirt. When the two of you were made aware that you were each other’s date, you had given him the go ahead to laugh at you. You followed not too long after, cracking each other up while you sat in the cold establishment dirtied by the rain water. You were each other’s first dates and unfortunately, not either of your last.

When Utahime hopped out of the shower, she came out to the dining area in only just her towel. With a smaller one wrapped around her head, she let that one fall down on the bench as she approached Gojo. Before he could fully register her planned turn of events, she dropped the towel that draped around her body and climbed on his lap. Excess water dripped onto the baby blue shirt as his entire body stiffened, eyes widening. “What’re you—”

“Don’t say anything,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “By the end of the night, we’ll get our results and we won’t have to see each other again after this.”

It’s her certainty that lures Gojo in. After this night, we won’t have to see each other again. And he liked the sounds of that.

Skin slapping against skin, the pungent smell of sex infiltrating the air ducts. The sweet sounds of each other echoing throughout the room as Utahime holds onto Gojo’s shoulders, his hands holding at her hips as he controls her movement. She’s the sweetest like this. When she’s not complaining or making a jab at him for “not” reading her dating profile. Just pure sex without any romantic ties to it, no feelings that bound each other down.

He feels his stomach tighten, the muscles coming together as his grip becomes stronger. “Shit, ‘m g’nna…”

“Hold on,” Utahime cries. “Hold on!”

When Gojo cums, Utahime makes sure that it’s not in, watching how his cock leaks his seed onto her stomach as she fingers herself to her release. Her moans are sweet and sultry, her cunt pulsating before creamy white follows in suit. And when both fall out of euphoria, she’s the one to speak first. “C’mon. Let’s strip the beds before going to bed.”

When the phone chimes at four in the morning, Gojo’s expecting to taste the sweet relief of heading on home, watching how the bubbles swirl in a circle as the app pulls up the database. He rubs out the sleep from his eyes, his sight a little blurry before the number loads up on screen. Digital confetti blinding him and bringing him into a slot of confusion. Huh? It’s never done this before.

His heart drops when he registers what the number says one the screen— One hundred percent.

1,000TH INSTANCE

Geto is a decent guy, you conclude. A very sweet man. However, there’s just something that he lacks. You couldn’t put your finger on just what he was missing though. Long brown hair combed back in a small bun, one lock of hair falling out of place and in front of his face. Chocolate brown eyes that look at you, seemingly assuring you that everything is and will be okay. His voice is smooth, like the sweet blue agave that you pour into your tea.

He carries and each conversation smoothly, listening to you intently as he has his hands propped up, leaning his head against it as hums. He nods his head at everything you say, giving you his undivided attention as he had barely touched his food while you half. You shouldn’t be wishing for this night to end because ideally, this is the partner you wanted. He was the man you so desired and wished for. But those sentences are all in the past tense, and you want to focus on the now.

You have a medium well steak that’s nearly finished. The sides, mashed potatoes and chopped vegetables. Your drink, a Diet Coke, as recommended by the app. Geto a Cesar salad with vidalia onion dressing drenching it. As you continue to talk, the more you get more hungry as you drone on and on about more stuff. It’s in the midst of your never-ending rambling that you become self-conscious, becoming flustered as you look over at Geto sheepishly. “Sorry, am I talking too much? I’ve been told I do.”

“No,” he completely dismisses your worries. “I like that you’re so open with me. I’d listen to you all the time if I could— If I possibly can.”

And that should be flattering. A man willing to listen to his partner at any time of the day if possible, but you still feel uneasy. “No, you know what. What about you? You told me that you grew up on a farm. Your accent doesn’t match your upbringing. Is there a story to that?”

He nods, accepting the change in discussion as he relaxes his shoulders. With a deep breath, he stares off into space for a moment. “There is, uh, a story to that actually.”

You’re sure that the story would have been fascinating if you were truly and genuinely missing. Instead, your eye flicker to outside of the window as you swear you see a familiar face. In a red button up and charcoal gray slacks, you watch as Gojo climbs the short steps up the pavement as the gentleman at the door bows in respect and holds the door open. Geto drones on and on about his childhood as your eyes follow the white-haired man. His head of hair styled back like he had done so with you. Dark circular frames that fit his face, he checks into Pimento’s with his phone before turning in your direction.

Eyes meeting yours, he stops in his tracks as he looks over at you. Neither of you say anything for a while, Gojo calling for attention as onlookers and passers-by become curious as to why the gentleman is so bewildered. Geto’s soothing voice pulls you out of your trance, looking behind him to see just who you’re having a staring contest with. “Do you know him?”

“Huh?” You lose. “What— I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said?”

“The guy,” he gestures to Gojo. “Do you know him?”

“Oh,” your face heats up in embarrassment. “We, uh—” There was no ‘we.’ You barely knew Gojo, the two of you only sharing one date together before the app revealed the dreadful news that the two of you weren’t each other’s hundred-percent. After such heightened conversations and slews of laughter, the two of you just… clicked. However, according to the app’s data base, that wasn’t enough. Thirty-percent, it algorithm had collected that that’s what both of you were, claiming that there were too many differences and that in the long run while the two of you got along now, the future would turn out nasty. The two of you were devastated, but neither of you voiced that. “— We went on a date. That’s all. I just… I just usually never see them again right after, you know?”

“Oh,” Geto nods in understanding. “No, I get that. I’ve yet to see any of my dates again, so that is a little weird.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you lean against the table in curiosity. “How many dates have you been on so far?”

“This would be my fifty-sixth,” Geto answers truthfully, holding no shame to it. Your eyes widen, mouth shaped into an ‘O’ in surprise. Geto chuckles, used to that reaction. “Don’t make fun of me too hard now.”

“I—I’m not!” you hold up your hands in defense. “I’m just—Does your app need some updating or something because how have you not found your hundred-percent yet?”

Geto shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve concluded it to bad luck, but I’m still hopeful.”

“Hopefully, you find the one soon,” you try to assure him.

“Hopefully, you are the one,” he smiles.

Gojo watches from afar, you with your date. You’re smiling. You seem happy. Good, he thinks. You deserve happiness. Though, he believes deep down that it should be with him. Gojo lets out a deep sigh when he reads a notification on his phone. Utahime Iori is one minute away.

You decided you needed a long shower the moment the two of you arrive at the hotel, scanning yourselves in before a keycard is uploaded to your screen. Geto takes the lead in bringing you up to your room, letting you in first as you reach for the light switch. It’s a beautiful room, you have to admit. Cream-colored walls with brown accents. Picture frames hang on the wall, making the area feel more homely. As expected, there’s only one bed.

“If you want to take a shower first,” Geto says. “Go ahead. I want to take a second to relax.”

“Okay,” you chirp. That’s no problem with me. You end up taking an hour long shower, so absorbed in your mind as dread fills it. You just want this night to be over with. You feel so guilty because Geto seems like a nice guy, but you don’t feel a spark to assure yourself that this will be an everlasting connection. By the time you’re twisting the pipe, your fingertips are pruned up and dehydrated. You reach for the towel that hangs on the rack, stepping out.

You curse to yourself in realization that you didn’t get a change of clothes when you’re drying off your face, taken aback when you see just what you need waiting on the bathroom sink. Wait, your eyebrows furrow. These weren’t here before—

Your phone chimes the familiar melody for the results. The loading screen pops up and disappears rather quickly than what you’re used to. One hundred percent.

5,000TH INSTANCE

Perfection can never be achieved. You remember these words from your husband when you first met. You mentioned your love for painting, pulling out your phone to show him your works. Innocent recreations of what’s already been done and a few original pieces of your own. It was an off-handed comment that you made that sparked him to say that. “Oh, it’s not perfect or anything. I just do this for fun.”

“Perfection can never be achieved,” he told you, pushing back the dark strand of hair behind his ear, brown eyes that resemble a fox as they reeled you in with such charm. “Only something that we can aspire for.”

He paused before adding, “But, I’d say you’re damn near close to perfection.”

His smooth-talking immediately locked you into him, accepting the score of one hundred-percent the moment your phone chimed that familiar ring, waiting a few seconds before it popped up on the screen. You believed what he told you after that, how he was happy that you were his and that he only sought to take care of you. His hands wrapped around as the sheets fell from around him, his strong hands pulling in your bare torso and kissing you alongside your neck.

The soft hum of your voice sounds the bedroom as you lean into his touch, naively falling for his lies. Eyes shutting as his hands raised to flick at your pert nipple, you melted into his touch as he whispered to you a broken promise. “I promise to love you with all my power.”

Maybe if he were truthful, your mind wouldn’t drift back to that one person who always lingered on your mind.

Around the dining room table, you feel like you’re running short of breath. Gasping for air, tears stream down your eyes as you’re slamming your hand down on the table, three loud bangs that echo through the night. Both of your phones lie far inside the bedroom, promising each other not to look at it until the very next morning. It’s three in the morning now, exhausting pooling inside of each other’s eyes, but still— something is holding the two of you back from going into that bed.

Your loud laughter fills the dining area, snorting every so often as you hold your stomach, paining starting to stab you. You keel over, holding your weight with one arm as Gojo watches. Circular frames set down on the table as his laughter slowly dies out, cheeks tinted in red as his chest heaves up and down. His eyes are solely on you, something you don’t realize until you’ve finally calmed down. A long-winded sigh leaving your mouth before your eyes meet his sapphire-like pupils. He’s giving you this… look. You don’t know what to call it. No one’s ever looked at you this way.

Instinctively, you examine yourself, giving yourself a quick skimming before you’re asking, “What? Is something on me?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Never was.”

Easily growing flustered, you avert your gaze away from his piercing one. From under the table, you kick at his shin gently. “Stop it.”

“What?” he feigns innocence. “You asked, I answered.”

Such short-lived happiness. Now you feel a hollowness in your heart as Geto’s broken his thousands of promises, making you dream for a universe that you’ll never have. Did you fall for it all because it reminded you of the man that you really wanted?

5,001ST INSTANCE

“Gojo,” Utahime grumbles out. “I’m going out. Don’t wait for me.”

When have I ever? He wanted to voice out, but instead, he responded with silence. And she doesn’t say anything about it, walking through the door with a loud shut that sends vibrations to the trinkets and decor to the neighboring dressers and picture frames. Picture frames that hold nothing of any true value, all pictures that Utahime has hung up of nature and wildlife. Something to spruce up this… empty and desolate home. He doesn’t know where she goes, such a frequent occurrence that he no longer questions it in his mind.

Perched up on the couch, his blue eyes pinned straight to the television as he clicks through the channels. His eyes are starting to burn and exhaustion is laced in his body, but he doesn’t care. No work tomorrow. Nothing to do. No Utahime in the house. All she does is fill up the empty space and even when she’s hear, it feels emptier than it already is. Maybe he’s being harsh, but it’s his truth.

His unhappiness ruminates inside of his mind, festering as he clicks from channel to channel, still not finding anything interesting to watch. It comes to a point where the screen is dark, clicking the power button, and finding more entertainment in the darkness before he’s scrolling through his phone. Going through socials as he sees the smiling faces of his loved ones with their hundred-percents. He hates how happy they seem, even if they’re just conjured falsities. Why hasn't he felt like he hasn’t had one good moment with Utahime?

Through the lifeless scrolling and rediscoverings of certain apps, he finds the dating app. Something he hadn’t used since learning about Utahime being his hundred-percent, but the app is still there and his account is still there. You can no longer match with anyone reads underneath his name, but he goes past it, clicking on his match history. It was a short list of names, three people at most. Utahime Iori, Shoko Ieiri, a few other women and… you.

Something batters against his chest at the remembrance of you. A student in her residency, so close to tasting victory. You spoke with so much passion, life still inside your eyes as you spoke to him. Cheeks that rose that they looked like they hurt at some point. “How many men have you made fall in love with you?”

He asked that simple question and you giggled, shaking your head. You had such a brightness that it was blinding. A vermillion dress that was so striking that you called all the attention to yourself, a beautiful flower that didn’t belong in between the rose bush, its thorns and thickets too deadly for something as precious as you.

“I should be asking you that question,” you redirect the question to him. “What’s a fine man like yourself doing without his hundred-percent yet? The algorithms are doing a shitty job if you still haven’t found the one yet.”

He was so confident when he said, “I think they were leading me straight to you.”

He feels like a fool now. Holding so much faith for a woman that wasn’t his by the end of the night. He got his hopes up, and in response, got his heart torn into shreds by the end of the night. He kissed you that night, his second to last date. He’s never done that with any other woman before that. However, you managed to make yourself the exception. How did you do that? Weasel your way into his heart so easily?

He wonders if you’re as miserable as him right now. And while some sadistic part of him hopes so, his dwindling love hopes not. He hopes that your hundred percent gives you someone that you deserve and love— even though it’s not him.

10,0001ST INSTANCE

When was the last time you enjoyed being at a nice house party like this? Sure, it’s not as wild as your college days, but it doesn’t need to be. The EDM that hums through the heavyweight speakers vibrates through your bones as you hold a red solo cup in your right hand. The lights are dim as neon streams of light flash across the ceiling. Chatter intermingles with the music, everyone’s eyes bright as they dance along. Pushing through the large crowd comes Shoko, she’s tugging her hundred-percent along with her, eyes bright when she spots you hidden away.

Calling out your name, she beams in excitement. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Well,” you chuckle. “You haven’t been looking hard enough.”

You stand tall, meeting Shoko in the middle before your eyes fall adrift to her partner. A pretty woman with fair skin and chestnut-colored eyes. Jet black hair that falls past her shoulders and bangs that hide her forehead. The most striking feature about her, however, is the large gash across her face. However, it doesn’t take away from her beauty, only seeming to enhance it as it calls for a story waiting to be told. She holds a shy smile on her face, averting eye contact before she voices out a “hello.”

“Hi,” you respond, holding out your hand and giving her your name.

“I’m Utahime—” She could barely introduce herself before Shoko’s smiling all giddily, “Isn’t she stunning?”

Utahime’s face heats up, a shy smile on her face before nudging Shoko, and whispering, “Stop it…”

You enjoy this part about matches. You enjoy watching people get their hundred-percents and finding themselves happy. Seeing how they’re ecstatic and overjoyed to find someone else they mesh well with. But, why couldn’t you have that? Why are you still searching for that through yours? Where was that immediate connection that you’re longing for? As much as you love seeing other people’s happiness, it becomes overbearing at some point. You manage to sneak yourself away from the lovey-dovey scene, squeezing past the myriad group of people and finding homage at the food table, picking up a paper plate and sharing yourself a small serving of fruits. You sneak a few pieces of cantaloupe into your mouth before sharing out more on the plate before a voice rings inside your ears. “Make sure to leave some for the rest of us.”

You nearly choke on a piece when you whirl around, a strangled ‘hm?’ leaving you before spitting it out on your plate. Your eyes widen at the piercing blue eyes and the inhumanly white-head of hair that you haven’t seen in months.

“Oh, my gosh!” you gasp. “Gojo!”

The two of you hug as if you’ve both been life-long friends. It feels that way, remembering the first and only date the two of you have been on. That long night of chatter as the two of you spent it in each other’s comfort. Both of you equally poured your hearts out to each other like no one else was watching. Those within that restaurant were so sure of it, the two of you would be hundred-percents. Only for the staff to share the same disappointment you had when you returned in a week’s time waiting on someone else.

There was a connection that you had with Gojo that even a blind man could see, even now with the two of you hugging each other. Each of your grips were strong, scared to let go of one another as if the moment you did, one of you would be gone once more. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent, an earthy fragrance of his cologne that made you want to nuzzle yourself further in his chest. He couldn’t help but to bury his face in your hair, smelling a scent of citrus from your hair products. Subconsciously, his grip tightened on you before both of you finally pulled away.

You looked up into his eyes, finding yourself easily lost in them as you’re held speechless. A snort leaves you, still baffled that he’s here. “You know Shoko and Utahime?”

“Utahime, yeah,” Gojo nods. “She was an old classmate of mine. Surprised she invited me, to be honest. She hated my guts.”

“Who could hate you?” you jest, but deep down, you’re asking yourself that question. How could anyone possibly hate him? He scratches the nape of his neck, chuckling as he leans down to your height, getting awfully close. “You’d be surprised.”

He sends a chill down your spine, your smile dropping as your eyes flicker from his eyes and down to his lips. He does the same, having the strong urge to kiss you then and there. “Want to take a step outside with me? It’s— It’s, uh, getting a bit claustrophobic in here.”

You nod without hesitation. “Yeah.”

You take his hands, bigger than yours, they lead the way out. The two of you find latibule on a rusty bench out front, a few blocks down from Shoko’s place. The sky is getting darker and the air is getting chillier. You start to shiver when Gojo’s pulling off his sweater. “Here.”

“No.” You start shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

However, Gojo’s already draping it over your shoulder, not taking your ‘no’ for an answer. Instead, he starts the conversation up with a question he’s been meaning to ask the moment he saw you at the food table. “Have you found your hundred-percent?”

“Nope,” you sigh, averting your gaze in shame. “You?”

“Nope,” he repeats. There’s a long silence the two of you share before his eyes lie on you. “Do you think it’s worth trying anymore?”

“No,” your eyes flicker around before braving it. A few inches away becomes a centimeter, lips ghosting each other’s. “Not when the only person I’ve been wanting is you.”

note. thank you so much for reading this fic. gojo is my king for angst. please let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in your reblog. it is very much appreciated. mwah!

#gojo satoru angst #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #ᯓ★ standalone.

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marzipanandminutiae · 7 days ago

Text

WAIT WAIT GUYS SHUT UP

HAVE I ACTUALLY FOUND MLLE. FROU-FROU???

okay so Mlle. Frou-Frou was a doll raffled off in Boston in 1871 to benefit widows and orphans of the Franco-Prussian War. she had an elegant wardrobe and moral guardians lost their minds over her. or at least one did. writing for the New York Tribune- which is rich considering that NYC prided itself on being a free-thinking and cosmopolitan city, and Boston had a freaking official censorship board -the unknown journalist said:

Men and women surround the doll, three deep, and gloat upon the exhibition as they would gloat upon a fashionable “opening.” “Stunning!” exclaim the men. “Perfectly splendid!” exclaim the women; while the discontented few transfer their disgust of Frou-Frou to disgust of human beings who can countenance so flagrant an immorality; for anything that debases youth is immoral, and the child who falls heir to that doll cannot fail to learn more lessons in frivolity than can be unlearned in years. As the twig is bent the tree is inclined. Will the little miss be content to wear calico when her doll wears silk? Will she be satisfied with two or three dresses and one hat and one pair of boots when her doll has dozens? Will she wear cotton gloves when her doll scorns everything but Paris kid? Will she retain the simplicity of childhood when her doll is perpetually poisoning her eyes with a complete picture of the girl of the period? Children are so like monkeys in their imitative propensities as almost to lead one to believe in Darwin’s theory regarding the origin of species, and whoever would bring them up in the way they should go will as quickly open the front door to small-pox as to that breeder of moral disease, Mlle. Frou-Frou.

um. wow. over a charity raffle. earlier in the article they said that the doll would "do more harm to Boston than the money from it can ever do good to France."

cut to: Paris, which is literally under military siege and full of starving people

right

anyway, a doll came up for auction at Theriault's a few years ago with a trunk and clothes labeled "Mlle. Frou-Frou Boston" and "Frou-Frou Boston 1871." the doll in the article is described as made of wax (meaning the head) with a stuffed kid-leather body, and this one has a porcelain head. but it's possible that the writer wasn't well-informed as to the nature of dolls and didn't understand the difference

the article mentions twelve outfits where this doll has five, and more accessories are referenced in 1871 than she currently possesses. however...a lot happens over the centuries. a dress of pink moire with elaborate lace is mentioned, and while the skirt that the doll wears in the photo is a bronzy color, it IS adorned with lace and could potentially have faded from pink (I'd have to look at the seams to know for certain)

now, the other possibility is that the pieces in question belonged to Mlle Frou-Frou and were parted from her at some point, and this is a different doll to whose trousseau they came. it's difficult to imagine anyone breaking up the collection of such a fine doll, but children aren't as uncharitable as we imagine sometimes- things get traded and given away in the course of play

but most of the doll's undergarments are labeled with "Frou-Frou Boston 1871," and since it sounds like they fit this specific doll pretty well...

we may have found her at last

#history #victorian #boston history #antique dolls #dolls #good job everyone let's hit the showers #we can have a conversation about the moral panic surrounding French fashion dolls later #(...but it is my day off if anyone gets it into their heads to send an ask on the subject just saying)

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veitchiin · 2 months ago

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Do you think Lucanis blames himself?

For what happened to Rook. Them disappearing into the fade, trying to retrieve the dagger from Ghilan'nain's body.

I mean, he failed in Weisshaupt. He admits to it. Had he only been a little bit more focused. Had he only a little bit more control over Spite. The kill was right there, he was so close he could already see her dead then and there.

But he failed. He failed and the opportunity was gone. Weisshaupt fell for nothing. He could not get payback for Minrathous, in Neve's stead. He could not thank Rook for their help in Treviso. The assassin missed his mark, how many more mistakes can the abomination be afforded before his utility is brought into question? How long until Rook no longer tolerates his presence? How long until his carelessness, his lack of control over Spite, truly harms the team?

But Rook was there. They did not blame him, they did not leave his side, they did not kick him out they did not hate him they did not push him away they did not get angry they did not. Abandon him.

They stayed by him, they supported him. It's thanks to them he could get to the bottom of his inner torment. Thanks to them he and Spite came to understand each other. Somewhat.

Thanks to them that he avenged himself and his family. Thanks to them Treviso was saved from the blighted dragon. Thanks to them Treviso will be able to survive the Antaam.

He owes Rook so much. They were by his side, they helped him and those he cared for. Without asking for anything in return but his presence, and his skills. He owes Rook so much. Rook understood and cared for him. Rook's presence helped him stay grounded. They felt warmer than others. More welcoming than others.

When did it happen? When did Lucanis start caring for Rook so much? They saved him from the Ossuary, and then from himself. They who gave themselves and their trust to him so easily, knowing he was made to kill. Knowing he was an abomination. And they did not pity him. Even after Weisshaupt, they knew he was strong enough and thanks to them he saw it too. And eventually he was strong enough to admit how much he cared. And then he swore not only to kill the gods, any and every god, for Rook but also, perhaps only to himself, to love them the way they had loved him, by protecting them and being by their side.

So then, why did he fail again.

He was the one who had the dagger. He was the one who pierced Ghilan'nain's flesh. Why did he not take the dagger out? Why was he not the one to retrieve it? Why did he not, somehow, warn Rook? He couldn't have known, but he should've. And now Rook is gone. In the fade, somewhere. Without him. If he were stuck in the fade, Rook wouldve found a way to him, to bring him back, or only to be by his side. He cannot. The others are trying, and perhaps he tries to help. But what good can that do? He was made to kill. That is all he does, all he is. And he failed. Ghilan'nain may lie dead but does this even matter? Weisshaupt did not feel like half the failure this does. After Weisshaupt Rook was there. Rook was there, he had not endangered Rook. He had not killed Rook.

But if he had succeeded at Weisshaupt... Would any of this had happened? Perhaps things would have gone differently, the dagger wouldn't have remained inside the evanuris' body? Perhaps someone else would've been trapped? Anyone else, anyone but Rook. Even himself. If the Maker would allow it, Lucanis would without a doubt take Rook's place, wherever they are. If they live.

Surely he doesn't believe they live? Surely he doesn't believe they'll return? Emmrich, Neve and Bellara all together are working tirelessly to retrieve them, does he believe they wouldn't have found Rook already if they were? Rook is gone. Their room is empty. The decorations they left behind have not moved, their wardrobe undisturbed, their absence violently evident.

Does he hope their clothing retained their scent? Does he hope that by sleeping in their room he'll awake in their arms? Does he hope that by brewing their favorite drink he could summon them back? Does he hope anything he could do or think of could make him forget what he lost? That he failed to keep them safe? That by doing exactly what he swore to do, what he was always meant to do, he killed Rook?

Oh, Lucanis. If only you hadn't gotten attached. If only you had kept your distance from them. If only you hadn't fallen in love. If only you hadn't failed back at Weisshaupt. If only they hadn't freed him. If they had left him to rot in his underwater prison, surely someone more competent would've taken his place, at the very least someone who would've actually kept Rook safe. Someone Rook deserved to have by their side. If only.

Now Rook is gone. They will never be a Dellamorte. They will never share a cup of coffee they hate with him, just to try and make him happy. They will never make a joke at an inappropriate time again, not a strongly worded comment or kind gesture. He will not get to take them on Treviso's waters, to see their eyes light up taking in the sight of his home that they helped save. Rook is gone.

If only you had been able to save them.

If only you hadn't failed.

If only.

Do you think Lucanis blames himself for what happened to Rook?

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #veilguard spoilers #datv #dragon age the veilguard #imagine if rook never returned fr #i like to think of other character's inner monologues and why they should feel bad #i love lucanis btw

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polarisjisung · 1 month ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 36 BRUTAL CLARITY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing (shocker but no sexual innuendos in this chap !) , lwk abandonment issues, blame shifting, lots of nervous habits too (?)

NOTES | first fully written chap, some of you guys will hate me for this, also, I was initially going to post this yesterday, but I got lazy and didn't write anything 😭

Now, Jaemin wasn’t one to believe in fate, but if it had somehow led him here, he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

After 10 minutes of trying to pry the door open and too many failed attempts at picking the lock both captains had finally given up, too worn out from the game to actually bother trying to get out of the room they found themselves locked in.

Jaemin stood near one of the benches, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes occasionally darted to Y/N, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to him. Not a word had been exchanged between them in the past week, let alone during the last ten minutes. The silence between them felt heavy, far more suffocating than the game they'd just played.

There was so much to say—too much, in fact, and he had no idea where to begin. But Jaemin knew he had to start somewhere.

"Don't go on that date with Jay." He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. His body practically froze in the second it took him to process the words that had actually left his mouth, but Y/n sat still, unmoving. Of all the impending conversations, this was the last one he'd intended to start with.

He felt like an idiot.

When she didn’t respond, Jaemin felt a pang of uncertainty, wondering if she hadn’t heard him. He hesitated, the words stuck in his throat, but instead of repeating himself, he added, "Can we talk?"

Nothing. But he was certain she'd heard him.

"Come on, Y/N," Jaemin’s voice was quieter now but edged with desperation. "Talk to me"

Y/N’s shoulders stiffened, not turning around. Her gaze was fixed on the rough floor, the sting of old memories too sharp to face him directly.

Something about this moment felt too nostalgic, too tender, reminiscent of a past she desperately wanted to return to. And looking at Jaemin— she just couldn't do it.

Not now. Not when in this past week, she'd relived every moment she once knew Jaemin, through photographs and teenage diary entries,now buried somewhere at the back of her wardrobe.

Still, Jaemin took a step forward, and she bowed her head, refusing eye contact. His heart clenched. Her glossy eyes weren't difficult to miss, not for him.

"I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know why he's here, " Jaemin continued, his words rushed. "I just want to fix things. Please." He knew his words were jumbled, mixing pieces of conversations they should’ve had long ago, but if this was his only chance, he wouldn’t blow it. “Look at me, peach.”

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and for a moment, it seemed like she might just give in. Instead, she pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if to shut herself off completely. Cocooning herself.

Jaemin let out a frustrated breath and sank onto the bench across from her, his voice quieter now. Defeated almost.

"I swear, he came onto me first," Jaemin defended himself, trying to take a different approach to the situation, a dry, soulless laugh rolling off his tongue. "That's a lie, but he was pissing me off." His hands were up, raised by his head in full defence after he'd caught the way y/n snuck bitter glances at him in the mirror across from them.

God, she almost wanted to laugh. And she hated that she did, hated how jaemin always knew what to say and when to say it, how to get her to laugh in her worst moments, how to get through to her when nobody else could. After all that, she didn't understand why he was the same person to turn his back on her so quickly.

In all honesty, she could've cared less about what Jaemin had done to her father. He probably deserved it, hell she was ready to blow up at him herself— the man who had never once shown up to a single one of her games in support, coming to one of the few that meant the most. He did it on purpose. He was trying to throw her off and it was clear as day. He could be dealt with later she supposed, trying to process everything Jaemin was saying instead.

But it still didn't make sense. Nothing seemed to match up. Why would the Jaemin who'd walked out of her life so easily put so much at stake for her, the Jaemin who once couldn't care less about her, now begged her just to look his way. Her mind raced, a swirl of emotions, but behind it all, a lingering sense of confusion.

"Can we talk y/n? You've been ignoring me for days, and I have no idea what I did." He pauses, hoping she'll finally break. She doesn't, not yet.

"If anyone should be mad at someone it's me. I should be angry, hell I should be enraged, but here I am making an effort and you're giving me nothing." he tries again, hopeful. His voice raises, louder, more hoarse when he continues, a sign of his slipping patience.

"Work with me here because I'm trying to salvage our friendship after everything we've been through, I'm trying to save us, and somehow, it feels like you've already given up"

She finally spoke, her voice flat.

"I have."

Jaemin felt the way his eyes widened, the spark of hope in his eyes vanished, confusion flooding his expression instead.

"What."

"Why would I fight for something I know won't last?" She spoke like she had all the certainty in the world

Jaemin's expression faltered. "What do you mean?"

The question is simple but comes with such sincerity that for a moment, just for a second, Y/n wonders if she's gone insane.

"What do I mean?" she laughs, sarcasm dripping through her tone, "You know damn well what I mean Jaemin." His innocent act is enough for Y/n to rise to her feet, fists bundled at her side, jaw set in a hard line.

"You don't just get to walk out of someone's life, my life Jaemin, and pretend like you did nothing wrong. You don't just get to throw away relationships like that, not what we had. You want to talk about fighting, huh Jaemin? I fought, so hard. " her voice was sharp, coming in bursts of irritation, struggling to catch her breath as she hiccuped, tears welling in her eyes and already rolling down her cheeks " I fought so fucking hard, and I fought alone, because I thought you, I thought we, were worth fighting for."

She takes a second to wipe her tears, Jaemin taken aback— he'd never seen her like this, never so raw, so vulnerable.

Nothing she had said made any sense, nothing she spoke of aligned with anything he knew, and yet it seemed nothing short of the truth.

"You disappeared, and you never even told me why, and you want to talk to me about giving up on us? How do I know you won't do it again, huh? How do I let you back into my life, accept you with open arms and a smile, when I don't know if you'll do it again, if you'll leave again." At this point, Jaemin watched the girl's sentences disintegrate in their flow, broken sobs punctuating her words in some places, shallow breaths in others.

"You say want to talk about us, but the first thing you asked me was not to go on some stupid date that really shouldn't be any of your concern in the first place. Is this really even about us? Because it feels like you say all this shit about fighting for us when really, you don't care at all."

Her words were coming out jumbled, a disorganised mess of all the things she'd been meaning to get off her chest in years, and yet the weight on her shoulders didn't seem to lighten even when she spoke.

"I called a thousand times, texted a million more, I begged to talk to you, I sent you letters, I even sent emails, emails Jaemin, and you never responded, not once. I was trying so hard, and you, you weren't even trying at all."

Jaemin felt a knot tighten in his stomach, uncertainty coursing through his veins. The anger he thought he should have felt was replaced by a deep concern, making him question everything he swore he had known for so long.

"You think I cut you off for no reason?" perhaps he should've made a more conscious effort to soothe her worries, but Jaemin felt it, his clammy palms, his shaky hands, he was on the edge— ready to spiral if he had to listen any further. The need to defend himself, and perhaps, to really get to the bottom of this, was compelling.

Everything he did, blocking her number and her contacts, ignoring her countless knocks at the door and her shouts for him across the street, all of it, came flooding back into his mind.

For a moment, he wondered if she really deserved it at all?

"You were all I had y/n, all I needed really, and you think I just did this all for no reason. I know you're not stupid enough to think that." He chuckles— sourly. "You left me," he corrects. "Broke every promise you'd ever made to me and never turned around once to apologise"

It felt like he was speaking gibberish, like his words didn't make sense, and his emotions came out of nowhere, a throbbing now making Y/n's head spin. This act Jaemin was putting on was good, too good.

"Stop speaking in riddles, what do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't get to stand there and pretend this is all my fault," he snaps, sharp and honest. "You left me at regionals, after promising you would be there, you left me to fend for myself after knowing what I would've had to give up if I competed, what I did give up. Y/n you left me, betrayed me in fact, so don't you dare make this my fault."

You left me— the words rang in her ears.

But she didn't.

Y/n didn't remember much, not from that point in her life, after she'd made every attempt forget it, but she remembered this, and she remembered it so vividly. Regionals hadn't gone ahead that year. She was certain. They were cancelled, she tried desperately to recollect. And then it hit her.

As Jaemin stared at her, the pieces began to fall into place. Y/n felt her heart drop. Just how stupid could she be?

"They didn't cancel the competition?" she asked, each syllable thick with a newfound shame.

"Of course not" he scoffed, "Why would you think that"

Jaemin almost rolled his eyes.

But then he saw it, the way her skin had drained of its colour. Y/n's lips trembled, she fidgeted with her fingers, picking at the skin that surrounded her nail beds, flicking the hair tie against her wrist. Something wasn't right. Y/n finally realised what she had done, and god, she felt like such a fool. The truth hit hard, and it hit fast.

"I'm so sorry, jaem," her head hung low with embarrassment, but her stare still held his, as if she could only convey the sheer sincerity of hers through her eyes. The weight of her words hung between them, and Jaemin could feel the atmosphere shift around him, the heat that rushed to his head before was now replaced with a harsh knocking against his ribs, cold feet and constricted air.

He wanted answers. He needed to know.

"Y/n what happened that day. Tell me."

The signs, they'd had been clear as day, and now, she wondered why she'd believed him, after his constant let downs and disapproval for her sport, his constant attempts to sabotage her and her career.

The organisers had all gotten into a car crash on their way to the competition, that why the competition didn't go ahead— that's what her dad had told her.

Regret settled in her chest as she fought to intake enough oxygen.

Her head shook, frantic and fevered, there was no way.

She couldn't believe it.

Her father lied to her, and she'd been naive enough to believe him.

It was all her fault.

Her stupidity had cost Jaemin so much. It had cost them so much. Everything.

But she didn't know how to tell him.

Her eyes focused on Jaemin, but he seemed blurry and hazy. In fact, soon enough, he was spinning.

Y/n struggled to keep her footing, her legs wobbling beneath her. It was as if the ground was shifting, and she couldn't find her balance, her mind racing with thoughts that only fueled her anxiety. The bitter taste of guilt residing on her tongue, harsh and unforgiving.

"I need you to breathe for me, peach. I'm right here. Just breathe."

But she needed to get it off her chest. She had to.

"He said they cancelled the competition. He lied."

"Who did?" Jaemin was beyond confused, her sentence too short and vague for him to understand what she was getting at. Still, his heart skipped a beat, panicked.

"My dad."

It was as if a fog had lifted, and suddenly, everything made sense. Really and truly, it felt impossible. A brutal clarity.

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#jaemin #nct smau #nct social au #nct social media au #nct dream smau #nct dream social au #nct dream social media au #nct jaemin smau #jaemin smau #jaemin social au #jaemin social media au #kpop smau #love on the court 🏀

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bunniehrtz · 2 months ago

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HOT TO GO!

i knew you were trouble - masterlist

art by @trackinglessons at the end of the chapter! — your best friend drags you to a college party — not your scene. amongst the new people you meet, a spark ignites between you and an unfamiliar pink- haired girl cw: multiple alcohol mentions & consumption, sexual tension, no smut (do not fret! smut is coming!!!)

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Caitlyn pleads, practically on her knees, begging you to come along with her to a party on campus. You couldn’t roll your eyes further into the back of your head if you tried. You didn’t want to go, the thought of going out into the cold November night sent chills down your spine, the hairs stand up on your arms. As cliché as it might be, you’d much rather stay at home, hot chocolate in hand and catching up on TV you’ve missed since starting university almost two years ago. Reluctantly, you sit up from your horizontal position you had perfected so well, making eye contact with your best friend who is sitting on her bed, adjacent from yours. She looked perfect, she always does. She sits in a lilac, low cut night dress, matched with deeper purple pants that sit just above her knees. “Fine.” you attempt to hide the smile that sneaks its way onto your face at the way Caitlyn’s eyes light up. Of course, you fail. The giddy smile and the way she shoots up onto her feet is just too good to not smile at. “Really?! You’re coming?” Caitlyn exclaims, rushing over to stand at your feet as you swing your legs around, your feet firmly on the floor. You nod, laughing softly. Your right hand comes up to usher her towards the wardrobe you share. “Can you help me find something to wear?”

The flashing blue and red lights were enough to almost give you a migraine. You secretly wished it would, the escape plan would become just that much easier. The sharp, grim taste of vodka lingers on your tongue, forcing your mouth into a disgusted pout. You keep it in your hand though, picking the bottle back up to refill your cup. The alcohol to mixer ratio could kill a Victorian child, you think, shaking your head and chugging and finishing the red solo cup. “I think that’s enough for you,” Caitlyn reaches for the bottle, but you quickly pull away, shooting her an evil glare. She laughs, shrugging. “Suit yourself.” You turn your attention back to the table filled with different types of alcohol, mixers and pathetic looking party snacks on cheap paper plates. It’s better than nothing, you think to yourself, giggling gently. You pick up a small cookie, taking a bite as you turn around to talk to your best friend.

“Hey, Cait! What are- oh…” you speak to a Caitlyn that is no longer next to you. You look around frantically, trying to spot her. Over the vast amount of frat boys’ heads, you find the blue haired girl. She’s connected by the hand to another girl, you don’t recognise her. Caitlyn follows her upstairs. You connect the dots in your mind, letting out a soft oooh. You snigger to yourself, taking another sip from the cup you don’t remember refilling. You don’t know how she does it so easily, it’s quite amazing to watch.

As you go to take your final sip, you feel a barge on your shoulder, making you snap around. You turn eye to eye with a girl that looked about a year younger than yourself, her hair was long and a gorgeous shade of powder blue, braided in a way that made it hard to look away. She stands pale, clad in a dark, small skirt, tights with rips all the way to the top of her thigh and an almost tiny, black top. Her shoes were a messy pair of bulky, black canvas sneakers, topped by a pair of white leg warmers. Messy, but she looked put together perfectly. She stands next to a boy, around the same age. His jeans were a big and baggy blue pair, a black undershirt under an oversized grey shirt on top. His jeans cover his shoes so much you couldn’t make out what they were. His hair was a shade of white, dread-hawks swooped to the right side of his head. “Sorry, he’s had a night. Too much in his system,” the girl jokes, you laugh with her. “Been there. Don’t worry about it,” you flash her a reassuring smile and she mirrors it. Her friend quickly rushes behind you, you don’t think too much into it. “I’m Jinx. This is…this is Ekko,” she grimaces, looking behind you. You follow her eyes, turning around to see Ekko’s head in a bucket on the stairs. Nice. “Oh, boy…” Jinx whispers to herself, her face hiding in one of her hands. “It’s going to be a long night,” she sighs. You grab her shoulder, sympathetically. She moves to stand in front of you, her back facing the rest of the party.

“So, what are you studying?” she asks, filling up her own cup. You open your mouth, about to answer when someone catches your eye, sitting behind your new friend. A pink-haired girl sits on the sofa on the back wall, looking up to talk to, what you assume is, her friend. She sits quite slouched, her knees spread wide. Her legs are covered by a pair of loose, black jeans with the waistband of what looks like boxers peeking out the top. You squint your eyes to try and get a good look at her, not thinking about what you look like right now. You notice a hoop on the side of her nose, with eyes a light grey. The jeans are paired with a black hoodie, with something in the front pocket. You’ve completely tuned out Jinx, and she’s beginning to notice. The girl pulls out a joint from her hoodie pocket, along with a grinder and a lighter. Her eyes trail across the room, and your stomach drops. Her eyes land on yours. She is looking straight at you. A cocky smirk creeps onto her face as she sinks a bit further into the couch, her legs spreading just a bit more. Not a lot, but enough for someone that’s staring at her to notice. Enough for you to notice. A heat rushes to your cheeks, and you feel electricity in your lower stomach. You absentmindedly gulp, loud enough to catch Jinx’s attention.

“Hello? Are you listening?” she questions, trying not to laugh at your expression. You haven’t blinked in about two minutes. The girl sitting on the couch laughs breathily, maintaining eye contact with you as she places the blunt between her teeth, lifting her hands up to light it. She takes a drag, holding the gaze into your eyes as she inhales. She lifts her head up as she blows the smoke, sending you a wink. You gasp softly, your breath shaky as you try to stand still. You feel like you could faint. The girl sits up straight, her blunt passed to her friend sitting next to her. Her hands run down her hoodie, straightening it out before holding onto the bottom hem, lifting it up to pull it off. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she peels it off, placing it on the arm of the couch. She reveals a black tank top, the straps are thick on her shoulders and it cuts off just at her navel, short enough to reveal the trail of hair leading down her stomach that hides under the waistband of her Calvin Kleins. God, you think. Or so you thought. “God, what?” Jinx asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks up at you. She follows your eyes, looking behind her. She spots the girl, the change in her body language is enough to pull you out of this trance. “Oh,” she says softly, turning back around. Your mind is too foggy to notice what she says, but you notice the change of her facial expression. “What’s wrong?” you ask, placing your right hand on her shoulder, trying to read her face. “It’s-It’s nothing. I’ll see ya. Come on,” she stammers, walking away to pick Ekko up by the collar of his shirt. Weird. Your attention is pulled back to the table behind you, as you go to pick up and open a fresh bottle. A familiar blue haired figure stands next to you.

“Oh, hey, stranger,” you joke, elbowing Caitlyn gently. “You have fun?” Caitlyn’s cheeks flash red at your question, shrugging in jest as she takes a sip of her drink. “Naughty girl!” she giggles at your remark. You almost choke on your drink as you begin to mention the girl on the couch. “Oh my God, you missed it,” you grab Caitlyn’s arm, shaking it a little to emphasise how much she missed. “What? What did I miss?” she laughs, looking around confused. “Shut- shut up. The couch, over there. There’s a girl. On the sofa. Over there,” you pathetically spit out, the alcohol hitting you like a truck. Caitlyn smiles, shaking her head as she turns to look at the sofa. “Are you sure?” she asks, looking at the now empty sofa. “What? What the fuck are you talking about, of course I’m sure, she’s right- Oh.” You’re met by the empty couch. The only thing left of her is a half smoked blunt rested on the coffee table. “Come on, home time,” Caitlyn says, sympathetically, pulling you into her chest as she walks you both out.

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writingwisterias · 1 month ago

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Day 12: Pegging

Vendetta! Leon Kenndey x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Pegging, Sub Leon, Dom Reader, Overstimulation, Hand Job, Slight Angst, Masterlist

Leon laid against the bed looking at you with drunken eyes. His erection was pitiful, you would be lucky if he hadn’t permanently ruined his cock with how fast he came recently. You sighed at him, whenever you meant it to be audible or not he didn’t know. Shame coursed through him at the thought of being this pathetic when it comes to sex now. He used to be the dominant one, throwing your legs over his shoulder as he pounded into you with relentless speed and agility. He watched as you fetched something from the wardrobe, pulling out a small silk box. “What’s that?” He asked, sitting up against the headboard.

You felt bad you had decided that it had come to this. Your frustrations mainly lay in the fact that Leon had gone far into the bottle he became obsessed with only his pleasure and not your own. You knew it wasn’t your fault, his spark in life was barely there as is, and his pitiful sex was evidence that he still loved you. Trying to prove it in his own way when he would drag his ass home from whatever bar he came from, kissing you away before he slid his cock in. The smell of whiskey or whatever he drank fills your senses.

You frowned at his misty eyes, evidence to you that he was also feeling bad about how fast he came. Maybe he was more sober today, than you thought and this idea might not work. Ending with you just embarrassing yourself as your chance to make your sex life more interesting once again. You opened the box presenting the pink dildo to him. Leon's eyes flash in confusion, attempting to figure out what you were suggesting. “Is this for you?” He questioned, holding the toy in his hand. You shook your head a nervous chuckle leaving your lips.

“No. I thought we could try something different if you are up for it?” You asked, presenting the harness and lube. Leon audible gulped. Embarrassment flows through your system at the idea of him rejecting this. You hadn’t thought about how he would take it, you were just so frustrated that you wanted to give him a new perspective on sex. He was silent for a while, his eyes flickering between the toy and you. You didn’t however fail to notice the way his cock hardened in between his legs, his tip slowly exposing itself. It looked so pretty like this, raw and red. Gathering a light sheen of pre cum making it look beautiful. “We can try it” he spoke quietly. A light dust of pink covered his cheeks. You smiled at him warmly, “Anything feels too much we will stop”

Leon nodded, moving himself further down the bed. He watched as you strapped yourself in, covering himself and the toy with more than enough lube. Your hand found its way to his semi-hard cock, squeezing it lightly as it slowly began to harden under your touch. He groaned as your thumb swiped over the tip spreading his pre cum down his shaft. Your fingers were so soft and gentle, pleasuring him in just the right way he barely felt the toy prod at his entrance. As you added pressure to your grip, you moved your hips further forward. Leon whimpered and groaned beneath you his hands reaching out to grab at something. His eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks now covered in a dark red as he continued to control his breathing. “Doing so well” You whispered, smirking as his cock twitched in your hand.

Leon should have been embarrassed by this, how his sex game has been reduced to him being a whimpering mess. But your soothing words and your gentle touch eased him into the role, one he didn't know he needed. He craved your touch, your praise. Optionally opening his legs wider for you, his thighs moving in the position he would normally put yours. His body became limp beneath you, allowing you to begin to thrust. He didn’t expect it to feel so good, that one spot inside him making his toes curl. Part of him felt guilty you weren’t getting anything from this, but when he looked up, he saw you smile and your eyes blow out wide with lust.

“How are you feeling Leon?” You asked, tapping his cheek to bring him out of his daze. A stupid giddy smile grew on his face as he looked up at you, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You kissed him, the kiss was sloppy and hard. Teeth clashing as you haven’t yet perfected your movement. He didn’t care, he just admired the closeness. How you put him before you. A subtle reminder he hadn’t done the same, recently. “So good, You’re too good for me sweetheart”

A phrase you heard almost daily, always slipping through his drunken lips. His cock throbbed in your hand, his cum shooting up his chest decorating his small stomach with himself. You normally would have liked a warning, perhaps you would need to reprimand him next time. Yet when you looked back to his face, his features relaxed and almost happy you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He finally looked free, peaceful if only for a split moment before his thoughts plagued it later.

Your pussy throbbed hard, desperate for a release you were sure you’d have to give yourself with the vibrator you purchased. But when you pulled out of him, his head shot up. Watching you disinfect and put away the toy. He wanted to follow you, pick you up and return the favour but he couldn’t move. So instead he waited for you to return.

You began to clean up the mess on his chest and lower areas, making sure to be careful in case anything was sore. Your touch was so soft he could have cried. You moved to lay against the headboard as you ran your hands soothingly through his hair. “I’m sorry for being a dick” he muttered. You almost didn’t hear him because of how quiet he was. “I know I’ve been difficult to deal with”

Your heart sank at his confession, continuing to run your hands through his hair. “It’s not your fault” You sympathised. Even though he irritated you with his mood swings and the constant bottle in his hand you couldn’t fault him. You knew what he had gone through. “Let me make it up to you please” He whimpered, moving with a slight wince. Your eyes widened as he began to feast upon you, groaning against your cunt at your taste. You were in for a longer night than you’ve had for a while.

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut

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teufelsabbiss · 1 year ago

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Thinking about it, most stories I saw in which Liu Qingge is trans had people find out (mostly either SY!SQQ or OG!SQQ) and there was suddenly new found soft(er) feelings and appreciation for him. But what if instead this changes nothing for OG!SQQ?

Imagine Liu Qingge has a serious wardrobe malfunction during a mission (conveniently shredded by monster claws or acid that only affects clothes, the typical wife plot bs) and OG!Shen Qingqiu of all people sees the secret bits in full view. And obviously Liu Qingge is very angry about this as well as worried the resident lecher is going to perv on him now. Because it would be very unfortunate if he did, bringing back Shen Qingqiu's hacked up corpse wouldn't go over well with the sect leader after all.

But nothing changes. Shen Qingqiu acts offended to have gotten an indecent, unwanted eyeful of someone's private parts on principle and mocks how the oh so infallible war god was failing to keep his clothes intact, and that's it. Liu Qingge is a man and the same loathsome brute and he hates him.

Only a handful of people know Liu Qingge is trans and everyone treated him slightly differently after finding out. Most were trying to be nicer to him, but this was irritating too since it was still treating him differently. And Shen Qingqiu of all people is the one who doesn't give one iota! Doesn't drop implications to other people either. If only the man wasn't his enemy...

SQQ: I hate men

*looks at LQG's clit*

SQQ: You're a man and I hate you

LQG: …....

SQQ: What!

LQG:........enemies to lovers?

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #liu qingge #liujiu #story idea #writing prompt

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cursedcola · 2 years ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw(Here!), Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Leona Kingscholar

Let’s just rip the bandaid off. Leona dates to marry. He’s not someone to invest his time in something troublesome, and frankly? Not many people catch his interest. Sure. He might think someone is physically attractive, but there’s a difference. He doesn’t follow the traditional path either. The ‘dating’ stage doesn’t last long because he’s already made up his mind prior to it.

Dating is pretty much just formality. The moment you agree to it, you’re essentially agreeing to marry him. He’s not going to put in effort for just anyone. Bonus points if he’s the one to confess his feelings first. That is basically concrete confirmation that he intends to marry you.

Leona proposing is inevitable. Only two things stand in his way: time and pride. Time, because he is no idiot. Your ways are unlike his people, and unlike him. He’s patient. He knows how to play the game. He can wait, but not forever. He’ll observe you over time and slip in questions here and there about your goals in life. Then he’ll find a good time frame. Please remember that Leona is not just an ambitious hot-head. He’s a smart one.

Then there is his pride. He will not put himself in a position that has a chance to fail. No. He will play dirty, and wait until you are tinkering with the idea of marriage. He’ll steer conversations towards talks of the future, and make it so you’re the one who starts them. All to get you warmed up to the idea of spending your life with him, and to a stage where he can clearly tell where you lie emotionally. He might appear neutral on the outside; however, it’s all according to plan. While you are just beginning to imagine your lives together, Leona’s already had the thought process long prior. You don’t need to know that though.

The icing on the cake is when you visit his home. Checka is Leona’s secret wingman. Your soft spot for the boy is something he takes advantage of, and lets Checka consume your attention during a tour of the palace. You meet his elder brother, who irritatingly pries for details about your relationship. Leona lets it go. Just this once, because he knows you feeling at home is more important in the long run. You share a room with him during your stay, and he made arrangements for small changes according to your tastes. You’re also gifted with a new wardrobe of traditional clothes for your stay, and given free reign of the area. Naturally you are guarded in secret, as per the King’s orders. His brother knows as well as Leona does that it is imperative that your stay goes well.

You will be touring landmarks and tourist spots within the continent as well. While Leona would much rather laze his free time away in his room (away from his family), he goes. Word spread that he was bringing home his partner. Thank the gossiping maids for that. Walking with you makes the rumors official, and is safer than having you walk alone with Checka and some royal guards. That would have arisen suspicion, and been troublesome. More troublesome than walking around and confirming to the public that you are not to be touched.

Ignoring the many remarks about how Leona is unusually active during his visit (thanks to you), his pride is high. You’ve thoroughly been slotted into his life, and are accepted. Any apprehensions about you denying him were snuffed out. The way you took to living with him so easily proves it. If you weren’t welcomed by his family? Well, it wouldn’t change anything. This scenario just makes what he’s about to do easier.

The first night you arrived, Farlan presented Leona with a Kingscholar family heirloom. A ring that has been in their family for generations. Not meant to be worn permanently, and only for proposals. Farlan used it to propose to his wife, and at the ceremony presented her with the ring he picked out. Now Leona will use it to propose to you.

One look at it and Leona declined. He’s spent his whole life chasing things that he couldn’t have because of his birth status. He would not yield this moment to tradition. Farlan was shocked, but rescinded the offer with a supportive smile. His brother had found himself, and the King was proud.

On the evening of your final night at the palace - Leona finds you alone on the balcony of your shared room. If he was going to do anything, it would be now. Initially he was 100% confident in getting your acceptance, but the longer he watches the less sure he becomes. Deep down there is rooted fear that he will once again become second choice, and that you’ll choose to return to your world over him. His hands are in his pockets, and one of them fists around the ring he prepared long ago.

Right when he moved to back out, you turned to come back inside. Your serene stature brightened at the sight of him, and he gained back some confidence. If you could only look at him that way forever…well, here goes nothing.

“What are you doing out there without a coat? It gets extremely cold in the Savannah during the night. Do you want to get sick? I won’t be the one taking care of you….” he sighs and crosses the open threshold.

The dipping temperature has your arm hair standing attentive. Leona clicks his tongue, shrugging off one of the outer wraps tied on his waist and covering your shoulders.

“Stubborn mule,” he chides but there’s a reserved affection in his tone, “I’m sure you could’ve pieced it together by this point, but this isn’t just some normal vacation.”

Leona ties the cloth into a secure knot across your collar, taking a moment to linger. His tail flicks with nerves against the sculpted railing. Tch. There are a million ways he could do this. Like an infinite checkmate, where the king could be taken by any available piece all at the same time. An impossible scenario in Chess, yet Leona’s all about breaking the mold. He pulls the ring from his pocket, pinching it between two fingers in front of your face. Your eyes cross to focus and he feels that familiar sensation of fulfillment.

“I brought you here to ask for your hand. What? You want me to say it so plainly? Ain’t the jewel enough?….hah, someone’s getting greedy for a little herbivore,” Leona smirks, taking your hand and sliding the ring over your finger. He kisses the band, fiery citrine holding your gaze all the while, “I’m here for your hand in marriage. Nothing less.”

{ 'Everything the light touches...is our kingdom' - A golden sunrise. Befitting. He used to hate them. Hate that phrase too. Yet you are the sun that Leona has been searching for. He continues to fight against fate in hopes that his efforts will bare fruit, and you are living proof that there is a chance. Maybe not easily. His life might not be what he originally dreamed. He may not get to sit on a throne of light . Yet there is a light in his life, and he likes to think that fate did not bring it to him. No, he found you all on his own.}

Ruggie Bucchi

'I don't see why you haven't proposed to that young darlin’ yet. Keep waiting and you'll miss your chance, boy'

Well, of all the things Ruggie expected to hear during his visit home, that wasn't one. Normally he'd be nagged over being away too long, or not writing home enough. This? It caught him off guard. Grandma was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong...but, maybe she had a point this time.

Your relationship. It's not something Ruggie has given much thought. It's uncharacteristic of him to get comfortable enough not to look a few steps ahead, but he's gone soft. A fact that he begrudgingly accepts with a grain of salt.

Naturally, he doesn't admit this out loud and instead changes the topic. On the outside, he acts normal and helps out around the house. However, internally he is thinking over his grandmother's prying.

Marriage. It's not necessarily 'beneficial,' to say the least. With only a few months left until graduation, he'll finally be entering the rat-race to secure himself a comfortable position for life. He's worked hard and developed connections to make it happen. The finish line is right there.

Where does that leave you? He can't necessarily be as flexible if he has a partner to worry about. It's a weak link, and might cause problems in his plans. The smart thing to do would be to break things off. After all, how many school romances get a happy ending? It's so unrealistic. He'll be busy with work, you'll have your own responsibilities, and eventually it will be like you are strangers with a title tying both of you together.

This reasoning alone is enough to settle the problem. It's just - he doesn't like it. It's the most realistic path and he hates it. If it was about finding a companion, then he could do it later in life.

But when he tries to picture that lifestyle with anyone other than you, it doesn't sit right. It's physically upsetting, and makes him nauseated.

Sleep evades him that night. Ruggie finds himself sitting in the kitchen doing homework, burning the midnight oil until he can think with a clear head. Naturally, his all-knowing grandmother finds him there and makes him spill his thoughts.

She's direct with her advice. It's rare for Ruggie to be stumped considering his quick-wit, and understanding emotions is a wisdom you gain with experience.

For someone like Ruggie, who's always maximized every outcome and thought ahead - you're a weakness. Something that he can't control, and yet exactly what he needs in life. We don't get to choose who we love in life. Love is unpredictable, and Ruggie's found it at a young age. Career opportunities come and go, but he will never get back the time spent at your side...so why not maximize that instead? Hm?

He leaves for NRC the following day. For the last time, considering it is his final year. On the way he stops at multiple markets and dips into his savings. With nothing but a ring and an idea, he ditches his stuff in his dorm and heads to Ramshackle.

He's not nervous. That left his system the night prior. His grandmother's tough advice hardened that up quick.

He knocks on the door, half expecting one of the resident ghosts to answer. Instead it's you, and he's down on one knee before you can speak. With one hand, he holds out the ring. The other itches his nose in attempt to hide his wobbly grin.

"Shishishishi~ I don't gotta explain what's going on, right? I'm sure you can put two-and-two together quickly. Are you really so surprised that you have nothing to say? Hmm, I guess that I can take the lead. You owe me! Pretty soon I'll be leaving this place. You still have another year here, and I can't promise I’ll be around much. Until now, I had no plan for us. Likely because being with you is the most natural thing I got outta this life. It’s always been about the short wins, y’know? Lookin’ out for number one. I've always aimed for a life of comfort, but now I want ya in that picture too. I can’t see it anyway else. So...when you graduate next year, will you marry me? I'll be patiently waiting, shishi~”

{Rose Quartz. The symbol of unconditional love and family. Something Ruggie hasn't experienced much in his life, and is grateful for. Ruggie did not want to choose a generic gem. Not for this. He may be known for cutting corners, but this is too important. He has done his fair share of trading, and knows exactly what to look for when shopping. No salesperson alive could convince him otherwise. You may not understand the meaning behind the gem, but that's alright. He doesn't mind, because this is the ring he'll see on your finger until you're both old and grey}

Jack Howl

Jack takes the longest out of all in his dorm. In result, his proposal is the most natural. Not to say that he does not put thought into it! Oh no, this poor lad hella overthinks the event. It's just getting him to the proposing stage is - well, anticlimactic?

All Jack requires is time. Once you've both settled in to your lives on an individual standpoint, with time comes thoughts of taking your relationship to the next level. As adults who have been together for years, it's only natural? At least for Jack. He has never been for or against getting married. So, there really is no internal battle for him to fight. He just? Lets himself be happy with the idea? I know, I know. It sounds too easy - but think about it. Jack is responsible, kind, and a bit like a golden retriever (or should I just say wolf?). He doesn't ignore his feelings. So if he feels that he want's to marry you, then why not? The worst that can happen is you say no.

There was no epiphany. No spark or overwhelming feeling of affection that made him want to marry you. No impending doom, nervousness, or special moment that he can pinpoint as 'the moment'. Nothing. You weren't even around.

He was merely finishing up morning jog and heading home. The thought casually entered his head, and he let it stay. Over time it reappeared over and over, until he felt that he'd heard it enough to act on it.

Jack is high-key observant and knows your likes and dislikes by heart. He feels that such an important moment is something he needs to think through deeply, and on his own. Many have been at the receiving end of his determination, and that doesn't exclude you. Once he's set his mind to something, there is no holding back. Over the course of weeks he proceeds to undergo self-reflection, and craft a proposal that he feels is perfect.

One question he spends time thinking about is 'where,' because Jack would prefer to do an intimate act like proposing somewhere private. The last thing he wants you to feel is pressure to accept, so he chooses to propose on a late night walk. This might arise suspicion since he isn't in workout gear, which is rare. Yet it's a price Jack is willing to pay. He's never been great with surprises anyways.

He tries to uphold some element of mystery though. Do not laugh, but he put the in a plastic bag and hid it inside the container for his protein powder. When times get tough, you have to get a little creative.

Right before your evening stroll, he says that he wants to make a shake (under the pretense that afterwards he'll work-out). In actuality, he takes an empty bottle and slips the ring inside.

While you're both walking, he shakes it around and 'complains' that nothing is coming out. With you completely unknowing, he opens the cap and feigns surprise. It makes you curious, and he hands over the bottle a bit too eagerly

It's light, you note instantly. A glance inside reveals the ring, and when you pull it out Jack stops walking. His face sets with determination despite the red hue overtaking his neck and ears.

“Will you marry me?? -- oh wait, that was too blunt, wasn't it? Hang on!” he takes a breath, and coughs into his fist, "So. I've been doing some thinking. We've been together for years now, and to me you've become irreplaceable. I don't know how else to describe how I feel, other than to say that you are the only person I want to spend my life with. I hope that you feel this way too…because there isn’t anyone else for me. Just you. It’s always been you.”

{He isn't a man of the arts. Jack has no eye for fancy jewels, or what's an appropriate design. He originally thought to have the shop keeper help him decide. Yet, that felt impersonal. So he perused many stores, and did his best to imagine your reaction to seeing each ring. Nothing caught his eye until this peridot. A simple cut with an eye-catching color. Sure, it's not what others would recommend but he liked it. Who would Jack be to deny his gut instinct?}

#twst headcanons #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twst scenarios #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #twst lack #twst ruggie bucchi #twst leona kingscholar #series #twst x reader

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awniie · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ their reaction to you wearing their clothes (gojo , namani , choso )

ʚ content: suggestive, fem!reader , underwear stealing (but reverse) , domestic wife? whiny choso, drabble , no actual smut, spanking? , gojo calls reader (greedy, whore, brat ) proof read to an extent ֺ ♡

ʚ note: I kinda love this one, was tempted to write a whole one-shot with gojo ⊹ ݁ ° ⋆

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ namani - button up !

Nanami came home from a long day at work to you, cooking something aromatic in the kitchen, gowned in one of his button up shirts. His eyebrows pulled taunt as he took in the sight. You’d never wore any of his shirts before, probably because he was so precise with his clothing. “These are strictly for work” Nanami mani recalled informing you one lazy afternoon, as he hung up the identical shirts on the hangers in the walk-in closet you shared. But, what he failed to remember was that today was your big spring cleaning day, not corner was to be left unattended. So naturally, you worked your way into the closet and gotten into his excess of button-ups and did some ‘reorganizing.’

Your husband silently cursed himself for restricting your access to his wardrobe before. His brown narrow eyes lazily drifted over your figure. The shirt was oversized on you, barely hanging on to your shoulders. The buttons on the collar were unfastened, revealing your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. The slits on the hem exposing your upper-thighs covered in stretch marks. He was practically drooling. You were a pretty wrapped birthday present, practically begging to be delicately undone.

“Oh hi Ken’! How was work?” You chirp, looking up from the cutting board with a big smile, unaware of the way your husband ogled you and your body. He had only a little bit of his restraint left as he grunting out a half-hearted “fine” before he comes up behind you, your back up against his chest and heavy fingertips at your hips. He softly kisses your jaw and works down to your neck, taking advantage of his position to peer the collar of his shirt that was just soo loose on you. “Darling, what did I say about wearing my shirts?” He questioned crossly. He wasn’t really mad, he just like the way you let out those nervous giggles whenever you were caught doing something you were supposed to. “Oh, this?” you play clueless as he peppers open-mouthed kisses across your neck. “It’s just one of your old ones. It’s practically a rag.” you tell him, letting out a surprised gasp and his mouth moves to the your pulse, teasing it with his mouth. He let out a ‘tsk’ “No wife of mine will be wearing a rag.” He runs a hand underneath the warm linen, caressing your skin directly.

“Let me take them off you then.”

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ choso - graphic tee !

You and your boyfriend choso share a closet and also a fashion sense, so naturally your happen to have mix-ups with your clothes. You’ve mixed some of his socks with yours, grabbing the other’s similar colored hoodie by accident. He’s even had one of your lacy panties on the back of his shirt, which you took off and showed him, getting a confused look and a furious blush in return. Any sort of clothing mishap, you guys have had it and today was no different. So when you accidentally put on one of his graphic tees early this morning, he didn’t think much of it.

He opened his mouth to tell you, but closed it as he watched you move in it. It was big on you, but he loved it. The way it slid off the shoulder, revealing the fact that you were not wearing a bra. How it only came down to about halfway down your thighs, so when you bent it over it would rise up and he could see the pink fabric of your panties. He couldn’t help himself, so he followed you around the apartment all day like a lost puppy, trying to sneak a look at all your parts. Of course, you eventually noticed and you thought it was the cutest. So you decided to put on a show for him. You purposely tried to grab at items high on the shelf, just so you could torture him when the shirt rose above your hips and shoved your midriff and ass. He’d try so hard not to be too obvious, but when you would suddenly turn around and catch him staring, he’d start blushing and grab whatever you were reaching for you, avoiding eye contact.

Eventually, he got desperate. When you were preoccupied, he came up from behind you, lifting up the back of the shirt without difficulty. You were taken aback and tried to turn around and face him, but he was pressed against you firmly. “Cho’! You’d better be careful with your shirt.” You warned him with faux innocence, but not before rubbing your backside against him. You loved him like this, all whiny and raspy voiced. He groaned at the stimulation of you pressing on him and swallowed hard. “Don’t care baby. Need you so badly.” He whined, grinding his crotch against the fat of your ass.

“You’ve been teasing me all day. J’s need to get my damn shirt off you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ satoru - boxers !

It was late in the morning as your boyfriend satoru was doing his morning routine. Teeth brushed? Check. Face washed? Check. He had laid out his clothes, ready to put them on when he realized his black boxers were missing. “Babe?” He called out from the bathroom. “Have you seen my boxers…they were literally right here.” You respnded with an eyebrow furrowed. “No, I haven’t? Maybe you thought you did. Just grab another pair.” You advise, moving on to the next thing. Your boyfriend isn’t stupid though , no matter what you might say. He swore he places his underwear along with the rest of his clothes but it was childish to keep discussing over it, so he simply got a new pair.

This mystery didn’t go away though, in fact it started occurring more and more often. His boxers were going missing. His drawer filled with the, started to get more and more empty, seemingly every wash day. What was worst was that every time he tried to inform of you this phenomenon, you’d brush it off. “You’re such a child ‘toru.” you’d tease him. “There probably scattered around the house somewhere, you never put your clothes away.” scoffing and shutting down the possibility of there being some kind of…boxer thief. He’d rolled his eyes and try to press on but you weren’t hearing it. So he would have to find the culprit himself. He checked the dryer, making sure nothing had disappeared inside. Nothing. Then he’d check the dirty clothes hamper and his side of the closet, just to double check. Nothing. Logically thinking, there was only two of you in the apartment. So logically, the only person who could be taking his boxer…could be you. When he’d bought it up, you shoved the thought back down. “No, gojo. I haven’t been taking your underwear. I don’t want to hear anymore about this. If you need some so bad, I’ll go to the store with you we can buy some more.” You’d told him, not looking up from your phone. He knows it was wrong but, he didn’t believe you 100%. So, if you didn’t want to admit it, he’ll just have to prove it for himself.

“Oh my gosh, toru what are you doing?!” You yelped, as your boyfriend literally pantsed you. He couldn’t care less about your squeals and squirming, as there right in front of him was his missing boxers. He brought a heavy hand down on your ass, watching it jiggle. “See babe, guess I was right.” He’d gloat, bounding your two wrists together with his hand, bending you over the kitchen counter. You felt your face warm in some sort of twisted mix of shame and arousal. “I’m sorry, they’re just so much more comfortable than my panties.” You confessed, letting out another yelp as he brought another slap to your ass. “Sneaky ass bitch. Thinking you can take my boxers and then lie about it. If you wanted to borrow some, ya’ should’ve just asked.” He scolded you, his own boner poking out of one of the only pairs of underwear he has left. He rubbed his cock against your clothed cunt, bringing out whines from you.”

“Since you like my damn boxers so much, I’ll fuck you with them still on.”

@awniie’s please don’t steal ! ㅤㅤㅤ⭑

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