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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE WAY YOU EAT ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

word count; 4.9k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.

a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!

something smells good.

as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.

there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.

soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.

indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with.

it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.

in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.

a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.

with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room.

suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.

you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy.

you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.

a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can.

until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.

“good morning, sweetheart.”

softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.

and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.

(god, he’s pretty.)

suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch.

you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.

but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.

“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting.

you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.

suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.

a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.

the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light.

“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.

and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.

between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy —

but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile.

look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.

(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)

“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”

breakfast.

something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.

suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.

suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.

you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.

suguru is just so good to you.

and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.

maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy.

a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.

suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.

but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.

arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth.

and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you.

being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.

”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.

”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”

a pause.

then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.

(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)

but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.

he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.

”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”

but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is.

and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection.

but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.

”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”

he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.

“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”

to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.

”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.

”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”

it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.

and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.

to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.

you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage.

and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.

“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his.

a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”

a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind.

inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment.

“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”

suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.

“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”

and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide.

always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.

his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest.

your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.

“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.

“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”

a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.

and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.

(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)

a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is.

there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.

suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.

there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.

there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.

that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.

and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips.

everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.

all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —

suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up.

as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.

just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.

the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.

you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.

and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.

he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.

”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly.

and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.

more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.

you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?

”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.

breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.

”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”

suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.

“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”

”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”

the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.

a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?”

an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.

smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”

the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”

suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.

but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.

”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”

suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.

sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words.

you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.

and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.

he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.

he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same.

when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.

his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest.

butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.

butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.

in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.

(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)

#im normal abt him!! i swear i am!!!!!#smth about extremely devoted malewives with black hair just do it for me #suguru geto n aki hayakawa are like this🤞in my brain #i think suguru was like. crafted specifically to look good in the morning #like that deep voice……. his hair in a messy bun………. wearing sweatpants w no shirt……………….. i am on my hands n knees #this ended up almost as a parallel to my gojo fic…. it wasnt even intentional blame stsgs soulmatism #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x you #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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100 Words for Worldbuilding

Some sensory words that can enhance your story/poem.

A-E

Acid - sour, burnt; vinegary

Acrid - strong, biting (e.g., something on fire)

Airy - natural smelling, (e.g., clean, fresh air)

Ambrosial - fragrant; having a pleasant smell

Aroma - strong, yet pleasant scent

Aura - smell surrounding something

Balm - soothing scent

Billowy - scent that surges and wanes

Biting - pungent, sharp or harsh

Bouquet - blend of floral scents

Briny - salty

Buttery - smooth; rich; greasy

Citrusy - crisp notes of any citrus fruit

Clean - very light scent, clean and natural

Cottony - soft; smooth or delicate

Creaky - squeaky; showing signs of deterioration

Crisp - fresh and natural

Crystalline - strikingly clear or sparkling

Dirty - nasty, unpleasant odor

Doggy - odor like an unbathed or wet canine

Downy - soft, soothing; silky; delicate

Earthy - recently dug or tilled soil

Essence - basic, natural scent

F-M

Faint - very light or mild; can barely be detected

Feminine - floral fragrances

Fetid - decaying or rotting smell

Fishy - smelling of fish; pungent, strong, unpleasant

Fleecy - shaggy; woolly

Floral - scents associated with flowers

Flowery - fragrance similar to flowers

Foamy - frothy; bubbly

Fragrance - pleasant smell

Fresh - natural smelling, rather than artificial

Fruity - having the flavor or aroma of ripe fruit; sweet

Gaudy - excessively showy

Gingery - pungent; sharp, robust taste or aroma

Globular - spherical

Gossamer - light, delicate, or insubstantial

Grainy - coarse; sandy; unrefined

Heady - very strong aroma

Incense - strong scent

Lemony - tart, piquant citrus notes

Lilac - rich floral scent combining rose with vanilla

Lime - refreshing and zesty citrus smell

Loamy - fragrance with an earthy note

Masculine - earthy fragrances

Medicinal - earthy; often unpleasant

Mildewed - soaked in wetness that has gone stale

Minty - menthol-like smell (e.g., mint tea or peppermint candy)

Misty - mild fragrance, not overpowering

Moist - smell of dew or rainfall

Moldy - damp, fungus-like odor

Musty - old smell; stale and probably moldy

N-R

Nauseating - odor that makes one sick to the stomach

Odorize - changing the scent

Overpowering - too strong of a smell

Peppery - hot, pungent, fiery; stinging

Perfumed - artificial fragrance, not natural-smelling

Pheromone - natural scents

Piercing - loud, shrill; biting

Pine - crisp, refreshing evergreen smell

Piquant - pleasantly pungent, sharp, or spicy taste

Plastic - artificial chemical polymer odor

Poignant - pungently pervasive; piercing

Prickly - stinging; irritating; itchy

Pristine - fresh and clean as or as if new

Pungent - strong fragrance

Putrid - stench of decay

Rancid - spoiled; food that has gone bad

Rank - offensive in odor or flavor

Redolent - having a strong, permeating odor

Repulsive - off-putting odor

Rich - strong, resounding smell that is appealing to the senses

Ripe - brought by aging to full flavor or the best state

Rose - spicy yet sweet fragrance

Rotten - spoiled, rancid, unpalatable

S-Z

Savory - spicy, salty scent that has no elements of sweetness

Sharp - pungent fragrance that permeates the air

Skunky - noxious smell that lingers; sulfuric (like rotten eggs) odor

Smoky - scent of burning wood

Soapy - smooth and slippery

Sour - rancid, sickly sweet smell

Spicy - sharp, heady, can sting or tickle the nose

Spoiled - rotten; something that has “gone bad”

Stale - old, dusty, stagnant odor

Stinking - unpleasant, foul smell

Sweaty - perspiration odor

Sweet - sugary smell

Tangy - having a powerfully stimulating odor or flavor; acidic

Tantalizing - arouses or stimulates desire or interest

Tart - sharp fragrance or taste

Tasteless - arousing no interest; dull

Tempting - having an appeal; enticing

Trace - a tiny amount of fragrance

Velvety - soft, smooth, thick, or richly hued

Vinegary - sour; disagreeable, bitter, or irascible

Whiff - a fleeting scent

Wispy - hint of fragrance in the air

Woodsy - forest-like smell

Zesty - sharp and pleasantly stimulating

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Worldbuilding ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing References

#worldbuilding #word list #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #writing inspiration #writing ideas #descriptors #creative writing #fiction #writing resources

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cuddleprofiler · 2 months ago

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AN AFTERNOON AT HOME - A rare noon where you & Hotch are home

Word Count: 1.8k approx

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Thanks @ssa-dado for giving the idea that ended up being the inspiration for this fic. Positive Criticism is welcomed.

The aroma of food distracted you from your interesting book, making you get lost in the amazing aroma coming from the kitchen of your and Aaron's shared apartment. You swear this man has magic in his hands! The level of cooking he achieves can put even the most brilliant chefs to shame, including his own brother, Sean. You have been to many restaurants around here and in your hometown, but aside from your parents, no one has come so close to touching your heart with their cooking.

You closed your eyes and inhaled the scent, and before you realize it, a smile has automatically graced your face. What you didn't realize was that Aaron was watching you, alternating between stirring pots and stealing glances your way. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your soft smile before he returned his focus to the task at hand.

Slowly, you stood up, eyes now open. After placing a bookmark in your book, you moved toward the kitchen where your dashing boyfriend was preparing lunch. You stood at the threshold, marvelling at the man who was the Unit Chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, responsible for profiling notorious killers. He often maintained a serious demeanour, grumpy and stern in his professional life—but look at him now.

Moving into the kitchen with such ease, he bounced on his steps as he danced to the soft music he had set up. The volume was perfectly set for a cosy afternoon with your loved one. While he was busy, he bobbed his head lightly to the rhythm of the song.

His dark brown hair, always kept neat and perfect, now had some unkempt strands that bounced with him, making him look younger. They moved rhythmically with each motion, catching the light and adding an effortless charm to his every step. The tousled waves flowed around his face, framing it with a playful energy that was rare in your professions. Also, his stress-free demeanour always made him look young.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, as quietly as possible, aware of his big ears that could hear everything within a hundred meters. You stood right behind him and snuck your arms around his waist, burying your face in his back.

“So, what are you making for lunch?”

Your voice came out slightly muffled and soft, but Hotch understood you perfectly.

He turned you around gently and hugged you, burying his head in your hair and inhaling the fragrance of your shampoo that made you uniquely you. He smiled into your hair. When he pulled back lightly, still keeping his arms looped around your lower back, you looked up at him.

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich, egg salad, sushi, and tomato soup—your favorite,” he said proudly.

He lifted you onto the counter while continuing his culinary endeavours. You frowned and shot him a playful glare. Feeling your gaze, he looked up and returned your glare with an innocent smile. You couldn't help but smile back at his antics. If anyone from the team saw this side of him, you’d definitely have to call an ambulance—for Pen and Morgan, without a doubt!

“You should have made your favourite too,” you said, pouting at his habit of putting you first.

“My favourite is you. Besides, I can eat anything,” he replied cheerfully.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“When I cook, I promise to make all your favourites,” you said after a moment.

Aaron snorted. “I appreciate the sentiment, honey, but I’m not letting you cook in my kitchen. No way.”

“Why not?” you asked, confusion lacing your tone.

“Do I need to remind you of all the disasters you’ve caused in this kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure even criminals wouldn’t have suffered as much in jail as you have in this poor kitchen,” he added playfully.

You lightly swatted his chest.

“Ow! That hurt,” he said, feigning injury while dramatically rubbing his chest.

“It was meant to,” you replied with a laugh.

You took the plates after he set them up perfectly, as he liked to do. Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile this version of him with the serious professional you saw at work, but you both craved this normalcy in your lives.

Sometimes, cases hit too close to home. The relentless stream of tragic news can overwhelm even the strongest souls. After hearing the details, all you felt was a chilling numbness settling in your chest, growing into something deeper than you cared to admit. It often left you drifting away from your surroundings into a darkness that expanded with the horrors you had witnessed.

In those moments, you longed for a sense of normalcy like that of civilians, something to ground you. You yearned for good memories, moments that could lift you from the shadows. You gently shook your head when you felt Aaron sit next to you on the couch.

“You really love this movie,” he remarked, glancing at the screen.

“Not more than you.”

“You must have seen it at least a thousand times,” he said, waiting for you to queue it up so you could begin lunch.

“Yeah, but it’s just so good.”

“Even if she's a bit?”

“Yeah—no, not that part! But the way Laney and Zach look at each other and care for one another just melts my heart. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!” you exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing lightly.

After finishing lunch, you and Aaron settled back on the couch, watching the remainder of the movie while cuddling. He ran his fingers through your hair, tucking stray strands behind your ears. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his t-shirt as your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Hey, I’ll be in my office for a bit,” he said, attempting to extricate himself from your hold.

“Today is a day off, Hotch. Relax! You always stress over these things,” you replied in a playful tone, refusing to let him go.

“Don’t call me Hotch at home, sweetheart.” He chuckled at your habit of using his last name at home and his first name at work.

“It slipped! I swear it’s second nature to call you that.”

“Then it should be something you call me the least.”

“What should I call you, then?”

“How about ‘My Man’?” he teased, knowing well that you had saved that name for him in your phone.

“How do you know about that?” you asked, puzzled, as a smile grew on your face seeing his. No one knows about this except the girls who saw it on girls' night when you were too drunk to hide it. They have teased you since then mercilessly.

“I have my ways.”

When he came out of the office, or “cave” as you liked to call it, he was met with a mesmerizing sight. He smiled softly and moved toward you to observe your beautiful and happy face more. He would be lying if he said he could get enough of it. This lifetime will be less for that, he mused in his head.

You were lying on your side, breathing softly. Curled up on the couch, you looked peaceful, your soft features illuminated by the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Your hair cascaded over the cushions in loose waves, a few strands falling delicately across your face. You looked so free that it warmed his heart. The gentle rise and fall of your chest added to the serene atmosphere.

He placed your hand, which was falling off the sofa, on your stomach and moved you to be more comfortable. He then got under the blanket covering you and slid his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. He kissed your cheek as you turned around and nuzzled your face into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent and falling asleep, thinking about him.

When he woke, the room was dim, indicating it was late. He glanced at you, still sleeping peacefully.

“Honey, wake up,” he said, running his hand gently up and down your forearm.

“Wake up. It’s evening!” he tried again, knowing how much you loved to sleep.

“I’m tired.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, I want to sleep.”

“Get up! You can sleep later,” he urged, offering a compromise; otherwise, you might miss dinner.

You resisted getting up, but Aaron wasn’t letting you go. You tried shifting in the other direction, but he always pulled you back. You also didn’t like the cold sensation that came with moving away from him.

“Don’t give me that grumpy face. You say it’s my job to do that.”

“Aaron…”

You slowly opened your eyes, and the first thing you saw was Hotch, his chocolate brown eyes looking sleepily at you. His hair was a tousled mess, strands sticking out in all directions, creating an unruly halo around his head. The usually sleek locks were now slightly tousled and frizzy, giving him a charming, boyish look. A few stubborn curls fell across his forehead, remnants of sleep clinging to the tips, adding to his dishevelled appeal.

You smiled brightly and kissed him on the nose; he looked so cute that you couldn’t resist. You kissed him again and again on the nose and cheeks until you heard his rare laughter ringing out, making you laugh in joy as well.

Now, after dinner, you both lay on the lawn, stargazing. Well, you were stargazing while Hotch’s whole focus was on you. You shared facts about constellations and stars, drawing from your own knowledge and Spencer’s insightful talks.

“And that’s Procyon. It’s located in the constellation Canis Minor,” you said, pointing at the sky.

“You know, love, Spencer told me it was known as the Dog Star of Canis Minor in ancient times, complementing Sirius, the Dog Star of Canis Major,” you added, rambling excitedly about your love for stars.

“It’s amazing how everything has such meaningful names. What do you think?” you asked, turning to him. You expected him to be looking at the sky, but instead, his gaze was fixed on you. You could feel your breaths mingling, making you a little dizzy. Your eyes locked, and with every second, you felt more lost in the depths of each other's eyes.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he finally said, his gaze unwavering.

“And?”

“And the moonlight highlights your already captivating features.”

“And?”

“I want to kiss you,” he admitted, a hint of longing in his voice.

“What’s stopping you?” you challenged playfully.

Under the soft glow of outdoor lights illuminating both your faces, Hotch leaned in and captured your lips. The kiss was tender and soft, a reminder of the life you shared outside the chaos. It felt like a gentle breeze heralding the beginning of winter. He cradled your face as your hands danced along his jawline, leaving you both grinning as if you had uncovered something extraordinary. In that moment, you were wrapped in intimacy and joy, cocooned from the outside world, envisioning an infinite future together.

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segretecose · 5 months ago

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i think amaury guichon the chocolate guy could kill jeremy fragrance if he really wanted to obviously jeremy wouldn't eat chocolate but we do know that he eats eggs with the shell on so all amaury would have to do is make some chocolate look like a boiled egg which he could do in his sleep the only problem at this point would of course be jeremy's super sense of smell which could only be obviated by some kind of huge chocolate block head trauma derived parosmia after that amaury would need a slow poison because he wouldn't want him to go too quickly... i think

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deltaruminations · 1 year ago

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wd gaster merch concepts

scarlet forest tree costume

magnetic board with a print of the gonermaker background. includes a set of word magnets that you can arrange to make the mysterious voice say ridiculous word salad poetry like “YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THE LEGS. POSSIBILITY OF EGG? WONDERFUL.” as well as set of magnetic vessel parts that can be cobbled together into terrible abominations

bag of loose black and white legos that have no instructions and don’t fit together into anything recognizable

non-functional nokia 1100 cellphone that looks like it was dredged up from the bottom of a lake. when you press any of the buttons it emits a Horrible Noise

“Deconstructed” Plush (loose stuffing and squares of fabric in a ziploc bag)

fragrance blind box “for ‘HIM’”. a fine gift for the dark and mysterious gentleman in your life. the boxes are labeled “EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS” and “OPEN TO OBSERVE YOUR FATE.” each box contains small vial of perfume and a figurine of a dead cat. possible scents include: ozone; sulfur; pine; charred bone; autumn leaves; petrichor; cigarette smoke

cookbook: 666 Ways to Crack an Egg. it’s written entirely in wingdings. recipes 26-666 are redacted “for you’re safety”. shockingly normal otherwise

small USB lamp shaped like a clear crystal. dangerously bright when turned on

Box Of Broken Glass

#$ shitpost zone #wd gaster #deltarune

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munariplans · 1 year ago

Note

hi there! hope ur doing well. i love ur writing and have been wondering if you could do a story about reader disappearing on the teams day off. natasha who has a crush on reader notices and spys on reader to see if she’s meeting up with someone. instead it’s just reader being a good person and helping people along the way. making natasha fall in love with her even more.

days off | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above! thank you anon for your submission :)

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.3k words

a/n: requests and asks are always open

masterlist

“what are you doing?” natasha asked you shyly, her figure leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. she watched your hands skilfully kneading the dough on the counter over and over again, folded into a neat rectangle before being flattened and folded again in the next moment. behind you, pans were sizzling with the mouth-watering fragrance of scrambled eggs being cooked on the stove, and the oven let out a ding right as she stepped closer, telling you that it was preheated and ready.

you let the dough rest, before putting a pre-prepared one in the oven and finally turning to her. “making breakfast,” you said, matter-of-factly, “for the team.”

“but it’s our off-day,” she replied, “and we have chefs in the compound.”

you smiled. “well, i just thought it would be nice to have something homemade, for once. my mother taught me how to cook, and i figured i’d spend the morning of the day-off in the kitchen, where i’ll be busy, and…the thoughts wouldn’t be so loud.”

natasha folded her arms over herself as you came closer. you noticed she had just come back from the gym. she probably hadn’t had anything to eat.

carefully slicing the freshly baked bread into halves, you took a pair out of the perfect symmetry and placed them on the plate, before ladling a helping of the scrambled eggs, taking a few pieces of bacon out of the other pan, and placing a piece of hash brown right on top, before covering it with the other half of the bread. she watched you work, methodically, seamlessly. you looked like you had been doing it for years.

then, you wrapped the sandwich quickly, and wrote her initials, N.R. with a smiley on top of the wrapper, before handing it to her. she was taken aback, and slightly red when she looked at the sandwich being offered to her.

“i-it’s…” she stuttered, heart beating quickly when she realised she hadn’t exactly taken the sandwich, but hadn’t rejected your offer, either.

“i want you to be my first taster. if it’s good, i’ll call the team down to have it as well. and if it’s bad…” you shrugged, half-laughing in anticipation as natasha finally took it, taking a small bite in front of you.

she took a moment to chew, face in contemplation, as if she were assessing a fine dining establishment before you. you began taking off your apron, deciding to let the chefs help you take over for the serving of the food later on, and started packing your things.

just before you left, however, you noticed natasha fully into the entryway of the kitchen again, sandwich half-eaten.

“it’s okay,” she said nonchalantly, wiping a little bit off the ends of her lips. “it’s edible.”

you nodded, hiding a smile. “okay means good. i’ll tell the team to come down, then.”

natasha shrugged this time, as if saying if that’s what you want. when you left to shower, however, she smiled quietly to herself, and after making sure that no one was around, did a little happy dance from one of the most delicious sandwiches she had ever eaten. it was more than okay, it was the best breakfast she had ever had. she only wished she had the courage to tell you so.

the redhead then tore the part of your handwriting of her initials off the wrapper, and kept it in her pocket for the rest of the day.

–

natasha never really knew what to do on her day-offs. it felt weird, to be sitting around doing nothing. she could do her remaining paperwork, but she knew if tony caught her, he would ban her from working on it at all for a week, leaving her even more bored and restless.

she could sleep in, or explore new york for the day, but she wasn’t fully confident that her russian accent wouldn’t throw the average new yorker off yet. it also didn’t help that ever since her joining the avengers, there was always someone around the block who recognised who she was, who let their eyes rake over her figure for far too long, who made her feel uncomfortable when they got too close to ask for a picture. the others never seemed to mind, but she did.

she noticed you always seemed to step in when it got too much; telling the fans that enough was enough, or simply holding her waist and slowly whisking her away from their prying eyes and grubby hands. she threw her head back onto her pillow at the thought of your hands on her waist again. natasha seriously needed to stop thinking about you, and her festering crush, whenever she had the opportunity. she needed to busy herself.

but when you appeared in the commons right as she stepped out of her room to ask what you planned to do on your day-off, you were in your coat and scarf, prepared to head out. the rest of the team was still lazily lounging around the area, in a dazed state from the aftermath of your coma-inducing breakfast.

“where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to pry too much, but still allowing herself to feed her own curiosity.

she hated that you always replied with a tone that seemed like it was painfully obvious what you were doing. “out.”

“i know, but–”

“hey romanoff, are you still coming for the basketball game later? steve needs to book the seats.” tony called out to her before she could finish the sentence. he asked you too, but you reaffirmed with him that you weren’t coming.

you shifted your scarf slightly, turning your attention back to her. “you ever been to a basketball game before? you’ll like it. the warriors are something else.”

natasha shook her head. you knew she had never been. but it didn’t mean that she wanted to go, not without you around. but she also didn’t have the courage to ask if she could tag along to wherever you were going. she knew her limits.

you didn’t seem to take the hint of her wanting to come along, despite her readily asking if you were going to meet someone, or if you were just going out alone, and if you had plans for after. you simply waved her goodbye, and told her to enjoy the game with the team.

she sighed in irritation when you left, much to the amusement of clint behind her. “does she have a girlfriend or something? is that what she’s using her day-offs for?”

if clint wasn’t already hiding his grin, his friend’s newfound annoyance at your departure definitely made him let out a chuckle. “not that i know of.”

natasha didn’t have much to do that day, and it wasn’t like she was particularly looking forward to the game either, so she decided to spend her day-off the only way she knew how, using her spying skills and finding out what you were doing with yours.

–

in retrospect, natasha knew that you probably wouldn’t have liked being stalked, or followed around without her telling you why, or even simply her not taking the initiative to just ask, when you would have told her willingly of what you spent your breaks on.

she followed you into the university uptown, where natasha knew you guest-lectured in between longer breaks from missions. she just never expected you to come in on your days-off as well.

you tapped your card in to the science department of the school, while natasha snuck past the security guard after causing a well-crafted distraction. when you entered the lockers to change into your lab coat, natasha waited patiently outside like a schoolgirl hiding from their crush. she supposed she wasn’t so different from one then.

it was only when you walked down the halls into a room guarded by a facial recognition scan, that natasha finally got to know that she a) wasn’t being so discreet after all, or b) you were a better agent than you let on to her. she should have known that you didn’t get promoted through the ranks so fast, so young, without reasons.

the machine scanned your face, and as the door unlocked, you stood there for a moment, holding it wide open, before leaning your head to the side, one eye locked with hers.

“do you want to come in and see as well, or do you plan on just waiting for me until i finish?”

if clint had seen the embarrassment on her face, along with the walk of shame she had to put on to enter the room with you, he would have certainly made her the laughing stock of the compound for the day.

–

you drew up a chair for natasha as you went to your usual work station, a little early for your patient. in the few minutes that the two of you were alone, you hadn’t engaged her at all, simply directing her to sit and watch, while you prepared your materials and waited for your lab assistant. natasha was a little unnerved, and in awe at your professionalism, at the same time.

you clicked your tongue in slight annoyance as your assistant came in five minutes late, reminding him, almost naggingly, that you only had one day-off per week, and it was precious time that he was wasting for the both of you. he apologised, and got to work helping you set up what looked like a robotic prosthetic leg, on your station.

the lab was pristine; white-tiled walls and floors scrubbed clean with a very strong stench of antiseptic ensuring to even the most sceptic of minds that you knew what you were doing, and that the lab was clean; if the multiple diagrams of your inventions on the walls and the prototypes lining the shelves around her were not enough proof. you had never told her you had a lab.

a few minutes later, two knocks on the door were heard, and your assistant rushed over to open the door for a man no younger than seventy, hobbling in with great difficulty as he tried to offer help with his support, only to be rejected with a wave of his hand and an upbeat smile. he was an amputee.

oh. this was what your days-off were for.

“hello, mr. miller. you look cheerful today.” you got up from your seat to shake his hand. he took your support this time, leading himself to the plush armchair placed across your station.

he laughed, rough and loud. “david, how many times have i come in here and asked you to call me?”

you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, david. let me help you with this.”

he winced as you kneeled down beside him, outstretching his prosthetic leg and inspecting it. your assistant took notes as you made observations of the various deficiencies and defects it suffered through david’s use of it for the past six months. natasha watched as your hands, the ones that would hold her at night when she cried, the ones that punched the faces of enemies trying to get to her, the very same hands that made her breakfast that morning, ran over the intricate details and bolts and nuts of the prosthetic leg she learned you made just for david, knowing what was wrong just by the feel and touch of them. she adored those hands so much.

then, you helped him take off the prosthetic, instructing your assistant to hold his hand in encouragement as he winced at the removal. “there we go. wasn’t so bad this time, right? and the leg did hold up quite well, for six months.”

“well, you do maintenance to it every week,” david patted your back, “hard to fuck it up so bad when you fix it up every time i try to, right?”

you laughed, and natasha stopped herself from smiling. at your signal, the assistant brought forth the limb that you both had been working on to replace david’s old one for the past year, shiny and new. the man positively gleamed at the sight of it.

“ready for a bit of a change, though, mr. miller?”

“now, that is a beauty,” he said as his eyes latched on, before they inevitably noticed natasha sat at the corner of where the limb was, and she swore he held recognition for her instantly.

you followed his gaze, before his met yours, and the playful smirk he let out was all that you needed to know that he knew. “is that your…”

“...friend, natasha,” you replied him quickly, eyes slightly panicked and subtly, not so subtly, shaking your head to ask him to stop before he let out your little secret.

“is she the one–”

“–yes, david. she’s the one.”

he finally caught the hint, and chuckled to himself as he waved hi to her. she waved back, no doubt in confusion of the connection between him and her. she made a mental note to ask you about it later.

–

when the new leg was fitted on him, david was practically almost jumping for joy at the new flexibility and strength it gave him. his laughter was infectious, as natasha quickly learned, when it caught up to her after it caught you and the assistant, as well.

“look at the reflexes! and fluidity of this thing!” no longer was he hobbling and exerting his entire strength on the one leg, it was almost as if the leg was natural and part of him itself, as david brought you in for a hug enthusiastically.

you hugged him back, still grinning. “amazing right, what science can do for you. soon, the future of prosthetics is going to change, and we can make so many more lives better in our community.”

“you two are amazing, simply amazing!” david exclaimed, even as he finally accepted the assistant’s help in testing out the other features of the prosthetic.

–

natasha stayed until the end of the day for you, when david’s tests were complete and he was all but ready to leave.

“and to what i owe you this time, again?” he asked. you knew he didn’t have much, it was the sole reason you took him on for the project; but the fact that he remained so grateful, always offering payment, even when you had repeatedly rejected him, always touched you.

“for you to come back next week, as always. and to thank mr. parker here for all his efforts. i couldn’t have done all this without him.”

your assistant looked like he was going to cry at the recognition and hug david gave him. “doing a good job, kid.”

you held the door open for david then, and he stole one last glance at natasha before he left. “you know, your girlfriend here really is a genius, ms. black widow. the best of her–”

“–thank you, david!” you cut in, visibly more in a panic this time, as you held his hand and ushered him out, “just a friend, a friend!”

“what?” he didn’t seem keen to leave, “i’m just helping the two of you speed things along. god knows she wouldn’t have stayed here in this boring lab all day, running tests on an old war veteran running his mouth, if she wasn’t smitten with you too!”

natasha’s cheeks instantly reddened, as you sighed in embarrassment. so maybe her feelings were reciprocated, for a while now.

with the assistant chuckling in the background, you shut the door ushering david out, whispering frustratedly that he was leaking all of your secrets about natasha. “david! i told you and peter about her in confidence!”

“i know, but you didn’t tell me she was head over heels for you too.”

“because she’s not!” you whisper-yelled, “she came just to see what i was doing, and…and…”

and…oh.

david’s look made sense now. it all made sense now. her shyness around you, the way she always wanted you around, always wanted to know what you were doing, the reasons for her coming all this way to accompany you on your day-off.

you had thought she wouldn’t be interested, and would leave after seeing what your activities just were, but you hadn’t expected her to stay. and you hadn’t expected to feel her gaze on you throughout.

“when you know, you know.” he assured, patting you on the back again as he walked off, “trust me, kid. and she’s a good one, you picked a good one.”

–

your assistant had retreated to his corner of the lab when you came back in, while natasha stretched her joints and got ready to leave too. it was dark by then, and you felt guilty for making her stay past dinner. you excused your assistant to leave quickly, before finally turning to her.

“sorry.”

“for what?” she yawned.

“for trapping you here with me on your day-off. i feel guilty now.”

she rolled her eyes, before jabbing you slightly. “idiot. i stayed because i wanted to stay. and you didn’t force me here, in fact, i was the one who followed you, remember?”

“yeah, you do need to make sure that the person you’re stalking isn’t a super spy like you before you do that, though.”

at the blush on her cheeks and feigned hurt on her face, you quickly decided to change the subject. “what david said earlier…ignore him. he’s old, a little senile. really doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“really?” natasha frowned, “that’s a shame.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you leaned back against the counter of your station. she continued, “i really wanted what he said to be true.”

you blinked in surprise, unable to hide the shock on your face. it was your turn to be nervous around natasha now. it was always the other way around. perhaps the knowledge of knowing your feelings were mutual beckoned you to retreat to a shy disposition you never showed anyone else.

natasha shrugged. “damn, i really thought i had a chance with the most wonderful, kind-hearted person i know, who would spend her days off, even, to help people. who i thought was hiding to meet a secret girlfriend or something.”

a smile began to creep its way onto your face. “n-no, no secret girlfriend.”

“shame. i bet that secret girlfriend would be so in awe, falling even more for this person, when she finds out what she does for the people around her. a superhero saving the lives of many as an avenger, and a scientist changing the lives of even more as a civilian.”

“mm,” you took off your lab coat then, coming closer to her. she had a playful glint in her eyes as she put one hand on your chest, preventing you from getting too close. “tell me more praises of what this secret girlfriend would feel about me.”

“this secret girlfriend also does not appreciate when you keep such lovely secrets from her,” she felt your arms on the counter behind her now, entrapping her body with yours, “and when you try to do anything without taking her to dinner first. she’s starving, you know.”

the chuckle that left your lips made natasha only want to kiss you even more. “what do you say i make this secret girlfriend not-so-secret now, and invite her out to dinner with me? her favourite italian down the street from here, my treat.”

in response, the woman before you finally let go of the hand on your chest, and brought her hands to your collar to pull you in, leaving a searing kiss on your lips that left you lightheaded and longing for more, at the same time.

she held your hand as the both of you walked out of the university, before declaring something she had to say before she forgot, “tell david he should expect to see me around the lab every week from now on too, then.”

“yes ma’am.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe

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hallowpen · 3 months ago

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This post is going to be a combination of The Loyal Pin Episodes 5 and 6, as I was unable to post for episode five due to my travel schedule.

Let's start off with the two key highlights from Episode 5...

หมูสร่ง (pronounced 'muu sarong') is a Thai dish made of pork meatballs wrapped in egg noodles that are fried until golden and crispy. For this reason, the dish is literally translated as "Pork wrapped in Golden Threads". It is usually served with a plum dipping sauce.

The Thai name for the series is ปิ่นภักดิ์ ('Pin Phak'). ปิ่น serves as Khun Pin's nickname... but is also Thai for "hairpin". A tradition born from the Lanna Kingdom (อาณาจักรล้านนา), nobles and high-ranking officials would purchase hairpins of gold, silver, or brass to wear as a social status symbol of their wealth. The gift of a hairpin (usually a gift given from a suitor to their potential bride) would symbolize one's promise to care for its intended wearer. Hairpins are associated with the belief that they will help to preserve a couple's love and prevent it from fading over time. They are, therefore, representative of the true and lasting connection between Anil and Pin.

If you managed to survive Episode 6, let's discuss....

การซักผ้าด้วยเครื่องหอม - The process of washing clothes in fragrant water is pretty straightforward. A combination of herbs, spices, and florals are added to boiling water to create a natural detergent. The chosen additives can aid in stain and odor removal, reducing wrinkles, and preserving the color of the garments. The particular ingredients chosen in the series were 1) ลูกซัดคั่ว (roasted fenugreek seeds) - Also known as methi seeds, they smell and taste like maple syrup 2) ชะลูด (dried alyxia) - A climbing flowering plant that has a sweet and light fragrance, described to smell like honey 3) ใบเตย (pandan leaves) - A tropical plant whose soft aroma is described as having hints of rose, almond, and vanilla.

Thai rubies (พลอยสีทับทิม) are extremely rare and highly coveted, as they are far scarcer than diamonds. The rubies are not only admired for their beauty, but are known in Thai culture as one of the nine sacred gemstones. They are believed to hold auspicious meanings, and to bring long-lasting love to their wearer. Owning and wearing jewelry that features this incredibly valued gemstone is seen as a status symbol for royalty. Princess Alisa gifting these jewels to Pin for her birthday means she holds Pin in very high regard (it was hinted in the first episode that Alisa views Pin as a second daughter).

There are a few conversations and quotes from this episode that I would like to highlight.

The first is the conversation between Pin and Princess Patt:

"Can Princess Anil follow in Princess Patt's footsteps and stay unmarried?" "That would be quite unlikely, Lady Pin. [...] Savettavarit is a very famous, wealthy, and well-respectable family. Princess Anil will eventually have to get married. You will also have to get married as well, Lady Pin. I already have some prospects in mind."

There are certain expectations that women of royalty and nobility cannot escape from. The most prominent of which is to be married and have natural born children to preserve the line of succession. It is also important to note that these potential marriage prospects are always chosen by a daughter's parents...with the daughter having little to no say over the decision. Which leads me right into the next scene... when Anil is talking to Prik about having to leave for England sooner than she expected:

"I did not choose to do this, Prik."

Such a short and quick line... that holds so much meaning. Anil is a highly ranked princess yet, even she, must submit to the whims of her elder brother. Women hardly hold a say over their own lives within this society... and that's going to come into play, very obviously, later on in the series...

The last scene I wanted to mention was during Anil's planned dinner, when she and Pin were discussing Pin's birthday:

"What gift do you want from me for your birthday?" "Just wake up early to make merits and give alms to the monks with me, Your Highness."

I'm mentioning this scene for cultural reasons. In Thai culture, the tradition of making merit and giving alms together is tied to the beliefs of shared karma. The practice is said to bring prosperity to couples in their current life, and to ensure they will meet again in future lives. Pin's request is representative of her intentions to walk hand-in-hand with Anil in their present life, and in their future lives to come. I'm not crying... you are!!! 😭😭😭

#the loyal pin #thai culture #thai food #anilpin #koda watches gl #talk thai to me #koda's royal records

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blueparadis · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ ULTRAVIOLENCE ✦ SUGURU GETO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ On Christmas evening of 2009 Geto Suguru receives an unexpected gift, a cure to his loneliness, and a curse to his mission of creating his "new world".

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, cult leader!geto suguru, canon divergent, profanity, prostitution, yandere!getou suguru, possessive behavior,smut, f1ngering, hand job, mutual masturbation, nipple stimulation, mutual pining, heavy angst, angst and tragedy, canon-typical violence; 4,7k word count + this this for @nagumoan's collab: 'dance with the dead'

| blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. + cross-posted to ao3.|

30th of September, 2007.

The warmth and the humidity in the air have been settling on Geto’s skin for a while. The shrill cry of cicadas has been ringing in his ears. Even now, he can hear it amidst the sound of running water, washing dishes, and the table fan.

“Otou-san will be home soon, Sugu. You don’t have to wait for him to come back. Nowadays, he works till late at night.” The elderly woman puts the poached egg in the ramen bowl and places it in front of her son. Suguru stares at the food with plain slate eyes. “Your father thinks he can help you with your higher studies.” —his mother wipes her frail, slightly wrinkled hands in her apron before dragging the chair and sitting in front of her son, face to face— “But actually, he just misses having you around the house since you moved in the dorms last month. Is the food there okay? Are you eating well?”

Suguru does not speak. He gulps remembering the taste of curses. He has been doing his job like a robot all this summer— exorcise, absorb, digest. exorcise, absorb, digest, exorcise, absorb, digest, absorb, digest— “How is Satoru?” his mother asks pulling him back into reality. Her smile was so soft smile that Suguru thought it could make lilies bloom. He just listens to his mother like he usually does whenever he visits her. His eyes fall onto the ramen bowl again, there are hot fumes emerging from it. They must smell delicious like he remembers. But unfortunately, it failed to thrum the strings of Geto Suguru’s heart.

“Okaa-san, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry. I can wait for Otou-san to come home.” he remarks, smiling at his mother letting the food get cold. He has done this so many times, engaging his mother in talk so that she does not notice how hard it is for him to chew, swallow & eat without experiencing the taste and smell of it. All he can feel on his tongue is the rotten taste of curses, the aroma of dying corpses of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers. Maybe this is why he is losing weight so fast, not because of the heat. The more he tried to cling onto the mundanity of humans the farther it slipped away from him; like sand spilling through the gaps of his fingers.

“But why aren’t you in your school dress, my dear?” His mother asks, noticing him in normal black trousers and shirt.

“Oh! It got too much dirt.” He responds, looking at the clock in the kitchen.

This time will be the last time he sees his mother’s smile, hears her voice, sees her cook food for him, and the last time he welcomes his father to home.

3rd of February, 2008

“Oka-san. Otou-san. I’m turning 18 today.” Suguru jocked down to sit in front of his parents' graveyard. He places a few incense sticks with the fragrance of chrysanthemum, two bowls full of ramen, and some sake in front of the graveyard. He looks at the poached eggs, and the lump in his throat bobs once. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come on your funeral day.”

“Neeh—Oka-san, are you listening?” His eyes perk up. “Is it bad that I don’t regret any of this?” There is a pause before he stands up again. He finishes his last bit of cigarette and burns the butt with his cursed energy. “But you know what? I’m now less angry and more guilty. Guilty of so many things—”

“Geto-sama, we don’t have much time. They will tail us soon if we are here any longer than this.” Manami speaks with worry carefully buried under her commanding tone. His phone vibrates. He checks the caller ID. Shui Kong it read. A salacious curve appears at one corner of his lip. Disbanding the star religious group was a piece of cake for him. And, now with the help of Shui Kong, he will get an endless influx of money and curses in no time yet it would not be enough to defeat ‘the strongest’; he thinks. nope, that’s wrong, deep down, he knows that.

“Yeah, you are right. Nanako and Mimiko will get scared if they wake up and find none of us.” Geto smiles before turning on his feet to walk. As he starts to walk Manami waits till he goes ahead of her, at least eight feet from her and then she follows Geto Suguru. Geto's shadow does not even touch Manami’s, never does, she makes sure of that. She does not belong to his shadow, nor as his comrade but perhaps a part of the ‘family’ that Geto-sama keeps talking about.

“I won’t be here next year,” Suguru murmurs to himself before stepping out of the graveyard. He never looked back that day not while walking, not while getting in the car, and not even through the mirror. He did not feel the need to look back.

24th of December 2009

Geto Suguru skims through the thick crowd in the front lounge of one of the most expensive brothels in the city like the bow of a ship through the waves. There are men on couches, beautiful women over them, and the blended aroma of strong cologne and burning tobacco fills the air. Not only that, the tingling music mixed with waves of laughter of women and men makes Geto slaver at the thought of killing them all. He could do it now. He has both, power and confidence. But he is not here to create a massacre.

“Getou-sama,” a familiar low hum reaches his ears making him turn his head. At first, he thought he was just imagining it then he felt a tug in his baggy pants. He lowers his eyes to the ground.

“Ahhhhh! Nanako—Suguru takes her in his arms and clears his throat before speaking making it tart at every stretch of his words— “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the car? It's not safe for you here.” Not only it is unsafe but also inappropriate. A girl of her age should not witness the path that could also been her if he had not saved Nanako and her twin sister two years ago. Geto strolls back towards his car. “Negi, make sure she does not follow me. ” He instructs this young lad who drove Geto today keeping a sleeping Nanako inside the car.

“Well, she wouldn't have been here if she didn't fight with her sister,” Negi responds before bowing down. Geto watches the car go inside the parking area and then he vanishes into the thick crowd like a pebble in the wind of lust, power, money, and scandal. He earns a few curious stares and with such enormously handsome features and elegantly electrifying personality who would miss? It dawns on his mind that he killed the Yakuza who owned this brothel a week ago. The crowd is bearable, well, penetrable at least. Walking amongst non-sorcerers makes him nauseous at times but now he has reached the point where a part of him is willing to abolish this useless crowd in a snap. But he does not need to, not now. Now is not the time, nor the place.

Geto Suguru should have been at his new home with his new family spending this fine Christmas evening drinking. In all honesty, he did not even have to cut through this lustrous mob if Shui Kong kept his word, that is, delivering the money in the proper place and time. The only reason why he came in person to collect the money was because Shui Kong was the one who helped him to get a grasp on the star religious group. Not only that, he kept giving Geto information about such groups, and with his cursed manipulation technique he gobbled them up in no time. It was a walk in the park for him.

There was a steady flow of curses and money. Even certain small yakuza gangs, the smart ones but with lower manpower, started to send favors to appease him. He is like a god of the underworld now. But some dumb power-hungry yakuza men refused to retort to such steps and hence, they fell prey to his curses. He is going to eventually kill all these foxes but not now. He needs them now, he needs them to dilute his presence and make himself untraceable in the hands of jujutsu sorcerers. Killing the lions has already been a huge loss.

“There you are, Mr.Kong.” Geto remarked walking into the room. He does not take a sit rather stands against the door almost covering the entrance.

“Forgive me—” Shui starts with a brilliant smile that has cracked more deals than existed. He is not a pawn but a rook. “I would have gone to your place but I am needed to resolve an issue here.”

Geto chuckles. “Maybe it's your need that brought you here.” He quipped as Shui kept two briefcases on the bed.

Shui Kong gives him an assertive look before smiling. He lights up a cigarette and says, “ Would have been a happier man if that were the case but— ” There is a ridge between Geto’s eyebrows as he refuses to finish his thoughts. Blowing a puff into the air he turns his head to the other side of the room, towards another door, and yells from the bottom of his lungs. “Princess, I don't have all day.” Geto’s eyebrows do not let go of the tension. His arms are now crossed tightly across his chest, lower lip gleaming since he swiped his tongue across it. He just needs to see this princess, just for once.

“You see, someone asked for her, a fox from a rival gang.” Kong starts to explain. The cigarette in between his index and middle finger keeps sizzling in scarlet red. “he is saying he is gonna pay full for her— you know — but she was attacked while working —”

Geto’s dark eyes are now stuck on the doorknob. It starts to rotate. He registers Shui’s words who is scrolling through his phone to call them. The click of the doorknob makes Geto release the breath he was holding back, slowly. Before the slightest part between the door and the frame, Geto’s lips part exclaiming, “Shhhhhhh!” with a hiss at the end.

You unlock the door and wait for an opening to interrupt their conversation.

Shui Kong looks at Geto and then he follows those dark drunk eyes of Geto Suguru that took him to the other side of the room. There you stood, in a translucent white dress covering you from head to toe. There is a rose around your neck and rose leaves on the hem of your full-sleeved dress but beneath the dress, anyone could easily see the bandages around certain parts of your body — scattered and ripped. Your nipples are visible too. They are perked. Geto maintains his stance, hands inside his pocket and standing by supporting his shoulder against the door frame. Only his lips move, growling and raging underneath. “So, there are still those who don't obey me,” His eyes drink in your appearance so shamelessly; utterly shamelessly.

You rake away your eyes from this man of Six feet and some inches, clamping your palms around your upper arms. Geto walks inside the room. “There will be no exchange of anything from here, Shui Kong-san.” He does not take any of the suitcases just your cell phone from the dressing table.

“Passcode?”

You exchange glances with Shui Kong before opening your mouth. He nods. You answer him, “4444.” Geto's eyes flash onto you checking if you are mocking him or not. You are not. He unlocks your phone checks the search history.

“There’s a lot of porn here.”

You rub your upper arms slowly and say, “It’s not like my clients are interested in my pleasure— or my well-being.”

“You need to check her phone to tell? Can't you tell just by looking at her?” That earns Shui Kong a momentary glare.

“Yet you are willing to sell her,” Geto prompts sarcastically with a smile plastered on his face. There is an edge in his voice. Shui does not protest. He knows what he is doing. “You can stay with me,” He offers, without thinking about the consequences of it. “Of course, you’ll keep working, then.” It takes you a moment to decipher his words but it is not something unexpected.

“Oh, I don’t mind, whatever you want.” You say quickly. “I can follow orders.” Embarrassment seeps into your skin as you realize how rushed those words were that came out of your mouth. Scanning him through the corner of your eye, you find him smirking still checking your phone.

“Get her things in the car. She will be staying with me from now on.” Geto remarks slipping the phone in his pocket before leaving.

Shui Kong sits on the bed, soft and pink with a thud. “Do you realize what you are doing, Y/N?”

“You heard him.” You say getting out of those high heels and changing into flats. Even though you are bruised you managed to get your trolley. It is a good thing that you wore a long coat to cover yourself up. People are already staring, what would they have done if you turned up in such scantily dressed attire? Your Madame has already been summoned. Getting out of the building you look around and find Geto Suguru talking to your Madame. Shui Kong is also there. The moment you open the door of the car you spot a kid sleeping on the back seat. This must be Nanako. You adjust the kid's head on your lap. She's gonna get her neck sprained if she sleeps like that. Through the window, you see Geto still talking to your Madame, as he keeps jerking his leg impatiently and occasionally scratching his forehead with his thumb.

“We can't afford to do that — her regulars — they will complain. ” she tartly remarks.

“Well, give them a discount. You know how the system works, so figure something out with Shui Kong-san.”

“Have it your way then. She was a jinx anyways ” She remarks letting all the disappointment out. It piques Geto’s interest because when he saw you, you were not looking at him, you were looking behind him. A feeble curse not visible to normal people but visible to people with enough cursed energy to become a sorcerer or an exorcist. He specifically customized this curse after digesting it to pick up ‘talents’ like you who are considered as ‘freaks’ by those idiots. Just like Nanako and Mimiko.

“What do you mean?” He tries to sound curious hiding his disgust underneath the question because he has seen all the gore behind the glory of it all.

“People say that she is a witch. She kills men and takes their money. She’s got a black cat, a big one. Can talk to birds. I’ve seen her—” Suddenly the street lights, the honking of the cars, and the sound of footsteps of passersby became loud. Geto could not hear her properly anymore. Damn filthy monkeys.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to make a call.” One more minute of her blabbering nonsense he would have killed her. Geto calls Manami stepping aside in the dark shade of the alley. He talks for about five minutes before looking your way. You do not look away, rather give him a warm smile and bow your head to appreciate his kind gesture. He immediately turns around. You think he did not see you or maybe looking at someone else or somewhere else but all he could do is stumble on his words while talking to Manami. It’s distracting. You’re distracting.

Geto Suguru walks towards the car and you fold Nanako’s legs a little to make space for him but he disappoints you thoroughly. He sits beside the driver, the barrier is up so you can not see his face. Disappointment and hurt sedimenting at the bottom of your heart you arch your head and close your eyes. It feels like, after a long time, you have closed your eyes and not for the pretense of pleasure.

January, 2010.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Geto drawls lazily as he sits on the sofa, still in his kasaya freshly finishing after seeing his visitors. He was out of town for almost a week and hence today's session was longer than usual. He needs a bath, a nice warm bath, not some scum to show up at his doorstep begging for you.

There are a bunch of men standing behind the older man, who seems to be the leader of the group; all armed, and Geto sits alone at the opposite. At times like these, he feels a little closer to the god. A middle-aged man, speaks keeping his gun on the center table, perhaps to assert dominance Geto thinks too but it makes him nothing but widen his smile. “You have something that belongs to me. And I have something that would interest you more so why don't we—”

Splotches of blood fall on his gun, warmth settling on his cheeks too like drops of oil. He turns his head to find that one of his men is sliced into two. Geto clears his throat gaining his attention again. “What a mess you have made, Toshiro-san. ” He gets up from his seat and before leaving he remarks huskily, “Please clean this up before you leave, Toshiro-san” The man, dumbfounded by what just happened, nods in agreement watching the man disappear into the inner quarters.

The dawn dies, painting the blue sky with its blood-red, agony welcoming the full moon and her bevy of stars. At night, Geto Suguru is not a monk anymore. He is much more than that — a father figure to two homeless orphans, an idol to a few who believe in his dream of creating a ‘new world’ and a savior to you.

It has been almost a month since Geto Suguru brought you to his home. At the dawn of the 25th of December 2009, when you woke up, Manami was there to help you with the chores and show you around. You have spotted Negi a few times while roaming and exploring the house, but there was no sign of that man, your so-called ‘savior’. When you asked Manami, she was rather cold while answering, “Geto-sama will be home around New Year's.”

It was not hard to pinpoint her jealousy for you. “Whore”, “Slut”, “Homebreaker”, “Witch” — the list continues. Her jealousy is just the tip of ice-berg. Maybe she had to sacrifice something greater when Geto took her in, something more important than freedom. Apart from her cold demeanor, everything was just fine; it was more than you could ask for. The wounds and bruises have started to fade. They are barely pinnable now. Nanako has a twin sister, Mimiko. They have warmed up to you more quickly than you imagined and a part of you was grateful to them since Manami became humbler in her gestures.

This fine morning, you noticed a new pair of shoes near the doormat. You knew it had to be his, Geto Suguru. He is home. Today might be the first time you get to talk to him, pay off his debts, or maybe keep working while staying here just like he said or whatever he decides to do with you. It was odd that he did not suspect you at all, or maybe he told someone to do a background check. He seems like the kind of person who would hold such powers. You have heard about him even if they reached out to you in the form of rustling rumors.

“Are you comfortable here?”

Losing your balance you topple on your feet and eventually fall on the ground. Nanako and Mimiko peeks by his legs. They are not even at his knee length, so small, so fragile and so full of life. They laugh and so do you. Geto Suguru is unimpressed. He crouches down pulling the girls in front of him. “Go and play in my room but don’t fight, alright?” The shift in his demeanor amazes you. He has changed. He is nothing like you have been warned about.

As soon as the twins leave, giggles and voices filling the corridor Geto’s eyes shift on you. You are still on the ground, legs half-folded. He extends his hand towards you to help you get up but you flinch away, sliding against the wall. In the middle of this long corridor, Geto Suguru is on his knees before you watching as if something fell from the sky, a boon, an angel.

His lips extended from ear to ear, flashing his teeth. “What's up with this coy act of yours?” He wets his bottom lip.“Too timid for a whore. I know you can see things.” Your eyebrows grew closer as you got up and formed a response in your head.

“It's hard to break years of habit,” you speak, “Sir.” you quip, seeing him still on his knees. Why isn’t he standing up? Does he need a hand?

“Not gonna complain that I called you a ‘whore’ ?” He taunts, standing up and facing you.

“Too timid for that sir,” you say keeping up the eye contact. But that does not last long. Geto’s dark globules follow your behind. You notice too that there is a shadow on the wall of the corridor of a lady. He sighs heavily exclaiming, “Manami. You can come out now,”

Timidly she walks out of the room exclaiming in a firm tone after clearing her throat, “Getou-sama, your bath has been prepared.”

“Have you prepared my clothes too?” He narrows the gulf in between the two of you and grabs a few strands of your hair smelling it, letting his lips graze over a little, and checking your reactions as Manami answers.

“No. Not yet. I’ll do it right—“Actually, prepare two sets of clothes.” Geto interrupts. The way your chest heaves, up and down, frantically tempts him to tease you more. “Hers too. She will be joining me.”

Geto was kind not to ask you to strip in front of him. It was not like you would not be used to that; you had practiced enough still you thought his eyes would alone eat you away if you were to undress in front of him. Curling up your braided hair in a bun and securing it with a clip you enter the bathroom. He is already in the bathtub, head arched, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. You walk slowly trying not to make any sound. “You know, of all the curses I’ve swallowed—” you gasp loudly palming your face.

“Can you not do that, please? Every time i feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.” So many words in one sentence; a question; a request; a demand; a plea. Suguru blinks: once, twice, and thrice. “Yours have a very distinct sweet smell.” His words slurred, inaudible at the end. This is the first time he has seen you speak so much and that too, only to him but that is not what warms his heart. ‘Sir.’ you did not add sir. He hated the honorifics with you. “And . . . I’m not a curse.” You mutter before dipping yourself in the bathtub sitting against the wall of the bathtub facing him.

You notice the huge X-shaped scar over his chest. “How did you get that?” you ask playing with the water not meeting his eye. His toes touch the side of your hips, hands resting on the white of the bathtub but when he does not answer you look up to him and see his hands near your ankles. There is a brief eye contact of realization about what’s he up to and in the next blink you are close to him.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks touching his forehead against yours.

“The pain?” You say, running his hands over his chest careful enough not to touch his nipple. “Or just the scar.”

“How did you get this?” He rubs the mark of one of your wounds on your arm. “And this?” he asks, a little concerned by the number and place of the wounds you have all over the body. They have faded but not totally. The agony on his face is clear but you remind yourself it is not because of you. It must be because he is reminded of how he got his scar.

“Mostly clients.” You answer noticing his hands trailing up to your breasts. Your mouth parts, eager moan willing to escape. “But some men like them. Some men don’t. So, they pay to heal them in a way like they were never there,”

“What kind do you think I’m?” Suguru asks but you fail to answer since his hands have started to massage your breasts, nice and slow. Your moans have started to weigh more, the bottom and lower lip parting with each other more. Your vision turns black as his mouth latches on the column of your neck but that is not where it is needed now. Your taut nipples need desperate attention. Moving closer to him, your palm is over his cock. He is hard, leaking even. A gran escapes from his mouth, edgy and elongated. One of his fingers dips inside your vagina. Woah. You’re wet, so very wet. Even under the water, he can feel your arousal, even smell it. You buck your hips a bit giving him an invitation. The sloshing sound of water feels more embarrassing than your moans. He does not take it but when you start to pump his cock in long, deep, and fast strokes he leans towards you taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You should have known how strong he is when he dragged you closer to himself because the way he is sucking and biting you think you will cum soon. He starts to rub your clit in rough, rigorous movements as his mouth works on your nipples. For a moment your hands feel lithe; your hands pause working his cock.

“You smell so good,” He murmurs unlatching his mouth and licking up to your collarbone from the base of your cleavage. You twist and tilt your head as his lips explore your neck while pushing his fingers up and down inside your vagina, nudging your sweet spot. Your hands start to pump his cock again, harder and faster this time, reverting him the favor with the same intensity and emotion. You feel him smirk against your skin before he bites your earlobes making you jolt. Another arm that rested on the valley of your waist tugs you closer, again; you think he is going to pull you onto his lap, fuck you deep, nice, and full. “Fuck” he mutters feeling his cock tense up. The sloshing of water now gets mixed with your loud moans mixed with his low grunts. Geto looks at your face, your eyes meeting his and occasionally landing on his lips and one of your hands gripping too hard on the whites of the bathtub. Both of your hands pick up the pace, matching the intensity and the ragged breathing. Eyes rolling white, jaw clenching hard, head arching back as the wave of orgasm approaches both of you.

“You’re close,” you huff and pant in between feeling his warm ejaculated fluid onto your hand.

“So are you,” he murmurs cumming as you keep pumping his cock till it stops. Geto pulls his fingers out of your messy aching cunt and shamelessly puts them in his mouth, licking and sucking it to the base of his fingers. You watch him as if he is the man to take your first time. The loneliness, the affection, the desire— all hit Suguru in a flash like a downpour as he notices you looking. He gets out of the bathtub and steps into the shower zone. When you hear the water running, you step out of the bathtub too but do not join him in the shower instead grab your phone with a towel that was in the pocket of his previous attire. Typing a number, you hit the send button and immediately delete it from the history.

The message read: [“I’m in.”]

note: special thanks to my dearest fumi aka dom ( @akiniku ) for constantly listening to my ideas, talking me through them, and beta-reading this when I finished it. I finished writing this today and it was so rushed by Dom talked me through it and gave me the course I needed. hope you enjoyed reading it. thank you for making it this far. i do want to continue this but will see if i can manage time to write after october.

also tagging @orchid3a @semisgroupie

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