#I should write Old Sport's name this time

[dave-fucking-miller]

do the neck thing you giraffe

He may never make that joke again.

[mrskokushibo]

Wrong?

Muzan x fem!reader x Yoriichi

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dub con, threesome, watching corn, very NSFW, 18+. Modern AU. 7k words.

Summary: Your boyfriend Muzan is a star, and you love being his girl. But the man has needs that you have been neglecting for a while. Tonight will start a chain of events that will have you asking yourself if sex and love in a relationship truly should be inseparable?

A/N: I loved creating this storyline. This is a request from a friend. The only thing she asked for was Muzan's girlfriend falling for Yoriichi. It's one of my favourite stories to write - I got to spread my creative wings.

Masterlist

The club was full tonight, hosting the release party for a new book by one of the most prominent writers in the city. The venue was an old factory building, stylishly renovated with a mixture of white rendered walls, exposed brick, and steel structure, decorated with an eclectic and carefully curated selection of furniture ranging from sleek Scandinavian design armchairs to rococo sofas and chandeliers.

A place that quickly became a favourite with the cultural circles of the city. It was also the home of a popular nightclub on the weekends as well as the venue of choice for a society hosting slightly, well, different types of events, namely invitation-only orgies, that your boyfriend and subsequently yourself were always invited to, but had to decline due to your unwillingness to participate in anything like that.

Tonight’s event was the kind you gladly accompanied him to. As always on such occasions, your boyfriend Muzan Kibutsuji was one of the guests of honour. He was a young star writer, specialising in dark horror and fantasy, having sold over a million copies of his first novel at the tender age of twenty-three. Now, five years later and with another few million books sold, he was among the literary elites. He also had a background in acting, although there was a veil of mystery as to what type of movies, he was in.

You too were a writer and the two of you met at a seminar hosted by your favourite Japanese superstar novelist. Well, you would be lying to yourself if you thought you actually were a professional writer, more of an aspiring writer, really. Your studies and work took up most of your time, so the only writing you did was manga and anime fanfiction. Yes, you felt very inadequate at these parties, but you quickly adjusted to assuming the role of the supportive and devoted girlfriend of the literary star.

And tonight, was no different. You wore a brand new, figure-hugging little black dress and high-heeled thigh-high leather boots. Simple, but sexy. For the last half hour, you were standing idly sipping your champagne, while Muzan was involved in a heated debate with some older, seemingly unimpressed author and his artist friends. You were a little tipsy and were hugging Muzans arm all the while he was busy talking.

He was such a hottie, you thought, you saw the envious looks on the faces of his female colleagues every time he brought you with him to any event. Yes, you could consider yourself lucky. His looks were striking, as he was essentially an albino, meaning his eyes were red and his hair white and wavy, but he always coloured it black. The monochromatic colour combination together with his masculine yet defined and delicate features gave him an exotic and almost out-of-earthly aura. His muscular arms were covered with intricate black gothic tattoos (he had tattoos in other, more intimate places too) and he sported a tongue piercing. His style was a bit steampunk blended with hard rock, he looked good in suits and ripped jeans alike. And he stood almost six feet tall.

The boredom of just standing around was slowly leaving room for thoughts other than literature, you were getting a little horny, to be completely honest with yourself. You were into your third glass of champagne and were slightly tipsy, the ambient rhythmic music, warm dimmed lighting, and the buzz of people talking were putting you into a pleasant lull, making your senses pliable and receptive to new impressions.

Out of nowhere, you started to imagine what it would be like when an orgy is hosted here… the throaty moans and high-pitched squealing of female pleasure mixed with the deep raspy grunts of the men, loud screams of people climaxing and the wet, squelching pounding of flesh against flesh. You could picture naked bodies, bodies in provocative lingerie, illuminated and glossy in the warm light of the chandeliers. It is almost as if you now suddenly were curious about it…

And that is when you noticed him. That other man. He was standing in the middle of the room deep in a conversation with a group of young people. His appearance stood out in the crowd, he was very tall, probably well over six feet, maybe six feet three, with an athletic build. His hair was long and black, tied in a ponytail with cascades of shorter bangs framing his face. Red highlights illuminated his layered hair. He was dressed in tight black jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt, and was wearing long earrings with what looked like the rising sun. There was a strange red mark on his left temple, a birthmark maybe? You could not help it, but you found yourself staring at his bulging biceps every time he lifted his beer to his lips. You were amused with how boredom brought out such primitive instincts in you. You were interrupted by Muzan who nudged you gently,

‘Would you like another drink?’ 

‘Yes, please’ you replied.

He walked away to the bar while texting someone and smirking. He came back with drinks only to find a new group of colleagues taking his attention. So… you proceeded with your little dirty pastime. Suddenly, the man looked in your direction, a dark maroon gaze piercing straight through you. You froze, and at the same time, a familiar heat was starting to spread in your belly. Wetness was pooling between your legs and you were thanking yourself for wearing panties tonight.

He looked away again, but then his gaze was constantly seeking yours for the rest of the evening. When it was time for you and Muzan to leave, while walking past the group with the gorgeous object of your attention, he suddenly looked you up and down and gave you the most lust-filled gaze you could imagine. You were so stunned you kept on staring at him, your head turning back in his direction while you were leaving the room.

The ride home proceeded in awkward silence; you have never seen Muzan in such a strange mood. When you entered the penthouse, you slouched on the sofa and closed your eyes. You were a little tired from all the impressions, especially that specific one… You opened your eyes feeling the presence of your boyfriend. He was standing in front of you holding handcuffs. ‘Move to the armchair’ he commanded in a deep, raspy whisper, the way he almost hissed the words sent a chill down your spine. ‘What now?’ you thought puzzled.

‘I saw what you were doing all night. You were staring at that man like a shameless slut.’

His words were true, you were indeed staring, but so what, this came from the man who suggested attending orgies in the past.

Perplexed, you retaliated: ‘Am I not allowed to look at people anymore?’

‘Oh, my love, you were not just looking, you were eye-fucking him. Do you think I cannot tell the difference?’

You swallowed and obediently moved to the armchair.

He placed your arms on the rests and slowly cuffed each of them to the furniture. Then he picked up the remote and turned on the projector. What was instantaneously visualized on the screen went straight to your sex. It was a close-up of a man and a woman fucking, with loud, obscene moans serving as the soundtrack. The camera started slowly to move away from the copulating pair and the back of the male came into full view, intricate tattoos spreading over his back like a veil of black lace and long, wavy white hair snaking down his neck and shoulders while his hips were rhythmically moving back and forth to slam his dick into the woman. When the camera moved to show the front of him your heart nearly stopped, the red pupils staring intently at the woman he was railing, that face…. It was Muzan. So that was the acting career he was so mysterious about.

In the meantime, Muzan was in the kitchen part of the open-plan living space, texting someone. You were both completely silent while the sounds of sex were filling the space. A few moments later and a pair of now completely soaking wet panties, the doorbell rang. Muzan walked over to open it. His face was adorned with a mischievous smile as he glanced your way. What happened next was something you did not expect and that started an unstoppable chain of events.

The person Muzan let in the apartment was a woman, a petite blond with hair all the way down to her round ass, dressed in a sleeveless skin-tight latex dress, that showed off her large (most presumably) fake silicone breasts. A real little sex kitten. Muzan led her to the sofa and sat down spreading his legs so that she could kneel between them.

He parted her pouting pink lips with his index finger and slid it deep into her mouth while she released a throaty moan, he then pulled the finger out stroking her bottom lip, only to pump the finger back into her mouth even deeper this time while rotating it. His other hand slid down her dress off her breasts and started slowly caressing them, making her moan even harder. He was pinching her nipples, making her perfect little body arch in pleasure, and looking even hotter. All the while her small manicured hands were stroking his crotch and after her back arched from overstimulation, she unzipped his pants and gently pulled out his now fully erect, hard cock. She was stroking it gently and licking the sensitive tip.

Eventually, she sank her head down on the full length, stretching her shiny, pink lips, gagging a little, and continuing to bob her head up and down on his thick length. His dick was large, so that most of the time she was only getting half of it in her mouth with the rest of the shaft treated to a pumping motion by her delicate hands. He threw his head back; you could tell he was close. Her moans were getting louder too and a few moments later he grabbed her by her ponytail and the back of her head and shoved her down into his groin while bucking his hips upwards. The woman gagged heavily, the sound wet and sloppy. He climaxed.

Once he was finished, he let her head go and she slowly pulled away, gasping for air, with spit and cum connecting her mouth to his penis. She looked him in the eye with a submissive almost grateful look. He was still stroking her breasts, while she was licking up all the cum from her lips and sucking his cock clean. And then, just like that she adjusted her clothes, got up, threw him a little kiss, and walked out of the apartment. The porno on the screen was playing all the while this was happening adding to the already surreal and loaded atmosphere.

You were too stunned to even think, let alone say anything. ‘What the fuck did you just witness?’

Without a word Muzan got up from the sofa and walked up to you, his dick still hanging out of his pants. He knelt in front of you and put his hands on your soft thighs, slowly kneading them up towards your crotch. His hands were getting closer and closer to your wet lips and finally they reached your soaked g-string. Muzan started rubbing you through the wet fabric with two fingers.

‘Fuck you are wet. Such a whore you are, getting wet from watching other people fuck. You are a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?’

You were too ashamed to answer, ashamed that something so wrong and apparently hurtful aroused you. You should have been turning your head away, yelling at him, crying even. But all you did was watch… and get wet.

‘You see, my love, when people get jealous, they sometimes stop thinking, they do stupid things. Do you think, what I did was stupid? Hm? But, you know, I got jealous, very jealous. And when you have been such a prude with me for so long, never wanting to do the things I thought we should do and then go drooling after other men, what do you think I should have done?’ His voice was raspy and menacing, but also filled with lust.

Muzan’s fingers were now slowly spreading your labia and rubbing up and down between your slick-soaked folds. You were so wet, his actions created small squelching sounds. He added another finger and slowly worked his way into your dripping pussy, crooking a finger and pumping in with small circular movements that made your muscles clench around him. He then spread your labia and moved in to lick you between your legs. His was giving you long and slow, gentle licks all the way on the very inside of your labia, you could feel the metal of his tongue piercing leaving a streak of extra pressure and thus enhanced sensation on the thin strips of flesh it was touching.

Gradually, he started to increase the force with which he was working his tongue on you. Wherever the piercing pressed on your sensitive flesh, it was exerting extra pressure on your nerves. When he finally reached your clitoris and started circling around it and occasionally skilfully flicking his tongue so that the piercing would hit the sensitive nub, your thighs were sent into convulsions of pleasure. You were starting to edge, your climax so close yet his actions not decisive enough to grant you release. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, while he was flicking his tongue over your clit while all the while pumping his fingers into your pussy. You were so close; you were drooling and tears started to form in your eyes.

‘Muzan, please let me come, I’m so close’ you were moaning and squealing and when you thought he was increasing his pace, he suddenly pulled away and started uncuffing you.

‘Go down on all four for me doll.’

 You did what he asked you to, as you were so greedy to come. You now had the porno in full view in front of you and there he was on the screen fucking two women now, one riding his face and the other his dick. Watching that made you so fucking aroused. It was wrong, but you could not help reacting to it in the way you did. You felt like an animal, driven only by instinct at this point.

Without a word, he spread your ass cheeks and aligned his hard tip at your entrance, and soon his thick girth was pumping in and out of your pussy, wet, sloppy, indecent sounds of the two of you fucking on top of the vulgar sounds coming from the porno were filling the otherwise so elegant and relaxing space of your shared apartment. He was thrusting so hard that with every move you were being sent forwards with so much force that eventually your whole upper body was flat on the soft rug with him pressing down your back with his hand. He increased the pressure, supporting himself almost fully on you, and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

‘I will now come inside you my little whore, I will breed you, because you are my very own whore, I bet you would like to carry my little brat, would you?’

With that he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, you were clenching around him, desperate to come. His hips and lower abdomen were now pressed flush to your round soft ass and you could eventually feel his lower abs contract indicating his release. His orgasm must have been a big one as he growled while pushing himself in you and releasing a huge load of cum into your fluttering insides.

‘Fuck you were good, kitten. I will sleep so well now.’

He pulled out, stood up and grabbed the remote to turn off the movie, and left for the bathroom. You were left high and dry, or so you thought anyway…

When you entered the bedroom Muzan was seated in the chair lounge next to the lit fireplace and opposite of your shared bed, fully dressed sipping on a glass of single malt whisky. The flame was making his eyes look almost devilish.

‘Here you are. I think you do deserve to come after all, we do not want you to lose sleep, do we?’

There was something so menacing in his voice, something that was hitting all the submissive notes in your entire being.

‘Undress for me, doll’

Without hesitation, you started to take your clothes off.

‘All of it, now!’ He commanded.

You did as you were told.

‘Now. Lay down on the bed so I can see between your legs. Play with yourself for me, make yourself come.’

There was nothing else to do, but to obey and you already felt like you were in a trance, as if nothing of this was real. You laid down and started to flick your nipple and got your imagination ready, and the fantasy that was helping you get off involved the tall man from the party, your only invisible act of defiance against your boyfriend. You imagined him seated on a sofa at the party, with everyone watching while you came up to him and straddled him shamelessly. What followed made you move your hand down between your legs and masturbate. Your fingers were doing their skilled and experienced work and very soon you came. Your orgasm was intense, with waves of pleasure causing your body to arch and convulse, you released a small scream and when the waves of pleasure finally flowed away, you were just lying there, limp with soaking wet fingers and pussy. You licked your fingers dry and closed your eyes.

A harsh yank to your chin shook you out of your bliss. You opened your eyes and the only thing in your line of sight was Muzan’s cock.

‘Open your mouth for me now, sweetheart’

The gentle words were in such stark contrast to what he was about to do because as soon as you opened your mouth, he grabbed you by your neck and shoved himself fully into your mouth, making you gag. He stayed like this for a few seconds, savouring how deep inside your throat his dick was seated, and rotated his hips a little. Then he slowly pulled out, only to slam himself into you again, and again and again, until you were a gagging, drooling mess with tears and mascara running down your cheeks. He pulled out, drool connecting your mouth to his dick, and lifted your head up by yanking you up at your ponytail.

‘I think this is a good look for you, isn’t it, doll? My submissive little kitten, so sweet and obedient. ‘

He shoved himself in you again and this time kept on going until you could feel his muscles spasm and the warm, salty liquid filled your mouth and throat. He pumped into you a few extra times before pulling out. You swallowed most of the cum, but there was still some left on his cock.

‘Clean me up.’

You licked his dick clean and he lifted your head by the chin, so very gently now.

‘Hm, we will both sleep well after this, won’t we?’

And he placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips and went into the bathroom to clean himself up. You followed suit, but you knew you would most likely not sleep all too well, still trying to come to terms with what he has done in front of you with that woman, as well as trying to grasp how in the hell was it your fault. Was he really the jealous type?

The following day began with Muzan getting up and making you both coffees. He behaved as if last night did not happen, something that confused and infuriated you even more. Since it was your day off, you decided to head over to the gym to clear your head and hopefully figure out your next move. Both you and Muzan frequented the same gym in the neighbourhood, the gym was large, but with a relaxed atmosphere. There was also a martial arts dojo in conjunction with it that Muzan went to occasionally, but you never showed any interest in.

As soon as you entered the gym, you nearly froze in your steps. There, next to the reception desk was the man from the party, chatting casually with one of the personal trainers. You stalling in your movement caught his attention and he looked straight at you and waved. As if hypnotised you started slowly walking toward him and finally stopped in front of the man. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up to look at his face.

‘Hi,’ you blurted out.

‘I didn’t know you went to this gym?’

You kept on rambling as if the two of you were already introduced. He looked at you with slight amusement.

‘Yes, I do, and I believe I saw you at the party last night, yes?’

‘Yes.’ You nodded like the idiot you were. For every minute feeling more and more awkward.

‘Well, I guess we should have a proper introduction then. My name is Yoriichi’. He stretched out his hand.

‘Y/n’ you said with overdriven courage as you placed your hand in his large one for a courteous handshake.

‘Excuse me, boss, can you please sign this?’ the two of you were interrupted by an employee of the gym coming up to Yoriichi with some papers. You looked at him and asked surprised.

‘Oh, you work here?’

‘Yes, actually I kind of happen to own the place’ he answered shyly, scratching his head and blushing a little.

While he was busy flipping through the pages you could not help yourself but eye him off discretely and what you saw was waking up the most basic instincts in you. He was wearing cotton tracksuit pants and a singlet in a thin functional material, that showed off his huge toned arms. The outline of his pecs and abs were visible through the thin fabric, you also noted he had powerful, strong thighs, as the fabric of the track pants was stretched at the thickest part of his thigh muscles. You could not help to throw a glance at his shapely glutes and strong hips. When you thought about it, he really had the appearance of some ancient warrior, a samurai maybe. You swallowed quietly, an action he caught you in the middle of.

‘Well, I am done here. I will be taking the rest of the afternoon off today, so I guess I will see you around sometime?’ He spoke.

You just could not let him disappear like this. You gathered your courage and asked

‘Would you have time for a quick coffee then? I changed my mind and will work out later today.’

He studied you for a moment and answered.

‘Why not, actually? I do have the whole day to myself. There is a good café nearby’

You nodded and the two of you started walking out of the gym, him courteously opening the door for you. Luckily, the café really was nearby. You were enjoying your coffee and the casual conversation, but when your fingers met when reaching out for napkins, the two of you went silent almost simultaneously. The truth was that all through the friendly, harmless exchange you were imagining fucking Yoriichi, riding his cock, and touching him in a way that was anything but just friendly. The look in his maroon eyes was starting to reveal something more as well now.

And maybe he could pick up on your feelings because the tension between the two of you was becoming palpable. You were soaking wet between your legs and your breathing was becoming heavy, your arousal was powerful: the contraction of the muscles of your vagina started to feel more and more like a rope being tightly twisted into a knot, and this sensation was now spreading up to your cervix making your insides feel like they were on fire.

He sucked in his lips before finally speaking up.

‘You know, I live just around the corner if you would like to have … some lunch with me.’

As if in a trance you answered

‘Yes, I would like that’

But you already knew what you really would like and sensed that this was something he would like as well…

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, he came closer to you and kissed your lips. Very lightly at first, but as soon as he felt you reciprocate the action, he drew you closer to him and the kiss became deeper, with tongues swirling deep in each other’s mouths. He was holding his hips away from yours for now, most likely due to an increasing hard-on, he was a gentleman after all, and did not want to impose that soon.

His hands were caressing your back and your body started tingling in pleasure. He was so big, you felt cradled and sheltered, and his warm smell was like a feast for your senses. The elevator reached his floor and he led you into his apartment. It was a bright and beautiful space, cradled in light from the large windows, decorated in oriental, presumably Japanese fashion, with tatamis, low large futon like sofas, beautiful prints of Sakura trees and diverse martial arts weaponry adorning the walls.

He closed the door behind him and swiftly had you up against the nearest wall. He lifted you by your buttocks and you wrapped your legs around his hips. All the while you were entangled in a passionate kiss. He lifted you up and started walking toward the bedroom. When he sat you down on the bed, you began to remove each other’s clothes. His body was even more magnificent naked, and the cock looked… huge. Almost uncomfortably huge.

Yoriichi started crawling on the bed and on top of you, his large body towering over you and making you gasp. His warmth, his smell, it was all so close to you and all you wanted was to drown in him, let him devour you and fuck you senseless. He lowered his hips so they were flush with yours between your legs and started rubbing your wet folds and clit. You were moaning in pleasure. With the other hand, he started massaging your breasts and playing with your hard nipples. You were arching your body and moaning shamelessly.

‘Please fuck me, I want to feel you inside me.’

He did not hesitate to fulfill your plea. Aligning the tip of his cock with the entrance to your sopping-wet pussy, he started to enter you.

He was big, almost too big for your small body to take. Slowly and steadily, he was prying his way into you. Every nerve in your core was pulsing, welcoming this new intruder with increasing wetness and spasming muscles. Your pussy was clenching on him so hard that he was quietly groaning while pushing on into you. He finally bottomed out and lifted himself off you slightly to meet your gaze. His gorgeous maroon eyes now clouded in pleasure, he said softly,

‘I will start moving now, do you feel ready?’

Did you ever… ‘Of course,’ was all you could say in a weak voice.

Slowly, at a languid pace, he began to rhythmically pump into you, his hips hitting yours every time he was bottoming out. You have never been this stretched out in your life, his girthy, long cock literally moulding your velvet walls to its shape, hitting your cervix with every slow pump. You were starting to edge, with the sensitive spots deep inside you being stimulated nearly constantly now. He kept on going like this for a while making your eyes roll to the back of your head and drool running down the side of your mouth.

‘Yoriichi, can you go a little faster? I am about to come’ you moaned out to him, as you could not control yourself any longer. The knot inside you running all the way from your opening to the tip of your cervix, was about to burst.

He picked up the pace and soon enough you were slowly dissolving into your climax, your whole body shaking and spasming from the intense pleasure you were gifted. You were so wet now, your cum seeping down your thighs onto Yoriichi. He shuffled himself up slightly and put you in a mating press. His cock was even deeper inside you, he started chasing his own release. His pace increased and soon it was ruthless and fast, abusing your cervix and every overstimulated spot deep inside you. You could feel his heavy balls slam into you with every powerful thrust. The man had the stamina of a god and went on in this unforgiving tempo for quite a while.

Gradually, his thrusts were getting sloppy and when he finally came, filling you up with his warm semen, he bottomed out deep inside you, his hips pushing you up toward the headrest of the bed and staying like this for a couple of seconds. He then pumped into you a few times, following the movement of his spasming abdomen muscles. When he stopped, he sank his head, still hovering over you supported on stretched-out straight arms. Sweat was running down his chest. He slowly rolled over on his back, taking you with him in an embrace that placed you laying down straight on top of him.

And that is when you noticed a presence in the room. You turned your head around towards the doorway and to your shock and surprise you saw your boyfriend stand there, leaning on the door frame with arms crossed and head tilted backwards in a brattish manner. His hair was out and cascading down his shoulder in black ringlets.

‘I hope I am not interrupting. Do you mind if I join in?’ He asked with a smirk. You instantly wondered how long he was there watching you and Yoriichi fucking.

‘Please do, unless y/n has some objections?’ Yoriichi said and tilted your head up to look at him. ‘Are you ok with this, y/n? ‘

‘I guess I don’t mind’ You did not really know what to say, your sex seemingly dictating your choices for you since last night.

‘Good, this will be fun.’ Muzan said and started to get undressed.

In the meantime, Yoriichi moved to his side and let you down on the soft mattress, so that you were on your side facing him. With an already erect dick bobbing in front of him, Muzan walked over to where you and Yoriichi were and crawled into bed to lie down behind you. He kissed and licked your neck, you could feel the metal of the piercing dragging on your soft skin, and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it gently, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He then leaned into your ear and with a deep, soft whisper asked:

‘How did you like him, doll? Was he big enough for you?’

He kept on kissing your neck and dragging the pierced tongue along it and massaging your body with his hand while pressing his erect cock in your soft ass. Yoriichi at the very same time started kissing your mouth and rubbing your breasts.

You did not think it was at this stage possible to get more aroused, but you did. Your pussy was aching so badly now, all you wanted was for the men to give it to you. Rough, fast however they wished to fuck you. You wanted to feel full, the craving growing for every minute making your insides burn with need. The sensation of both these attractive men being so close to you, their hands touching every part of your body, was making you feral, totally wild with anticipation. Seeing and feeling the athletic, tall, and big Yoriichi, with his smooth and glossy skin and your exotic-looking, tattoo-covered and pierced boyfriend so close to your own body was a sensation that was driving you crazy. It was almost as you were a goddess worshipped at the altar of lust.

‘How do you think we should proceed?’ Muzan asked Yoriichi in a playful tone.

‘Hmm, where we are is good, no offense, but I am the bigger one here, so I think it is best if you go in the backway’ Yoriichi answered.

Muzan sighed and smirked. ‘Good point, do you happen to have lube around here?’ Yoriichi stretched an arm behind him to reach under the bed and pulled out a bottle of anal lube.

‘You dirty fuck, this looks like you have been having some fun’ Muzan noted as the bottle was only half full.’ Yoriichi did not answer to that but his smile said it all.

While Yoriichi was working on your pussy and breasts, Muzan poured a fair bit of lube on your opening and started to massage your puckering hole. Slowly and gently, the sensation was so different from anything you ever experience before, but so delicious at the same time. He slowly pushed in a finger and was circling it gently. A second finger came in and he was scissoring them inside you. Yoriichi was now lining himself up to enter you again. His hard tip rubbing between your folds as Muzan added another finger and was whispering sweet, honey-glazed words in your ears in order to get you relaxed.

‘Be a good kitten for me now, such a gorgeous little obedient doll, I will spread that tight little ass for you and you will beg me for more’

The sweetness in his voice was almost demeaning. He kept on pumping his fingers in you, but you just could not relax.

‘Baby, I can’t do it. Not today. Can we do something else?’

Muzan pulled out his fingers out of you and nodded at Yoriichi

‘Well, doll, in such case you will have to take that huge dick of his down your throat, because I want to be in one of your holes, no matter what.’

You shifted to all four and Yoriichi knelt in front of you offering you his cock. You started licking the leaking tip and pumping the shaft with your small hand, barely getting a proper grip. In the meantime, Muzan positioned himself behind you and all of a sudden slammed his dick into you. This propelled you forward and you almost speared yourself on Yoriichi’s cock, swallowing nearly the entire length. He groaned from the sensation and you gagged heavily. Once the two of you adjusted positions so that you could comfortably work on his dick, Muzan started moving his hips into you again. You worked with the rhythm he was setting as there was no use trying to stay still and resisting his movement from pushing you forward. Every time his hips slammed into you, you sank your mouth over Yoriichi’s cock and you continued like this for a good while.

Your mouth and throat were stretched almost to the brink of discomfort from the huge girth and length. The pleasure you felt from Muzan repeatedly hitting your g-spot was making you moan louder and louder and your moans were sending vibrations through Yoriichi’s dick making it twitch and grow.

‘I’m going to come soon’ he groaned.

He pulled out of you, gave his cock a few pumps and unloaded the content of his balls in your face, warm cum spraying into your open mouth and down your chin and throat. Neither you nor Muzan were far off from your orgasms either. It took a few more fast thrusts from him to make your knot burst and you reaching your release. And a few more thrusts later and Muzan was spraying his cum into your still fluttering walls. The amount of pleasure you experience this afternoon was overwhelming and you collapsed exhausted, but utterly satisfied on the mattress.

Yoriichi got up and came back with a few towels. He helped you clean up your face and handed a towel to Muzan who then cleaned you and yourself up. Yoriichi was the first one to go to the bathroom and have a shower and after him, it was Muzan’s turn. Once the two men were decent again, Yoriichi informed you that they would prepare lunch so that you would have some time to yourself to recover and relax. You spent half an hour in the bedroom and went out to them, still in a complete state of confusion.

‘Hi there. I hope you are hungry.’ Yoriichi said.

‘I seem to have cooked too much pasta, but hey, we need the energy’ he grinned broadly. ‘By the way, I think you owe your lovely girlfriend an explanation’ he said turning to Muzan.

‘Yes, you are right. It is about time to clarify the situation. Sorry to have confused you and sorry for the bit with Amber, I might have gone a bit too far there. You know when I got up to get the drinks at the party? I noticed that you were eyeing off Yoriichi for a while, and out of the blue, and boredom, I came up with a wicked little plan. Something to shake you up and make you more, adventurous. I really wanted to get you out of your shell. So, I texted him quickly what I had in mind and off we went. I am storyteller, after all.’

You turned to Yoriichi, slightly disappointed

‘So… you were not really attracted to me, hey? It was just a game?’

Yoriichi responded ‘Oh no, not at all. Muzan showed me picturess of you many times before and I must say I was envious of him being with someone so smart, kind, and attractive. So, when he suggested this, the idea went straight to my dick.’

Muzan now continued: ‘Amber, that girl, by the way, is a porn actress and married to a friend of mine. They own an adult movie production company together and I have known them both for a while. But back to the story. As I said, I wanted you to see that there is so much more to life than being a prude, that sex is one of the most indulgent pleasures gifted upon mankind and not immersing ourselves fully in that gift is, well, a sin in my eyes.'

'I do believe that deep emotional love, a connection of souls runs deeper than any physical connection ever can. We are all animals and sex is dirty and amazing at the same time, the ultimate tool to express love, yes, but love can exist without it if you know what I mean. I will love you forever, for all eternity. I believe we are soulmates and we are connected and will always be drawn to each other in every world we are born into. Even if we never have sex again, I want you to be mine and mine only. When you want kids and a house with a white picket fence or whatever dream you may have, we will do it, of course. But for now, while we still are young let us indulge in what this carnal world has to offer. I want you to lose all restraints, and fulfill all your desires. When I saw you looking at our glorious friend here, I knew that if that is what you are into, I will make sure you get what you desire.’

When Muzan finally went quiet, it was Yoriichi’s turn to speak and he suddenly went serious.

‘I have known Muzan for a long time, but our friendship blossomed after my wife died. He was there for me all the way through my lowest. And believe me, it was an epic low. She was pregnant with what was to be our first child when she died in a car crash. Some drunken asshole drove into her car on the highway. My beloved wife and I started the gym and later the martial arts dojo together. These were our passions and I will never love anyone like I loved her ever again. All I have left is the gym and dojo and they are like babies to me. I am no monk and need sex, a lot of it, but only for recreation.’

All the time Yoriichi was speaking, Muzan held his arm around your back, his embrace tightening when Yoriichi mentioned the tragic story of his marriage.

‘Well, enough of the seriousness. Let us eat’ Yoriichi interrupted himself now.

You could not help to notice, that he was not the best of cooks, the pasta was slightly overcooked and the sauce too salty, but it was a sweet gesture of him to cook for his friends and by the way you were starving after everything that was happening for the past twenty-four hours. The wine he served with lunch was on the other hand fantastic and after a couple of glasses, the warm, fuzzy feeling of slowly getting tipsy was putting you in a relaxed state.

Looking at the two amazing men, you now started to understand what your boyfriend was talking about and wanted for you all the way. The normal scenario would involve you having to choose one of them, there would be drama, heart-brake and the euphoria of new love would eventually dim by the negative effects of it all. Thanks to Muzan’s approach, however, you never needed to choose now. The love the two of you shared was just as he described, transcending space and time. But the basic, carnal desire you felt for Yoriichi was also real. Being able to have it all, and more… was indeed the best you could ever wish for. Assured in this new discovery, you closed your eyes and let yourself daydream now finally receptive to visualise desires without any more restraints…

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Tagging: @doumadono @muzanbloodgalore @muzansfangs @horror4themasses @cursetopia2 @anarcho-satanism

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Leave My Wife Alone (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N wants to Retire but Tashi isn’t okay with that.

Word Count: 753

Request: If you’re still taking requests could you write a fic for Art Donaldson pls: where he’s married to the reader who is a retired tennis player who Tashi became a huge fan of during college, when YN retires Tashi becomes bitter that she did and tries to pressure her into coming out of it, and it makes Art so upset that he confronts her about her about bothering his wife and her obsession with her life

Y/N Donaldson was a famous name through Tennis. Well Y/N Y/L/N was but when her and Art got married she changed her last name to his. The Donaldsons. They both were big tennis players, loved throughout the community. Tashi Duncan was Y/N’s biggest fan. They met in College and Y/N was surprised that when she faced off against Tashi she was a good sport about it.

Tashi was known for not being a good sport but since she was a huge Y/N fan she was honored. Thus began the friendship that they have now. Tashi and Y/N always talked about Tennis. It was their favorite Topic. When Y/N and Art got married Tashi was her maid of honor. “I want to retire.” She told Art as they ate dinner. Art was playing a challenger so they were at a luxury Hotel. “Are you sure?” He asked. She nodded.

“Yup. I’m 32 years old. I think this is it for me and I want to start a family.” The last part made him smile. Art always wanted kids but figured it would be best to wait for the right time. “Whatever you do I’ll support. I just don’t know about Tashi.” Tashi was gonna be heartbroken. “Well I’m sure she’ll understand.” Y/N said not believing her own words. “Will she though?” Art asked unsure. “I mean you’re still playing.” “Yeah but she doesn’t care about Art Donaldson, she cares about Y/N Donaldson.”

She smiles at the use of his last name after her first. She loved it. “I will tell her when the time is right.” Y/N said and got up with her plate. No time was right. They both knew that. As she was washing her plate she felt Art behind her. His breath was hitting her neck, “So is it too early to start thinking about a baby?” He asked. She giggled and turned around to face him, “Never.” She said and kissed him. He lifted her up onto the table and smiled against her lips. 

“So I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I want to retire.” She shut her eyes tight after she Tashi. Tashi felt the world stop. This was her biggest fear. Since she couldn’t play Tennis anymore, Y/N was her way in. “No. You can’t.” She said. “Tashi, I’m 32 now and I want a family.” “You have a family. You don’t need to quit Tennis for that.” Y/N looked at her as she ranted. “I mean you’re the best Tennis player right now, why stop now?”

“Tashi I understand but-” “If I could still play I would. I would have never thrown it away.” “Tashi I’m not throwing it away. Wait, is that what this is about? You can’t play Tennis so I should?” “No, I just think you still have a lot of years left in you.” “Art is still playing.” Y/N said. “Art is nowhere near as good as you are. I care about Y/N Donaldson not Art Donaldson.” 

Art was pissed. He knew that Tashi was going to be this way but he still had a little hope that she would be a good friend. “I mean she said that you shouldn’t quit because she never got the chance to play like this?” He asked. “It was implied.” Art was so mad at Tashi for implying that. It was sickening. He was wide awake when Y/N went to sleep. He stared at the ceiling as he thought about what Tashi said to his wife. How could she? Y/N was a great player but she deserved to be happy and not have Tennis be her life forever.

He got up quietly and took his phone with him. He went to Tashi’s contact and hit call. He waited as it rang. “Hello?” She answered. “Listen, I understand that you didn’t get your big dreams of Tennis but that does not mean Y/N has to suffer for it. What you said today was so uncool and you aren’t a very good friend.

You only care about Tennis and you are so obsessed with her career that it’s gonna kill you when she retires because you’ll have nothing left. You only care about one thing and it’s Tennis not her well being or anything like that. Just Tennis. It’s Pathetic Tashi.” He said and hung up the phone. He sighed and went back to the bedroom. He got in bed and could actually fall asleep. Though he wasn’t ready for what Tashi was gonna say tomorrow.

[imjustasimpxd]

Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package. 

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon. 

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one of the biggest celebrities in both Japanese and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him. 

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma. 

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more. 

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing. 

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.” 

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on. 

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player. 

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.  

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career. 

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded. 

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage. 

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone. 

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives. 

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had. 

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status. 

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality. 

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball. 

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone. 

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate. 

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family. 

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one. 

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future. 

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely. 

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her. 

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider. 

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then. 

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more. 

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said. 

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore. 

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips. 

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji. 

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice. 

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing. 

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence. 

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you. 

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later. 

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships. 

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.  

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it. 

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author. 

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of. 

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage. 

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he. 

Or so you thought. 

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you. 

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again. 

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America. 

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life. 

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years. 

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Like no one is watching

summary: a little stream rekindles feelings that had been lurking somewhere in between the lines. Or have they?

a/n *hits chest* guilty, guilty, guilty... yet I had to write this because I was about to go insane. Don't come for my head. Had never written for this man before. Enjoy. 🤍🫧

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was supposed to be a chill night. Nothing big. Nothing special. All Vince wanted was to hang out with a couple of his old friends and mess around for a bit on stream. He needed to get his mind off the last couple of games that weren't his best. And it was just that—a good evening filled with goofy jokes—until Brian went quiet for a minute before saying, "Uuu, Y/N is coming over," and Vince's body nearly had an out-of-body experience. One that makes you fella as if, suddenly, you are standing a foot away from your body, and it almost feels like tunnel vision, but then it all snaps back into place. Yet Vince pulled the most neutral facial expression he could master before saying, "The one from the game?" making Brian simply hum in confirmation as he typed out a message to you.

The thing was, that it was stupid to even pretend that Vince didn't know you. Or that he only had seen you in one of his games as Brian's plus one. Well, besides being one of the NHL investor's daughter—a tag you shook off with a frown every time. You had made quite a name for yourself on your own. You had graduated from medical school with honors. And had opened a boutique in downtown Chicago... Not that Vince was keeping tabs or anything.

The truth was that he had never paid much attention to you at sports events or gatherings. Not that you were there often. But something about you standing there in the stands during his last game had messed with Vince's brain chemistry, and Vince just hadn't been the same ever since. He had, of course, asked Brian about your friendship and felt even more whiplashed when his friend casually shrugged while saying that you two had known each other for years. A friend of a friend. And since the energy was comparable, you had stayed in touch.

"Vince, keep the chat entertained while I let her in," Brian got up quickly, but not before stopping to address chat too, "Guys, your favorite person is here." Vince was once again left wondering how many times you two streamed together. And kicking himself for never really finding the time to watch his friends' lives. Laughter echoed from the hallway, and Vince had to mentally tell himself not to look back so he wouldn't come off too desperate. Paying extra attention to the sea of messages about how everyone was so excited to see you.

"Make some noise, make some noise," Brian shouted as he sprinted back, clapping his hands. He pulled the mic to his lips, "The one and only, Y/n Y/L/N." Your laughter filled the room, quickly followed by the clicking of your heels. "You are insane," you muttered, stepping through the door. A slight surprise washed over your face when your eyes fell on Vince, sitting in one of the chairs, but it was quickly masked by a warm smile. "Oh, hey, Vince," you muttered before leaning forward slightly to wave at the camera.

"Hey guys, long time no see. Please tell me that you've been making fun of Brian for me", you smirked, sticking your tongue out at him. "Changed my mind; I don't want you here," he huffed, playfully pulling at your hand. Vince blinked a couple of times. Finally realized that he had been staring at you the whole time, but then who could blame him? You had caught his eye back then with a messy bun, baggy jeans, and his team's jersey on. Now, with a black dress, heels, and full of glam. Lord was on his side, and he was sure glad that he had been sitting.

"Do I know Vince?" you read, your eyes darting to the awfully quiet hockey player to your right. "Yeah, we met. Was at his game, actually", you nodded slowly. "I should know all the rules by now, but..." Pulling a face, you shook your head. You avoided the games like a plague. Daddy's girl in the stadium. Those words alone made you want to run. You would rather fall face-first into dog shit. "We'll get you to more games, and you'll get it in no time," Vince's voice made your head snap back to him. The fucker dared to smirk too. Oh, but you knew his type. Heard all about it, and two could play this game. "Is that an offer?", you asked innocently. Vince only shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, "A fact." Your eyes stayed glued to each other. You hated how you could never get a read on him. How could a guy look both like the biggest mistake and like a gift from the Lord himself?

"They want to see your fit, Y/n," Brian's voice made you blink. Turning your attention back to the camera, you muttered, "Oh, wait," you backed up slightly. Trying to fit at least most of your body in a frame. "Do a twirl," Brian clapped his hands like a kid, making you shake your head. "Of fuck you, that's stupid," you muttered. "No cap, do a twirl," he motioned with his finger for you to do as he said. You rolled your eyes, but then you did feel cute today, so a little hype has never hurt anybody. "It's nothing," you said as you twirled a couple of times, "a black dress and these awful heels." You lifted one of your feet slightly, showing the sparkly, black heel.

"My turn!" Brian shouted, stepping up front as he went on a rant about what he was wearing. You stepped aside with a giggle. He was way too excited to do this, so alcohol had to be involved in this steam in some way. "Sponsorship event?", Vince said under his breath, clearly only trying to catch your attention. "You know it...", breathing out, you let out a sigh. People might call you ungrateful for this, but you hated attending anything that involved your father and his money. You were like a shiny toy for him. "Do you hate them?", he asked, catching a slight frown on your face. "Tell me about it," you said, laughing under your breath. "I ain't a fan as well," he added with a nod. "Oh, I know", you muttered, stepping aside from his chair.

"I will go for now; I need to get out of these before I start bleeding all over the floor," you chuckled, pointing to your feet once you found a minute of silence. You didn't want to just get up and walk out, so one way or another, you would have to find a little excuse to slip away. "Just get them off here," Brian muttered, not seeming to care as he scrolled through his playlist, looking for a new song to sing along to. "And flash the chat while doing so?", you rolled your eyes, "You wish for free content like that." You were about to wave your last goodbye when Vince cut in, "I'll get them." For a split second, you had hoped that you had misunderstood his intentions. So you just shook your head with a polite, "It's okay," but Vince scooted his chair closer. "No, no, I got it," he muttered, bending over.

A breath hitched in your throat as you felt his hands on your skin. "No, Vince," you muttered. But he just continued pulling at the strap; his warm fingers touching your cold ankle, sending shivers down your whole body. He fidgeted with it for a moment, but with an awkward angle, it sure wasn't an easy task. You were hoping that he was just going to give up, but his palm grasped your leg just slightly above your knee as he nudged it to a more comfortable angle for him. You nearly let out a shriek, but it turned into you biting your lip. Your hands pressed against his shoulder as you steadied yourself.

But God the feeling of relief once he finally pulled the scrappy shoes off. Near heavenly. Making your head fall back as you hummed in delight, "Remind me to boycott high heels from today," you muttered. Not to mention that you didn't miss the way Vince's hands lingered on your skin before he pulled back away from you. His gaze moves upwards to catch your eyes. And the urge to just take his face between your fingers and... Pull yourself together, Yn. You turned away quickly. Hoping to hide the slight blush on your cheeks. "It was nice seeing you guys", you waved your hand to the camera before quickly picking up your heels and padding out of the room.

Vince's heart was beating so hard against his chest. He was toying with a dangerous line. Girls like you were off-limits for a reason. The rules were pretty clear, too. It was bad enough that this was on the internet. One stupid move and his head would be drilled raw with people screaming at him. Nor did it help that your daddy dearest had spent some pretty coin on his team this year. Yet Vince was itching to get up and follow you. Little could be done with the cameras on, but outside this room, where no one could see you...

"Do you want another drink?" Vince said, causing Brian to shake his can, which, to Vince's luck, was indeed empty. "I'll get..." Brian had started, but Vince was already up and out of his chair. "I've got you, man," he said, tapping his friend's shoulder. He only had one shot at this. You can only get lucky so many times. But he didn't even need to go looking for you because the moment Vince rounded the corner to the kitchen, you were there. Leaning against the counter with your hands crossed over your chest.

"You're following me or something?", you muttered, tilting your head to the side. Vince tossed the empty cans out. "Or something," he muttered back. "Now you think you're funny?", you raised an eyebrow at him, pushing back from the corner to step closer to him. "What do you want, Dunn?", you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. A smirk tugged on his lips. That devilish one. One that turned him from an angel to a man of sins in seconds. "Back to the last name once again; you know I like it." His words were breathy and low as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing you to pull back.

"You look really good," Vince muttered, letting his eye fall down your body. Following your curves before your laughter filled the empty place. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, frowning slightly. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head, "You came here to tell me that I looked good?". This guy was something different. Yet your fingers reached up to his jaw, brushing over his jawbone. "You're adorable," you muttered. This time it was Vince who was pulling away, "I'm not adorable."

You bit your lip, trying to keep a serious face. Of course, he would get offended by a comment like that. "Yeah, I forgot that you're an angry puppy, my bad," you said with a firm nod of your head. Vince let out a huff, licking his lips as he stepped forward once more, towering over you. "Careful," he breathed out, leaning closer to your face. "Or what?", you urged him, not willing to back down. Your own hands moved to rest against his chest as you stepped on your toes. His warmth seeped into your palms. Vince's arms were pressed on either side of you. Caging you within his arms, "Or you might see a very different side of me." Your smirk matched his now as you bit your lip, tilting your head to the side. "Like..." you pushed on, wanting to see just how far he would let himself go.

"Not afraid that daddy will get mad?" The warm feeling in your stomach turned to ice. The smile faded from your lips as you reared back. "Oh, fuck you," you hissed, pulling at his arm to get away from him. You should have known better. "Y/n," Vince tried to grasp your arm, but you yanked it away quickly, "Forget it, Dunn." With a quick look around the kitchen, you grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the door, cursing yourself for willingly choosing to come here in the first place.

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

puppy love (or something like it)

part 1

— And, nevertheless, you waited and waited for his call and never took more than a moment to respond, both of you trailing after each other in an endless (not) lovesick circle like lost puppies.

((eight)teen, barista!gojo x fem!reader)

(word count: 7k)

(tags/warnings: slightly toxic gojo, sort of fwb gojo, cursing, lightest of light smut, underage drinking (be responsible!!), reader is a bit insecure, time jumps, a hint of meaningless flirting. lmk if i missed any!)

no.. i didn't write 7k words in less than 24 hours...idk what this is but it's def something!!!!

AUGUST 2007 –

Satoru Gojo’s senior year of high school flew by in a blur; between sports (to only slightly brag, he brought his football team to regionals and won—he was only the best quarterback his school had seen in a decade or more), honors classes, a full social life, and demanding parents, it felt like he never had a moment for himself. Sure, he was well accomplished for an eighteen-year-old but he was still just that: eighteen years old.

He realized one day, with a startling abruptness around three in the morning before returning from winter break, that the last eighteen years of his life had been lived under the instruction of someone else. In fact, Satoru could hardly recall a single decision he made by and for himself—he wasn't sure that he had. Even his involvement with sports, for all the love he held for it, was pushed at him by his father from a young age. His extroverted, sociable personality was instilled in him by his mother because, as a member of the Gojo clan, he was held to a higher standard (and amount) for his interactions—he could not, would not, should not shy away from it.

Maybe Suguru and Shoko—his closest, more beloved friends. Maybe keeping them around was the only decision he made for himself; especially Suguru, considering his family was not fond of his more humble (not obscenely wealthy) upbringing. 

On that same night, Satoru realized he rather disliked his parents.

So, in the wake of all the enlightenment and wisdom that can befall an eighteen year old boy, he decided to spite them.

It was a brilliant scheme, one that would cause them displeasure and him satisfaction—Satoru decided to take a gap year between high school and college. He ignored their droning warnings and complaints of ‘If you don't go now, you never will,’ ‘We have worked too hard to let you give up and amount to nothing,’ and, his personal favorite: ‘This is all because of that Geto boy! I knew he was a bad influence!’

(As if he ever could “amount to nothing.” The Gojo name secured his future indefinitely, and they all knew it.)

After a month of argument and debate, an agreement was reached—Satoru would take a gap year under the condition he would find a job to keep him motivated and teach him ‘real world skills,’ or whatever his parents insisted minimum wage work would instill in him. His working theory was that they believed threatening him with real work would make him back down and start applying to schools, but that only made him more spiteful and determined to stick it out for a year. For once, he wanted to do something that he chose, not that was chosen for him.

By the time the end of high school came around, Gojo was close to nineteen and determined to prove his parents' warnings unfounded.

He didn't think it would be this difficult.

He thought brewing coffee was supposed to be easy—a couple scoops of this, a pump or two of that, pour and done.

But the rather chatty, too-upbeat-for-even-Satoru barista was droning on about different roasts, optimal temperatures, the proper angle for steaming a cappuccino (what the fuck was a cappuccino), different grinds of coffee beans—anything and everything under the sun. He never knew coffee was so involved. And the syrups—God, the fucking syrups. He was sure he had never seen so many flavors in one place and he sincerely doubted his ability to memorize them. A million flavors with trillion combinations and a seemingly infinite supply of picky customers requesting the most obscure concoctions of mocha and caramel and fucking mint?! 

Even Satoru knew it was a miracle he hadn't been fired.

But lucky for him, he had a pretty face and the shop was understaffed.

So, after four weeks of employment (and the owner realized he was simply untrainable in the art of coffee) Satoru became the designated cashier and eye candy during his shifts.

It suited him and gave him an opening for routine visits with Suguru during his shifts, so long as no customer went unattended or tables un-bussed.

“Suguruuu,” Satoru droned in that whiny, higher pitch that he knew drove his friend up the wall, “I’m boreddd.”

“Satoruuu,” he mocked, “you’ve only been here for an hour.”

“Yeah, and there's nothing to do.” He pouted. He didn't miss his friend’s (mostly) playful eye roll.

“I’m sure you have something to clean.”

“Nuh uh.”

“The table six feet in front of me thinks otherwise.” Satoru responded with a grumbled “shut up,” but made no move to bus the table. “Satoru, you have to start taking this more seriously. Your parents will be livid if they find out you got fired.”

“I don't care what they think.”

“You need their money—I know you didn't forget your deal that fast.” He could only huff at his friend, knowing that he was right. Satoru’s parents agreed to financially support him and his high maintenance life under the condition that he remain employed; they would cover his portion of rent, utilities, and any emergencies so long as he held down this job for one year. “If you're late on rent, I’m kicking you out.”

“No fair!”

“Fine, just a late fee. Then I’ll evict you.”

“Calm down. They're not firing me. I’m too handsome–it brings in too much business.” Satoru joked with a thumb pointing to the boyish smile adorning his face.

“Yes—that’s why the café is just bustling.” Suguru mocked. The café was entirely empty save for them and the barista that went on her break twenty minutes ago. Satoru decided to not be annoyed at her fifteen turning to a twenty—maybe twenty five. 

He had certainly done worse.

The pair fell into silence for a moment as Suguru began typing away at his laptop, and Satoru restlessly tapped his foot, fingers, and anything else within his reach.

“Satoru. Do you mind?”

“I'm still boredddd!” he cried.

“Well, you'll have to find something to occupy yourself today. I’m working on my class project with my partner today.”

“I don't see them.” Satoru playfully tried closing his laptop. “Looks like you’ll just have to hang out with me instead.”

“She's running a little late.” He swatted his hands away, “And you're in her seat.” 

“You're no fun.” He huffed, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Ow, how will I ever regain your high opinion, your majesty?” He dramatically grasped at his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair in mock pain. “Seriously, man, get up, she just walked in, and unlike you, we plan to get some work done today.”

Satoru grumbled, mocking his friend as he stood up from his chair and pushed it under the table. He complained all the way back to his spot behind the register, where he leaned against the counter with his head propped against his hand, looking utterly bored.

“Excuse me?”

Oh right, you probably wanted to order. Maybe he really did need to pay more attention to his job.

“Sorry about that! What can I…” In an instant, Satoru’s heart grew wings and fluttered violently around his ribcage. It felt nauseating.

Why had Suguru never talked about you before?

And fuck you looked at him like he grew six eyes before he realized he was staring like an utter fool. He tried to recover with a casual clearing of his throat and a fake cough into his elbow. “Sorry! Allergies—what can I get started for you?”

“Just a black coffee, thanks.”

“Of course!” He put on his prettiest smile and smoothest voice for you. “It’s on the house today.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Satoru turned around to pour the coffee, feeling comfortable in his hand eye coordination to handle pouring the cup of coffee despite his lack of comprehension of its intricacies. He tried to ignore how casual you were, seemingly unphased by a kind gesture from a handsome stranger. By the time he finished obsessing to turn back around and hand you the cup, you were already sitting at the table with Suguru, the warmest smile he had ever seen with his own eyes pulling at your cheeks and leaving a shimmer in the room.

There was an unusual feeling boiling in his stomach as he approached you with the mug. Why did Suguru get such a sweet smile and he hardly got an acknowledgment? 

That wasn't how it usually went.

“Here’s that coffee for you,” Satoru approached the table, not missing the suspicious look in Suguru’s eyes as he obviously took note of the effort he put in to bring your drink to the table. The few times Satoru has had to make a drink (only ever black coffee, tea, or ice water), he sits it on the pick up counter and calls out the order name, regardless of it being dine-in or to go. He also knew his friend picked up on his rush to bus the messy table, only because it put him in your direct line of sight, but you could not seem to care less.

He wanted your attention.

It was rather odd—Satoru typically had no issues holding a woman’s attention.

But he could wait. He was patient.

Three hours was about all he could manage.

To his benefit, that was the end of his shift, and he was forced to stand there while you sat in beautiful concentration and occasionally conversed with Suguru. He hoped you would come up for a refill, maybe a pastry; it did nothing for him, since you only left your seat once to use the restroom, asking Suguru where to find it rather than himself, which stirred that vicious feeling in his gut again.

He was clocking out, removing his apron, and about to leave when he heard what he had been waiting for from you for the last miserable three hours: “I'm going to head out, same time tomorrow?”

“You got it.” Suguru beamed at you, offering you a small wave after you packed your belongings away and pushed in your chair. 

You smiled again.

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaimed once you closed the door and crossed the street. His friend only groaned in response. “You didn't tell me she was hot!”

That elicited a small chuckle from him. “I didn't think it was important.”

“Why haven't you told me about her?”

“There's nothing to tell, Satoru. She's my research partner. I barely talk to her outside of class.”

“But you do talk to her!” His eyes lit up in excitement. “You have to set me up, dude.”

“Really?” Another laugh. Was he taunting him? “Why would I do that? We both know your history, Satoru, and I'm not having you run her off before we finish our project.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He whined.

Sure, maybe, Satoru had a history in high school of being a player but that was the old him and he told Suguru as much.

“You mean, like, two months ago?”

“That's still old! And it's been longer than two months! C’mon man, you gotta help me out here.”

“Why do you care so much? She didn't look very interested.”

“Exactly! You know hard to get is my type! And look at her!” He gestured wildly up and down with his hands.

“And you wonder why she wasn't fawning over you.”

“Suguruuu, pleaseee! I’ll clean the kitchen for a month.”

“You already owe me two months of that for the last two favors you asked me.” The bastard was having fun with this, it was obvious in his smug grin. But Satoru’s annoying whiny voice and pleading eyes did the trick, like they did every time. “Fine. I guess I can invite her over to the apartment for a study session—”

“YES!”

“Hang on. You have to promise me that you won’t make a move until our project is done. You're not going to fuck up my grade.”

“Deal.”

“And—”

“Ughhh, what else?”

“She’s pretty cool. Don't fuck her over.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Suguru was true to his word, for the most part. Rather than meeting at the café the next day, you were invited to their shared apartment at noon—the same time that Satoru’s five-hour shift started.

He could've killed him.

And during every grueling moment of his shift, where he was scheduled with Utahime, who refused to chat with him and instead opted to spend her five hour shift scrubbing down the baseboards with a rag and hot water. That only took two hours. Then she began moving fridges, the whole fucking espresso machine and every single other shelf, syrup rack and bottle on the counters to clean under. All to avoid having to speak with him.

To say Satoru was bored out of his mind was an understatement.

He remained as such until exactly five o’clock, when Shoko came to relieve him. She never showed up a minute early or late.

As he clocked out, there was a message waiting for him.

Suguru

4:27pm

yo, can you pick up a twelve pack on your way? 

Satoru

5:03pm

depends

Suguru

5:03pm

on?

Satoru 

5:04pm

how you plan on making up w me after your little private study sess >:(

Suguru

5:05pm

ugh you're so dramatic. she’s staying for dinner, dumbass. 

you're welcome

Satoru made it to the convenience store and back home in record time.

He walked through the front door, after checking his hair in his phone camera to make sure it was still perfectly mussed, with a grin on his face and a twelve pack in hand.

He was ready to extend a greeting to you when he realized his, perhaps fatal, mistake.

He never asked for your name.

Suguru must have realized the dire circumstances Satoru found himself in, because he quickly introduced you and gave no hint at the ridiculously foolish crush he seemed to be harboring for you after half of a conversation and a few lovesick glances.

You replied with a casual, “Hey,” and a close-lipped smile, and Satoru felt his knees weaken.

“We were just about to order dinner, you good with pizza?”

“Hell yeah.”

NOVEMBER 2007 –

Autumn came and went as all seasons before; suddenly. And so, in similar fashion, winter began creeping in as the calendar flipped to November, leaving more of a chill in the air with each passing day.

You were swept away in a wave of classes, homework, projects, and newfound friendships—most notably (and the least expected) being Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru. 

Suguru was perhaps the sweetest boy you had met in college. He was considerate of you, never toeing the line of being anything more than your friend; he worked hard with you on your project, and you majorly credited him and his tutoring to your current passing grade in Yaha’s biology class. You frequently met at the local café just off campus for coffee and the occasional blueberry scone where Satoru was almost always working. It was difficult for you to connect with others, your more impassive demeanor leading others to believe you were catty or rude. Suguru never seemed to think that of you, always being a comforting, warm contrast to you. You were grateful to have him as your friend. 

Him letting you braid his hair was merely an added bonus.

Shoko became another close, deeply loved friend to you. She was at Suguru and Satoru’s apartment almost as frequently as you (any chance to escape dorm life was welcomed), and while she was almost as slow opening up to strangers as you, she was never anything less than loving and kind. You joined her for her smoke breaks on the patio, you listened to her gossip about friends or work or class—anything and everything under the sun. When you sprained your ankle in the middle of September (an incident involving copious amounts of liquor and an electric scooter that she did not hesitate to gently mock you for), she wrapped your ankle every day for a week and a half and mothered you until she believed you were clear to resume your normal activities. You decided against telling her it would still hurt a little after climbing stairs or wearing sandals.

And Satoru… well, he was Satoru; always toeing over the line between friendly and flirtatious, always back and forth, hot and cold, clingy and distant depending on the day. You were more unfamiliar with him than Suguru and Shoko. Not to say you were not fond of him—he always knew how to make you laugh. His inattentive personality always guaranteed entertainment, a dull moment never being a thought with him, and he was certainly charismatic despite him seeming overall an enigma to you—an unusual mix of obvious transparency yet never beyond a surface level. While you knew he would like to believe otherwise, he was blatant in his initial affections for you. That only lasted through the middle of October, where he seemed to realize his advances went unnoticed. He put the pieces together when Shoko mentioned your boyfriend back home and dropped the notion altogether. 

That was one thing you could always credit him for—he knew when it was time to stop; whether it was a joke, a game, his excitable energy, or anything else for that matter. While his antics were an essential part of his personality, Satoru was still mature and empathetic in spite of his best effort to prove otherwise. The playful flirting was still present from both of you, but never more than just that—playful, but enough to maintain a gray area that left you confused more often than not.

Still, you cared for him, in spite of his flaws and the confusing nature of your friendship.

And his horrible latte-making skills.

You had to give him credit for trying, and there certainly was improvement from his first drink, but the espresso always tasted burned and the milk was a little cold and lacking any sort of aeration or foam. 

You just didn't have the heart to tell him.

Suguru, however, certainly did.

“Satoru, you've worked here for how long now? How did you manage to make a steamer taste burned?”

“Okay, Karen, I’ll remake it for you.”

“No, I will.” Shoko piped up from behind the counter. It was one of the rare shifts that the manager had no option but to schedule Shoko and Satoru together—an occurrence you found she tried desperately to avoid, knowing that you and Suguru would be in the café and distracting the two for the duration of the shift. But, with the majority of her other staff having taken off for the upcoming holidays or cramming for exams, she had little option.

“Thank you, Shoko.” You couldn't help but sympathize with your friend, despite his disdain for anything interpreted as pity. The stress of exams seemed to weigh heavily on him. “It’s a miracle you're still employed, man.”

“Hey! I already told you, I’m just the eye candy.”

Shoko scoffed from behind the counter, earning a grumpy look in her direction.

“As if.” You taunted, never tearing your gaze from your laptop.

“Soooo…” Satoru began, changing the topic of conversation away from mockery at his expense, “Are you guys going to Utahime’s party tomorrow?”

“Are you sure she even invited you? I thought she hated you.”

“Pssh, what're you talking about? She loves me!” He replied, which earned him an incredulous look from the three of you. “And anyway, I’m Suguru’s plus one.”

“You are?”

Before he could question further, Satoru turned his attention to you, “Are you going?”

“Oh, I really don't know… I have to study for my exams.”

“Oh, c’monnnn,” He whined, “You can take one night to have fun. You've been glued to that thing for days now.” To emphasize his point, Satoru closed your computer, leaving you thankful for the auto-save feature on your document.

You felt torn, wanting to enjoy an evening with your friends but also needing to prioritize your studies. You were dangerously underprepared and couldn’t risk less than perfection on your exam.

But what’s one night?

“Okay, fine. But only for a couple hours, then I’m coming home to study.”

Satoru threw his fist in the air as a sign of victory, finally leaving your personal space to return behind the counter where he was finishing his closing duties for the night. From what you've been told, he always seemed to work harder when you were around, though you couldn't understand why.

“It’ll be good for you to get out.” Suguru commented with a soft look in his eyes, “You’ve been pretty closed off since the break-up.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I know. It’s just weird, I guess. The distance and all made things hard, but…”

“Hey, I get it.” He reached out to gently rub your shoulder, knowing these conversations were far from your strong suit. “This’ll be good for you. I’ll make sure you have someone to talk to.”

“Thank you, Sugu.”

Shoko came around a moment later with a latte in one hand and a steamer in the other. She sat them on the table and threw a wink in your direction, seemingly noticing even behind the counter that your original drink sat untouched. You usually ordered a black coffee when Satoru was at the espresso bar (which you still received a few questionable cups of), but he was insistent on making your latte today, claiming to have been practicing just for you. He had been more distant than clingy lately, and could not help but cave to the sudden attention he was showing you.

That was something else about Satoru—you found yourself craving his approval after a short time of his friendship. It was a realization that you would never make apparent to him for fear of inflating his ego or exasperating his behavior, and one that frustrated you to no end. Never before had you craved attention in such a way, not even from your ex-boyfriend, who, in all honesty, was wholly inattentive and unaffectionate even before the distance.

You spared a moment from your laptop to watch him behind the counter as he cleaned underneath syrup racks and jugs of chocolate and realized you knew little to nothing about Satoru Gojo. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone there.” There was a look in Suguru’s eye that gave the missing context to his words.

You scoffed, “As if. You know that’s not quite my scene.”

“I’m just saying.” he replied, throwing his hands up in defense, “You could probably do with a little stress relief. You haven’t gone anywhere other than your dorm, my place, or here in weeks. Let loose a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

As promised, you arrived at the party already one drink in, and with a six pack of your favorite beer after asking Utahime what the drink selection would be like. She rattled off a list of various spirits that you knew would leave you hungover, miserable, and unable to resume your studies in the morning.

It was more crowded than you expected.

In fact, it was nearly shoulder to shoulder as you made your way through the house to find a spot in the fridge to sit your drinks. What should have been a thirty-second walk to the kitchen turned into a three-minute debacle. After being stopped by two drunken classmates who were shocked to see you while you were finding an empty couch to lay your coat and weaving through a dozen or so bodies, you finally made it to the fridge. Unsurprisingly, it was stuffed full of snacks, bottled water, sodas, and a dozen or so bottles of rum, whiskey, vodka and who-knows-what-else meaning you had to remove each individual bottle from the box to find an opening for them, leaving one out for you to start on.

With your head in the fridge and being entirely unaware of your surroundings, you were startled when you heard your name called, resulting in you slamming your head straight into the top of the fridge before you straightened and turned around. There was no concealing your embarrassment as you came face-to-face with the originator.

And you weren’t shocked to find him stifling a laugh.

“Thanks for that, Gojo.” You knew he hated it when you called him that.

“Wow, so it’s like that? And here I was, about to offer you a drink.” You raised the opened bottle in your hand to show your lack of necessity for one. “Bleh, I don’t know how you drink that shit.” “I could say the same for you. I think I saw you adding simple syrup to your drink when I came in.”

“It was only like three pu—wait, you did not!”

“Gotcha.” You flashed him a smile, and for a moment thought he looked mildly uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. “You’re too predictable, Gojo.”

“Nooooo, you know I hate it when you call me that.” He whined, playfully stamping his feet in a way that indicated he probably already had more than one drink. It was difficult to tell with him, considering the more wild side of his personality shone brightest in crowds. He was an extrovert through and through.

“Don’t give me a reason to call you that.”

“You’re so mean.” He pouted, a sultry undertone lacing his voice.

“You love it, though.” You teased, looking up at him underneath your lashes.

It felt unusual, the banter between you. What felt more unusual was the one-on-one interaction. For a moment, you couldn't place why until you realized you hadn’t had a single interaction with Satoru where Shoko or Suguru wasn’t around as a buffer in more than a month. In fact, he had been mostly absent since you broke things off with your boyfriend.

Was he avoiding you?

“Yeah, it’s pretty hot.” His cheeks were flushed but he did not backtrack.

“Shut up,” you blushed, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Where’s Suguru?”

“That eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes—where is he?”

“No clue, but I think Shoko’s around somewhere.”

“Thanks, pretty boy.” He grew even more red, if possible.

Maneuvering around the bodies in the dining room with two drinks in your hand (one for you and one for Shoko)  and leaving behind a mildly flustered Satoru, you found her exactly where you expected—outside by the bonfire with a cigarette in her lips and a blissed look in her eyes that told you she’d had more than just alcohol. You called out to her, and she smiled at you, waving her hand over to invite you to sit beside her. You tried not to laugh as her cigarette fell from her lips to the ground.

“Hey, girl!” She called out to you. “So glad you made it out!”

You gave a polite nod and smile, settling in beside her as the conversation resumed around you but mostly without you. You didn’t mind much; you were content with not having to navigate the interaction with people you didn’t know. You made a few comments here and there, mostly responding to polite questions and statements towards you.

“What’s your name? “What’re you studying?”

“I haven’t seen you around before.” “Oh! You’re friends with Geto and Gojo, right?”

“You’re in Yaga’s class, right? He’s such a hardass!”

It was enjoyable for a few moments, but after twenty or so minutes, the conversation seemed to leave you behind for the most part. 

When your drink was empty and you were comfortably buzzed, you took that as your sign to be leaving. Shoko tried to give pushback but resigned to expressing gratitude that you came out to begin with.

“If you see Suguru, tell him I’m sorry I missed him.” You slurred. “You got it!”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to brave the treacherous navigation of the house when you could have circled around to the front yard—something like one more beer and a couple of crackers calling your name before leaving, or whatever other excuse your tipsy mind convinced you of. Regardless, you found yourself back at the fridge with another drink in your hand that was disappearing in an alarming amount of time.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

How did he keep finding you?

“Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he whined, “What did I do to deserve that one?”

“My head still hurts.” “Hey! I didn’t make you hit your head.” 

“Then I’m preparing for the next time you're bad.”

“C’mon, you know I stay on my best behavior for you.” And there were those damn puppy dog eyes, only there for a moment as you could feel him switch to watching you in mild concern as you tipped your head back to take another long swig. “Ya know, when we said you needed to let loose a bit, we did only mean a bit.”

“I’ve only had a bit.” He made a sound to indicate he didn’t believe you as he leaned against the fridge door. “And besides, I’m leaving now.”

“You didn’t drive, did you?”

“No, I just walked. It’s not far.”

“Wait,” Looking embarrassed at his eagerness, “I can take you home. You live on campus, right?”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were having a pretty good time. And wait—haven’t you been drinking?”

“I barely touched the one I had. Too strong. Scouts honor.” He lazily raised three fingers and folded his thumb over his pinky. “I was going to DD for Suguru, but he found someone to leave with. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Wow, so you really do just act like this all the time.”

“Mean.”

“You know you love it.” And there was that flush in his cheeks again.

The ride to your dorm was relatively quiet. Upbeat pop music played softly in the background as Satoru kept both of his eyes glued to the road, being on high alert for the possibility of drunk drivers on a Friday night. It felt comfortable, you thought. Your moments with Satoru were few and far between these days—you would be willing to wager that tonight was the most one-on-one time you had spent with him in more than a month. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure about it. Were you that miserable that Satoru Gojo, the extrovert to end all extroverts, could only handle your company with a buffer? It certainly could not have been the case, considering his apparent willingness to drive you home. Then again, he knew how close you were with Suguru, and despite his arrogance, Satoru was a good person. He wouldn’t let you walk home alone when it was so late, Suguru would be livid.

Right?

Too lost in thought to notice he was already parked in front of your building, Satoru softly spoke your name. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired. Thanks for the lift.” You began to reach for your keys in your coat pocket when you realized that you were not wearing your coat. Unable to hide your frustration at your blatant forgetfulness, you groaned loudly and threw your head back.

“What’s wrong?” “I left my keys in my coat pocket at Utahime’s, and my roommate isn’t home.”

“I can just take you to mine and Suguru’s place.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll fit you.”

It was only another eight minutes to the apartment, but it felt like the longest drive of your life, unable to stifle the anxiety building in your gut. In the most casual tone you could muster, you offered him an out. “You can drop me back at the party or something if you need; I don’t want to intrude.” Satoru looked at you with pure astonishment. “You could never.” He said it with such sincerity, a rather rare sentiment from him.

Upon your arrival at his apartment, Satoru kicked off his shoes and wandered to the fridge, and you made yourself comfortable on the couch. He returned to you in the living room with a beer in one hand and a can of grape soda in the other. He handed you the beer with a silent question posed as a raised eyebrow, asking if you wanted another. You accepted with a polite nod.

He joined you on the couch, sitting close enough that you could feel his body heat and throwing an arm around the back. You could smell his cologne, slightly musky with a hint of vanilla and something signature to Satoru and only Satoru. He leaned his head back and inhaled deeply. You couldn’t keep yourself from staring at his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down, looking altogether tempting from your position. It was comfortably silent as the two of you sat on the couch together, breathing in the comfort of each other’s scent. You entirely forgot about your previous anxieties, recalling the familiarity of his presence and enjoying the remnants of your buzz.

“I’m glad you came out tonight.” His head never raised, and you stared at his throat as he spoke—his milky skin that never seemed to tan no matter how much time he spent in the sun, the wisps of hair that flipped in all directions by his ears and the nape of his neck, the barely visible shaved sides of his neatly trimmed undercut, the sharpness of his collarbones that peeked out from his t-shirt. 

He looked… tempting.

In that moment, you understood why he was so desired. Half of the girls in your college sought after him, despite him not being a student.

Suguru’s comment from the day before rang in your ears.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone there.”

You realized too late that you forgot to respond. “I can feel you staring, ya know?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” “I don’t need to. You’re doing it for me.” He finally rested his gaze on you but still never moved his head, only cutting a lazy sideways glance in your direction. Even in the dim lamplight of the living room, his eyes were all consuming. You didn’t think you had ever seen them so up close. You thought for a moment that he held an ocean in his eyes—it was the only explanation for their unnatural, almost more than human hue. Maybe he was just Satoru Gojo, and his name alone was enough to blur the lines between possible and impossible.

It was infuriating.

(Or maybe you had more to drink than you thought.)

“What else am I doing for you?” You purred. Everything in your mind screamed this was a bad idea, that you were about to leap over the line of playful and purposeful, but you couldn’t stop yourself—not when he snuck half-second glances at your lips, and his own looked so soft as they parted slightly with a small line of spit keeping them connected.

“I could show you better than tell you.” His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his teeth bit down on the lower slightly. Despite your focus on the sight, you didn’t miss the way his hips slightly shifted and his legs spread out a little wider.

It was intentional.

“C’mon then, Gojo. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He inched closer, a large hand coming to cup your check as he shifted his arm from the couch cushion to wrap around your waist and pull you into his side. “You know what to call me.”

“I think you can show me better than tell me.” 

The tension snapped. Self control was a distant thought of a forgotten memory as Satoru utterly devoured you. The two of you were a mess of teeth and tongues and wandering hands as he trailed from your check to gently rest on your throat. He brought his thumb around and offered a hesitant squeeze to your throat to gauge your reaction. You assumed he found what he was looking for in the low moan you released because he applied the perfect amount of pressure—enough to make your mind fuzzy but not so much to cause discomfort, and you let out a choked moan that made him smile evilly against your lips.

“I always knew you’d be into this.” He pulled slightly away from you, lightly increasing the pressure applied against your throat to hold you in place as you tried chasing his lips. “Ah, ah.” He pulled farther away, making a point to raise his head high enough that he cut his eyes to look down on you. “What are you supposed to call me?”

“Satoru.” You purred.

“Good girl.” He cooed, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He pulled you into his lap, and you knew he was blissfully unaware that you had him right where you wanted him. You hovered just above the growing hardness in his pants, ignoring his pawing hands guiding you down.

“Don't be a brat.” He emphasized it with a slap to your ass. You could feel the skin turning red.

It made you feel spiteful.

Adding to your spite was Suguru, who was fumbling with his key just outside of the front door. He must have dropped them three times and spent another few seconds searching for the right one to unlock the door; it was fortunate for you, considering the compromising position you found yourself in at the moment. Satoru immediately threw you off of him and shot up to run to his bedroom, the tent in his jeans so painfully obvious that even Suguru in his piss drunk state would have caught on.

Whether or not he would catch your flushed cheeks and overall airlessness was yet to be determined.

“Satoruu!” He called through the apartment, “How many times do I have to tell you to lock the door behind you?”

“Sorry, was a bit distracted,” he replied, far too casually for you to feel content with what just happened. You were still out of breath. “Someone left their keys at Utahime’s, she’s gonna crash here tonight. Anyway, I thought I saw you leaving?

“Yeah, to grab food.” Suguru hiccuped, “What do you think I am, a whore?”

“Well, yeah.”

He only responded to that with an eye roll, “I’m throwing up and going to bed. Have a good night.” He said your name, still unaware of your flustered state, “You know where the extra blankets are, I’ve got clothes in the dryer if you need ‘em.”

“Thanks, Sugu.”

JULY 2008 —

Your freshman year felt like it was over before it ever truly began. You stayed swept up in schoolwork and classes following winter break, practically suffocating in it.

Suguru and Shoko stayed a life saving constant for you. They never faulted you when you had to cancel plans, and Suguru even offered to do your homework if it meant it would take a weight off your shoulders. Of course, you declined, but the offer nearly brought you to tears. Being himself, he brushed it off as nothing and made you well aware it was an open, no strings attached offer. Shoko was there for several near catastrophic breakdowns, being a comforting presence and refusing to let you bum a cigarette from her, instead offering you a beer or your favorite scone from the cagé—you were thankful she didn't allow you to compromise your health like that.

And Satoru… well, he was still Satoru but in a different light.

You never talked about what happened.

You never talked about the other times it almost happened, either.

You never mentioned that it was why you stopped drowning in schoolwork at his and Suguru’s apartment and stayed in your dorm more often than not.

You never asked him if it meant anything, knowing the answer already. You knew he ebbed and flowed in his own ununderstandable ways, and you knew you couldn't subject yourself to his fickle personality as anything more than a friend. You also knew better than to question him, holding out for the moments that he was more on than off.

But still, things changed.

More often than not, he trailed after you like a puppy, always seeking your approval or praise and switching back to giving you free coffees when he was on shift. You knew it meant nothing, since he started doing the same for Shoko and Suguru. The end of his mandatory employment was rapidly approaching, and he couldn't be bothered to care about the repercussions—they were nothing to him; who would fire the great Satoru Gojo and risk the wrath of his obscenely affluent family? There were times he would bring your favorite latte to you, regardless of if you were in your dorm or at his apartment. There were times he brought a blueberry scone too—if the café was out, he brought you peach instead.

The flirting never stopped. It also never increased but it was charged, with the feeling of his hands around your throat, and the taste of his lips and tongue. If you focused on the moment hard enough, you could still remember the rasp in his voice when he called you “good girl.”

It was painful.

It was nothing in comparison to the line of women he consistently brought to the apartment, regardless of your presence.

It made you sick—not from unrequited affection (or so you told yourself) but from the implication that you were only a failed conquest; the confirmation that Satoru would only do as Satoru pleased, and you were a placeholder between his hookups or failed talking stages.

Still, he was your friend. Still, you cared. Still, you were lost without him.

And still, he was dreadful at lattes.

And nevertheless, you waited and waited for his call and never took more than a moment to respond, both of you trailing after each other in an endless (not) lovesick circle like lost puppies.

You realized it was rather pathetic when you picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, 'Toru.” 

“Are you busy?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What are you about to ask for?”

“You. Suguru’s out for the night.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

For all nineteen years of wisdom that Satoru possessed, you wondered if he could see what he was doing to you. 

(accidentally made this SAD., my apologies!! i will not be changing,. anyway, updating to add sneak peak of pt 2 :3)

[hoejosatoru]

it's nice to have a friend

Pairing: Fem!reader x Bachira, readers hair color/texture and skin color not specified. Characters are aged up 21+

Summary: You have been keeping a secret from your best friend for years: you're in love with him. Throughout the years it gets harder and harder to be close with him, but not in the way you really want. You reach a crossroads: tell him how you feel and risk your friendship, or accept it was never meant to be.

a/n: This took me way longer to write than I expected, but I'm happy to finally have it out. Title based on the Taylor swift, which is what inspired aspects of this fic.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Slowish burn friends to lovers, light bullying in childhood sections from unnamed character to reader, mutual pining, fingering, pet names, unprotected sex, cream pie. Not proof read. If aging up characters make you uncomfortable, don't read. MDNI

When you were 8 years old...

You met Bachira for the first time. You were at the park, collecting little flowers to put in your hair. You were about to pick a rather pretty pink one when a soccer ball rolled over it, crushing the delicate flower.

"Hey!" you grumbled at the young boy chasing after the ball, "You ruined my flower!"

The boy, who looked your age, looked down at the damage his ball caused. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. He twisted around, scanning the grassy field. "Hold on!" You watched as the boy dashed away, picked a flower, then return to you. It looked just like the one you had been about to pick.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"Do you wanna play soccer with me?" he asked. He was passing the ball back and forth between his feet.

"I don't know how," you replied.

"I'll teach you! It's fun." He was balancing the ball on his foot now, which you found impressive. You'd always been a more solitary child, opting to play things on your own, however something about this boy made you interested in trying something new.

"Yeah, okay. Just a second." You quickly tucked the pink flower into your hair.

"Pretty," he smiled. "I'm Bachira, by the way. C'mon let's go!"

And so began your chasing after Bachira.

When you were 10 years old...

You and Bachira were each other's best friends. He never was able to get you into soccer, but you still humored him by kicking the ball around. Mostly, you just stood as an obstacle for him to practice his dribbling around, but you didn't mind. It was cool to see your best friend be so good at something.

Plus, Bachira was a fair sport. You loved drawing, which he'd always do with you. You thought Bachira's mom was so cool because she was an artist. You loved going over to his house and painting with her and Bachira.

Today, though, was a soccer day. You were passing the ball back and forth when it got away from you, as it often did. You ran after it, but it came to a stop in front of a boy’s feet. You gulped as you looked up, finding the class bully staring down at you.

"Watch where you're kicking that, loser," he sneered at you.

"'M n-not a loser," you replied, attempting to sound brave. The bully only laughed at you.

"Y-yes you are," he mimicked the catch in your voice meanly.

"Leave her alone!" Bachira shouted as he ran to your side.

"Aw look, it's your weirdo boyfriend!" he mocked.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed by this for a reason you couldn't quite place. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"He should be, no one else likes you," he replied.

"Shut up!" you snapped, trying to get the ball away from him. You lacked the skills Bachira had, so he was able to keep it away. Your efforts made you stumble closer, allowing the bully to yank a lock of your hair. The force caused you to topple to the ground.

"Ow!" you cried as your knees hit the hard ground.

Bachira's eyes flared with anger. "Don't touch her!" Bachira lunged at the bully, who tried to evade him, but failed. Bachira managed to steal the ball back and then shoved the bully to the ground. He hit the ground with a resounding thud. An embarrassed flush reddened his cheeks.

"Whatever, you guys are freaks!" he yelled, before scrambling away.

Bachira turned to you, anger replaced by concern on his face. "Are you okay y/n?”

"Yeah, I'm fine," you nodded. Your cheeks were flushed, but for a completely different reason that your bully's were. Seeing Bachira stand up for you like that made you feel a way you never felt before.

"C'mon let's go back to my house. My mom will take us for ice cream." Bachira held his hand out to you to help you up. When you took it, your stomach flipped. A soft sort of warmth filled you, like hot chocolate after a day in the snow. Bachira held your hand the whole walk back to his house, chattering on as he often did when he knew you were upset. You, however, had practically forgotten about the bully, your attention completely taken over by this new feeling brought on by your best friend.

When you were 14...

You had long since come to terms with what those feelings meant. You had a crush on your best friend. It was your biggest secret, the only secret you kept from him. The two of you were as close as ever, despite gaining some more friends in middle school. Bachira had joined the soccer team and, unsurprisingly, was one of the top players. He made some friends on the team and you made some in art club. Though none of those relationships came close to what you had with Bachira. You refused to ruin that by blurting out how you really felt about him.

On this day, you both sat up on Bachira's roof, as you did more frequently now. The sun was setting on the last day of summer and tomorrow you'd be starting high school. You were nervous about the transition. You felt the levity of childhood waning behind you, as if all the choices you made from now on would hold more weight.

"What do you think high school will be like?" Bachira asked you. He had his hands behind his head, watching the sunset in a relaxed manner.

"Dunno," you replied, "Everyone makes it seem like a big deal. What do you think?"

Bachira shrugged. "I don't think it will be so bad." That was Bachira for you, always unbothered.

"I'm so jealous you never get nervous about anything," you sighed.

"I get nervous about somethings, like what if I don't get on the soccer team," he countered.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "You're absolutely going to make the team, Meguru. I bet you'll even get on varsity."

"Don't jinx me now," he replied, grinning. He wasn't superstitious at all, but hearing your unwavering faith in him delighted him.

"Just don't let it get to your head and ditch me for cooler friends," you replied, covering your real fears in a jovial tone.

Bachira snorted. "I don't think you have to worry about that." Bachira rolled over to face you, jabbing his finger into your ribs. "Besides, no one is cooler than you."

"Yeah, whatever," you laughed nudging his shoulder back. "Just don't want things to change. People start dating and stuff and shit gets messy." You never had a boyfriend, though a few of friend dabbled in dating in middle school. You simply weren't interested in anyone. Bachira did not seem interested in romance, either, but you knew that day would come and you were dreading it.

"You stress too much, y/n," Bachira replied.

"Ugh I know I do," you sighed, "I'll probably end up like Isagi." You referenced Bachira's teammate who after weeks of stressing about how he would go in for his first kiss ended up biting the girl on accident.

Bachira laughed. "Is that what you're worried about? No way your first kiss could be worse than that."

"God I hope not," you replied, "Just that all my friends have kissed people. Sometimes I feel like I'm falling behind."

"I haven't kissed anyone either," he pointed out.

"That cause we're both losers."

"True," Bachira chuckled. He was quiet for a moment before adding, "Hey I've got an idea. Why don't we just kiss each other?"

Your head whipped around. "Huh?"

"You know just to get it out of the way, so you're not as stressed about when you have to kiss someone," he replied.

"Are you messing with me?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Bachira liked to pull little pranks and if he was just joking around, you didn't wanna agree and look like an idiot.

"Why not?" Bachira shrugged. "We're just friends, it doesn't have to mean anything." While it stung a little to hear Bachira say kissing you wouldn't mean anything, you couldn't pass up an opportunity to kiss him.

"Okay, yeah," you nodded. "Why not." There was a beat of silence before you both started to move closer to each other. You both let out awkward little laughs before your eyes fluttered shut. The next thing you knew, Bachira's mouth was pressed against yours.

You weren't sure how long it was, it really couldn't have been that long, but you swore time froze. Your entire body felt alive, buzzing with warmth. You leaned into him, letting yourself soak up every second of his soft lips against yours.

When you pulled away you were breathless and flushed. You quickly turned away, afraid that he might catch how much you enjoyed that. "Thanks," you mumbled, laying back down.

"That's what friends are for." Bachira laid beside you once again. The two of you stayed up on the roof until the sun dipped below the trees surrounded by a charged silence. You never spoke of the kiss again.

When you were 16...

You were heartbroken for the first time. Bachira had a girlfriend.

As you had predicted, Bachira made varsity in his freshman year and quickly became a star player. You went to every single game, happy to cheer on your best friend's success. With the success, came more people wanting to befriend him and, eventually, girls who were interested in dating him.

It wasn't until now, in junior year, that he ever accepted anyone's advances. You didn't know the girl very well, but you tried to be friendly. As much as it hurt to see Bachira with someone, you did want him to be happy. His girlfriend, however, had no interest in you. She was cold at best, often trying to keep Bachira from spending time with you.

Bachira still made efforts to hang out with you, but it was different. To fill the void, you tried dating yourself. A nice boy from one of your math classes. He asked you out and you figured you might as well give it a shot. Maybe, you thought, this would help you get over your unrequited love Bachira.

The relationship did not last long. He was a great guy, truly, but your heart wasn't in it. Nothing made you feel like Bachira did. You were grateful to part amicably with him.

Luckily, just a few months later Bachira ended his relationship as well. "She was a total bitch," he said as you walked home together after his game.

"I coulda told you that," you replied.

Bachira was bouncing the ball between his feet as he walked. "Next time please do. I didn't like how she treated you, I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner."

You shrugged. "It's whatever. Just try to find someone cooler next time."

Bachira grinned. "Gonna be hard to find someone cooler than you, but I'll try."

When you were 17...

Bachira asked you to go to prom as friends. Neither of you had any other relationships after your respective first time failures. You were ecstatic to be going with Bachira, even if it was just as friends. Your parents fawned over both of you, making to take about a million photos before you left. You both acted annoyed, but loved it. It was an excuse to touch, to be close. You were happy with Bachira's arms around you, even if it was just for a photo.

You put upcoming graduation out of your mind, determined to just have fun. College was looming, the inevitable separation of the two fo you. You just wanted to enjoy every minute with Bachira tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, Bachira was harboring similar feelings. He's had a crush on you for as long as he could remember, but never felt brave enough to tell you. He told himself it would be tonight, prom being the perfect time to make it special. But all the nerve he had worked up dissolved when he found you dancing with your ex after he stepped away for the bathroom. He suddenly felt foolish and locked his feelings deeper inside.

When you were 18...

You and Bachira were apart for the first time in your decade long friendship. Bachira went to one of the top collegiate soccer programs and you found yourself at a college known for the arts. While you were excited for this, it was difficult to be without your best friend.

"We'll be in touch," Bachira promised, "You'll get so sick of hearing from me so much." While you doubted that, you were reassured that he valued your friendship so much.

But it was easier said than done. In the beginning, you facetimed each other nearly every day, but as his soccer training picked up and your coursework increased it became difficult. The daily calls devolved into texts every few days, with the occasional FaceTime. There was a small part of you that was okay with the communication dwindling. It was hard to see Bachira without you, knowing his life was growing in a way you wouldn't be a part of. That people would enter it that he may come to care for more than you. It was almost easier to just ignore it.

When you were 22...

You were graduating from college and Bachira was set to play for a pro league overseas. As you progressed through college and Bachira pick dup training to be a pro athlete, your presence in each other's day-to-day lives dwindled. You kept contact with each other as best as you could and even visited each other at your respective schools a few times.

The best part of being with Bachira was that it was like nothing had ever changed. As sad as it was at times that you didn't get to see each other much, it felt good that it never impacted the core of your friendship.

Both of you had a string of relationships in college, none of them lasting that long. There was always something missing in the other person, a spark that they couldn't quite ignite.

As you hugged Bachira goodbye at the airport, you couldn't stop tears from flowing down your face. Not just for your best friend moving half a world away, but for all things you never said. For how you wished things could be different between the two of you. It all felt too late now.

"Oh come on y/n, you're not gonna miss me that much," Bachira teased lightly.

"Don't worry these are tears of joy," You replied, wiping them away. "I'm glad I'm finally getting rid of you.

Bachira grinned. "You'll never get rid of me."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nah, a promise."

When you were 25...

You got a call from Bachira. He was moving back home. Bachira had been offered a spot on the national team after his years of success overseas. His time away was not that much unlike when you were both away for college, checking in with each other whenever time allowed. The best part of him being away was being able to visit him. The fondest memories you had of the last year few years were when you traveled to his games and you got to explore different countries with him. Leaving was always difficult, so you were elated to hear that he would be just an hour from you.

But as you drove to his new place to see him for the first time in months, a choice weighed heavily on you. You've spent the last few years trying to find a relationship that would shake your want of Bachira. All your attempts, however, failed, leaving you feeling hopeless. So, you made the decision it was time to tell Bachira how you felt. You didn't expect him to reciprocate your feelings at all, but your hope was that getting it out of your system would allow you to finally move on.

You were scared, of course, that it could make your friendship awkward. But at this point, you felt there was no other choice.

The anxiety in your stomach to a backseat to the beautiful house you pulled up to. "Jeez, Meguru what are they paying you?"

"Too much, probably," Bachira replied with a grin. "C'mon, lemme give you the tour." It was a spacious, modern home with big windows the let in a lot of natural light. The artist in you would kill to have a space like this to paint in. One room, not furnished yet, had large windows overlooking the spacious backyard. The perfect place for Bachira to get his own practices in.

"A lot of house for one man," you said as you settled into his couch.

"I'm a big guy."

You snorted, "You're like 5'9."

Bachira huffed in faux offense. "I'll have you know, I measured in at 5'9 and a half."

"Wow, at that height you might have to switch over to basketball," you retorted. You and Bachira fell into you normal banter, which filled you with the comfortable warmth it always did. You chatted for awhile, catching up on all you've missed while away from each other.

Time slipped away from the two of you easily, the light fading from golden to an inky black of night. A silence settled over the two of you and nerves fluttered through your system. Now was your opportunity.

Just as you were steeling yourself to tell Bachira, he broke the silence. "Do you remember that night on my roof? The day before high school started?"

"Of course," you replied. Though it was over a decade ago at this point, it was a memory you replayed often.

"I had such a big crush on you," Bachira dropped this tidbit of information with a soft, nervous laugh.

Your head whipped around, certain you didn't hear him right. "What?"

"I liked you," Bachira repeated, "I was actually gonna ask you out, but then you said something about dating making things weird. I thought you were trying to subtly hint you weren't into me like that."

Your brain could barely process the information just presented to you. Bachira liked you. He had been that close to telling you and you fucked it up. You covered your face with your hands groaned. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"What do you mean?"

"I liked you, Bachira. I only said that because I was convinced you didn't like me and I was scared you were gonna start dating other people and forget about me," you explained. You were seriously kicking yourself at the moment. "If only I had kept my stupid mouth shut... all this time."

"Wait are you, serious? You liked me?" Bachira, replied, seeming genuinely surprised.

You nodded. "I... I still do," you answered. Might as well put all your cards on the table now. "I was actually planning to tell you tonight. I wasn't expecting to do it like this, but I couldn't hide it anymore."

"Wow," Bachira breathed.

"Yeah," you replied, "It's okay if you don't feel the same anymore."

Bachira laughed. "Now you are being a bit of an idiot." You shot him a look. "Oh come on, y/n, you really don't think I don't have feelings for you? For as well as you know me I can't believe you didn't see it."

"You didn't see that I liked you either," you countered.

"Well, I admittedly am an idiot," Bachira replied, making you both laugh. "I have something else to admit."

"What's that?" You couldn't imagine any more information, your head was already spinning.

"Well, I sorta bought this place with you in mind," he replied. "I also was planning on telling you how I felt when I returned home. If you felt the same, I was hoping you'd move in with me. That little room in the back looked like the perfect place to paint."

"You're fucking with me." You were too shocked to think of anything else to say. Meguru liked you. All this time, all these years he'd longed for you the same way you had. So much so that he was willing to shape his life around yours, to make space for the things he knew you loved. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes.

"As much as I love fucking with you," he replied with a hint of a teasing grin, "This is not one of those times. And the offer stands. There is a place for you here with me, if you want it."

Your body moved on it's own accord, flinging yourself on to him. Your lips connected to his and suddenly you were 14 again. In that second where everything felt right in the world. Only this time it was not a fleeting moment, it was something real, something you could hold on to.

"I'll take the at as a yes?" Bachira asked when you pulled away, both breathless.

"Absolutely yes." Bachira was pulling you back into him as the words left your mouth. You were giddy as you kissed each other, hands exploring the other's bodies. Neither of you wanted to hold back after years of wanting this moment. You straddled his lap, pressing yourself even closer to him.

Bachira gripped under your thighs and held you as he stood up. "I have not waited this long to be with to have our first time be on a couch." He carried you with ease to the bedroom.

"When did you get this strong?"

"It's like you forget I'm a pro athlete." Honestly, sometimes you did.

"Yeah, but soccer players have strong legs not arms," you countered as he laid you down on his bed. Well, it was your bed too now. Bachira chuckled and kissed up your neck.

"All of me is strong. You'll see." He pulled off his shirt, revealing toned muscle and paving his point.

Bachira slid your shirt off, letting his hands explore your bare skin. He rolled your nipples in his fingers as his teeth tugged at your lower lip. A soft whine escaped you as you bucked your hips up for friction.

"Mmm, should I take these off you?" Bachira mused, hooking his finger into your pants. You nodded eagerly, wanting nothing more for Bachira to strip you, touch you. He did as you bid, leaving you bare for him.

"Fuck you're so beautiful," Bachira murmured. His hand traced down the length of your body. "Better than I ever imagined. Because to be honest I imagined you naked. A lot." You giggled, not bothered by this at all.

"It's okay I have pictured you naked plenty of times." Bachira grinned at that. It struck you how natural this all felt. The nature of your relationship had changed drastically in the last few minutes, and yet it didn't feel different at all. You were afraid that the admitting your feelings would take away the friendship you had, but it had done the opposite. It felt stronger, heightened, like this was always how it was meant to be.

"Guess I shouldn't keep you waiting, then." You pulled your lip between your teeth as Bachira took off the remainder of his clothes. Your body churned at the sight of him. His cock was long and flushed a pretty shade of pink. He looked painfully hard, leaking at the tip. "How's it compare to your imagination?"

"So much better."

Bachira leaned back over you, settling his hand between your legs. "Gonna prep you for me, okay angel?" His middle finger stroked up your slit. "Fuck you're soaked." Bachira breathed against your neck as he rubbed little circles over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, desperate to be filled. He connected his lips back to yours as his slid a finger inside you.

Bachira kissed you deep and a little messy as he played with your pussy. His middle and ring finger were deep inside you, pressing your g spot with each curl. "Megu- ngh- feels so good." You were already breathless from his touch. It was if he already had you memorized, knowing exactly how to make you come undone.

"Gonna cum for me pretty? Wanna feel it on my fingers." He moved faster now, the sound of your wetness was damn near pornographic. With anyone else you may have been embarrassed, but you didn't care. Your mind could only focus on the pleasure that built, then finally snapped inside you.

"Meguru!" His name was honey on your lips. Your pussy clamped down around him, coating his fingers with your release. He pumped his fingers as you came, getting your pussy nice and slick for his cock.

"That was so hot," Bachira marveled. "Need to be inside you." You urged him, wanting to finally be full of him, not just his fingers. "Oh god," he groaned as he pressed inside you. Your wet, warm walls welcomed him, pulling him deeper inside you. You let out sweet little gasps as your body stretched around him.

"Feels amazing y/n," Bachira groaned, sliding his cock slowly through your walls. "So fucking perfect... can't believe I've wasted so much time... could've been fucking you like this for years." His hips snapped harder and faster as spoke. He was getting lost in the feel of you. Every time he thought he couldn't get better, your cunt fluttered around him and he reached a new lever of pleasure.

"You have me, Meguru," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. "All of me. Forever." Your back arched, making his cock his a deeper angle inside you. You both moaned into each other mouths as you kissed.

"Gonna cum y/n," Bachira babbled, "Gonna fill you up... cum with me angel... wanna feel you." He slid his hand down to toy with your sensitive clit as he thrust into you. Your body responded with a sweeping surge of pleasure throughout your whole body. You shook and slurred out his name as your second orgasm lit up your body.

Bachira's forehead fell to the pillow, beside your head as you clamped down on him impossibly tighter. A low groan escaped him as his hips halted deep inside you, filling you with his release. You felt his cock throb inside you as his warmth spread inside you.

"Fuck." Bachira was breathless and still buried inside you, even though you were both finished. "Promise I'm not just saying that because that was amazing. But I'm in love with you. I can't believe I waited so long to tell you that, but it's true."

You smiled, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "I love you too, Meguru."

When you were 26...

You and Bachira took a trip back to your hometown. You visited the park you first met in, reminiscing on old memories.

The next thing you knew, Bachira was down on one knee.

You said yes.

When you were 27...

You were dancing in a wedding dress with Bachira. You had a small ceremony in your backyard with your close friends and family. It was magical, better than anything you dreamed up when you envisioned this day as a child.

As the two of you swayed slowly together to the tune of your wedding song, Bachira pressed his forehead to yours. Instantly, it was like you were the only two there. Bachira said I love you in your favorite way.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend."

[navstuffs]

Traffic stop

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x BustyF!Reader

Summary: Your sports bra malfunctions during a traffic stop with a shy rookie cop.

Warnings: au obvs, happens in raccoon city, wrote with a busty reader in mind but anyone can read it, shy!leon, accidental exposure, suggestive themes, speeding (DRIVE SAFE PEOPLE!!)

Author's Notes: kudos to my husband for giving me the idea/title. if anyone would like to write a smut version of this, i also wouldn't mind, just let me know! i do have another plan for re2 leon in works cause he is my baby. hope you enjoy your reading!

my leon's masterlist | part 2

It is still hot, you think as you exit the gym after an exhausting leg day. You decide to wear your sports bra while driving home since your car's air conditioner has not worked since you bought it. You always think you will have money to fix it or even buy a new car, but you must work with what you have now.

You sigh, throwing your bag and your shirt on the backseat. The pain in your legs will only worsen, so you decide to drive fast to get home, shower, and relax. And oh, yes, hope the wind provides some sort of comfort on your face. Placing your sunglasses in your eyes, you start going, mentally praying you wouldn't see any cop.

But of course, this isn't your lucky day.

Not even ten minutes on the road, the sound of the siren from a car of Raccoon City P.D. is behind you. You groan an audible no, asking mentally what you did to deserve this.

"Perfect. Great," Your murmur.

You pull into a nearby parking lot, take the paperwork from the glove compartment and throw it in the passenger seat, the air already getting stagnant inside the car, making you sweat.

Your eyes roam to the rearview mirror, wondering where the heck that cop was, when you notice the zipper of your sports bra is half open. You attempt to zip it, but it immediately unzips it again, leaving half of your cleavage exposed. You think it doesn't look bad, so you leave it alone. It is not like you were driving topless anyway.

With droplets of sweat on your forehead, you see the cop coming out in your driver-side mirror. Finally, you think as he takes his sweet time to get to you. He looks young. He seems to take a breath before walking to your car, pulling his pants up and his other hand on his gun, and even someone who doesn't understand anything about cops would know this guy is a rookie.

He approaches slowly and carefully, analyzing your old car, and when he finally stops by your window, the first thing you catch is a pair of innocent blue eyes. Staring right at you.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You read the name tag Leon Kennedy as his eyes go from your face to your sports bra half open. Officer Leon probably has a great view since your car is on the lower side. He gulps, you don't know if nervousness or something else, then stares directly above your head.

"Afternoon."

"Do you know how fast you were going?" Oh, this one is definitely a rookie, with his voice still showing some nervousness.

"Yeap, I know."

You really don't want to prolong this more than it should, and the way Leon Kennedy seems to stare everywhere except you proves he wants the same.

"Look. I was just trying to get home. Just issue the ticket, and I will be on my way. I will behave, I promise."

That clearly sounded more seductive than you meant to be. You don't judge yourself as a woman who could get out of a ticket by flirting; honestly, you didn't care at this moment. Your whole body is getting sweaty and sticky, with a few drops of sweat coming down from your neck, and your legs are literally pulsating with pain. It is worth trying.

And just for the right timing, you feel a single drop of sweat coming down from your neck to your cleavage. Leon Kennedy's blue eyes follow the trail until the drop disappears inside your bra top, and he gulps, licking his lips.

Well, you may be one of those women who can get away from a ticket by flirting.

"License and breas— I mean, car registration, please."

Leon thanks mentally you don't seem to hear his mispronunciation. You grunt, impatience, turning to grab your documents for Leon. When you turn back at him to hand them, your zipper finally gives up, opening it up completely. It is a nice feeling at first, the same feeling you have from having your boobs released after a long day.

For a moment, you both don't move, too mortified. Officer Leon Kennedy is now staring, really staring, at your boobs. He doesn't even attempt to look away, his face entirely red as a tomato. Your immediate reaction is to try to close the zipper, but it seems it had enough. Leon finally turns around, mumbling an apology.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, Officer!" You groan as you give up on zipping, going for the shirt under your bag in the back seat. 

"It-it is fine!" Leon rushes to say, his voice going high a few tones. If this wasn't embarrassing as it was, you would have laughed at the poor rookie's reaction. But now, great, you were probably going to be arrested for public indecency. You finally find a towel, a medium one, that might work. You cover yourself as best as you can.

After Leon gives you a few moments of privacy, he turns back to face you, and you know, by the expression on his face, you are doomed. You were probably getting arrested for trying to seduce a cop-out of a ticket. 

"You can go, ma'am."

"What? Like that?" You wonder before stopping yourself.

"Well, y-yeah. I can see you have much bigger problems to deal with it. Have a good day."

Leon gives you one good final look, a strange glow in his eyes. It seems he wants to say something else, but the moment passes. Leon gives you a slight smirk, his face still red, and walks back to his car.

You watch Leon drive away, your gazes somewhat crossing before he disappears into traffic. You sigh, the external heat forgotten, hoping this isn't your last encounter with Leon Kennedy.

[starkeysprincess]

Oh hell no girly, you can not leave me hanging with the idea of a personal trainer!Rafe and not write it :( I legit need you to write it pretty please! Just her coming to the gym, getting super shook seeing that it's such a handsome guy, feeling super shy and embarrassed because she is not ''done up'' or even wearing nice workout clothes, just wanting to run out and cancel

bae, trust that I won’t leave you hanging, I’ve been holding off on this au & the moodboard has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust since the middle of July 😭

you'd walk into the gym, wearing nothing but biker shorts and an old baggy oversized shirt that probably embarrassingly enough has small bleach stains from the one time you dyed your hair.

you've been sitting on the idea of having a personal trainer for months but figured it was time to just do it and sign up.

you approach the front desk to greet the receptionist, asking if you can be signed up to work with a personal trainer.

“alright, you’re all set up. now, we just have to see which trainer will work well with your goals and availability” the girl mutters, scrolling the mouse to the computer. “okay, it looks like Rafe is the only one who fits for what you’re looking for”.

“I’ll go get him so the two of you can discuss when you want to start”.

you leaned against the counter, looking around the gym as you waited. watching several girls walk in and out of the gym in their sports bras and tiny shorts and a full face of makeup.

you were too focused on watching people come and go to notice Rafe approaching you until you heard your name, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m Rafe” he introduced himself, holding his hand out and your breath hitches in your throat at the tall, handsome, buff man standing in front of you.

it took you a few seconds to register he even said something because you were too busy gawking at the way his muscles moved under his shirt before you placed your much smaller hand into his, introducing yourself.

“I already know your name, princess” he chuckles, recalling the fact that he did say your name when he approached you.

your could feel your face burning in sheer embarrassment, wanting to turn around and run right out of the gym when you remembered your appearance.

you try your best not to stutter your words as the two of you discussed when your first session would start.

“alright, I’ll see you next week, yeah? ‘M looking forward to working with you” he grins, shooting you a playful wink before heading back to continue working.

“oh my god, i just wanna crawl in a hole” you mutter to yourself when you got into your car, “maybe i should just go back in there and cancel, yeah that would be a good idea except I already embarrassed the shit out of myself enough for today”.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 8

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

Bucky read the report you made. His expression was unreadable. He closed the book and said, “Thank you. I’m satisfied with your work.” He said it as if he finally got the answer he wanted. He added, “I’ve got all I need.”

His eyes looked at the ground as if he were deep in thought. Then he returned to his cheerful demeanor and looked at his watch. “Let’s go home, it’s already late. Tom has called many times because he can’t get through to you.”

After he said that, you quickly grabbed your phone and saw the notifications of 20 missed calls from your dad. You scratched your head, realizing this was the consequence of being too focused on work, forgetting to eat or sleep.

As you headed back to your car, Natasha blocked your way. “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Why?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Why should I listen to you?”

Natasha’s face hardened. “This isn’t your business.”

You couldn’t believe her audacity. Did her ears clog with earwax when Bucky told everyone he hired you? Of course, it was your business since you were hired as an auditor in this hotel. You ignored her, got into your car, and left.

Watching the sports car get farther away, Natasha clenched her fists. She felt terrible, especially knowing that you were more successful than her. The sports car, the designer clothes, and the expensive bag you carried—gosh, she hated it.

She felt her phone vibrate. She saw the caller ID and hesitated to answer. When she finally did, her voice trembled. “I think…” She took a deep breath and released it. “Bucky has found out.”

👓

The next day, you woke up and went to Bronze Lodge again. This time, you were grateful that Natasha wasn't there. Such a great way to start your day.

As you headed to your office to continue your work, you heard someone call your name. You turned around and saw a man waving at you excitedly. He wore a blue shirt, light brown pants, and a tie. He came closer and pointed at himself with a happy smile. “Do you remember me?”

“Jake Jensen,” you nodded.

“I heard a rumor that you’re back. I thought it was a lie. Glad to see you, old friend. Do you want to grab lunch together later?” Jake asked.

You politely declined, “I’ll have to say no. I have to fix the lousy job of the previous auditor.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, the previous one didn’t work at all. Next time then,” Jake said before leaving.

You smiled awkwardly and quickly entered your office, closing the door behind you. You peeked through the blinds, making sure Jake was gone. With a sigh of relief, you sat down at your desk.

You declined his lunch invitation because you made boundaries after what he did to you.

You and Jake were friends in high school, but "friends" didn’t fit. He was more of a classmate with whom you shared some things in common—both of you were nerds and outcasts.

But the difference between you and him was that you didn’t mind being a loner. Jake, however, desperately wanted to join Bucky’s group, where the popular kids gathered. He thought there was a chance because a guy like Steve was in that group.

What makes Steve different is that he and Bucky are childhood friends. And Steve's mom used to be Bucky's nanny.

Jake tried so hard to be cool but always failed. You wanted to feel bad for him, but you couldn’t because of what he did that made Natasha and her group act like jerks toward you.

One day, when you entered the classroom, Natasha and her minions confronted you, accusing you of being a snitch. You didn’t understand what they were talking about until your teacher said, “I’m glad you saw what they did on the last exam. I’m surprised Natasha and her friends could give answers like that.”

Then it hit you. No wonder Natasha was mad at you; you were seated next to her. But you knew you didn’t tell your teacher about her cheating. You knew who the real snitch was.

It was Jake.

He sat at the back, where he could see everything. He was the one who told the teacher. He then told Natasha’s friend that you had informed the teacher, and her friend told Natasha. Jake did it so Natasha would feel like she owed him and invite him into the group. But she didn’t, and Jake’s plan was futile.

Since then, you have never trusted him. Even now.

🎩

You continued working until you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it must be Bucky, you called out, “Enter,” without even bothering to lift your head. But it wasn’t him.

“I see that you’re busy,” a voice said.

You looked up and were shocked to see the mayor of the town, Mayor Martin Reynolds, standing before you.

“Good morning, sir,” you greeted him, trying to mask your surprise.

“I won’t bother you for too long. I just want to tell you something,” Mayor Martin said.

“Yes?” you replied, feeling a sense of unease.

He rested his hand on your table, crumpling some of your papers in the process. The tension in the room grew as he leaned closer and said, “Stop what you’re doing and leave everything.” Then, without another word, he left.

You were stunned. What’s going on? Why were Natasha and the mayor of the town both telling you to stop?

Did both of them know about the money embezzlement?

🍽️

Because of what Mayor Martin said to you, you lost your focus. Bucky didn’t come to visit you either, so you decided to go home early after work.

You headed to a diner for dinner. It was crowded, and the only empty seat was at the counter. You ordered some food and waited.

A moment later, another customer sat beside you. It was Steve.

You ignored him and looked at your phone.

“I’ve talked to my dad, and I’ve sent an application to art school,” Steve said.

“Hmmm…” you replied noncommittally.

Steve continued, “I hope I can leave this town just like you. This town is too greedy.”

‘Greedy?’ That word caught your attention. You turned to him, surprising him slightly that you finally acknowledged him. “What do you mean by greedy?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

Steve was slightly surprised you wanted to talk to him; he answered, “This town’s full of greedy people. It’s all power and money. I need to get out.”

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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[transformersandturtles]

Couldn't find any of this SO I WROTE MY OWN FOR A ONE SHOT‼️ I will write more but I thought this would be good for now‼️ I'm really sorry if this seems out of character for either of them, I've never written anything for them before. 🥲

-----

CW - Swearing, reference to explicit content, possible spelling errors (non reviewed)

Word Count - 2,017 words (10,995 characters)

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝑮𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈!

"Wade, is there anything you need from the store?" The gruff voice of Logan Howlett grumbled from the kitchen table, reading glasses resting on his nose as he held a small notepad and pen. He'd asked Al earlier if she needed anything, that wasn't illegal substances he had no way of getting his hands on, so now it was just a matter of asking his partner, who had just gotten back from walking Mary Puppins. He tapped the closed pen on the wooden surface, peering over the ridge of the glasses Laura made him wear. Who knew it was easier to read with glasses? He'd have to get something to thank her next time she came by.

"Oh! You're going shopping! Ooh, let's see!" Wade had quite the grin on his expression, taking off the harness and leash from the ever loving Dogpool, who he totally didn't get the owner of murdered so he could take her, and he picked her up, letting her lick his face as she was coddled like a baby in his arms. "We need more dog food," he spoke as he waltzed over to Logan, his hood falling down as he did so, "and more milk. Maybe some more eggs, and a pack of XL-" before he could finish, he felt something sharp poke at his throat.

"All that's on the list, except that last one. YOU can get that on your own time." The old Canadian scoffed a bit, not exactly in the mood to entertain Wade's thoughts. But he couldn't hold back a small grin when the other Canadian whined at the threat.

"Whaaaaaat? But Honey Badger, I can't go alone. They'd look at me weird." He protested, trying to be dramatic all for the sake of being dramatic.

"Uh huh, sure bub. . ." Logan put his claws away, grabbing the napkin off the table by his empty plate to wipe the blood away as the spot between his knuckles healed quickly. "So, there's milk, eggs, toilet paper, new beddings, steak, vegetables, beer. . ." He mumbled, setting the notepad down to write a few more things that came to mind. Wade set down Mary Puppins and he leaned over Logan's shoulder to figure out what other things were added. Toothpaste, mouthwash. . .

"Oh absolutely not." Wade reached for the pen to scratch out the body spray. "No way in HELL are you gonna buy Axe. Are you TRYING to smell like a skunk? Your musk is enough to make a room full of E-Sports players sick!"

". . . The fuck is E-Sports?" Logan wasn't sure if he should be insulted, confused, or both. But he wasn't too happy about the comment either way. "Also what the fuck is wrong with Axe? It's cheap and smells fine." He scoffed a bit. "I'm not trying to spend over $100 to smell good." He took off the metal framed glasses and placed them on the collar of his T-shirt under the teal-blue flannel.

"And I'm not saying you need to spend $100 to smell good, I for one think you smell amazing. Gets the body goin'. . ." Wade gave a cheeky grin with a chuckle, looking Logan up and down for a moment before looking back at the list. "But Axe is the worst one to use. If you want something to smell decent for work, I'd recommend Old Spice at the very least. Sure, the smell names are weird as fuck, but that comes with all male hygiene products. Women get all the sweet and nice sounding scents like peach vanilla or sunset cinnamon. . . Meanwhile we get stuff like Pine Jizz or Whales Fucking or-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade. . . . Just shut up. . ." Logan let out a groan of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Wade had a grin on his face, laughing a little at how Logan told him to stop talking.

"I'm just saying, Peanut, if you get Axe then you're sleeping on the couch or out in the hallway." Wade warned, before leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek. "I'll go get ready." He hummed, and left to the bedroom to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Logan mumbled in annoyance, putting his hand to his cheek to hide the light blush across his face. He huffed and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and cracked, from his lower back to his legs and neck. He popped his jaw a bit, before going to the coat rack to grab his brown leather jacket he got for a fairly good price last week. It was nice, not too tight but not too lose, and had some decent pockets. Perfect for carrying booze. . . Or other stuff he didn't want to pay for, maybe. He was THE Wolverine, and taxes were too expensive sometimes. Who was gonna throw him in jail if he shoplifted? No one, that's who. He adjusted the collar of the leather jacket, getting it how he wanted before stopping when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked at Wade, and stared at him almost dumbfounded. "You are NOT going out like that. . ."

"Why not, Peanut? You always like it when I dress this way." Wade teased, he wasn't serious about wearing the outfit in public, but he wanted a good reaction out of Logan. Besides, the outfit was pretty comfortable but no way in hell was he having enough confidence to show off his unicorn crop top and short-shorts. He didn't mind wearing it when he was having his great days; where he was overly confident and eager to show off his body despite the scarring. But today wasn't one of those days, especially since it was getting cooler as Autumn was coming in after what felt like eons of Summer. Wade did notice how Logan's complexion had turned a few shades of a deep red while looking, which also made Wade's cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Alright, alright, hurry up then. . ." Logan sighed softly, not even making a comment or retort to what was said because Wade was right. Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wade but was surprised when the bedroom door closed again and he frowned. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset Wade? The mutant stood quietly but worriedly, his nose twitching a bit as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Wade was upset or not. It was hard to tell, so he stepped closer to the door. There didn't seem to be any low serotonin levels, they seemed about as normal as they could be for Wade. His nose continued twitching as he kept sniffing past the door, still trying to figure out if he upset his boyfriend or not, his ears twitching a little as well as he listened carefully. Before he could figure it out past the smell of everything else on the other side of the door, he was met once again with the face of Wade who seemed surprised at how close Logan was to the door. But that surprise soon turned to playful, mischievous grin.

"Aww, was someone worried about me?" He teased, wrapping an arm around Logan and leaning in to rub his nose against Logan's cheek. The gruff man scoffed with a growl, not out of hostility but annoyance, as he bit Wade's cheek with his big canines.

"Like hell I'd worry about you, dumbass. . ." Logan grumbled, moving away from Wade but didn't move too far so they could at least hold hands. "Let's go. . ." He sighed heavily, taking Wade's hand and going to the door to get their shoes on as Logan grabbed the keys to the apartment and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket with the notepad.

At the store, Logan had to keep holding Wade's hand so the younger wouldn't run off, who knows what that undiagnosed dork would go find and beg to have. Logan had his glasses back on as he looked down at the list in his hand. He had a specific order to get everything in, and if he had to deviate from that plan he might just lose it. Wade was very aware of his boyfriend's thoughts and methods, and honestly he didn't mind holding hands and walking with Logan, though he did stop a few times to look at something that caught his attention.

"We really gotta get you an appointment. . ." Logan mumbled as he gently tugged Wade along so they could keep shopping to get everything on the list. He headed over to the produce section, his hazel eyes gazing over the different fruits and veggies, letting go of Wade's hand for just a moment so he could find the perfect vegetables to cook for dinner. He'd started learning how to cook lately and had a nice dinner planned, so he made sure that the ingredients would be edible and not rotten inside or anything of the sort. He grabbed some potatoes, a few peppers, and for something sweet as a snack for later he grabbed some apples, a grapefruit, and a cantaloupe though it was slowly coming out of season and probably wouldn't taste as good as it does in the summer but he didn't care. He goes to check the ingredients off the list and turns to hold Wade's hand again, only to find the other Canadian had vanished. "Great. . ." Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before grabbing the shopping cart and continued with his shopping, knowing he'd find Wade eventually, tracking his scent wasn't that difficult due to the constantly dying and regenerating cells, along with the citrus-pine smell he had. His ears and nose twitched every so often as he leaned his elbows against the cart to push it, walking around and glancing around as he got cheese, milk, eggs, and some other things in the aisle, a gruff and raspy hum vibrating in his chest as he tapped his sharp nails against the metal bar of the cart while listening to the music playing through the store. It was crappy compared to what he liked, some hit pop song the youth enjoyed, but damnit was it catchy in the kind of way that it was really annoying but kinda good. He whistled a little, getting everything on the shopping list and went to the aisle full of booze before an announcement rang over the store's system.

"Logan Howlett, please come to the front. Your child is waiting." A bored teen girl sounded over, the tone of her voice a mix of boredom, with a hint that screamed she did not get paid enough to watch over someone or help. Logan raised a brow at this, confused. Laura wasn't here, was she? But then it clicked, and he groaned slightly with some annoyance. He grabbed two packs of the good beer and headed to the front, finding Wade near a desk who seemed happy and relieved once Logan arrived.

"Honey Badger! I was so worried you left without me!" Wade nearly tackled the older man the moment he could, and Logan grunted, a bit startled.

"You're the one who ran off, idiot. . ." Logan scoffed, glaring at Wade before looking down at the soft thing between them. "Wade. . . What the hell is that?" He frowned. Wade looked down, and a big grin was plastered on his face.

"Pompompurin! He'd be great to sit with Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll!" He beamed, excited even as he held the large dog plush. Logan wanted to say no, to make him put it back, because who knows how much money that thing cost, but the longer he saw those big eyes, Logan eventually let out a groan of defeat.

"Fine. . . But you're payin' for it, bub. . ." Logan patted Wade on the shoulder, before taking him and the cart to the self checkout aisle so he could scan everything himself. Logan didn't like strangers touching stuff sometimes.

"Fine by me!" Wade grinned, watching Logan scan everything and he snorted a bit, amused by his odd yet loving boyfriend.

[ladykailitha]

Steve's Family Christmas

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Grief (a Friend Indeed). You can read the first story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3

~

Steve was sure that his house never had so many people in it the entire time its stood in Loch Nora.

Most of Eddie’s family was here, Penny and Danny, Lauren, Oliver, and Gale. While Danny’s brother Hal was staying with Eddie and Wayne. His uncles Percy and David Kincade were in his parents old room. Penny and Danny were in the guest room across from the master bedroom, while Lauren and Gale shared the guest room next to his bedroom. Oliver was put in the basement next to the game room.

He was looking at about half of them sprawled out over the sofas in the living room with utter helplessness.

David came up and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about all this, Percy and I will help keep the chaos to a minimum. Just rely on us, okay?”

Steve let out a long sigh and nodded.

The other members of the Munson clan were set to join them at any minute so they could go over the Secret Santa rules and let everyone pull a name out of a hat. And if you got someone you didn’t know well there was a poster in the kitchen that had a cheat sheet of people’s likes, dislikes, and any allergies they might have.

Everything was primed to go smoothly. Which was precisely why Steve was so nervous. He didn’t know everyone very well, but those he did? Thrived on chaos.

It took all of five minutes for a fight to break out between the Nelsons and the Kincades.

“I’m just saying that there should be maximum amount,” Penny was saying, “that way the kids can still get their Secret Santa a gift and not see someone else get something outrageous like a new car or sports equipment, something ridiculous.”

“Money is no object,” Percy said dryly, crossing his legs leveling her with a glare. “I have no trouble giving someone the money they need if they want to get an extravagant gift.”

“And I’m saying that they shouldn’t have to,” Penny argued. “Because if you’re just going to give everyone the money then we might as well just buy everyone a gift, no holds barred.”

David shook his head. “That’s not the argument you think it is. It’s what Percy and I wanted to do in the first place.”

Penny blinked at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing without sound coming out at all.

“I have the perfect solution!” Steve said before the tension could mount further. Everyone turned to Steve. “You can spend however much you want–” there was a bunch of grumbling from the Nelsons and Percy and David looked too smug for words, “but! You have to make it yourself. It has to be homemade. You can’t buy it, you can’t pay someone to make it for you. You have to make it yourself.”

“Oh,” Percy purred. “That is elegant. I approve.”

Penny and Danny shared a concerned look, but they really didn’t have an argument against it.

“I’m down,” Wayne said, “I think it’s a great idea. Gets everyone thinking outside the box and sure, some crafts are going be more expensive, like painting or knitting. Or even woodworking, which is what I’m going to be doing. Is borrowing equipment allowed, Steve?”

“Sure is!” Steve said with a grin. “As is renting it as long as the finished product is something you made, it counts. Writing songs, poems, stories totally count too. It’s something you made.”

Eddie grinned up at his boyfriend. He could have drawn something in a pinch, but letting him write a song? That would be even better. “I’m sold!”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief at a crisis well and truly averted.

~

If Steve thought it was chaotic with a dozen people, adding almost double that made for a wild time that’s for sure.

There were two Secret Santas planned. One for Eddie and Steve’s families and one for all the friends. Eddie had the worst luck and gotten both Oliver and Mike.

“Normally, I’d say just buy two copies of the same album,” Steve suggested, “and just wrap them differently so you know which is which, but...”

“I have to make something for Oliver,” Eddie huffed.

Steve kissed the top of his head. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”

“Yeah, sure Mr. Lucky over here,” he groused. “You got me for the family gift giving and Robin for the friend. You have this in the bag!”

Steve did feel bad about that one. But he picked last, no one could claim he cheated. He had already bought Robin a couple of books on cinema and film making. She had gotten a video camera from her parents on her birthday and thought herself the next Martha Coolidge. For Eddie, he had gotten the recipe for his favorite spice cookies from Wayne was planning on making him a box of them.

The day arrived and the gifts were handed out. Steve had gotten a small stainglass picture of the sun and the moon from David.

“I cut the pieces of glass and welded the metal together,” David explained. “I assume it counts.”

“It’s beautiful!” Steve gasped and gave him a hug for it.

Eddie was happily munching on his cookies and swatting away anyone who tried to sneak one.

Everyone was happy with their gifts and even Penny had to admit that homemade had made for some very thoughtful gifts. Even if, as with David’s gift to Steve, it must have cost a lot of money.

Wayne came up to Steve as the blended families showed off their gifts to each other and just having a good time.

He placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You did good, Steve.”

“It’s nice to have all my family around for the holidays,” he murmured. “And I consider the Munson and Nelson clans as family.”

“You thinkin’ about marrying into the family?” Wayne teased with a grin.

“If it was legal,” Steve said with an answering grin, “I’d do it tomorrow. Or, you know when the county offices opened again after New Years.”

“Well,” Wayne said, “I’d be happy to have you in the family and I even like your uncles, too. It’s nice seeing that boy so happy.”

Steve looked over at Eddie who smiled up at him. Then he came bounding up to them.

“Stevie!” he said brightly. “Come help me convince Oliver to come to the friends’ do so he can meet Mike.”

Steve laughed and let Eddie haul him back into the crowd.

Hal came up beside Wayne. “It may have taken a death in the family to bring us all together but I think your mom would have been proud today.”

Wayne smiled, tears misting his eyes. “I think she would have, too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Hal murmured.

It certainly was that.

~

Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[nr1chaedickrider]

???

i got this idea MONTHS ago, i got finally motivation to continue this small drabble, read on your own risk, toxic!namochaeng (chae is kinda the nice one in this?), innocent!reader, idk if what happens here is 100% consentual, thigh riding, exhibitionism,use of drugs (im not an expert on this topic so dont cry if this is unrealistic) stay away from drugs pookies and also maybe this is the only time ill write something like this idk idk! im experimenting with my writing style

It was stupid, it is stupid.

Maybe you're just stupid for listening to Chaeyoung when she said "Come visit us in our apartment, I got something we can use. Unless you're scared."

And actually, the goal was just to make new friends at the university, but you didn't think you'd be standing in front of the door of an apartment that's quite far away from the university. A pungent smell hits your nose and you frown. Should you really be here? Was it really a good idea to be standing in front of an old apartment at 11 pm where three women you hardly know live?

But you can no longer think about it as Nayeon opens the door for you, a grin on her lips.

She yells through the apartment,

"Chaeyoung! She really came!" Nayeon lets out a giggle, the only thing you can make out is Momo in the background, you think that's her name, giving Chaeyoung $20.

"We made a bet, looks like she's about $40 richer now," Nayeon says, pulling you inside before slamming the door. She runs to Chaeyoung and gives her $20 too, you think you've never seen her so happy.

"Do you want to join us too? Or would you rather stand there?" she says and laughs, Momo laughs too, Nayeon takes a sip from her beer. You shake your head and walk over to Chaeyoung and sit down on the floor. Now it really hits you.

A joint, four lines of cocaine, and a few cans of beer are on the table.

"Oh," is your only reaction as you stare at the substances.

"I'm Momo, we're not in the same class but I study sports," she says, an actually nice smile on her lips.

"You already know Nayeon, you two have English together right?" Chaeyoung asks, you nod and Nayeon immediately starts laughing out loud.

"Don't be shy dear..." she holds the joint to her lips and slowly takes a drag, she exhales and a small cloud of smoke forms. She looks at you and holds the joint out for you to take a drag.

"Ehm... I-"

"Are you telling me you've never smoked a joint before?" Chaeyoung asks as she looks at you both, Momo just quietly sips her beer. You nod and look at the floor, Chaeyoung laughs a little, but then pulls you onto her lap and takes the joint.

"I can show you," she says, and at that moment it feels like she's the normal nice girl from your art class who you might have a little crush on. You nod.

"I'm going to take a drag and blow the smoke towards you, you inhale it, okay?" You nod again.

You watch as her plump lips touch the joint, she takes a puff, and as announced, she blows it towards you, you inhale it and cough, Nayeon pats your back to help, Momo comes closer.

Only now do you realize what the situation is actually like, you on Chaeyoung's lap, on her bare legs because she's only wearing shorts, Nayeon so close to your right, Momo to your left. You feel yourself blush and everyone starts laughing at the sight of you being so confused.

"Try it yourself now..." Chaeyoung says and hands you the joint, you look at her, then at the small joint between your fingers.

"I don't know..." you say and look away, Nayeon grabs your chin, but somehow so gently. She lifts it up so that you're forced to look atleast to one of them. Your eyes fall on Chaeyoung. Nayeon comes closer and whispers in your ear,

"You don't want to let us down, do you? We're your friends." she whispers, but loud enough for Momo and Chaeyoung to hear, both grinning and nodding.

"She's right, we don't want anything bad for you, a little fun never hurt anyone" Momo says, you look to the cocaine on the coffee table.

"What about this...?" you ask, Chaeyoung laughs.

"I don't know if we'll get to that today" she says, you nod slowly.

You take the joint between your fingers and bring it to your lips, slowly taking a drag, your eyes water slightly and you have to start coughing as little puffs of smoke come out. Nayeon caresses your back, Chaeyoung your thighs, her cold hands on your warm body sends a shiver down your spine.

"Well done," she says, you feel yourself getting a little dizzy, but you try to ignore it.

"See, it wasn't that hard," says Momo, taking the joint out of your hand as she takes the last puff.

You suddenly feel a finger on your skirt, you look at Chaeyoung and see her smile, again the one she usually only showed in class when you were working together. You smile slightly too as you relax (you're not sure though if its because of the smoking or because you feel safe..),

Nayeon's hands are on your waist, she moves you back and forth on Chaeyoung's lap, you hold a hand in front of your mouth to keep your voice down, Momo starts kissing your neck, her lips moist and soft.

"Don't hide your moans, pretty girl.." Chaeyoung says, taking your hand away, she lets you hold it as she tenses up her thigh, adding extra stimulation.

Momo's hands move down to play with your tits through your thin shirt, your nipples getting hard immideatly, making Momo let out a breathy chuckle.

Nayeon keeps her attention to rocking your hips back and forth on Chaeyoung's thigh.

"You're doing so good" Chaeyoung says as she watches you, the praise making your head even fuzzier than it already is.

You feel your body going a little limp, hoping that is normal while smoking. You moan quietly while holding onto Chaeyoung's hand, your body twitching when your clit hits her thigh in a certain angle.

"Are you close baby?" Nayeon asks, you nod as your grip on Chaeyoung's hand gets tighter, making her giggle a little. Nayeon begins to move you faster, like a little toy with no ability to move on its own.

You bite your lower lip as your moans get louder and you feel yourself getting closer, Momo praising you as she pinches your nipple and kisses your neck, biting it a little to leave marks.

"I'm-" you start saying uncohorent things as you cum onto Chaeyoung's thigh. Twitching and gripping her hand until you slowly stop moving and fall down on her chest, passing out immideatly.

"We should've been friends earlier.." she says and the other girls agree with a smirk, looking at the untouched cocaine.

[darkbluekies]

Dr Kry is the Yandere of all time, I want him.

Deja vu / Welcome home

doctor!yandere OC x fem!reader Summary: 8 years have passed. Dr Kry gets your son as his patient and decides to get you back once and for all — and to keep you forever. Warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, gaslighting, blackmail, drugs, medicine, involuntarily removing clothes Word count: 4.6k

A/N: here you have him, all to yourself :)

It’s just like any day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dr Kry looks down at his patient list. Just three people, one being a seven year old boy. It won’t be hard. he might even get to go home early today. He has leg pain, possibly a broken foot. 

Dr Kry grabs a wheelchair and walks out into the waiting room where he sees the little boy sitting all alone on a chair, swinging his legs carefully. 

“Noah?” he asks. 

The little boy looks up and jumps down from his seat. He limps. Dr Kry smiles warmly and holds out his hand to help the little boy up in the chair. 

“Are you here alone?” Dr Kry asks and starts to push the wheelchair. 

“Yes … mom and dad couldn’t get of off work”, the little boy mumbles. 

“You have nothing to be afraid of, I will take very good care of you. You’re very brave to come here all by yourself. Like a big boy.”

Noah giggles. Dr Kry smiles slightly, feeling his heart swell. He does like children … just not the loud, crying ones. 

“There we go”, Dr Kry says as they enter his office. He sinks down in his chair. “Now, won’t you tell me what happened to you? It says in your journals that you have some leg pain.”

“I hurt myself while playing football”, Noah answers. “The grass was wet and I slipped.”

“You have to be careful playing sports. Too many injuries and then it’ll be irreversible.”

“Oh …”

Dr Kry senses the fear creeping over the little boy. He smiles warmly. 

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be afraid of”, he reassures him. “I’m going to take an x-ray scan of you. You’re a brave boy, you’ll let me do it, won’t you?”

Noah nods carefully. Dr Kry smiles and ruffles his hair. He takes out the x-ray machine and moves the little boy over to the bed. He’s careful and comforts Noah along every step. He can tell that the little boy’s foot has gotten sprained. 

“Alright, brave boy”, he says and removes the machine. “You have a sprained ankle.”

“Is that bad?” Noah asks with wide, tearful eyes. 

“No, it’s not. It could have been broken and then you’d have some troubles, but this is nothing.”

He picks up the journal to write it down when something catches his eyes. The full name of Noah’s mother is so familiar. Dr Kry can feel his heart stop. It can’t be true. 

“Noah, is your mother Y/N L/N?” he asks while trying to control the tremble in his voice. 

“She has a new last name now”, Noah says. “That’s her name before she married dad.”

An invisible punch lunches against Dr Kry’s chest. But he feels a weird liberation. After eight long years he might finally meet you again. You can be together again!

“Why?” Noah asks quietly. 

“Nothing, nothing”, Dr Kry says quickly and smiles. “She’s just an old friend of mine. Nice to see her name again …” He looks around. “I should uh … move you … to a room instead. I think you’ll have to stay here overnight.”

“No! I don’t want to sleep here! I want my mom …”

So do I, Dr Kry wants to say. 

“It’s okay”, he says. “I’ll stay with you. And maybe your mom can come too.”

He lifts the young boy in his arms and walks out of his office. He holds one of his hands in the back of Noah’s neck, gulping. This is the closest he’s been to you since you escaped from him. Your DNA is in the very boy he’s holding. Dr Kry nods. He has to protect this little boy. 

He takes the elevator up, looking at Noah in the mirror with a small smile. Dr Kry walks into the room. The exact same room he kept you in eight years ago. He places you down in the exact same bed you’ve been lying in. He has kept the room the same as it was when you left, in hopes of you one day returning. The books in the shelves are still there with their bookmarks showing where you stopped. He can’t wait for you to pick up where you left off.

“I’ll go call your mom”, Dr Kry says and lifts up the journal. 

He copies the telephone number from the page into his phone. His hands are trembling. He can’t believe that he’s going to speak with you again! Dr Kry walks out into the corridor and dials. He holds the phone to his ear, swallowing. 

“Hello?”

Your sweet voice is enough to cause his legs to shake. He suddenly feels like a schoolboy again. Oh, how he hates it. 

“Y/N …”, he whispers out when remembering how to speak. 

Silence. 

“Why are you calling me?” you ask harshly. “How did you get my number?!”

“Your son came into my office and-”

“Oh my God! Don’t touch him, please! Kry, please, he’s innocent.”

Hearing you plead like that again gives him the confidence back. 

“Don’t freak out now”, he says. “I’m not going to hurt him. Better yet, I’ll cure him … but I won’t let him go unless you come here. Alone. And if you tell anyone I’ll have to cause an … accident. You’re familiar with those, aren't you?”

“You fucking madman, Kry!”

He smiles. 

“So you’ll come?” he asks excitedly. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes then. I’ll be waiting.”

He hangs up.

You barely park the car. You're not sure it's even straight in the parking space, but, frankly, at the moment that's the least of your concerns. With a heart beating in your ears, you run towards the hospital's that once nearly killed you. You can tell that he's waiting in the lobby. Abruptly, you stop. He looks the exact same as he did eight years ago. Your heart drops. Suddenly you feel like you did all those years ago — heavy, small and cloudy. It's as if the poison has entered your veins again.

Dr Kry smiles and jogs over to you before he wraps his arms around you. You're too stunned to move. 

"Y/N, oh my God, it's actually you", he whispers, fingers digging into your back. "You're so pretty."

You finally get control over your limbs. Harshly, you push him back. He's visibly upset by your action, but keeps his composure.

"I just want my son, Kry", you say with make believe courage. “I’m not here to forgive you.”

“Very well”, he sighs out shortly and fixes his white lab coat. “I understand.”

“Just show me where he is.”

“I think you know the way very well.”

Your eyes widen. Mortified, you shake your head. Dr Kry revels in your fear. It’s your punishment for leaving him. You should be scared of him after everything you’ve done to him.

“Kry … no …”, you plead in a low voice, feeling smaller than ever. “I don’t want to go there! Just get me my son, this isn’t funny.”

“Do you really want me to go alone and get your son?”

You realize the danger and quickly change your mind. Dr Kry waits patiently. He doesn’t have to rush things. He has you right where he wants you. You’re in his territory now, he’s in charge again. 

“No, no, no”, you ramble in panic and quiet down, relaxing voluntarily. “Okay, fine … I’ll come with you.”

“Good girl.” He holds out his arm towards the elevators. “Shall we?”

You glare at him before walking in front of him. When you pass him, you can tell that there’s a wicked grin plastered on his face. You’re very well aware that you’re walking right into the lion’s den, but what other choice do you have? Your son is here all alone in the hands of a madman. As a mother, you can’t leave him here. 

Dr Kry presses the elevator button and the doors slide to the sides. You walk in and curl up in the corner of the metallic elevator, hugging yourself and hating how you feel so small. You shouldn’t. Dr Kry moves closer. 

“Don’t cry, little one”, he says comfortingly. 

That nickname.

“Don’t call me that”, you tell him. You’re meant to say it firmly, but it comes out as another pathetic plead. 

He terrify you like none other, still, after all these years.

He cups your face between his large hands. Never before have you wished that the elevator ride could be quicker. He caresses your cheeks with his thumbs lovingly. It makes you sick. 

“Your son is okay”, he whispers, ice blue eyes staring right into yours. “And I do not intend to hurt him. 

“You fucking liar”, you whisper and sob. 

He collects a tear with his thumb and stares at it adoringly before leaning forward and kissing your forehead. Finally, you gain control of yourself and push him off. 

“Let me go!” you shout angrily. 

The elevator doors finally open and you scurry past him out into the familiar corridor. Dr Kry grabs your arm firmly, stopping you abruptly. You spin around to meet him with a hammering heart. 

“Before we go in, you need to get yourself together”, he warns you. “Your son is in there. Do you want to scare him with your tears and frantic behavior?”

“Of course not”, you whimper. 

Dr Kry picks up his handkerchief from his lab coat pocket and hands it to you. 

“Then wipe your tears”, he advices you softly. “We’ll do some breathing exercises.”

You dry your eyes and take a deep breath, hating that you once again follow his lead. When he’s satisfied, he walks over to the door that kept you locked in for months and months on end. You stop, preparing yourself. You’re not sure how you’ll react to seeing the room. After you escaped, you’ve dreamt nightmares about it. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Dr Kry asks, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“Yes, I’m fine”, you say coldly. 

He opens the door and you walk in, heart skipping a beat when you see your poor little boy sitting in the same bed you’ve been tied to. 

“Noah!” you breathe out and run over, hugging him tightly. “How are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My leg is broken”, he mumble embarrassedly. 

“Not broken, little man”, Dr Kry smiles. “Sprained, remember? It’ll be okay in no time.”

You hug your son again, trying to hide how terrified you really are. Dr Kry stands behind you and watches you with loving eyes. He shows you the results of the x-ray and asks you to step outside with him again. Carefully, he closes the door behind you both. 

“You said you’d cure him”, you say quietly with a venomous voice. “You said you’d cure him and let him go if I came here … and I’m here now. Keep your end of the promise, Kry.”

“I guess I could do that”, Dr Kry says thoughtfully. “If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it is.”

“But in that case, I want you to stay here.”

“No fucking way!” you almost shout. “I’m not going through this shit again!”

Dr Kry raises his eyebrows warningly. “Lower your voice.”

You bite your cheeks. 

“I won’t let you treat me like that again, Kry”, you hiss. 

“I see”, he says and sighs heavily. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to do what I feared. I don’t want to hurt anyone with your genetic material … but if you don’t let me care for you again, I’ll do what is necessary to keep you with me.”

“You’re sick.”

Dr Kry takes a step forward. You back.

“You will do what I want unless you want me to kill your son”, he says quietly. “You know what I can do. Do you really want to test your luck?”

You hide your face in your shaking hands to prevent yourself from going insane. Tears starts to flow once again. Dr Kry puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asks. “I will let your son and … husband … go if you let me have you again. I have no use or interest in them. They’ll be completely safe. All I want is you. No one else.”

Your sobs make his heart shatter, but he has to stand his ground. 

“It’s not a hard choice”, he says softly. “Don’t you want to save your son? I know you want to. You’re such a good person, the best I’ve ever met. You always want to care for others. So what do you say? Will you do what I want?”

“Yes, fine”, you mumble defeatedly into your hands. “If that’s what it takes to keep him safe.”

Dr Kry breaks out into a smile and hugs you tightly. He leans his head on yours and breathe out in relief. You’re his patient again, you’re his. He tries to remove your hands from your face. 

“Will you stay here while I contact Noah’s father?” he asks. 

He feels better calling your husband Noah’s father than your spouse. Dr Kry takes your phone to call him. While he’s talking to your husband, you feel like you’re going to throw up. Dr Kry tells the man that he can come get Noah, but that you have to stay for checkups that will mostly take the rest of the evening. You’ll have to stay the night. You listen to it all. You want to snatch the phone and scream that you’ll be hurt again, but you can’t move. Things are starting to sink in. 

“Let’s go inside the room and wait for him”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Come here, sweetheart. Wipe your tears and put on that smile I love. He’ll be safe soon, think about that.”

You nod and dry your eyes with your sleeve. Dr Kry opens the door again and you enter. The doctor gives your son a pair of crutches and tells him to stay off his hurt foot for a while. He should do more, but he can’t think straight. All he wants is for him to get out of the hospital so he can have you all to himself. 

When your husband has come to the hospital, Dr Kry leaves the room with Noah, locking the door behind him. You have ten minutes for yourself in the room. You take the opportunity to walk around and look at it. Eight years have passed, and yet everything’s right where it was left. The bookmarks in the books are still where you stopped reading. A lump forms in your throat. Will you go back to that terrified, weak woman again? Will he strip you of everything again? Tears run down your face. You’re really back in his grasp. He will isolate you, deprive you of everything but him. He will kill you.

The door opens behind you, but you don’t dare to turn around. Fast footsteps reach you and you feel his arms around you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “What happened?”

You only shake your head. 

“Come here, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and gently leads you by your upper arms to the bed. “Let’s talk.”

He sits you down and roll over on his stool. You keep your head down, hands trembling in your lap. 

“Y/N, I don’t want us to start off on the wrong foot”, he says and tries meeting your eyes. “I’ll do anything for you. You know that. I let your son and husband go. I wanted to do a lot to him for having a kid with you, but I didn’t.”

Don’t fall for it.

“Do you think that will make me forgive you?” you hiss and sniffle. “You killed so many people … and you poisoned me. My heart nearly failed! I had to have surgeries after I got out of here … I could have died.”

“I know. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I won’t do that again. I promise.” He reaches for his stethoscope. “Speaking of that, we need to check you. Do you mind taking off your clothes for me?”

“Yes, I do mind.”

He sends you a tired glance. “Y/N, don’t be so difficult. I’m not going to do anything weird. Have I ever done anything weird to you?”

You honestly can’t come up with a single thing he’s done that has gone over the top. Everytime he helped you in the bathtub, everytime he checked for lumps, he’s been professional. You might not trust Dr Kry in many areas, but this is one where you’re ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Exactly”, he says and gives a reassuring smile. “I just have to make sure that you’re okay. It’s been eight years. A lot can happen in those years.”

You sigh and remove your shirt. Dr Kry walks behind you and places the circular palette of the stethoscope against your spine. You shiver at the cold touch.

"Sorry", he whispers apologetically. 

You wait as he moves the stethoscope around.

"Your heart sounds okay, thankfully", he says in relief.

"It's not thanks to you", you mumble. 

"You can stop saying it. I'm not dumb, I know."

He asks you to lay down as he feels around your body after any abnormalities. You're suddenly exhausted, not sure of how long you can continue to stay alert. Too much has happened in the span of two hours. Of course, Dr Kry picks up on it. Of course he does.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

You don't answer. You keep your eyes down in your lap where your fingers scratch at your nails.

"I don't want to sleep here", you mumble.

"You won't do it many times", Dr Kry reassures you and walks over to the book shelf. "We're not going to stay here."

You look up. "We're not?"

"No. You escaped me one time. I can't let that happen again. We're going home."

Home? You remember Dr Kry talking about his home a few times. A 20th century villah with a big, spacious garden in the woods — far, far away from everyone and everything. 

"Now, what book do you want to continue?" Dr Kry asks.

You lower your head.

Dr Kry spent the night with you. He lied down beside you in the bed. You had been handcuffed to the bedpost to make sure you'd stay in case you got any ideas.

"Are you hungry?" he asks as he sees you hold your hand over your stomach. He folds some papers and puts it in a box he's going to bring with him. "We'll stop somewhere for breakfast. I don't want to waste a single second here."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you, Kry", you say bitterly.

"That's 'Doctor' to you. You're my patient again, and hereby you shall call me 'Doctor'."

"Not a chance. You want me to call you that because it gives you authority. If we're leaving the hospital, you're not a doctor for me anymore."

"I didn't go to university and earn my degree for you to diminish my title." He smiles crookedly. "For every time you call me something other than a doctor is an hour you go without entertainment."

"You haven't even told me your first name, isn't that better than your title?"

Dr Kry turns to his box, picking it up."You don't need to know my first name."

"Why? Are you scared that I'll be able to sue you if I get away again?"

Dr Kry scoffs and turns to you, box in hand. "You could have sued me with my title and surname, Y/N. But you didn't." He raises a blond eyebrow. "And why was that? Hm?"

You glare at him. He takes a step forward, wickedness written all over his face.

"Deep down, I know you're scared of me", he says tauntingly. "You can pretend as much as you want, but you forget that I'm a doctor. I can read your body language better than anyone else. And do you know what I can read?"

He takes a step forward, causing you to take a step back. You shake your head at his infuriating question. 

"That you're absolutely terrified of me", he smiles. "And that's why you didn't sue me. You knew that I'd win one way or another and that I'd get my revenge on you. You didn't dare to meet me in a court room. So I'm happy that you used your brain and didn't do it. I didn't doubt you one single time. If there's one person in this world I actually trust, it's you."

Baffled, you blink. "What?"

"You were scared and I understand that. I know you never mean to do anything to hurt anyone, but you were scared that I'd kill you … so you escaped. It had nothing to do with me. But things will change now. You don't have to be afraid of me anymore."

Do not fall for it.

I don’t want to believe you. I don’t want you in my head anymore. I don’t want to fall in your traps again. Please be silent. I know your mind games. Please, be silent. Please.

“I love you, Y/N”, he says. “I really do.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know what you should answer. 

“Are you ready to go?” Dr Kry asks instead. “If you behave well, we can get whatever breakfast you want. Even junkfood.” 

How generous.

"And if I don't behave?" you ask and regret it immediately. 

"Then you'll have to sleep the entire ride", Dr Kry says and halts. "But maybe that's a good idea? That way, you won't see the road."

"Forget I asked."

"I'll give you a sleeping pill after you've eaten. Come now, let's go."

You sigh and follow him. Should you try to make a run for it? You're getting put to sleep after all. Doesn't matter if you behave or not.

"Don't try", Dr Kry says as you enter the elevator. "If you try the slightest thing, I'll have to do something I don't want to."

You decide to keep your mouth shut instead of asking questions this time. You follow him through the lobby, out to the parking lot, to his white car.

"Get into the front seat", Dr Kry says when you reach for the backseat doors.

You sigh and give up. When he's behind the wheel, the doors lock.

"Okay, Y/N", he says while breathing out in relief and watching the rear view mirror. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"McDonald's", you say. "I want their breakfast muffin."

He grimaces. "Eugh … fine. Okay. I did promise."

He doesn't turn on the radio, leaving you in silence with him. 

You get your breakfast just in time. While you eat, you can see how Dr Kry picks out a sheet of pills from his box and cracks one open from its shell.

"Swallow this with your water", he says.

You want to snarl something back, but hold it in. Defeated, you swallow the pill. You can physically feel it slide down your throat.

"Good girl", Dr Kry says pleased. "Now you just have to sit back and relax."

You're not sure what he gave you, but just ten minutes later, you've blacked out harder than on a Friday night. Dr Kry can now drive in peace without having to worry about you memorizing the way. He glances at you from time to time, just to make sure your head isn't in an uncomfortable position or if you're awake. Swiftly, he drives off the main road, onto a smaller asphalt road, and eventually into a dirt road looking more like a bicycle path. The dirt road is divided in the middle with grass, creating enough space for the wheels of his white car. Out from the bushes a Scandinavian 1910s white tree villah exposes itself. Two floors with a green attic and bushy garden in the same color. A glass verandah meets them. Everything taken directly out of a Studio Ghibli movie.

Dr Kry jumps out of the car and walks over to your side. He picks you up in his arms and carries you inside. He remembers the first time he returned to the house after you escaped his claws. An unwelcoming smell hit him right in the face when he walked in. He felt like a cheater, spending more time at the hospital than at home. In reality it had been the lack of fresh air and after opening all the windows, it was gone.

Dr Kry walks upstairs and into his bedroom. Although you never came here — like his original plans stated — he kept his king sized bed. Just in case. And he's glad he did. Carefully, he places you under the covers, gently tucking you in.

"You're finally home", he whispers and caresses your forehead. "After way too long."

You sit up and look around. Where are you? Right. Dr Kry's house. 

Quickly, you pull the covers off of you and sneak over to the door. It creaks slightly when you open it. First though crossing your mind is: where the hell is Dr Kry? Second: where is the front door? You sneak over to the white stairs and slowly move your way down. 

You feel every door you find, none leading out to freedom. Finally, you find the front door, but it’s locked. Every window as well. You sigh in fear. At any time, Dr Kry could find you. You’d rather know the place before that happens. You look around, peeking your head into every room you find. Finally, your eyes lay on a glassdoor leading out to the backyard garden. You walk out into a glass verandah and see how Dr Kry is standing by one of the mighty bushes, cutting come of the dead branches. In the soft sunlight, he almost looks ethereal. He doesn’t even resemble the doctor you know. 

When you realize that you’re staring, it’s already too late to slip away. He has noticed you.

“Oh, you’re awake, I see”, he says with a smile, lowering the hedge shears. “How are you feeling?”

“I … I don’t know”, you admit hesitantly with a shrug. “I feel kind of numb.”

“That’s okay, you’re not used to this house. Soon enough, you’ll love it as much as I do.”

You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You’ve never felt so lost — both mentally and physically. You have no idea where you are or what you should do. If you escape, where should you go? How do you get back to your family?

Dr Kry puts down the hedge shears and walks over to you. You flinch, but stand still, avoiding eye contact as best as possible. He puts his hands on your shoulders in a manner making you shiver in disgust. Dr Kry tries meeting your eyes, but you refuse to look in his general direction. Maybe you should have stayed in bed …

“Don’t you think it’s pretty here?” he asks softly. 

You do. Oh, how pretty you think it is, but you don’t want him to think you’re okay with being here. 

“I really want to go home, Kry- … doctor”, you mumble. 

He smiles at your little slipup. You corrected yourself, he won’t scold you. 

“You are home now”, he smiles and caresses your cheek. “You’re right where you should be. And I’m so happy about that. Come, let’s go inside.”

He leads you inside and close the doors behind him. You can hear the door lock behind you. When the there’s no escape anymore, the house suddenly feels cramped, almost claustrophobic. You gulp and glance at doctor Kry who’s smiling lovingly. 

“Welcome home, little one. We have so much lost time to catch up on.”

[katelynnwrites]

Wondering If I Dodged A Bullet (Or Just Lost The Love Of My Life) | Laura Freigang

warnings: angst and my round and round in circles writing

word count: 2897

summary: laura leaves penn state for frankfurt, another way to put it would be that you and your girlfriend break up because she leaves penn state for frankfurt

a/n: i struggled so hard to complete this and it ended up being far from my best work but it is what it is 🙃

You are eighteen years old when your world changes forever.

It happens in the form of a blonde striker named Laura.

Her eyes captivate you the second you meet them. They’re the same colour as the ocean on a stormy day and possess the same ever shifting qualities.

She’s all confidence on the pitch and yet oh so shy when off it.

When your college coach introduces you to her, you know it is inevitable that you fall for her.

You have all your lucky stars to thank that she falls for you too.

******

It is one month into your relationship with Laura that you learn she loves back scratches.

You discover it entirely by accident, having mindlessly run your fingers across her shirt covered back while she was studying.

The happy sigh she let out had been a soft one but you’d picked up on it immediately.

It’s still early in your relationship but Laura has always been open about her body to you so it’s only with mild hesitation that you tentatively slide your hand up under her shirt, to gently scratch your nails on her bare skin.

The German girl groans immediately. It’s a sound of contentment and you adore the way she melts onto your bed.

She’d come over to study and you suspect, to complain about her upcoming psychology test.

Your girlfriend is awfully smart, being more than capable of keeping up her grades while still being a regular starter for your football team

You suppose that attaining a sports scholarship to study in Penn State should have given you an idea of just how driven she can be.

Laura’s a year older and thus, a year ahead of you. She has way more course material than you and her compromise for making sure she is able to finish her work and still spend time with you, is doing her work in your room. Often with her head in your lap.

You giggle at her protests the moment you stop giving her back scratches.

‘Schatz please don’t stop.’ She begs.

Her ocean coloured eyes have this beseeching look in them, the one that you are never able to refuse.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ You laugh, resuming your previous actions, much to the blonde’s delight.

******

One hundred and twenty one days into dating Laura, you learn that there is nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

Your girlfriend is a big all or nothing individual, that particular characteristic drawing you to her in the first place.

The German forward gives everything she has on the pitch, absolutely one hundred percent of herself regardless of the minute or the opponent.

It just didn’t occur to you that she would bring that into your relationship.

From using the little stove in the dormitory kitchen to make your favourite breakfast on game days, to carrying your bag for you after trainings, Laura is simply committed to you.

You don’t know how else to put it.

She is just an anything for my person kind of girl.

You’re beyond grateful to be her person.

The striker is stepping up her game now, video calling you from her hotel room in Germany, just so she can wish you good morning.

There is a significant time difference between Pennsylvania and Frankfurt but your girlfriend makes it work.

The blonde sets an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night, just to call you for a few minutes right when she knows you will be getting up for your classes.

‘Good morning schatz.’ She whispers, taking in the early morning sun that is lighting up your room when you pick up her call.

‘I’d say good morning too but I think wishing you goodnight makes more sense.’ You tease.

Your girlfriend giggles, ‘I’ll take anything you want to wish me. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’

You’re glad for the poor lighting because Laura’s words make your cheeks turn a bright red.

‘Lau? You did not have to wake up just to say good morning to me. Rest is important for you.’

‘I know. But I wanted to.’ She says softly, adoration filling her voice.

‘Lau?’ You ask again, staring hard at your phone screen to make her out in her hotel room.

It is dark but you manage to, the weak glow of her own phone screen helping you do so.

She is tucked into her sheets, messy blonde hair strewn all over her pillow as she giggles, ‘Yes schatz?’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’ She breathes, a small smile playing on her lips.

Every time Germany has a training camp for their youth teams, Laura flies back to her home country to participate.

Each time, you miss her more.

Her absence is sorely felt and you’ve taken to dropping her off and picking her up at the airport just so you don’t have to miss her any longer than you have to.

‘I’ll see you at the airport in two days?’

‘Count on it.’ You promise and you blow each other a kiss before hanging up.

******

Six months into your relationship with the German player is when you find out that she has a penchant for stealing your clothes.

You have been wondering where certain items of your clothing have disappeared to and unbeknown to you, Laura has been hiding them away in her room.

Hoarding might actually be a more accurate term.

Despite how clingy you can be to your girlfriend and she to you, you don’t spend every night together.

When you do, it’s nearly always in your room because your bed is slightly bigger than hers.

It is a sore point with the blonde and she often jokingly complains that it is unfair of Penn State to give their star forward such a small bed.

Today is one of the few times you are in her room and the first time you are alone in it.

Laura’s late in meeting you and you know your girlfriend well enough to be sure that it’s because she has got a bunch of questions for her lecturer.

So you had used the spare key she had given you when you were just friends, before you’d even started dating, to let yourself into her room because standing outside it alone had been too awkward. You know she won’t mind anyway.

Tired from the day’s early morning practice, you flop down on her bed and dump your bag down at the side of it.

You absentmindedly shift her pillow to get more comfortable, only to find something beside it.

As you stare at the piece of clothing, you realise that it’s one of your missing shirts.

Lying back down, you find another of your missing shirts tucked under the other side of her pillow.

You are very confused now, beginning to wonder if you have been forgetful enough to leave not just one but two of your shirts behind, the last time you stayed over in her dorm room.

But if you were, then why hasn’t the blonde returned the shirts to you? Or said anything?

Thankfully, you hear Laura’s key in the door so you don’t have to worry about it for long.

‘Hey schatz.’ She greets cheerfully, flinging her bag onto the floor carelessly and sprawling herself on top of you.

‘Lau!’ You exclaim and she laughs.

Her hands cup your face gently and she presses a brief kiss onto your lips.

‘Hi.’ You giggle, after readily reciprocating her affectionate gesture.

‘Hi.’ She breathes.

Your girlfriend buries her face into the side of your neck, leaving more intimate kisses there.

You groan at the touch of her lips on your skin. It gives you butterflies inside but you can’t let it distract you now.

‘Laura…Laura?’

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t slow.

‘Why have you got my shirts in your bed? Did I leave them here?’

The German girl freezes.

‘Lau?’ You prompt, reaching out to hold her hand reassuringly.

Her cheeks are rapidly turning a bright pink and she stammers, ‘I-I didn’t mean for you to find out about that…you’re going to think I’m so silly.’

You plant a little kiss on her forehead and gently tease, ‘I already think you’re silly, in the best of ways.’

Laura smiles and then shyly admits, ‘You didn’t leave them here. I kinda stole them from you because I love sleeping with your familiar smell. You always smell so good and something about it just calms me down.’

You stare at her in stunned silence.

Long enough that Laura begins to look uncertain.

Then you blurt out, ‘I love you.’

Your girlfriend lets out a small gasp, her pretty eyes shining as she whispers, ‘I love you too.’

It’s the first ‘I love you’ for the both of you and you cannot put into words how much it means.

Laura seems to be thinking along the same lines because she traces your cheekbone lightly, the action filled with adoration.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ She murmurs, in between peppering your face with kisses.

‘Love you too Laura. So much, even if you do keep stealing my shirts.’

The blonde smiles and confesses, ‘Can’t help it. I bring a bunch with me to every national camp too.’

Before meeting the German girl, you didn’t know it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.

But as it is with Laura, you discover so many firsts.

You hope that you discover many lasts too because you want what you have with her to be forever.

Fervently, you hope that Laura Freigang is the girl you have your last first kiss with.

******

Forty five weeks of dating Laura and you decide that she is the love of your life.

Maybe it’s the good morning and good night kisses, or the way she so obviously cherishes every moment she has with you. It could even be the way she smiles.

The corners of her lips tip upwards and her eyes light up each and every time she does so.

Your girlfriend’s brother says that Laura’s smile is different when it is directed at you. He claims that it is special and you are inclined to agree.

Laura herself is special to you. Boundlessly so.

She has a new found habit of sliding her hand up and under your shirt whenever you fall asleep together.

The blonde striker craves skin to skin contact with you, loves the peace it gives her.

After your girlfriend admits why she keeps your shirts beside her pillow, you offer her a better solution.

Instead of your shirts, she can have you.

Laura takes you up on that immediately and her assigned dorm room practically becomes a storage room for her belongings.

She is always in your room because she spends every night there now.

It’s one of her favourite things to curl up beside you and rhythmically match her breaths to yours.

You are warm and oh so real, unlike the often cold material of your shirts.

The German girl can be possessive and it shows in how she holds you close, even as she sleeps.

Laura presses you into her, her palm resting flat on your back and you love it.

It has you feeling safe and wanted, two things that your girlfriend has never failed to make you feel.

You know that you are right, she is the love of your life.

******

Three hundred and sixty five days of being Laura’s and Laura being yours is when she gives you a necklace for your anniversary.

It is a simple piece of jewellery, a small heart shaped locket hanging on a delicate silver chain.

‘Do you like it?’ She anxiously asks, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

Admiring the gift, you breathe, ‘I love it.’

Gently, you kiss her to convey just how grateful you are. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her hands cupping your face instinctively.

When you pull away, you softly speak, ‘Thank you schatz. Will you help me put it on please?’

The striker grins brightly, ‘Of course.’

She makes quick work of clasping it around your neck as you hold your hair up.

Glancing at the mirror, you play with the locket and Laura prompts, ‘Open it.’

You feel a tiny latch you hadn’t noticed earlier just as she says so.

The locket opens when you press down on it and you gasp as you see the photo of your girlfriend sharing a kiss with you in it.

You pull Laura into a different kiss, deepening it to show her just how much you love her present.

‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’ You murmur, in between the kisses you keep pressing onto her lips.

Laura lets out a pleased sigh, intertwining her fingers with yours and promising, ‘I love you too.’

You squeeze her hand in yours but can’t take your eyes off the locket.

‘Schatz, this is really beautiful.’

Your girlfriend cheekily but honestly admits, ‘Like you.’

Then she laughs at the blush that rapidly appears on your cheeks, affectionately brushing her lips across your forehead.

******

Laura’s locket never leaves its place, around your neck.

Not even when you are nineteen and the blonde, twenty, the two of you unsure where your relationship is going.

The striker has got an offer from 1. FFC Frankfurt and she knows that taking it will be the best move for her career. You know it too.

It is just your fear of what happens now that makes you anxious.

You love your girlfriend, adore her so. She’s only been yours for slightly more than a year but she is the love of your life. You don’t know what you would do without her.

Your day starts with Laura’s good morning kisses, you eat breakfast together, walk each other to classes when able to, study together, go for training sessions with one another and share goodnight kisses when it is time to sleep.

For a lack of a better way to put it, you do not remember how to live your life without her. You don’t you if you can and that may be codependent of you but it is the truth.

From the way the blonde is fidgeting with her rings, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘I-I don’t want to leave you.’ She quietly admits.

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. And I love you too but you have to do this schatz.’

Laura’s voice is pained when she echoes your earlier words, ‘I know.’

Touching your necklace carefully, you begin to unlatch it.

The German girl inhales sharply.

‘Don’t.’

Her ocean coloured eyes are welling with tears when she covers your hands with hers.

‘Keep it. I gave it to you. It’s yours. Please, it’s meant for you.’

‘But Lau-’

Her words are fierce as she insists, ‘No! We’re not over, you and I.’

Your smile is wistful and cautious when you look up at her.

‘Laura you don’t know that. You don’t know if any club will want to take me, let alone one in Germany. The chances of me ending up in Frankfurt with you are slim if at all possible.’

The forward’s frown intensifies, ‘Don’t say that. You don’t know that.’

As much as you want it not to be, your tone is one of resignation, ‘Schatz…’

Your dorm room feels stifling in a way it never has before and even though Laura is sitting right beside you, on your bed, she feels so far away that she might as well already be in Frankfurt.

The blonde is staring at you speechlessly and you take her hand in yours.

Holding her hand is familiar and an intimate gesture…one that you know you will not have for much longer.

‘I love you. No matter how much time passes, part of me is always going to love you. But you need to stop thinking about me. About us…and move on. You are going to do so good with Frankfurt. You are brilliant Lau, please show them exactly how talented you are.’

Your words are barely audible but you mean it. You have never meant anything more. It’s with your whole heart, your breaking heart, that you tell them to the German girl.

Laura’s tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shaking slightly when you break your heart for good with the next two sentences out of your mouth.

‘I’m your biggest fan. That’s never going to change, it will just have to be from a distance now.’

******

Maybe it was stupid of you to let the love of your life go. But you needed to, needed to learn how to live on your own and let her be a star, halfway around the world.

In a way, you dodge a bullet too because as painful as it is, you learn. Without the striker leaving, you never would have learnt.

And for Laura who has been looking sad in all the nicest places and wanting to call your name until you come back home, it pays off.

Because some years later, as crazy as it is, you are in a German cab and telling the driver where the blonde’s place is.

You’re on your way back home to her, with her locket still around your neck.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[yandere-daydreams]

Gojo and nanami are definitely the most misrepresented characters in fanfic in my eyes. I share the same sentiments with you about nanami and people writing him as if he's geriatric because he's just a no nonsense, work and go home, responsible adult. He knows what memes are, and he knows how to use a smartphone, he even used video game terms when he was fighting dagon! ("It's like he has infinite HP") He would know who doja cat is!

As for gojo, I feel like a lot of writers conflate his extroversion and somewhat silly demeanor for having people skills. It's canon that his lack of social skills is his one main flaw! And you can see it through the way the other characters interact with him: Ijichi is scared of him, Nanami thinks he's flippant, and Utahime straight up despises him and he thinks she's just joking about it. All of the Tokyo students save for Yuuji and Yuuta think he's weird and find his silliness off-putting. I just don't think he'd be very popular in those college AUs that write him as some kind of social butterfly who's friends with everyone, at best, he'd be well-known for his good looks and family name and being glued to the hip to Geto, who would definitely be the more popular one of the two. He'd probably also put people off by making insensitive comments (intentional or not) when trying to hold conversations, he's just not a guy that can easily understand other people or be understood. That's just my take tho

i've already spoken my thoughts on nanami, but,,, yeah T-T he's a very 'no frills' character, and since it's difficult to make a character who's only goal is to be boring, y'know, interesting, people tend to just settle on making him act older/overly mature/overly stoic, instead. i get why it happens, but i do which creators would engage with how funny he is as a character from time-to-time. that poor man is bare-knuckling it through life, blasting cobra by megan thee stallion and trying not to get the sixteen-year-olds he works with killed and he should be more appreciated for that.

and i couldn't agree more with the gojo stuff T-T T-T the popular fuckboy is a very common archetype that a lot of people want to write around, and as the resident pretty boy, i get why people want to slot gojo into it, but it's literally canon that not a single damn person can stand being around him for longer than an hour at a time beyond, like, two high-schoolers and the ex-boyfriend who hasn't spoke to him in ten years. i think the only canon-compliant way to write for him in an college/no curses au would be like. that guy who everyone assumes is popular because he's rich and attractive, but actually has like two friends and is way better at sports + housework than his overly pretentious major. he just kind of sucks, and it's important to me that people recognize that as one of his most endearing traits.