#I also think it’s helping with my writers block because it is making me want to write out of pure spite
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aho-dapa · 10 months ago
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This fandom is honestly...
Like, there is something to be said about fandoms in general and how they've changed as a whole generally but
There's also something about how the acotar fandom is especially toxic like
The idea that a post is surprised a murder hasn't happened yet and I found myself agreeing??? Is honestly telling
Like, also. A massive part of this is shipping and maybe it's because I have my corner of this fandom, but even then shipping the "wrong" thing in general has become something I honestly have to take in consideration when thinking of my mental health and if I can personally be prepared for any backlash??
This fandom at large doesn't feel safe and that's majorly concerning tbh
Maybe instead of saying shippers as a group are doing harm, we should just disavow harmful actions in general and not be complicit in it idk???
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prolibytherium · 10 months ago
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The incredibly fucked up thing about my harrowing trek through this The Beatles yaoi fanfiction that is 3x the length of War and Peace is that it’s actually making me want to revisit the band’s discography instead of making me never want to hear their music ever again
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bkgexe · 19 days ago
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if all else fails, i was myself
bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k
info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic
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katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.
he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.
it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).
things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—
“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.
he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.
"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."
he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”
“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”
kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.
when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.
because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.
the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.
(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)
no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.
but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.
with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.
he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”
there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”
it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.
he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.
and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.
fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.
he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.
it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.
and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.
he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."
and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.
you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.
but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.
he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.
sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.
sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.
sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—
it was too much.
so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.
hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.
if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!
he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.
and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.
he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.
it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.
and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."
you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.
"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"
"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."
the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"
his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."
your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"
"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."
"kissing?"
somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.
"at all?"
he nods.
"just—like touching, and stuff?"
it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."
"oh."
you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.
"so you don't go on dates, or anything."
"haven't tried."
"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.
"doesn't make sense to."
"that's not what i asked."
it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.
considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.
he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"
you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."
"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."
"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.
he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"
you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."
this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."
"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.
"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."
your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"
"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."
you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.
here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—
he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.
but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.
that's it. you make him feel wanted.
the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.
he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.
so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.
but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.
you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.
he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?
"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.
he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.
your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"
"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.
"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."
"i'm not."
"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"
"you're not."
"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."
it's okay, you know. "i don't know."
"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."
katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"
you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"
"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"
just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.
you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.
your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.
you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.
his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.
you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"
he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.
kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.
so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.
put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.
he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.
"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.
you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."
"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."
"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."
and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.
the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.
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somewhereincairparavel · 2 months ago
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Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace - two sides of the same coin, an analysis post.
after a long wait, I've finally posted my analysis on jason/annabeth being similar, and mirroring eachother as rivals/potential sibling figures more than percy/jason's 'bro rivalry', based on this post of mine which has crossed over a THOUSAND notes in the last week alone, and I've been getting so many reblogs and comments asking me to expand on my tags in that post and do a full analysis. so here it is. I've been procrastinating this for quite a while now for some reason but I'm glad I'm over my writer's block and I got to articulate my post well enough.
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annabeth and jason have had very minor interactions throughout hoo, but the parallels and similarities in their character is jarringly noticeable, which is why I hoped for a jason/annabeth rivalry and not a percy/jason rivalry. they've both been raised at their respective camps since they were literal kids, they were well versed in their respective fields of knowledge, and were well respected/intimidated in their camps.
let's start off with the lost hero
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when jason first meets annabeth, he says that her eyes were really intimidating and fierce, so right off the bat, we have jason who's pretty put off by annabeth because she very obviously looked angry, especially since she was frustrated about jason's arrival instead of percy, and looked like she could kill jason to get percy back.
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this parallels to a lot when hazel kept going on about how difficult it was to warm up to jason because his eyes were always calculating and cold, and he gave off an untrustworthy vibe, that he'd sacrifice anyone for the sake of the mission.
both annabeth and jason have a certain similar ‘look’ in their eyes, which have nothing to do with the color. they both have the tendency to make people nervous simply with their eyes, because they always look like they're thinking of new things every few seconds. Ironically, jason first perceived annabeth, the way everyone else perceived him. scary and intimidating with an icy glare and hardened eyes.
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They were both said to be ‘studying’ each other in distrust many times throughout. A part of why they didn't trust each other, was, in my opinion, because they embodied their least favorite shared personality trait of each other, secretiveness and guardedness. which is why annabeth got on so well with percy, and jason with leo/piper.
they didn't admire the closed off-ish vibe that they gave eachother. they both needed people who were open and carefree.annabeth said that jason looked like he knew too much information, but chose to keep it all a secret, very similar to her own guardedness from time to time, keeping it a secret and wanting to deal with it silently.
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we also know that annabeth and jason are extremely knowledgeable in greek/roman mythology, they both love debates and were quite passionate about history. they were both assigned architecture projects by the gods themselves as a mark of honor and favour.
moving on to the next most important point, they reminded eachother of the people they missed, causing them to feel resentful.
jason, barely met his sister after they reunited. he was bitter when thalia said he had to go look for percy to help out annabeth with the search. he was aware that thalia and annabeth were childhood friends, getting closer to eachother than jason and thalia ever did. she found a home in luke and annabeth, not even a few months after baby jason was thought to be ‘dead’, that knowledge would've weighed a lot on jason. annabeth became the sibling to thalia grace that jason could never be.
while annabeth? the only thing annabeth thought of, after jason had a face off with his mother's remnant in boo, was the fact that jason, who looks eerily similar to luke, could've experienced the exact same fate as him. luke was jason if he had more wrath and held grudges, jason was luke if he had less anger and resentment. annabeth could connect the dots so easily, and that was truly the moment where she gained immense respect for him.
and, when jason told annabeth that his sister was thalia? she had a very odd sort of expression on her face.
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annabeth also quotes that looking at jason made her feel bitter, because he reminded her of heras exchange, and the fact that she lost percy for months. whenever she looked at jason, she would only see her two childhood friends, a found family that was broken, and a love that was challenged.
whenever jason looked at annabeth, he would be reminded that thalia had a closer contact to her than she did jason, and had to accept that he would never know thalia as much as annabeth does.
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annabeth and jason also appear very confident and sure of themselves, but have second thoughts all the time. they had to put on a fake facade, to live up to their expectations and lineage.
they were both also sort of people pleasers, annabeth couldn't really say no to anyone who asked her for help with things, like carrying the sky for luke especially, because not only where they giving her a chance to execute her knowledge and skill, the thought of helping someone made her genuinely happy. jason also loved seeing people happy, always wanting to say the right thing to satisfy someone, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own struggles to help them.
fatal flaws:
annabeth’s fatal flaw, is hubris. when you are confident and sure that you can do something, and have a sense of excessive self pride.
and jason's fatal flaw is the temptation to deliberate. hesitation and second guessing, to put it in simpler words.both fatal flaws are so different, yet so similar, and they have both flaws, just in a different viewpoint.
as a child of athena, annabeth appears super confident and even conceding at times because of her wisdom, but at the same time, annabeth had to make sure she was one step ahead of everyone. she had to rethink everything and had to have a plan in her mind all the time, fearing that things wouldn't go smoothly.
she had to hesitate and second guess herself alot, despite her knowledge, like she did when she knew she had to look for the mark of athena. piper and percy had to boost up her confidence with affirmations, to let her know she's on the right path and to just follow her gut. annabeth feels obligated to have a temptation to deliberate, because, as a child of athena, she has to be all knowing and wise, and most definitely cannot fail her mother.
and jason? despite having a very low sense of self esteem and hesitation, he was so used to leading the people who were considered slightly inferior to him in camp jupiter, and basically getting treated like a celebrity for 12 years of his life in camp jupiter, that often, he thought what he did was right, he had his own perception of what a hero should be, and I quote
[“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.” “You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”Jason tilted his head. “I mean… sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos… even a god”- Tower of Nero]
which was normal, since he had everyone basically following his lead without question as a kid. he's expanded on this in his conversation with piper in mark of athena, where he said he felt weird to suddenly be around people who were either equal/or superior to him in power, and not being in the ‘lead’ particularly.
jason had hubris, but certainly not in a way that you would call it an ego or excessive pride. he was hardwired and brainwashed into having his own perception of what is right and what is wrong, that he thought he was always making good enough decisions, at least from a roman child soldier’s standpoint. [Like when he was okay with not saving nico because it might sabotage their mission, he genuinely didn't think what he said was insensitive until hazel called him out, because he was brought up that way. he thought he was doing the right thing, by prioritising the mission and the duty, first. Like the dutiful roman he was made to be].
both annabeth and jason, have hubris and a temptation to deliberate.
annabeth and jason, also had an extremely difficult time breaking free from the thoughts that their godly parents were always right. It took on alot of disappointments for both of them to stand up to their parents (and not just godly ones, mind you)
they've both had disappointing absent mortal and godly parents with a hostile stepmother involved and monitored with each and every one of their moves. annabeth has had to deal with her stepmother playing the ‘bad cop’ with her father not even coming to her defence, just the way hera came butting into jason's life and giving him terrible memories, taking him away from thalia, with zeus not even caring.
speaking of which, they are both the only demigods who have harboured the most amount of resentment for hera. just the sight of hera pisses them both off, as it hera, stripped off so much time away from annabeth and percy, and memories from jason, which he never permanently got back.
this is sort of irrelevant but I'll add this anyway, in boo, athena also immediately liked jason for calling out zeus's unfairness to apollo, saying something like 'the boy is right' and she gave him an approving/appreciative look for his wisdom, which is pretty rare for athena to say or do to literally any demigod ever. this makes me wonder if she ever saw jason as someone who had some sort of athena legacy in him, which is why she was so pleasantly surprised with him. ugh we could've so gotten jason and annabeth as potential sibling figures bc of how many parallels they have, too bad that the percy/jason rivalry narrative was pushed too hard.
I hope I've drawn enough parallels with their characters, as a lot of you have been looking forward to this post for a while, hopefully this analysis hasnt been underwhelming for you all to read!
@thevoidcaller @karmaajr @onestorytorulethemall @newlyfoundwren @thesummerstorms
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bountycancelled · 1 year ago
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(un)secret admirer
luke castellan x child of aphrodite!reader
tip me on kofi, if you feel so inclined
requested: nope, I'm just currently obsessing over pjo (aren't we all?) and Charlie bushnell is my pookie so luke is also my pookie (what about all the people he murdered– what murdaaaa?!)
warnings: none I believe!
content: probably ooc luke becusse I haven't read the books, I don't know if demigods even nap, I don't remember the movies and he's barely in the show lol, some cuddling, lowercase intended because fuck grammar, also I know demi gods are dyslexic i just dont gaf because i thought this concept was cute, that's all!
a/n: SEND ME PJO REQS! please. also this is short and I'm sorry, I've been having horrid writers block.
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"I don't get what the big deal is." Lukes voice could be heard from where he sat on your bed, as you gazed at the piece of paper in your hand, pacing back and forth in your room as you analysed its every minute detail to the best of your abilities. "you get letters from the other campers all the time."
"I already told you Luke. this handwriting isn't the same as any other letter I've gotten, so that means it's from someone who's never sent me a note before, and I need to know who it is."
you had recieved a myriad of letters ranging from 'I think you're pretty' to 'I would sacrifice my right arm just to get a hug from you' during your time here at camp. beyond being drop dead gorgeous, you were kind, always wearing a charming smile on your face, and having the ability to comfort people with your presence alone.
that (coupled with the facts that most kids here had some kind of parental baggage and your kindness definitely filled some kind of void) meant that you recieved many a words from not so secret admirers. you were sure that you knew the identities of the people who had given you sealed envelopes and tightly folded papers, but you were currently stumped.
you were startled out of your staring contest with the scribbled ink by the feeling of Lukes arms around your shoulders as he spoke. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, now can you please come back to bed? you know that I can't nap if you're not with me."
you sighed, letting him lead you back to your bed so that he could rest before you two inevitable of the two of you needing to help around the camp occured. you stared up at the ceiling as he slowly started to dose off beside you, before you gasped and shot up, effectively spooking him out of a peaceful moment.
"it's Percy!" you shushed Luke before he had the chance to complain about your sudden exclamation or the fact that you weren't letting him get a wink of midday sleep. "I mean, he's just met me, and one of my friends probably told him some stuff about me–"
"it's not Percy." Luke deadpanned, pushing you down by the shoulder from the upright postpone you were sat in to make you lay back down, and wrapping his arm around your waist. you were shocked into silence, because although Luke was an affectionate friend, he had never cuddled you while he was still awake. he would always wake up and discovering that he had wrapped around you in his sleeping state, apologising sheepishly while retracting his limbs.
after a few moments of stunned silence, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his statement. "and how do you know it's not him, huh?" he simply blew air from his nose, tightening his grip around your waist.
"because it was me, sweetheart."
now that shut you up fairly quickly, as you bit your lip to try to hinder the giddy smile that wanted to form on your features. you opened your mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by Luke placing a small kiss on the back of your neck.
"we'll talk when we wake up, alright?" but you weren't having any of that. "okay... but, before you go to bed. how long have you liked me? is this actually the first letter you've sent? why wouldn't you just tell me, you idiot. obviously I like you too. I know you said some stuff that you like about me in the letter, but I want you to tell me about everything you like about me, like every feature, every trait-"
Luke chuckled, sporting a big grin as you spoke. he would tell you all of that and more, he would do anything you asked of him, just as long as he got to hold you in his arms just like this.
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wolfiesmoon · 1 year ago
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Hey I hope you are doing well when ever you are reading this but how do you think the 3rd year boys from twst would react to their s/o (gn reader) cuddling with a huge plush instead of them.
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Like this.
Oh boy oh boy this kinda cures my writers block tbh, i have so many drafts but none of em look enticing enough to continue writing (´д`|||)
I took out a few of the 3rd years bc its too many people for 1 fic but i might make a part 2 where i add the missing 3rd years at some point
i went with the more silly writing style again, hope that's fine by you ○( ^皿^)っ
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𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Malleus Draconia
He doesn't exactly get why, but he feels kinda annoyed just laying next to you while you hug a big ol plushie
This doesn't feel right🫤
But then again, you look rlly happy and satisfied so he stays quiet since if you're happy, he's happy (he desperately wants to be in the plushy's place)
When you playfully kiss the plush though, that rule no longer applies. After all, his rightful spot is in your arms🫠
He nudges you. "Put the stuffed animal away."
"You sound angry." You smirk and kiss the plush again, knowing he's probably annoyed about that
without another word, he pulls the plushy out of your hands and settles down in its place
"I am a much better than that object. Just so you know." he smiled smugly, expecting a kiss on the cheek just like you gave to the plushie earlier
you kissed him on the lips instead just to see his eyes widen and his face go red ofc 😏
𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Leona Kingscholar
basically, it is NOT happening
"hell no." is the only thing he says before ripping the poor plushie out of your arms and chucking it across the room
like actually how DARE you try to replace him with a plushie
"Why would you do that?" You pouted at him, looking at the now discarded plushy from the bed🤕
"You know damn well why." He huffed, laying down on top of you without warning which tends to be a habit of his
"Because that's my spot, got it?" He answered for you. clearly you forgot😒
"Uhhh, right." you answered after a short pause...
"I won't remind you next time." he sounded rlly annoyed. it's kinda funny how worked up he got over a plushy replacing him 🤭
this also means he won't let you get up for like.... atleast 2 hours to atone for your sins
moral of the story: don't do this again unless you want a ripped up plushie and a pissed off lion man😠
𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Idia Shroud
"This is so unfair. Even worse than an OP boss. " he sighed dramatically, laying down besides you and pouting at the sight og a huge plushie in your arms
"pick up the sock if you have enough energy to complain." you turned away from him, still annoyed with him
being the epic gamer he is (😎💯), he discarded one of his socks in the middle of his room and didn't feel like picking it up later even after you told him to
...which ended with you refusing to cuddle with him until he does pick up the sock
after a short while of very awkward silence...
he groaned in annoyance, begrudgingly getting up and finally picking up the sock, then leaving the room to put it in the wash
you smirked victoriously, placing the plushie away as promised and letting him hug you instead
"The things you make me do, smh." he sighed, relaxing into you 😒
"Picking up a singular sock?" you teased him, hugging him back
He didn't reply so that means it's your victory 😝
𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Vil Schoenheit
this is an unforgivable offense, just because you had a little disagreement earlier doesn't mean you can just replace him with a plushie😠
love transcends disagreements, after all
does not help at all that the plushie's cute round face reminds him of a certain thorn in his side named Neige LeBlanche😒
he sighs, "I may have been too harsh back there."
your only reply is an annoyed huff and you hug the plushie tighter which makes one of those anime veins pop up on his face 💢
he takes a deep breath "It was not my intention to hurt your... sensibilities." he's trying babe, he's really trying
You don't reply for a moment...
"Ugh." you throw the plushie away and hug him tightly "This doesn't mean I forgive you, just for the record."
"I still stand by my opinion too, just worded less harshly." he gently puts an arm around you, stroking your back
it was only a matter of time until you gave up with your stubborn pettiness, soon you'll forgive him too, he'll make sure of that 😌
𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Lilia Vanrouge
He's actually surprisingly chill about it i feel like
He wouldn't get annoyed or be jealous per se, he'd just get a little sad it's not him you're hugging😔
he's there, you know? there's no need for a plushie...
"Am I not satisfactory enough?" He asks half playfully half seriously
"In what sense?" you totally knew what he meant but just wanted to tease him back
"Hey, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he smiled at you, immediately knowing what you were playing at
"Hahaha, you know me too well." you kiss his cheek, yet you still don't let go of the plushie which makes him pout
"I see you have found yourself a new lover." his eyes travel to the plushie for a moment, the betrayal is real😔🙏🏻
"You got a problem with him?" you raised a brow 🤨
"A little." he hugged you from the back, getting comfy
"Okay fine, maybe my ex is the better one after all." you let go of the plushie and turned around to hug him back 💗
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celestie0 · 1 year ago
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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]
kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find
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ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader
ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.
ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot
ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)
ᰔ words. 10.4k
a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.
nav. masterlist
☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1
♬.*゚playlist
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“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together. 
It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made. 
“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”
“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now. 
The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.
“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.
“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him. 
“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance. 
The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you. 
“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction. 
You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard. 
He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.” 
You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.
The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom. 
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene. 
You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt. 
“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.
“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow. 
Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear. 
“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”
You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either. 
His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say. 
There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.
His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed. 
You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease. 
“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again. 
You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible. 
You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.
“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve. 
“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.
“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.
“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again. 
The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.
Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe. 
Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then? 
You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further. 
Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips. 
Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.
---
The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.
You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses. 
“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.
“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,”  you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”
“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”
You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.
Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.
She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”
You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”
“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.
“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.
“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.
“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.
“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.
“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like. 
Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”
Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”
She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.
You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.
“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.
You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.” 
You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.
|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week
You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.
|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you
You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.
|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?
After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.
|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now
|| 1:55PM You: *head over
|| 1:55PM You: lol
You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.
|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over
You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.
|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you
His response is instant.
|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there
Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.
He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.
“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood. 
There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.
“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired. 
“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”
The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity. 
“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills. 
Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read. 
You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.
With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.
He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”
You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?” 
He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”
“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”
“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.
You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”
He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”
“Say what again?” you ask.
“My name,” he says. 
You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.
The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match. 
“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.
Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it. 
The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.
Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball. 
The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by. 
Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion. 
You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.
UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.
“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you. 
“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.
“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.
You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus. 
---
The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder. 
The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM. 
The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.
As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds. 
You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.
You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.
Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.
“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.
“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”
“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”
“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.
“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.
“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words. 
“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.
“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Maki asks worriedly.
“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”
“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.
You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.
“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised. 
Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks. 
“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment. 
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy. 
“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again. 
“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”
You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.” 
He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.” 
You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away. 
The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you. 
He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still. 
“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.
He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”
You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.
You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.” 
He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”
You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you. 
He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”
You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”
Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”
His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes. 
“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”
“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes. 
You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”
He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.” 
You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”
He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”
“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.
“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.
“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”
Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.
“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.
“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”
You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift. 
“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.
You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.
He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”
You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.” 
A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly. 
“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?” 
Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.” 
You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head. 
“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code. 
You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”
“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.” When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.
Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.
He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.
“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again. 
“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t. 
Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.
“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand. 
Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it. 
You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.
You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.
“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.
“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.
You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over. 
The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”
Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod. 
The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.
Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.
“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.
He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts. 
“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three. 
Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly. 
“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.
Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively. 
You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.
Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar. 
“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.
“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.
You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.
You had feelings for Gojo Satoru. 
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a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.
➸ take me to chapter six!
tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru
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lueurjun · 6 months ago
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f1 driver!boyfriend heeseung.
request — if you are accepting requests i was thinking maybe something like formula one driver heeseung x reader where they travel to support him at his races all around the world, and also watching their boyfriend become world champion at the end of the season? thank you <3 !! 🎀
eek ! sorry this took so long. i have been in a deep writers block. but i hope you enjoy this lovely <3 this is long, my bad… i got carried away because i loved writing this. i had so much fun im not even kidding, i think i’m going to turn this into a written series for heeseung.
refer to this edit for the vibes—it has me in a chokehold and gave me the motivation for this.
rocking back and forth because ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
LEE HEESEUNG?? FORMULA ONE DRIVER?
SEDATE ME ! I NEED THIS
ahem anyways :)
heeseung’s career began at eight years old when his parents finally gave in and allowed him to start go karting.
f1 was his dream! he had posters in his room. miniature car figurines in a glass case that he didn’t let anybody touch. he sat for every race, knew every driver and owned so much merch that his mother had to hide her credit card
it’s giving maddy knew who she was from a young age- it’s giving obsession- it’s giving me with my enhypen obsession-
it was clear from the get go that this kid had some talent. he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it better than anyone else
though he’s always been a little bit of a shit talker and ended up in several friendly feuds with other upcoming drivers.
lmao can you imagine 8 year old heeseung bickering with max verstappen?
as he grew older, he began competing in various competitions, and won the majority of them which opened up the doors to competing internationally
years later, he secures a position in F3 and gradually works his way up to F2. eventually, he makes it into F1 as one of the most promising drivers, under the guidance of red bull
now let’s introduce you
*louder than heeseung* hey 😘😉
you met Heeseung at one of his karting races when he was 15. instantly recognizing his potential, you had him sign your phone case, insisting that he was going to be famous one day and you wanted to sell it on ebay when he did.
absolute icon if you ask me
he thought you were being ridiculous, but he couldn't help but feel flattered by your confidence. after signing your phone case, he surprised you by asking for your number.
and who are you to pass up on the opportunity to keep in touch with a soon to be famous racer?
i can race faster than him just sayin ✋🙂‍↔️🤚 broom broom
the two of you remained in touch, and you attended as many races as possible to support him as a best friend. two years later, just as he secured a seat in F2, heeseung nervously asked you to be his partner.
which, of course, you were more than happy to.
now, onto present day: f1 driver heeseung with you, his beloved partner.
not you in your wag era-
i genuinely see you owning a tiktok account where you kinda just post daily grwms or vlogs which feature heeseung and your life travelling with him
and everybody eats it up because they get to see the human side of heeseung not just the aggressive driver that shit talks everything and everyone
yes i’m making him a sassy shit talker because i want to SUE ME
you kinda prove to his haters that he’s actually a huge nerd with the cutest personality, which garners him a lot more support
his team ADORES you for this
but it’s also really funny because why is the p2 winner, cocky red bull driver giving your followers a haul on all of his toy story merch?
his helmet is definitely custom designed as buzz lightyear and i find that absolutely adorable
he also has your initial on his helmet somewhere that everyone thinks is so sickeningly cute
he calls it his good luck charm
you receive some hate with jealous people accusing you of only wanting his money and fame
haters come outside i’m not gonna do anything. haha. i just wanna talk ( and set their hair on fire ) just a lil chit chat 😃
but for the most part, you are actually very much adored
if fans see you walking around, they call out for you to take pics with them
which you do, albeit with a little hesitance, as you’re not used to the spotlight and don’t quite understand why people idolise you.
ummmm because you’re perfect🫶 hope this helps
in this scenario, you’re a full time influencer which makes it easy for you to travel alongside him and attend all of his races
which is good because you couldn’t make his japan gp due to an issue and he damn near lost his mind
bro was STRESSING
i would be too if i had u and had to deal with a couple days without u 🫶
he made it everyone’s issue
his team were so tired of him that they sent you multiple texts begging for you to get on a flight
he was so sassy during his interviews and the viewers immediately knew it was because you weren’t there
‘bringy/nback’ trended with memes making fun of him for being a brat without you there
he finished really badly that weekend
bro relies on you fr
when you eventually returned at his side for his next race
he was back to his angelic self
you made him apologize to all the team
imagine you stood behind him with your arms crossed, shaking your head while he sheepishly apologises in front of everyone for being difficult HAHHAHA
he was all smiles in his interview and got p1 because he was eager to impress you
gigglin and kickin my feet BECAUSE HES SO CUTE
and you’re stood in the paddock, watching with the biggest grin on your face
when the podium celebration rolls around, you’re front row and he makes sure you get hit with some champagne with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen
he ruined your very expensive outfit but you didn’t have it in you to be mad
i would never do that to you personally- just saying, your clothes would always be in pristine condition if you were with me… just sayin ✋😌🤚
when the two of you leave literally anywhere, he gets swarmed by fans
tells them to wait a second, and gets you to the car safely before he jogs over to sign some stuff
if you can’t get to the car, he makes sure your hand is in his, keeping you close whilst he signs things
he’s always hyper aware of your safety in public
if you’re instantly met with flashing lights, he will either cover your eyes or take off his hat and put it on your head to shield you
your safety always comes before his
also can we talk about your fashion?
you always dress to impress, never a bad outfit day
pfft is anyone surprised? you’re literally gods gift to earth- MOVE HEESEUNG
travel days are always so tiring for heeseung
which is when you become the protective one
holding him protectively whilst you both wait for your flight
running your hands through his hair
he holds you so tight; he doesn’t care who sees or about getting teased by his fellow drivers
when you’re finally in the air, whether it be private jet or not, you always make yourself into a personal pillow for him
it could be the cushiest flight known to man, and you’d still be his pillow
that should be me fr
he sleeps like a baby the whole time
and you don’t mind because you know he needs it
in the days leading up to the championship, he becomes…
unbearable? whiny? annoying? come here, i’d never- sorry sorry 😔
tense…
his stress levels are through the roof and nothing really helps other than just letting him be
he’s snappier than usual, but after many years together, you’ve learned to let it go
because you know this is a huge deal for him and he always apologises afterwards
the only thing you can really do is serve as his support and try to relax him as best as you can
like couple spa days when his schedule isn’t crammed
sightseeing to enjoy the beautiful country
even lying in your hotel room the night before, reminiscing about your relationship and his journey to becoming one of the best
you’d feel his heartbeat beneath your back which would be pressed up against him
his shaky breaths against the side of your neck as he pressed nervous kisses beneath your ear, nibbling slightly on the lobe
god… i’ve seen what you’ve done for others
“will you still love me if i don’t win tomorrow?”
you can tell he’s straddling the line between joking and genuinely needing reassurance
so, you do what you always do
you turn, cup both of his cheeks in your palms, and press your forehead against his
“you look funny.”
he’d giggle, and you’d start wiggling your eyebrows to make him laugh harder
and he always does, because to him, you’re the funniest person he’s ever met
then, you’d scrunch up your nose and gently sweep it against his, eventually leaving a kiss on the bridge.
“i will love you no matter what. even if you wake up tomorrow and decide that you want to quit, i will love you. even if you decide to walk away from it all, i will love you. because at the end of the day, it’s not the trophies that matter or the podiums. it’s you. you, you, you! your happiness, your peace of mind. you are my greatest achievement; you are my championship win. and i will love you until my heart beats its last pump of blood.”
if you look closely, you can see me drowning in the shower-
a million kisses are shared that night before the two of you finally slip into a steady sleep
when the next morning rolls around, heeseung doesn’t talk much as he gets himself ready for the race
you’re a bundle of nerves as you follow behind him, hand clutched in his own
pre race cuddles are a must in his little rest room
there’s not much talking, heeseung quite likes his silence to gather his mind and enter his racing headspace
but his hold on you, and the way he looks at you speaks for itself. you don’t need his words to know that he loves you and he wants to win not only for himself or red bull, but you.
“if we win this, i’ll give you my helmet to sell on ebay. i think it would go nicely with the signature i gave you at 15.”
your heart quite literally melts into a puddle at the memory
you grin, peppering a bunch of kisses all over his face until you finally land on his lips, soaking in the pre race nerves and savouring the taste of nutella from his pancakes he had that morning
“oh, i am going to be absolutely loaded.”
the two of you share a laugh, knowing silently that you’d never sell it on ebay because it’s tucked away in your memory box, where it will stay until you’re grey and old
a piece of the past where the two of you very first met
the peace drains from the room as though a plug had been pulled from the bathtub, with tension and nerves flooding in
look at me getting all poetic 😌
heeseung doesn’t let go of your hand until he absolutely has to
leaving you alongside his family members with a kiss so passionate it left your mind reeling
his mother grabs your hand after sharing her own moment with him, and the two of you hold on tight to the hope that he’s going to win
the race is tense, you’re almost in tears from the chaos and the nerves
your heart feels like it’s seconds from stopping as the end to the final lap approaches with heeseung in close second
he’s going to overtake, and you’re not quite sure whether your heart could handle it
STOP WHY IS MY HEART POUNDING AS IF IM THERE PLS
you grip onto his mother, the two of you holding onto each other in anticipation
it happens within seconds, you barely have time to process it
heeseung overtakes, barely missing the Ferrari car as he does so
several seconds later, your world stops as the red bull team bursts into celebration
someone is shaking you, gripping onto you with pure elation but everything is in slow motion
heeseung just won the world championship
your heeseung just won
nah because why am i crying? someone take my laptop i’m far too into this
you choke out a sob, allowing his mother to cradle you in her arms with tears flowing down her own cheeks
you’re a crying mess, blubbering proudly and unable to make sense of anything
you don’t even care that the camera is on you, displaying your reaction for everyone to see
“he did it!”
“he absolutely did!”
you don’t know how much time has passed before he’s running towards you, yanking the helmet off
there’s no time to process anything before he sweeps you up into his arms, pressing kisses all over your skin wherever his lips could fit
he holds you like you’re the trophy, lifting you up proudly like a medal
tears cascade down your cheeks like a summer waterfall, while warmth and joy spread through you
he did it. he actually did it.
“get that helmet signed, boy. i’m gonna be rich!”
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boorines · 11 months ago
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what pet names (if any) do you think the svt members would use? ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
this is such a cute ask ahh!! sorry it took literal ages to get to, i’ve had the worst case of writer’s block and i’m slowly working through my reqs!
-
Pet names seventeen would call you
SEUNGCHEOL
doll. you’re his world and he’d spoil you to no end. every thing you’d want would become yours and you’d never have to lift a finger. he’d dote on you so much and all he’d expect in return is your love, you’d be his lovely doll.
“look at what i got, doll. you like it? do you think it’s pretty? it’s for you”
JEONGHAN
angel. of course, the angel needs his twin flame. you’d be his angel and his partner in crime. you both have your mischievous, devilish streaks too, so the nickname would be perfect. to him you’re angelic and could do no wrong, even when you’ve baked a cake but won’t let him touch it yet.
“angel, you’re being so mean. just one look? i promise i won’t take a bite”
JOSHUA
love. simple and sweet. he prefers to use ‘love’ because it’s exactly what he feels for you and he wants you to know it, remember it all the time. you’re his love and he wants to shower you in it as much as he can.
“mm, i’ll be there in 10. of course, love, i’ll pick it up for you, i love you, too”
JUN
beautiful. jun is in awe of you. you’re breathtaking to him and he’s going to make sure you know it. he’d call you beautiful so often it becomes a nickname for you. neither of you realise when it happens until you’re being called beautiful for the 5th time in the day.
“there’s a fresh towel on the bed for you, beautiful. you don’t need to find a new one”
SOONYOUNG
babe. simple but sweet. he also uses your name often, he says it softly and gently, like it’s his favorite word. he’ll still follow up with a ‘babe’, though. and if he’s within arm’s distance of you he’s definitely punctuating his sentence with a squeeze of your hand or waist.
“babe, we can do the laundry later, it’s so warm in bed, stay just 5 more minutes? please…”
WONWOO
pretty. to wonwoo, you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen. it comes so naturally to him, especially when you are the embodiment of the word in his eyes. you could be sat on the couch flicking through apps mindlessly when you’ll hear him call for you. whether it’s to ask for help or just for the sake of having your attention on him.
“want to play a couple of games later, pretty? or watch a movie? what are you feeling?”
JIHOON
your name. jihoon has a way with words, he pours meaning into every single one he speaks. so to him nothing comes close to the love and meaning he puts into saying your name. it would be tender and loving and it would be yours.
“do they fit well, does it pinch at your ankle? they’re very pretty, ____. i’ll get them for you”
MINGHAO
gorgeous. an almost sensual nickname that rolls off his tongue so easily. it shows just how lucky he feels to have you and it makes your cheeks heat up every time you hear it. he particularly loves seeing you flustered when he springs it on you when you least expect it.
“you’re at lunch with your friends today, right? need me to drop you and pick you up after, gorgeous?”
MINGYU
baby. a classic name for a hopeless romantic. something about you being his baby makes him melt and he just can’t get enough of saying it. you feel so cherished when he uses it and he loves the rush of warmth and pride he gets calling you it. often comes with a sudden back hug, maybe even a pout if he’s wanting your attention.
“please, baby, can we watch just one more episode. it’s only 2am… baby…”
SEOKMIN
buttercup. this is SO seokmin. you’re delicate and pretty like a flower to him. and combined with the fact that he’d love being called sunshine or honey? you both are so sunny and bright together.
“i found them! i found the keys, oh my god they were under the cabinet, buttercup. can you believe that?”
SEUNGKWAN
my sweetheart. seungkwan would use ‘my’ a lot, he would love the intimacy as well as the slight possessiveness that comes with the word. my love, my darling, etc. he’d be a sucker for calling you his and showing you off to everyone that way.
“you’re always the most beautiful in the room. let me introduce you to everyone, my sweetheart, hm?”
VERNON
babe. also keeps it simple. he’s more about subtle affection and wants his actions to speak louder than his words. a soft ‘babe’ accompanied by a gentle tap on your knee to wake you up when you doze off on the sofa, another call while he wordlessly points out something on his phone. he’s all about showing, not telling.
“babe, how many eggs should i put in for two ramen packs?”
CHAN
darling. he’s so affectionate with you it’s unbelievable. while he isn’t one for over the top romance, his affection comes through in so many other ways. when he wordlessly refills glasses of water for you throughout the day or throws a towel in the dryer so it’s nice and warm for you after your shower.
“i’ll tidy up, darling. you get ready for bed, yeah?”
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mayrose713 · 21 days ago
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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 14
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Series Masterlist | Previous | Next
ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI
Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed
I'm still writing I promise. My great grandma is okay so I'm not going back to where I grew up for now. I am having to work everyday until Christmas at the moment but managed to finish this chapter today after I had taken some time getting my thoughts for another story out. Sometimes starting on another fic that I have in my head helps me with my writers block for my original fics so look forward to a new one eventually after I have finished this.
Enjoy this long waited chapter
Chapter 14
“Alright baby girl.” Chan holds Y/n’s hand as they walk down the street of shops. “Let’s get you some swimsuits.”
Seungmin grabs the door of one of the shops and holds it open for the two as they walk in. The omega looks around seeing it’s specifically a swimsuit shop and immediately becomes a bit overwhelmed at all the options. Of course most of them are bikinis which she frowns at being unsure about showing off so much skin. 
“You okay?” Seungmin grabs her other hand, having smelled her scent sour a little.
“Yeah.” She whispers with a small nod still looking around her.
“Baby.” Seungmin frowns and steps directly in front of her so she would look at him. “You get whatever suits you are comfortable with.”
“It is why we’re the ones taking you.” Chan squeezes her hand. “We’re the two that won't try and convince you to get a bikini if you don’t wanna.”
“Thank you.” She whispers again smiling at both of them before letting go of their hands to start looking around the store.
She starts off looking at some of the one pieces as well as tankinis and grabs a few of them to try on. She also grabs a few pairs of some female swim trunks. 
“I’m gonna try these on.” Y/n walks away from them to the dressing room and they follow to sit in the waiting area outside of the rooms.
Chan sighs as they sit down in the chairs. “She doesn’t like this.”
“Shopping in general or for swimsuits?” Seungmin asks.
“I think for swimsuits.” The alpha looks at his younger mate. “Felix said she doesn’t really know how to swim meaning she probably didn’t go to the beach or pool much.”
“I can understand if she’s uncomfortable showing so much skin around us.” Seungmin thinks about it but shakes his head. “But Hyunjin said she went skinny dipping with Lix last night.”
Chan looks at the beta a bit shocked but then thinks about it for a second. “It makes sense actually.”
“How?” Seungmin furrows his brows. 
“Lixie is the most omega-like beta any of us has ever met.” Chan sighs. “She’s the most comfortable with him because of it, has been since the moment we met her. It was him she asked to sit in the bathroom with her during her bath after her dry heat. I honestly think if our pack didn’t have any alphas she would have wanted him to claim her first.”
“Well he was the first of the rest of us to do so.” Seungmin gives a small smile and Chan looks shocked again as he didn’t know about this. “Lix and I shared a room last night. I noticed the new bite mark on his neck. And I confirmed it when I saw Y/n this morning.”
“I’m just glad they have each other.” The alpha sits back in the chair. “I don’t know if you had noticed but Lixie hadn’t seem quite like himself before we found Y/n”
“I did.” Seungmin mumbles. “I think we all noticed.” He glances back towards the dressing rooms to see if there's any sign of the omega coming back out again and sighs when there isn’t. “He’s really perked up with her around. Jisung too.”
“All of you have.” Chan looks at him lovingly and reaches over, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know you and Hyunjin were against her at first but the moment her dry heat kicked in you stepped up more than I ever would have thought. I haven’t seen you like that with anyone other than Lixie and Ji.”
Before the beta could say anything else Y/n walks out of one of the rooms, placing most of the swimsuits on the rack of put backs but holds a few as she joins them. “I’m done.”
“Great.” Chan stands up taking the items from the girl. “I’ll take these and check them out then we can go get ice cream or something. Why don’t you two look up what's nearby.”
After Chan walks away Seungmin gently grabs her chin to look at him. “What’s wrong pup?”
“Nothing.” She tries to brush him off but he doesn’t let her.
“I’m not going to ask again, Y/n.” He gets stern. 
The omega looks down sad and he pulls her to his chest as she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”
“What's wrong Y/n?”
“A lot.” She whispers into his shoulder causing him to turn his head a bit to hear her better. “I’ve just had a feeling since this morning that somethings gonna happen. Something bad.”
“It’s probably just your anxiety, baby.” He whispers back to her, rubbing her back. “You’re in a new place, doing things that you aren’t used to so you’re on edge.”
“Maybe.” She sighs into his neck taking in his scent. 
“What else is bothering you?” Seungmin asks and he feels her huff against him for how he’s so observant. “It isn’t just today, yesterday too, after we had gotten to the house. You seemed so happy and excited at first but it changed after Min and Lixie went to the store.”
“It’s stupid.” She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let her. “Minnie.”
“Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He reassures her. “Tell me.”
Y/n sighs again. “Innie told me that everyone shared rooms while here which you all think helps the pack bonding and strengthens your relationship. But…”
“We get here and place you in your own room.” He sighs. “You feel excluded.”
She nods her head and feels him tighten his hold on her. “I get that at home I had mostly been sleeping in my room but the night before we left I slept in Minho’s bed with him and Jisung and I really enjoyed it.”
“So when Innie told you we all shared, you were looking forward to it.” He lays his head against hers. 
“Yeah.” 
“Why didn’t you ask if you could sleep with two of us?” He hates her feeling like this. “Or ask one of us to sleep in your room with you? I would have. And you know Lix would in a heartbeat.”
“I don’t know.” She grabs the back of his shirt. 
“You were scared we would deny you? Especially after putting you in your own room.” Seungmin quickly realizes and his heart breaks. “Baby, I promise you we would never.”
“I know, I’m trying to get used to that.” She pulls away to look up at him.
“You’re just so used to it that your brain isn’t letting you.” He pokes her head a little, making her give a small smile. “But we’ll fix that. Starting with me sleeping in your room tonight.”
“You don’t have to Minnie.”
“I want to.”
After checking out, Chan notices his mates embracing, causing him to smile. But he quickly realizes that something is wrong based on how Seungmin is holding Y/n and gets worried. 
“What happened?” He asks once he walks over to them and they both turn to look at their alpha as he tries to assess the situation. 
The beta looks at Y/n for a second before turning Chan. “Everything’s okay, just some anxiety.”
Chan looks at both of them for a moment and accepts that answer and rubs both of their arms. “Okay. Do you want to continue and go get something sweet or head back to the house?”
“No, we can go wherever.” The omega doesn’t want to ruin their date. “Minnie helped.”
“You sure?” He checks to make sure there wasn’t any doubt and that she’s okay. When he doesn’t see sign of any and she nods he takes her hand. “Alright, let's go find what's around that has something sweet to eat.”
“I’m sure the ice cream and pastry shop is still here from last time.” Seungmin takes his phone out of his pocket to double check. “Yup, it’s still there.”
“Then let’s go.” 
Chan leads the two along behind him, still holding the shopping bag as they walk out of the store and head towards the little dessert shop. The smell of fresh baked goods hits them the moment they walk in making Y/n eyes widen at the amount of options to choose from.
“Well we know you like chocolate since you enjoyed Felix’s brownies.” Seungmin grabbed her hand. “Do you want ice cream or do you want a pastry?”
“Or both?” The alpha chimes in.
“I think just ice cream.” She mumbles and they bring her over to the glass of all the ice cream flavors. 
The amount of flavors to choose from overwhelms her as she looks at all of it, shocked to see so many. Y/n’s been used to only chocolate or vanilla. 
“What flavor are you thinking?” Seungmin squeezes her hand. 
“Just chocolate.” 
The two males glance at each other in concern by her mood. 
Chan looks around and the little parlor is pretty much empty. 
“Why don’t you grab us a table and we’ll order.” He smiles at her and she tenses up. “It’s okay baby, there’s practically no one in here and we can see everything so you aren’t exactly alone. We won’t let anything happen.” 
She nods before letting go of their hands and goes to grab a table while they wait for the worker to finish the persons in front of them order before it’s their turn. 
“What’s going on Minnie?” Chan finally asks the beta after Y/n is out of hearing range, wrapping an arm around the younger to bring him into his side. 
Seungmin's sighs before look up at the older male. “She feels she’s being excluded being in her own room. And didn’t want to ask to sleep with any of us last night or have any of us with her because she was scared of being denied.” 
“We would never deny her like that.” 
“I know.” Seungmin reassures. “And I think deep down she does too. She's just so used to it that she still fears it.”
“Eventually she’ll no longer be afraid.”
The two ordered once it was their turn. Y/n sits at a table nearby watching the two when she notices someone walking past the shop outside. She didn’t fully get to see them but she could have sworn it was her cousin. She tries not to freak out as she had always gotten along with her cousins fairly well and just assumes that maybe he has a tournament on the island this week. 
“One chocolate ice cream.” Chan sets the cup in front of her, making her turn back to them and smile as they too sit down at the table. 
She scoops up a small bite on her spoon before licking it and her eyes widen. “Oh my god, this is so good.” 
The two males smile and give a small chuckle at her. 
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆
“Lix has already fallen asleep between Changbin and Hyunjin in one of the beds so I don’t have to worry about him sleeping alone.” Seungmin walks into the omega’s temporary room seeing her on her phone. “I’m all yours tonight.” 
“Wanna watch a movie?” She puts her phone down and he grabs the remote off the dresser below the tv. 
“What movie were you thinking?” He joins her on the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them wanting her to move closer when she’s ready. 
“You pick.”
He gives her a bit of an evil smirk before searching for a horror movie deciding on The Conjuring and turns it on. He smiles more as she scoots closer to him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders so she can rest her head on his chest and protect her when she gets scared. 
He’s shocked when halfway through the movie instead of jumping at the jump scares or hiding farther into his chest during some of the scary parts, she’s laughing or just relaxed against him. 
“Are you not scared?” Seungmin looks down at her and she gazes up at him shaking her head. 
“No, not really a scary movie.” He gaps at her, making her laugh. “I’ve seen a lot of horror movies, Minnie, this doesn’t scare me.” 
“Of course you wouldn’t be scared of horror movies.” The beta laughs pulling her closer to him. “Ruining my plans of trying to have you cuddle up to me scared.”
“I’m still cuddled up to you.” She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I’m just not scared.”
Seungmin gazes down at his omega for a moment before leaning down, kissing her forehead then they both turn back to the movie. Once the credits roll he realizes that Y/n has fallen asleep and can’t help but to laugh that she’s even able to fall asleep during a horror movie. 
“She asleep?” Chan asks, causing Seungmin to look up at the doorway to see the two oldest alphas. 
“Yeah, fell asleep a bit ago.” 
They both turn to look at the tv to see what they were watching as it goes back to the choosing menu. 
“Did you seriously make her watch The Conjuring?” Chan gives the beta a bit of a disappointing look. 
“Hey, she wasn’t even scared, in fact she laughed during it.” 
“And she fell asleep during it?” Minho looks at Y/n with a smile. “That’s my girl.” 
“Only we would end up with an omega who isn’t scared during horror movies like Minho.” Seungmin jokes. 
“You’re just grouchy that your plan backfired on you.” Minho winks at him before walking away.
Chan shakes his head with a sigh before looking at the two once again. “Night Minnie.”
“Night hyung.” 
______________________________________________________________
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runa-falls · 1 year ago
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reciprocation
Tumblr media
part 1 | part 3
pairing: best friend!steven grant x reader
cw: smut (18+), fwb relationship, PWP, face sitting, mutual-pining but their idiots so..., 69, cumming untouched, cum eating.
w/c: 3.4k of SMUT AHHH
a/n: ignore how this is suddenly typed with capital letters :0. THIS ONE IS FOR MY FAVORITE STEVEN ANON WITH THE 69 REQUEST FROM A MONTH AGO -- i'm sorry it took so long 🫠
also special shout out for @whatthefishh for reading over it like half-a-month ago 😭🙏🏻 i was going through a major writers block :^)
masterlist
----
“Are you sure about this?” You watch him warily from a few feet away, shifting from side to side.
Steven is laid back on the bed patiently waiting for you, hair fluffy and soft under him. You can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now, eager to start. 
His voice is soft as he appraises the timid energy surrounding you, “I’m sure. I want it–you. I promise.” For once, Steven seems to be the least nervous between the two of you. You're not used to him being in charge or even initiating anything remotely affectionate, let alone sexual. “Do…you?”
You can already see the prominent outline of his erection pressing sweetly against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. No matter how loose and comfortable he dresses, he can never manage to hide his need for you. 
“I do, but I just… don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You wring your hands together, still unsure if you should approach him. 
Steven looks at you with trusting eyes, “You won’t hurt me, darling.” His comforting words help you relax a little, almost making you forget what you agreed to, what you’re so apprehensive to attempt. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you closer and guide you onto his lap.
His voice lowers as desire drips from his lips, “Though, even if you did,” His dark eyes look up to meet yours, pure need bleeding through the gaze. You eagerly drink it in, body buzzing on top of him with flustered energy. “I think I’d be okay with it…” Your breath hitches.
You know it’s true. Steven has never shied away from pain; he even invites it in the heat of the moment. He likes to be under your control, letting you use his body to drive him crazy, even if it means teasing and denying him until he’s sobbing under you.
He loves seeing the possessive marks you leave when he wakes up in the morning, fingers ghosting over them as the night before replays in his mind, or feeling the residual sting of scratches down his torso when he takes a shower, letting the warm water draw out the sensations until he’s hard and aching for you again, and he has to seek you out, hoping you'll notice him.
You regularly get carried away, so desperate to have all of him, that you don’t even realize how intensely you devour his eagerness to please you. But Steven is more than happy to indulge your hungry advances.
He especially loves it when you soothe him after, lightly kissing each bruise and mark as you whisper sweet words, apologizing for how rough you got.
He takes it with a shy smile, basking in your affections and your gentle touch, sighing as he’s surrounded by your energy, by your undivided attention. 
Sometimes he likes to pretend like you're his, like you're doing this because you love him, not because you think you're being a good friend.
It's not hard for him to imagine it when he closes his eyes, especially when you're moaning around his cock or grabbing his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss.
But when it's all over, when he's pulling his jeans back on -- still thrumming with heat -- the spell breaks and you go back to being just friends.
Now, he's going to pleasure you. Make you feel the euphoria of his mouth, so you'll want him just as much as he wants you. This is his form of reciprocation for all the favors you've given him. And he hopes it will convince you that he'd be a good lover for you. That you could be more than just friends with him.
He lets out a hushed, “Please,” as he leans into you, enticing you to follow him and capture his lips hungrily.
Steven knows exactly what he’s doing when he uses that tone, that soft shade of himself that can bring you to your knees even when he’s falling apart harder and faster than you are. 
You moan against his pouty lips, feeling the softness, his gentle press, you pull him closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He lets you have control over him, merely following you as you slide your tongue against his, delicately tasting you, tenderly holding you by your waist.
Steven is always gentle with you, no matter how clouded his mind gets during these heated moments, no matter how lost in pleasure he gets or how desperately he needs you, he always handles you with delicate care.
You nip at his bottom lip, drinking in his soft mewl as you start to roll your hips against him. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you more insistently against him, letting you feel how desperately he needs you.
His lips are pink and plump when you pull away, parted ever so slightly as he stares between your bodies, working your body over him. His eyes are glazed as he cants his hips to chase the exquisite feeling of your soft center against him.
You tease him, lifting yourself just enough that he can’t grind himself against you. He whines when he can’t feel you anymore, gripping your waist with frustration.
“Love, please!”
You break the kiss and climb off of him, appreciating how ruined he looks from a few kisses and light grinding. He huffs out a breath in frustration, hands fisting with the need to touch you. To have you close.
You stand next to the bed, hair in disarray, fiddling with the hem of your large shirt to garner his attention. His bronze gaze soaks over you, flashing dark when it meets the short hem of your pajama bottoms.
“Your shorts, p-please, take them off.” It’s not a demand, Steven doesn’t make demands, it’s a request, a plea, one that you’ve heard time and time again, and have seldom refused. 
Your fingers find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down until they’re pulled the rest of the way off with the help of gravity. A breathy sigh can be heard under you when you step away from the pooled clothing, leaving you in an oversized t-shirt that barely brushes at the top of your thighs. 
It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time – he’s always like this.
His eyes sparkle as you shuffle closer to the bed. “Come’ere, darling.” He pats his chest, “Right here.” You timidly crawl over him, delicately straddling his chest, legs parted just above his ribs. Your knees pull in towards each other, trying to hide what your shirt can’t cover, but you don’t get far before warm fingers pry you apart. 
“Show me.” It’s a bare whisper, as light as his touch gliding over the outer sides of your legs.
You reluctantly let yourself relax on him, hands gripping his soft shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Heat prickles under your skin as he cranes his neck to look at you, lashes nearly brushing the tops of his cheeks with how lustfully heavy his eyelids are. He takes that moment to breathe you in, devouring every inch of what you’re offering. 
His touch disappears from your thighs, and you hear quiet ruffling behind you, then a broken groan under you. You look over your shoulder and spot his hand pressing desperately against his covered hardness. 
“S-Steven…” He doesn’t stop his actions when he meets your eyes, utterly shameless with his need for you. 
“Beautiful.” 
His breaths become heavy, and his chest moves deliciously under you, right against your hot center. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, hoping to abate the intensifying sensations, but you can’t, his chest keeps you spread, open, and quivering just for his eyes. 
Steven is barely touching you, but even the slightest hint of pleasure has you craving him.
You can’t help but close your eyes as you subtly shift over him, drinking in his soft grunts as he continues to touch himself under you. It makes you throb with heat. 
Steven watches you suck your lip into your mouth to hold in wanton moans as you experimentally slide against his firm chest, hands pressing into him to support your movements.
Your initial timidness crumbles as you roll your hips over him again and your head tilts back as you begin to lose yourself in the way your clit presses so perfectly against him.
Steven’s gentle voice cuts through the carnal fog infesting your brain and pulls you back to reality. “Sit up higher for me.” His hands are back on you, urging you to scoot up. “Let me taste you – L-let me fuck you with my tongue.” You press your dripping center to his shirt-covered torso with a soft moan, feeling the small spot right in between his ribs where you’ve soaked through. “Please, baby?”
You nod wordlessly, letting him guide your body until you’re hovering over his face. Your body shivers as you feel his warm breath brush against your center. 
It’s a bit daunting looking at Steven from here. His face is nestled right in between your thighs – which is not an unusual sight – but this time you are on top. You can barely see his eyes since your shirt is so big it practically drapes over half of his face. What if you suffocate him or break his neck?
“Maybe… we should rethi-” A gasp falls from your lips as strong arms pull you down to his face. “Steven!-” Without hesitation, wet heat laps at the seam of your cunt, greedily dragging over any slick that threatens to drip down your inner thigh. 
Your words are effectively stuck in your throat as Steven begins to eagerly nip and suck at your softness, drawing out deep whines instead of coherent sentences. You can only hold on to the headboard to support yourself, holding back your urge to grind against his supple lips. 
You moan as Steven tentatively nudges against your entrance, laving his tongue over the sensitive opening just to tease you. When he finally pushes into you, you have to hold yourself back from grinding against him like you’re riding his cock. He licks and thrusts his tongue into you, humming at your taste as you drip over his lips, down his chin. 
Your hips uncontrollably buck against him as his tongue flicks at your clit. A hand drops into his hair, tugging frantically at the ends before pushing him further against you, begging – no, demanding for more. He gets the memo and focuses on your most sensitive bud, delicately suckling it until your thighs are trembling by his ears. 
A ball of heat quickly blooms in your lower stomach and flushes under your skin. Familiar sparks of energy thrum up your spine, enticing you to clench around nothingness with promises of unspoken bliss and ecstasy. 
Calloused fingers lift you away from the molten heat of his mouth just as you were reaching your climax. You’re gasping for a breath as Steven holds you back from toppling off the edge. 
You can feel it, his breath, barely ghosting a sigh over your center, and somehow, even that slightest brush of air has you pulsing helplessly over him. He’s breathing as hard as you are, mouth glossy and plump as he stares back up at you, face flushed, and eyes glazed. 
Utterly pussy-drunk. 
Your grip on the headboard tightens intensely and your eyes roll shut. You can’t stop it. 
A stilted cry rips from your throat as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you in full force, crashing over you like a wave. Steven can only watch, lips parted in awe, as you shatter completely untouched right above him.
His fingers grip harsh bruises into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself throb dangerously close to his own euphoric end. You moan harder at the tender marks he paints on your trembling legs. The sharp feeling travels up your legs and straight to your center.
His hands rub your thighs comfortingly, apologetically, before he starts to drag his tongue over your messy center with a hum, doting on you with kitten licks that make you shiver. 
He cleans you up slowly and methodically, making sure to avoid your most sensitive area. Your body still thrums from your unexpected and intense orgasm, and his soft licks quickly become too much, even with how light and sweet he is being. 
You lift yourself away from his tongue, “S-steven…no more. It’s too much!” 
“You can do it again, darling…” He coos, trying to pull you back down onto his mouth. “Just one more. For me, please?” 
You're head is fuzzy as you steady yourself on top of him, gripping the headboard tightly to ground yourself from the lingering sparks of mind-numbing pleasure.
Steven groans as he watches you struggle to get a grip.
“C-can’t. It’s too much…” You get off of his face and sit next to him on the bed, squeezing your legs together to suppress the bout of overstimulation that almost overtook your senses.
You look down at him when one of his hands wraps around your thigh and squeezes, a simple act indulgence that drives you crazy. Your lips part as you take in the view. 
Puffy lips and glassy eyes, blown out with lust, meet your stare, begging you to climb back on, but you're still shaking where you sit. He's drenched in your slick from his chin to his neck and the collar of his shirt is soaked through, sticking sweetly to his chest.
Your eyes drift down to his sweatpants, to the prominent bulge that throbs under your gaze. He palms himself, whining lightly at the feeling of his neediness and desperation. He's so hard, begging for your touch without even saying a word.
“Okay, now it's your turn.”
His shakes his head, “No, I want more.”
“Steven…”
“Please, I want to taste more of you."
"But--" Your eyes dip down to his covered erection that you've been neglecting all night.
"Just...come back, we can do it at the same time if you want.” 
Your face heats at the implication. You don’t know why you’re so coy, you just came right above his fact. You've just never seen Steven like this: so insistent and hungry.
“S-sure, ok.”
You whimper when he eagerly tugs you closer, urging you to straddle his face again. Careful to not knock your knee into his cheek, you swing your leg back over his body, but this time you situate yourself so you can take care of him at the same time.
He immediately dives back in, tongue thrusting into your sensitive channel before you're even settled on top of him. You falter and almost collapse over him, hand grasping at the bottom of his shirt for support.
"Steven! Gentle, please!" You groan out, eyes already threatening to roll back as he continues to drink you in. He hums in response, but doesn't actually let up, if anything, he becomes more insatiable, suckling every stimulus point until you're shaking above him.
You struggle against your pleasure to pull his sweats down, freeing his cock from the restraining fabric. Your mouth waters as his tip weeps for you, spilling silky precum with every breath he takes.
You've always loved Steven's cock. How responsive it is when your breath ghosts over it and how it desperately throbs for you as you swallow around him. How perfectly it fits in your mouth and how deep it can fuck your throat when he allows himself to let go.
Sucking his cock was the furthest you allowed yourself to go. You convinced yourself that these one-sided interactions would keep you from revealing your feelings, that you could deal with the friends-with-benefits bit if you didn't have an actual 'relationship'.
So you deemed actual sex as too intimate and barred letting him touch you (you just weren't sure you could handle it).
But then one thing led to another...
You failed to reject his soft kisses and couldn't resist marking him up like he's yours. And now here you are barely able to handle it as he fucks you with his tongue, hands gripping marks into your thighs as his nose nudges against your wet center.
You don't know if you could go back to just being friends when he's given you unfathomable pleasure. When he talked to you like this. Looked at you like this.
You're a mess and you're struggling to hold on to your original plan.
You try to block these thoughts from your mind as your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing it gently just to get a reaction out of him. He groans against your cunt, movements stuttered as your touch distracts him away from his task.
You unconsciously sit up on your knees and lift your hips off of his mouth to get closer to his cock. Steven barely notices, too focused on holding his orgasm off as you diligently taste him, one lick at a time.
You drag your tongue up his shaft, licking the precum that slowly cascades over his silken skin. You feel his body quake as you lave and kitten lick against his tip, gently coaxing shortened breaths and whimpers with every touch.
You dip down to engulf him into your hot mouth, enjoying the slick feeling of his cock gliding easily against your tongue and the top of your mouth.
His hands frantically latch onto your upper thighs, unintentionally pulling you back onto his mouth as he squeezes at the softness, desperately attempting to control himself.
He has to actively keep his hips from snapping against your face, you just feel so sublime, so soft and hot.
Steven cries against your cunt when he reaches the back of your throat. He can't help it when he feels you struggle to swallow around him, so tight, wet, and hot. He's just so sensitive -- especially when it comes to you.
You keep laving your tongue against the underside of his cock as you suck him in, ignoring the your jaw begins to ache as you open wide for him.
"Uhh!" His stomach tenses under you and he twitches against your tongue.
He can't be cumming already...right?
Fingers grip into your hair and you're suddenly pushed down, forced to take him down your throat. You choke slightly, eyes watering, before letting yourself relax against him.
He's lost in pleasure, grinding and thrusting his cock into your mouth like it's your cunt, shoving it deeper than you're usually comfortable with and you let him.
Steven spurts warmth at the back of your throat. You try your best to swallow it down before it dribbles from your mouth and makes a mess. He whimpers as he fully lets go, thighs tense and trembling under your touch.
He's still cumming when he tugs you back onto his mouth, feverishly lapping through your center before taking your clit between his lips. You orgasm explosively as he avidly sucks you in, already half-way there from the mere feeling of him spilling in your mouth.
Even after he has emptied himself, he continues to gently fuck your face, not yet ready to leave your warmth. His hips stutter and his breaths become uneven but he ignores the overstimulation, too attached to this closeness, to this illusion of mutual affection.
He also continues to lick you clean, despite your whines of discomfort. He lovingly places gentle kisses against your inner thigh, wishing he could stay in this position forever.
He huffs out disappointedly when you climb off of him, even tries to lock his arms around your legs to keep you there, but you were adamant to get away from his insatiable mouth.
"One more?"
You gape at him, "Steven, we already did 'one more'." You shiver, suddenly cold without his body against yours. "What has gotten into you? I've never seen you so...horny before."
He looks at you sheepishly, "I dunno. I guess, once I got a taste I wanted more." He sits up, hand wiping your slick off his face. "How 'bout later?"
"You're already thinking about later?"
He nods, "I'm always thinking about you."
Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as blood heats your face. You try to ignore it. Try not to look directly at him. Try to pretend like he didn't just say that because he probably doesn't even understand the impact that his words have on you.
He's always thinking about your favors. That's it.
"Later, then."
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ataleofcrowns · 4 months ago
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Patreon Announcement/Sort of Update
I've already posted this on my Patreon, but I'm posting it here as well for transparency's sake!
Work on CH12 has been absolutely tormenting me for the past year and I think, aside from personal circumstances, part of the reason is because I'm having Patreon Content Fatigue. You know, in case the increasingly erratic uploads and me running out of ideas for snippets weren't making that obvious 😭
So I've decided September (and potentially also October/November depending on how long it takes for CH12 to get finished) I'm going to focus solely on working on CH12. Instead of new character or romance snippets, I will be releasing previews and sneak peeks for CH12 every couple of days as I work on writing for it. I'll be aiming to post at least 2 previews every week, and they'll be available for all tiers. Hopefully that will also help me get some updates out for you guys on how progress is going!
After CH12 has been finished I may need to reassess how I'm handling the bonus snippet thing. I will still be writing them, of course, but at a certain point it's starting to feel like I'm just forcing it, and I want to avoid falling into that type of burnout as much as possible.
Of course, for those who want to pledge to my Patreon, you will still gain access to all the existing snippets for your tier, that won't change! You just won't see any new ones for a while and in exchange you will get CH12 previews instead. Possibly even for CH13/14 as well, since sometimes I write a scene and decide it doesn't fit in the current chapter, and save it for a future chapter instead.
I'm hoping this will take off some of the pressure that's causing my writer's block.
I apologize for what a long wait it has been, and I thank you so much for all your patience, your support, and your understanding while I try and defeat CH12 💖
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mecub · 9 months ago
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It is past 1am and I am thinking about @somerandomdudelmao’s Marble Sky, and this lightly bonked my writers block on the head for long enough that I wrote a little thing.
The world is green. Green, bleeding from the lights and from his insides and from the space where—
Ward wakes up shaking, crumpled on the floor like an old paper someone couldn’t be bothered to throw away. 
The world. Is green. Green and pretty, green with plants and vines, but for a moment something inside of him screams like something’s clamped over his mouth and his blood is burning and—
But it’s not green like that. Here, the green isn’t the immediate threat. The threat is one of them, bigger than him and probably put there to make sure he doesn’t try to escape.
“Oh. You aren’t dead,” the alien says.
That’s… not reassuring. But also not the threat he’d been expecting?
“Are you by any chance one of the talking ones?”
Something is wrong. Everything is blurry, and when he goes to rub his eyes, he finds gauze and okay, that. That is going to be a problem for later. Once he’s safe. Once he can let panic overwhelm him without the lack of attention putting him at risk of—
“I am,” he says.
“Cool. So they found another civilization to destroy. Hungry?”
Them. Like this alien, this alien who looks so much like them, doesn’t trust them. 
It’s ridiculous, but at this point? Ward just wishes he could’ve just been thrown in a normal prison cell. Just one normal, reasonable thing that made sense would’ve been nice. And yet, he’s sitting in vegetable prison with someone who might be an ally but is also probably very much not anyone Ward can trust. How does someone even end up in vegetable prison?
“What’s with all these greens?” he asks, because he can’t just demand answers. “Are you in jail for being the only vegetarian here or something?”
Good ole sarcasm. A great way to be eaten by aliens! Hey, maybe they consider humans a vegetable.
“You’re radiating negative energy at me.”
No shit. “Wanna guess why?”
“Hey, I’m not with those— Wait!”
Uh oh.
“You said greens! You know what color is?”
Um?
“You must have eyes!” And then the alien moves towards him, without a second thought, like they know anything he does, running away or fighting or yelling for help, won’t do anything. Ward flinches away from their outstretched hand. 
(An outstretched hand, moving towards his neck, slicing him open like the specimen he was. An outstretched hand, with his blood on it, and he couldn’t move couldn’t fight it couldn’t—)
“Yes. So?” he snaps.
“Can I touch you?”
“Wh— No.” No.
“Please,” the alien says, “I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
Ward… could try saying no again. He could try to move away, try to talk about this, try to save himself from whatever’s going to happen. He wants to, he really wants to.
But. Sculptor didn’t listen, didn’t care, he just cut into him with a smile. And this one is larger than him, and they said they wouldn’t hurt him, they swore it, they asked for a favor, they look desperate, so maybe, maybe he’ll be safe. Maybe this will keep the alien from dropping whatever this act of an ally is.
The world is green, and Ward reaches out a hand and says, “Here. Happy?”
And the alien reaches out a hand and— 
And lightly touches his. Gently. 
The world is green. And in the middle of it is someone who looks a lot like him.
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zukosdualdao · 4 months ago
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so, this post was originally born from a post i saw a couple of months ago that was deriding people for criticizing katara’s main role in lok being a healer when that was never all she wanted to do but liking the scene where she heals zuko in sozin's comet. at the time i thought about responding directly and decided against it, but i have since scanned through transcripts of every instance (i could find; it's possible i could be missing something) of katara healing someone in the show and how they respond. (you know, like a normal and well-adjusted individual. lmao.)
anyway, aside from katara explicitly stating that she doesn’t only want to be a healer, another aspect of why people don’t like that this is how her story goes in lok is because of the way healing is treated in the atla narrative.
Katara: Aang, you're burned! Let me help you. [Katara heals the burn on Aang's arm.] Aang: Wow, that's good water. Sokka: When did you learn that? Katara: I guess I always knew. Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Oh ... Well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the greaseberry bramble. [Angrily.] Or that time I had two fishhooks in my thumb!
this comes, of course, after aang accidentally burns katara and she learns she can heal through her waterbending by healing her own hands. then (after comforting aang despite being the one who got hurt, not that i'm bitter), she heals aang after he gets burned in his fight with zhao. and like... there's not so much as a cursory thanks in this scene.
to be clear, because i can already hear some responses in my head and i am making a preemptive strike: i'm not saying that when other characters don't thank katara for her healing, they're like, the worst people ever for not doing so or there aren't other ways at different times where they show their appreciation. what i am saying is that it feels like this sets up a long pattern of katara's healing specifically being taken for granted, and it makes me especially uncomfortable when i see her healing as a sort of metaphorical parallel to the emotional labor often expected of her in the show, especially because this and being The Avatar's Girlfriend/Wife is more or less what she's relegated to in post-canon.
also, i have to note sokka's line here. i don't want to come down on him too hard for this, because it's obviously being written humorously (and does genuinely make me laugh, for what it's worth, if just for the inherent ridiculous nature of two fishhooks), but his sarcastically saying thanks for all the help over the years when katara says she always knew (which is supposed to be her saying it just somehow instinctively came to her) does feel like another mark in this pattern. but i also really read this as sokka trying to lighten the mood after a Difficult (TM) day, so i cut both him and the writers some slack for it.
Meanwhile, back at the Outer Wall, Katara attempts to heal a member of the Terra Team. General Sung: What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured. Katara: His chi is blocked. [Stops healing.] Who did this to you?
i find it interesting that katara has sort of naturally fallen into a token team healer role, to the degree that we don't even see them ask for her help or her agree to it; it's just automatically assumed that she will. and i mean, on the one hand, it's fairly standard to have an Assumed Healer in a fantasy action setting like this, where people will get hurt in combat and therefore the narrative needs someone whose job is to help them. the problem for me is that the show kicked up such a fuss about how women shouldn't just be allowed to be healers, and yet it's still the role no one but katara ever fills. aang is also a waterbender! why couldn't she have taught him healing, too? i genuinely think it would have added a lot to the story, but katara is The Girl (TM), so healing is what she (and only she) does, what's expected of her, and again, with very rare thanks for it.
Katara stares open-mouthed at Jet, her hands hovering near her mouth in shock. Snapping out of it, she withdraws water from her water skin, with which she covers her hands, and it begins to glow as she kneels down next to him. Cut to a shot from over her shoulder, with Jet glancing at her while she rubs her hands over his chest in an attempt to heal him. After rubbing his chest three times, the glow fades, the water stains Jet's clothing, and Katara looks back over her shoulder toward the rest of the group. Katara: This isn't good. Smellerbee: You guys go and find Appa. We'll take care of Jet. Katara: We're not going to leave you. Longshot: There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader. They stare at Longshot in surprise. Jet: Don't worry, Katara. I'll be fine. [Smiles a little.]
Cut to a closer shot of Katara placing Aang's body on Appa. Katara opens the vial around her neck and uses water healing on Aang's wounded back. The rest of Team Avatar, Kuei, and Bosco all look sadly and in anticipation. The glowing from the spirit water stops, and Katara starts crying, assuming that it was not enough to save Aang. Aang's tattoos glow for a second and Aang groans. Katara, overcome with joy that Aang is alive, looks at him, who smiles a little, and she holds him closer.
writing about these together because i have less to say about them. i'm definitely not going to fault jet for not thanking katara when she tries to heal him as he literally lay dying, or aang for not having the mind to do so after she brings him back. but i am still going to fault the narrative for putting her in a position where healing is just inherently expected from her and yet very rarely allowing her to feel the emotional toll of that or to feel constricted by it. and when she does struggle against the weight of it (not necessarily of being a healer, but of being expected to be kind and good and uncomplicated with no room for other aspects of her identity, which are very tangled up in why she is The Healer) in episodes like the runaway or in the southern raiders, she just... does not receive a lot of support from the people she should be most able to rely on.
Katara: Maybe we should go upstairs. [Helping Aang up.] You need a healing session. Back in Aang's room on the ship. Katara bends some water onto the scar left by Azula's lightning attack. Katara: Tell me where the pain feels most intense. Aang: Mmm, a little higher. Uhhh! Aang briefly flashes back to the battle at Old Ba Sing Se where he rose into the Avatar State, then back to reality. Aang: Wow, you're definitely in the right area there.
not much to say here, it's just another instance where it would have been so easy to slip one thank you in, and the writers just... do not. the reason i think it bothers me so much with aang specifically is because katara is supposed to be both aang's physical healer and his emotional crutch in a way that she's not written as being for, say, toph or sokka. he's sometimes shown appreciation for her emotional support, but he still comes to rely on and expect it in ways that do not always feel healthy, and knowing that, it bothers me that he shows even less appreciation for her healing, because it's just what katara is there for.
A figure resembling the Painted Lady glides over the water on a carpet of fog and enters the village. She steps into a hut where several people are sleeping on the floor, and bends over each of them in turn, healing them with a blue glow. Her last patient is the mother of the little boy seen earlier, her son sleeping at her side. He wakes as the Painted Lady turns to go and silently follows her out the door. Little boy: Thank you, Painted Lady.
this is a genuinely sweet scene in which katara does receive appreciation and genuine thanks for her healing, but i think it's also worth noting that katara is not being recognized as herself here. still, i am genuinely very glad that it's included in the episode because (again, unless i am missing something) it is the first time katara gets thanked for her healing.
The scene cuts to show Appa landing on the edge of the battlefield. Sokka and Katara help Hakoda onto the ground, and Katara starts trying to heal him. Katara: How does that feel, Dad? Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster?
they're in a high intensity situation, and sokka is Stressed because hakoda is supposed to lead the mission, so i, like, Get It, but "can't you heal him any faster?" does strike me as another moment in which katara's healing is being taken for granted. i think it's something that would bother me a lot less if this was an isolated incident in the writing, but *gestures vaguely at whole post*.
Sokka: [Brightening.] Dad! [Rising and approaching the two.] You're on your feet again. Hakoda: [Sitting down; somewhat weakly.] Thanks to your sister.
that being said, in the next hakoda and katara scene, there is this very sweet moment, where hakoda might not be thanking katara directly but is showing a lot of appreciation and admiration for her skill in healing (and though she's not in the dialogue i included, she's around to hear it, which makes me happy.)
Katara: It's gonna take a while for your feet to get better. [Stops healing.] I wish I could have worked on them sooner. Toph: Yeah, me too.
once again, i'm not gonna fault toph for wishing katara could have healed her feet sooner, because she's been in pain all night, but the writers could have very easily (as they could have in any of these scenes!) chosen to include a perfunctory 'thanks' here, and they just didn't. i know this is getting repetitive, but i swear it's because it's largely more me being mad at the writers than the characters, lmao.
there are also a couple of scenes in which katara doesn't heal anyone, but her healing gets brought up by aang.
Aang: He doesn't look sick. You okay, buddy? [Appa groans and Aang pulls out Appa's purple tongue.] His tongue is purple! That can't be good. Katara, can you heal him?
to be fair, aang asks here, and it's not like aang gets defensive or angry when katara says appa needs medicine (and also to be fair, appa's not even actually sick, lmao, katara's being slightly trickstery), but it's another instance where katara is automatically positioned as the person who is and should be responsible for healing.
Aang: [Chuckles.] Well, not over over. I mean there's always Katara and a little Spirit Water action, [Turns to Katara.] am I right? Katara: Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you. Aang: [Disappointed.] Oh.
i actually don't mind this so much as a writing moment, as i think it's a lot more intentional wrt aang not always conceptualizing the reality of the violence he’s facing. still, it’s another instance of katara’s ability to heal and care for him being taken for granted, and i find it especially notable it’s in of the last significant moments they share together (the other being an argument as katara urges him not to run away from the reality of their situation with ozai) before they spend the rest of the finale separate until they’re kissing without a word at the end.
and then there is the zutara healing scene, where katara heals zuko after he interferes and takes azula’s lightning to the chest when she’s aiming for katara.
Cut to Katara as she rolls Zuko on to his back and begins healing him. Zuko opens his eyes, feeling the pain lessen, and smiles weakly at Katara, who smiles back as she sheds a tear.
Zuko: Thank you, Katara.
Katara: I think I'm the one who should be thanking you.
it seems fair to me to say that one of the reasons the motifs of healing in the zutara are dynamic are so appreciated by their fans is because of how it contrasts to a lot of moments where the work katara does with her healing is under-appreciated. for one thing, it happens as part of a mutual exchange—katara heals zuko after he gets hurt saving her. (this also somewhat calls back to their scenes together in the crystal caves in the tcod, where she offers to heal his scar after they are trapped together and zuko extends her empathy.) it’s based in reciprocity. it’s also, as shown here, one of the few moments of explicit, heartfelt appreciation and thanks given for katara’s healing.
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sapphic-gardn · 1 year ago
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Dancing With The Devil
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dbf!joel miller x f!reader
Summary: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller runs into you at a bar on the night of Halloween. He’s a gentleman and takes you home.
Warnings (18+ mdni): age gap (not specified), drinking/alcohol, intoxication, swearing, pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, angel, baby, babygirl, etc.), f!masturbation, oral f!receiving, fingering, oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v (pls dont do this irl), creampie, dirty talk, joel calls reader a slut literally just once, if im forgetting anything pls let me know!!
Word count: 4.9k
a/n: Hi!!! I’ve been working on this one shot for awhile—I really hope it is everything and more for you guys! I am posting this in place of Willow pt. 3 due to a bit of writer’s block but trust it will be posted soon!! As always, please let me know what you think. I love you so much.
Also thank you to @gracieheartspedro for helping and encouraging me on this one. I can’t even begin to thank you enough, my love.
Halloween is your favorite holiday. For one night out of the year, you get to be anything you want, unashamedly. It’s an escape from reality, a dip into another life. And confidence comes easily when you’re pretending. You scan over your costume in the reflection of the floor length mirror in front of you—a too-tight red dress adorns your curves, black fishnets hug your thighs, and bright red stilettos accentuate your figure.
“C’mon! We gotta get to the club before the line gets too long,” your best friend appears behind you and places the headband with devil horns in your hair, “There. Perfectly slutty.” She rests her head on your shoulder and admires your costume in the mirror. She is dressed as your opposite, an angel.
“Stop panicking! The uber is still five minutes away, Pheebs.” Phoebe’s a worrier, and is never ever late anywhere, so the fact that you two are leaving fifteen minutes later than you originally planned, has her buzzing with anticipation.
While Phoebe paces back and forth at the foot of your bed, you dig through your makeup bag for your favorite red lipstick. You slightly over line your cupids bow and blend the color with your finger. You lean back and study yourself for a minute, you look hot. Phoebe interrupts your thoughts when she starts yelling about the Uber driver’s arrival. With a tug of your arm, both of you are trampling out of your apartment door in your six-inch heels on wobbly legs.
The club is suffocating. In your drunken state, the strobing lights and the bodies grinding up against you make it so much worse. Phoebe is dancing with some guy dressed as a vampire, she looks extremely unimpressed so you decide to take it as your chance to leave. You pull Phoebe away from the handsy man and shoot him an apologetic smile—you’re not sorry at all.
You feel like you’ve been resuscitated when you step out into the cool autumn air outside.
“Thank god you rescued me from Dracula. Guy was about to get his fake blood all over my white dress.” You and Phoebe share a laugh and lean against the brick wall behind you. The alcohol seems to hit you harder once removed from the chaos inside of the club. You scan the buildings lining the street in front of you and a bar name captures your attention. It’s the bar where your dad frequents with his buddies after work, one of his buddies being a painfully gorgeous dilf, Joel Miller. You know for a fact your dad won’t be there because your mom dragged him to some Halloween work party she wouldn’t stop talking about over the phone yesterday.
An idea pops into your brain and you can’t shake it, so you point to the bar across the street and tug at Phoebe’s hand, “Let’s go there! It’s probably less crowded and I’m not ready to call it a night,” you give your friend your best puppy dog eyes, and she begrudgingly gives in with a roll of her eyes and an okay, fine.
The dive bar smells of stale smoke and spilled beer. Random sports games are televised on multiple screens against the far wall and a jukebox sits in the corner playing a classic rock song from the 80s. It has character, you think to yourself. It’s a breath of fresh air compared to the marble top bars and sparkling chandeliers that decorated the club you just left. You and Phoebe definitely stand out from the crowd of middle-aged men loitering around the place. It feels a bit intimidating getting checked out by pervy old men as you strut to the bar, but it’s too late to turn back now. Plus, you are looking for a certain someone.
You scan the hefty crowd and search for the man with familiar brown curls and a scruffy beard. You double check every table and bar top with no luck, he is definitely not here. With a disappointed sigh, you chug your vodka cran and tell Phoebe you’re ready to head out.
Just before you get up to leave, you hear your name being called by a husky voice behind you. You would know that voice anywhere. You turn around, and there he is in all his glory. A tight, navy blue t-shirt hugs his chest and his biceps are about to tear the seams. He greets you with a half smile.
“Mr. Miller! What’re you doing here?” You act surprised, at least you try your best to act surprised with the alcohol running through your veins.
“Sarah’s out trick or treatin’ with some friends, got tired ‘a givin out candy, decided on gettin’ a beer to pass the time.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you sheepishly, “uh, I think I should be askin’ you what you’re doin’ here. You tend to hang at a bar with a buncha old farts?”
You giggle, “Not necessarily, no. Pheebs and I were just having a nightcap after clubbing. Oh! How rude of me. Phoebe, this is Joel. Joel, this is Phoebe, my best friend.” You gesture between the two of them and give Phoebe’s shoulder a light squeeze while her and Joel share a quick handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Phoebe. Well, I should let you girls go on your way. I’ll see ya around, then.” As you bid your farewells to Joel and start to walk forward, you nearly fall flat on your face. Maybe you were more drunk than you thought. “Woah there, easy, darlin’.” Joel grabs you by the hips to steady you before you trip over your own two feet.
“‘M sorry, Mr. Miller. I think I drank a little too much. I’ll be okay, we’re gonna order an Uber anyway.” Your hand lays flat against his chest and you bashfully look at him through your eyelashes. You’re so close to him, you can smell his cologne. Pine? Maybe a hint of sandalwood. You can see the specks of gray hidden in his beard and the crease between his eyebrows. He is so beautiful, you just keep repeating that to yourself over and over as you study his face. He is also too old for you and your dad’s best friend, you remind yourself.
“Nonsense. I’ll give you girls a ride home, your old man would kill me if I let ya walk outta here barely able to stand up on your own.” Joel keeps a hand firmly planted on your upper back as Phoebe leads the way to the exit.
Joel’s truck is an old Chevy with a single bench. You’re sandwiched between Joel and Phoebe. Phoebe’s head is resting against the window as she drifts in and out of sleep, but you are wide awake and laser focused on your thigh brushing Joel’s. Electricity shoots through you with each bump in the road, pushing you and Joel closer together. The music on the radio plays at a low volume, so low you can hear the way Joel breathes. The way his breath hitches in the slightest every time you two touch unintentionally.
You’re giving Joel the directions to Phoebe’s place, which is difficult considering you’re drunk and everything is mush in your brain. But by some miracle, Joel finds Phoebe’s apartment building, and you walk her to the front door, hugging her goodbye.
When you get back in the truck, you return to the spot on the bench right next to Joel.
“Y’could move over now, if that’s more comfortable for ya, darlin’,” you hum in acknowledgment at Joel’s suggestion.
“Mmm. Don’ wanna. ‘S comfy, you’re so warm,” you’re definitely playing up your drunkenness but it doesn’t hurt if it means you get to be a little closer to Joel. You nuzzle your head against his muscular shoulder and sigh in contentment as you feel yourself getting sleepy.
Joel chuckles, a deep laugh that vibrates through his chest straight to your temple, “Alright, sweetheart, whatever makes ya happy,” he then lifts him arm and stretches it across the back of the seat, letting you cradle into his side. You soak in the moment, relishing in the way the lights whir past you along with the houses lining either side of you. The way Joel’s breathing is steady but his heart rate is just as fast as yours. You can smell his detergent on his shirt and you can feel the way his muscles tense and relax with each turn he makes with the wheel. You could probably do this for hours, just driving down random streets, the radio quietly playing being the only sound in the confines of the car. But, all good things must come to an end, such as pulling into your apartment complex’s parking lot and untangling yourself from Joel’s warm body.
No words are exchanged on the way to the lobby, or the elevator, or even walking down your hallway, just a silent reassurance by Joel’s hand on the small of your back—a message—I want to make sure you’re okay. When you get to your door, you purposely fumble with the keys and wobble on your heels. Your plan works out perfectly.
“Here, lemme get the door. I’ll walk ya to bed and get you a cup of water once we’re inside.” Bingo.
Joel swings the door open and you stumble past the threshold, immediately kicking off your stilettos. His hand finds its way to the small of your back again, gently leading you to your kitchen. You plop down on a chair and watch Joel search the cabinets for a glass. You are more than capable of telling him where they are, but you like watching the way his biceps stretch the fabric of his shirt every time he reaches to pull open a cabinet door. Once he finds a glass, he fills it with the tap and saunters over to you.
“Here ya go, angel. Gotta get you hydrated.” Joel holds the glass out to you, and you guzzle it in a few gulps, “Thirsty girl, ain’t ya? Feelin’ any better?”
“Mhm. Much better. You make it better,” a close lipped, content smile paints your features as you set the glass down on the table and get up from your seat. Now chest to chest with Joel, you place a hand on his chest and look up at him. With the heels now discarded, he towers over you. You note how his pupils dilate a bit when your eyes meet.
“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart,” Joel feels his chest tightening with each second your hand lingers on his sternum. He wants nothing more than to close the distance between you two and lose himself in the feeling of your lips intermingling. But he knows you’re off limits, you’re his best friend’s daughter and too many years his junior. So he locks those thoughts somewhere in the depths of his brain and grabs your hand to lead you to your bedroom—just so he can make sure you’re okay, at least that’s what he tells himself.
Joel enters your bedroom first, absorbing the intimate space you call your own. Old vinyl records line your shelves and plants sit on your windowsill, overgrown and cascading to the oak flooring, a book sits on your nightstand with a pair of glasses sitting atop the cover. He scans your walls and notes the art you’ve chosen to decorate with, modern paintings of silhouetted bodies intertwined. Your desk is littered with pencils and journals, one is open to a sketch of a tree. It smells like you, vanilla and jasmine, he feels himself getting intoxicated each time he inhales. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you moving around, you’re fumbling with your dresser, digging through the drawer trying to find something.
“Jus’ sit down, darlin’, what’re you lookin’ for?” Joel gently moves you aside and guides you to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I’m just looking for one of my big sleep shirts. It’s an old Texas Longhorns shirt. You can’t miss it, it’s probably at the bottom of the drawer somewhere.”
“Alright, angel. I’ll find it for ya.” Joel has his back turned to you as he rummages through the balled up shirts in your drawer. You take this moment as your cue to make a move. You slowly start sliding your thin straps down your shoulders, careful to not expose your chest just yet. “Found it!” Joel seems elated that he found the shirt you so desperately wanted, it’s endearing. When he returns his attention to you, the piece of clothing falls from his hands to the floor beneath him. You are leisurely pulling your dress down over the curve of your breasts, maintaining eye contact as you do so.
“Can you help me get this dress off, Joel? Please?” You feign innocence and gaze at him with doe eyes. Joel is looking anywhere but you, clearly fighting his inner voice telling him what’s happening is wrong.
“I think you can do that yourself, honey. I don’ want your daddy t’kill me,” Joel stares at the ceiling, cursing whatever higher power there is for putting him in this situation. He feels you step closer to him, the tension palpable in the air shared between the two of you.
With your dress pulled just below your breasts, you take both hands and gently pull Joel’s head down to look at you, “Joel, I know you want this just as bad as I do. We’re both adults. I won’t kiss and tell, c’mon.” Your hands trail from his jaw to his neck, to his collarbones. Joel sighs, his face contorted into a look of contemplation.
“I-I can’t, darlin’. I want to, trust me, I really want to,” Joel engulfs both of your hands in his own and presses them to his heart. He is searching your eyes, for some sign of reluctance, but all he can find is pure lust.
Your hands travel south, skimming his clothed abdomen, over his soft belly, until your fingers hitch on his waistband, his words contradicting the growing bulge in his jeans. You run your nails side to side under the band of his boxers, making him visibly shudder. Then you lean in while standing on your tiptoes, and you gently place an open-mouthed kiss on his neck.
Joel grunts at that. All reason leaving him the moment your plush lips touch his bare skin, “Fuck it,” Joel grabs you by the jaw and kisses you hard. It’s electric, the kiss knocking you into stone-cold sobriety. With his other hand, he grabs you by the waist and starts leading you backwards to the edge of the bed.
When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you pull Joel down with you onto the white duvet. Joel breaks the kiss to admire your exposed chest, “Fuuuuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” Joel takes one of your tits in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, while his hand pinches and plays with your other nipple. He removes his mouth from your tit with a loud pop, moving to the other one with the same treatment.
“F-fuck, Joel, need more, please,” you’re whining and writhing beneath him. It feels so good but you need his hands in your lower region now or you might explode. Joel peels off the rest of your dress, leaving you in small spandex shorts over your fishnet stockings. With one swift motion, Joel discards the tight shorts onto the floor.
Joel can barely form a thought as he looks at the sight before him, “No panties, baby?” Your pussy is bare beneath your stockings, making Joel salivate at the obscene vision.
“Please, Joel, please. Need you so bad. Wanted this for s-so long, I touch myself thinking about you,” you are on the verge of tears, aching to be touched where you need it most, but Joel is just gawking, taking pride in how he makes you squirm. Joel stands from the bed, leaving you confused and visibly more upset, “W-what are you doing?”
“Show me, baby.” Joel has a smug smirk on his face as he watches you grasp what he’s implying.
“Wha-what?” You are baffled, you are mostly naked, sprawled out on your bed for Joel to take you however he pleases and he’s asking to watch you touch yourself?
“Show me how I make you feel good, angel. Wanna see your pretty little fingers fuck that tight pussy.” The brashness of Joel’s words make you audibly moan. Instead of taking the black fishnets off, you start to rub yourself through the holes over your clit. You never break eye contact with Joel, gathering the slick between your folds and pushing a single finger in, using the heel of your hand to stimulate your clit.
Your eyes rake over Joel’s chest, his shirt taut against his burly stature. With just a few thrusts of your fingers, you’re close, it’s the fastest you’ve ever approached an orgasm, but Joel palming himself through his jeans while he watches you get off is unbelievably hot.
The coil in your lower belly snaps and your eyes roll back, you’re chanting Joel’s name like a prayer as you fuck yourself through your climax.
Joel groans and quickly approaches you on the bed, capturing you in a deep, passionate kiss before pulling back, “That was so hot, baby, nearly had me cummin’ in my damn jeans. I gotta taste you.” Joel trails kisses down your sternum, to your abdomen, to your mound, and stops just before your most sensitive area. He looks at you for approval, you furiously nod your head, eager for whatever he has in store for you. Next thing you know, he is ripping the fabric of your stockings that covers your pussy with no effort at all.
“Look at that pretty pussy, all for me. It’s mine,” the hunger in Joel’s eyes is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, all-consuming and animalistic.
“All yours, Joel. Fuck! All y-yours,” you tug at his hair, grounding yourself with the soft feel of his brown curls just to confirm that you aren’t dreaming.
He starts with a long stripe along your folds, gently prodding his tongue into your entrance. You’re still so sensitive, your thighs are shaking as he holds them down over his broad shoulders. He’s sucking and slurping you, twirling his tongue over your sensitive nub every so often. He’s taking his time, learning what pleasures you most, experimenting with different techniques. He is memorizing the way your pussy feels throbbing against his tongue, how you subtly grind your hips onto his nose to chase your high. You taste so sweet, like nectar dripping from a ripe peach, he could lick and suck and fuck you with his tongue all night.
Joel is relentless, eating you in earnest, he removes his hand from the grasp on your thigh and brings two thick fingers to your mouth. You obey his command, taking both fingers in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and using your tongue to lubricate them, the taste of Joel blanketing your taste buds. Joel removes his fingers from your mouth and places them at your entrance, sliding in one digit with ease and fucking you slowly before adding a second. He is knuckles deep in your pussy and his fingers are much bigger than yours, stretching you with a delicious burn.
“Baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight, fuuuck,” Joel comes up for air, never letting up the pace of his fingers entering and leaving you.
The rough callouses on his fingers provide a whole new sensation. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible. Every ridge a foreign sensation that has you reeling. He suddenly crooks his fingers to hit the spongey spot in your pussy, sending you to cloud nine. He knows just the right places to focus his fingers that have you bucking your hips up. When he returns to sucking your clit, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of your second orgasm.
“You’re so close, baby, I can feel it. Let go f’me,” your body obeys Joel’s words and you unravel before him, letting your whimpers and moans roar through the four-walls surrounding you. Joel slurps up every drop of your nectar like a man starving. You push his head away at the full-body feeling of overstimulation.
“Oh my god, Joel. Holy fuck. I need to suck your cock, please,” Joel gets up from the bed and you sit at the edge, immediately reaching out to undo his belt. He helps you undress him, tossing his shirt, jeans and boxers aside with the pile of your clothes laying on the floor. His cock springs to attention, his tip weeping and red. He’s big, much bigger than anyone you’ve been with before.
The shock must be present on your face when Joel takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts your head up to meet his eyes, “Don’ worry baby, we’ll make it fit,” he glides his thumb over your plump lower lip then leans in for a gentle kiss, a silent gesture of reassurance.
Your nimble fingers find his shaft, the skin feels silky beneath your touch, your fingers barely touching as they wrap around the girth of him. You gather the precum leaking from his tip and spread it along the length of him. You pool your saliva and hold eye contact with Joel as you let a thick string of spit dribble from your lips to the tip of his cock. You spread it slowly up and down the length of his dick.
He throws his head back and hisses, “Shiiiit, that’s it, good girl. Get my cock nice and wet for that pretty little mouth of yours. Open up,” at Joel’s request, you part your lips and flick your tongue over his slit before wrapping your lips around the fat tip.
Joel grabs a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck and gently guides his dick further into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. You release your hand from the rest of his shaft and brace yourself on his muscular thighs as he slowly starts to fuck your throat. You are breathing through your nose, trying to swallow him further with each thrust.
You peer up at Joel through wet eyelashes, admiring the look of sheer bliss on his face. His other hand is lightly pressing the base of your throat, feeling his cock go in and out.
With one swift thrust of his hips, he holds his cock in place down your throat. You are gagging, tears streaming down your face from the pressure and your red lipstick is smeared everywhere but your lips. You can’t help but touch yourself listening to Joel’s grunts and heavy breathing.
“This turn you on, babygirl? You like your throat getting stuffed with this big cock? Hm?” Joel releases you from his grip to let you answer. A string of spit and precum connect your lips to the tip of Joel’s cock. You are gasping for air, holding yourself upright with one hand on Joel’s thigh, and still rubbing your clit with the other.
You can barely form a coherent sentence, “Y-yes, I l-love it, J-Joel, s-so h-hot,” Joel chuckles, pulling you up by the armpits and meeting you halfway in a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He guides you to lay back on the bed, hovering over you, holding himself up on his forearms.
“Baby, you got a condom somewhere ‘round here?” Joel starts to reach for your bedside table, you grab his wrist to stop him.
“No, Joel, wanna feel you,” you guide his hand to your breast and place a kiss on his jawline.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”
Joel fists his cock and brings it to your clit, lightly tapping the bundle of nerves, making you moan. He drags the tip through your folds, gathering your slick before slowly inserting the head of his cock into your entrance. Your face contorts with pleasure and pain, he’s barely in and you feel the stretch.
“You okay, baby?” Joel cradles your face with his large calloused hand and searches your eyes, a look of concern washed over his features.
“Yes, yes. Keep going, please,” you plead with Joel. Joel nods his head and places a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. He goes slow, you can feel every ridge and vein of his dick as he sinks into you further. The massive stretch of his girth burns so good.
When he bottoms out, you can feel him in your guts. You’re so full of him, so consumed by him in every way. He stills, letting you adjust to the size of him. The burning you feel quickly fades and you’re left craving more.
“Move, baby. Please, Joel…move,” Joel starts with shallow thrusts, examining your expression with each movement. He loves the way you catch your bottom lip between your teeth to contain your moans. He basks in the way your sweat mingles with his, a way of marking you as his own. His primal instinct takes over and he pulls out completely before plunging into you hard. Your pussy is squeezing his cock with each deep thrust.
The mixture of sex and Joel’s musk fills the air, you’re so close to him, you can see a drop of sweat forming at his hairline. His curls stick to his forehead and his lips are red and puffy. His mouth hangs open as he watches where your bodies meet, his shoulder muscles are flexing each time he fucks into you. Just the picture of him before you can send you into oblivion.
Joel brings his thumb to your clit and starts rubbing it in small circles. Your eyes roll back, you feel the white hot fire burning in your lower belly.
“Nuh uh, babygirl. Look at me when you cum. Wanna see those pretty eyes,” Joel’s words shoot straight to your core, and when you meet his gaze, you completely lose it. Your climax hits you like a truck, it completely consumes you, sending you to another dimension.
You can’t contain the noises that emerge from you, it’s a string of incoherent curses and Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. As you come down from your high, everything is blurry, except for Joel. He looks so fucked out, watching you expose yourself to him in the most vulnerable of ways.
Joel suddenly pulls out, scoops you up and tosses you down onto your belly, “Get on your hands and knees f’me, baby,” you scramble onto all fours and arch your back, looking over your shoulder at Joel. “Jus’ like that, fuuuck, fuckin’ perfect little slut for me, ain’t ya?” Joel calling you a slut makes your pussy clench around nothing. With no energy left to spare, you just moan in response.
He thrusts into you with no warning, making you yelp. At this angle, he feels impossibly deeper, the tip kissing your cervix each time he shoves you full of his cock. Joel’s grip is bruising on your hips, sure to leave marks that will fade to purple by the morning. His pace is frantic, sending your body into overdrive. Every one of your nerve endings feels like they’ve been lit on fire, the overstimulation sending you into a fucked out daze.
Joel grabs you by the hair and yanks you up into a vertical position, his hand snakes around your throat while his other arm is secured at your waist. You can feel his coarse stubble on the shell of your ear, his lips whispering filthy words that make your pussy pulse around him. The room is spinning, your only hold on reality is the feeling of Joel surrounding you in his strong embrace.
Joel’s fingers find your overstimulated clit, he’s pinching and rubbing, making you wriggle in his tight grip.
“One more for me, you can do it, baby. Can you be my good girl?”
“I-I c-can’t,” your pleas fall on deaf ears, Joel doesn’t let up in the slightest.
“Yes, you can, baby. You’re alright, I gotcha. One more, that’s all I need,” you just nod in response, letting yourself feel every sensation lighting you on fire.
Joel’s lips find your pulse point, he begins sucking and biting, then licking and soothing each mark. You feel him everywhere and it’s too much. Your whole body tenses as your fourth orgasm of the night takes over your body. Joel has to hold you upright as your body convulses and your vision goes white.
As you feel your climax nearing an end, Joel’s thrusts become sloppier and start to falter.
“I’m gonna cum, baby. Where d’ya want me?”
“Inside, please, Joel. ‘M on the pill. Want you to fill me up,” at the sound of those words falling from your lips like sweet honey, Joel stills inside of you, whimpering and moaning in your ear. You feel the thick ropes of cum coat your walls and drip down the inside of your thigh.
Joel pulls out with a hiss, the action leaving you feeling incredibly empty. He falls onto his side on the bed, taking you with him. You turn in his arms to face him, admiring how peaceful he looks.
You relish in this moment, noting the way your bodies are intertwined. The sound of Joel’s heartbeat rings in your ears and settles in your memory. You mindlessly draw hearts on Joel’s chest with your pointer finger. He stares at you through hooded eyes, on the verge of sleep.
“What are you thinkin’ about, beautiful girl?” Joel kisses your forehead, you feel him smile against your skin.
You giggle, giddiness consumes you, “Jus’ thinkin’ about how you just ruined every other guy for me,” it’s a true statement, but you aren’t disappointed in the slightest. This is all you want, now and forever.
“I ain’t lettin’ any other guy come near you again. You’re mine now, sweet girl.” Joel pulls you closer against his chest and kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent, basking in it.
A toothy smile creeps onto your face, “I’m yours, Joel.”
a/n: if you made it this far—hi! thank you!!! this is my first time ever writing smut so please be kind :,) sending you so many hugs and kisses <3
taglist (i just used my taglist for willow im sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged):
@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @alejaa-a @cool-iguana @littleshadow17 @planet-marz1 @alyhull @joeldjarin @lizzyervs @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @loveisacowboyyy @thegrlwholivedd @ashleymsnodgrass @ilovepedro @dilfspitdrinker @bastardmandennis @breakfastatjoels @gracieheartspedro @chaotic-mystery
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writingquestionsanswered · 6 months ago
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Tips for writers with ADHD that get major writers block/burnout
Writers with ADHD and Writer's Block/Burnout
Tip #1 - Troubleshoot the Problem - I want to start here, in the most obvious place, because even for writers with ADHD, writer's block is often the result of a specific issue that can be surmounted once identified. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! addresses some of the most common ones. It's worth checking to see if something on there resonates with you as a potential obstacle to progress.
Tip #2 - De-Stress Your Writing Time - Human brains are wired to respond in specific ways to perceived threats... fight, flight, or freeze. Quite often, what we call "writer's block" is actually your brain having a freeze response to writing because it's causing you stress and is therefore perceived as a threat.
So, anything you can do to de-stress your writing time can help. Troubleshooting the problem as in #1 is a good start. Set reasonable goals and deadlines... you can estimate your available writing time and calculate that with your estimated WPM to see if it's even possible for you to hit your word count goal. Go easy on yourself when you don't reach goals... celebrate even the smallest of wins, because negative thinking makes writing more stressful. Do what you can to set up an inviting writing space, light a candle (safely), play soft music, use ambient lighting, have your favorite beverage and snack at hand.
Tip #3 - "Gamify" Your Writing - Turning your writing goals into game achievements can make writing fun, which is another great way to de-stress it. You can usually find free game board templates online, or you can create your own. I like to set mine up like this:
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You can set as many tasks as you want (within reason) for each goal, and your prizes can be anything from a handful of candy to buying something you really want, or doing something you really want to do. Whatever works for your budget that motivates you to get the tasks done.
Tip #4 - Do an Immersive Writing Sprint Session - YouTube is a wonderland of helpful videos for writers... not just easily digestible writing advice and research information, but also writing music, ambience rooms, and one of my favorites, immersive writing sessions. These are themed ambience rooms with ambient video, music, and sound effects, but they also have a writing sprint timer on the screen, so you are encouraged to write for however long (usually 10 to 20 minutes), then you get a five or ten-minute break before the next sprint starts. These can be a really great way to get into the zone if you're struggling otherwise.
Tip #5 - Eliminate Distractions - When you have ADHD, pretty much anything can be a distraction. If my desk is messy, I'll pause mid-sentence to clean it rather than write. If there's something on my desk I can fidget with or play with, I'll do that. If my phone is handy, I'll pick it up and start scrolling through social media. If I'm listening to music with words, I'll go look up the lyrics and fall down some weird tangentially related rabbit hole. If I'm hungry or thirsty, I'll get up fifty times to get a small snack or drink. So, I clean my desk ahead of time and remove anything I might be tempted to fiddle with. I only play instrumental music (usually an ambience room). I put my phone on silent or leave it in another room.
Literally anything I can do to head my usual distractions off at the pass. For me, it actually makes a big difference. Try keeping a running list of things that distract you while writing during a week of writing sessions. Then, go through the list and write solutions. This helps you build a pre-writing session distraction elimination routine.
I hope something here will work for you! I may do a part two to this soon, so keep an eye out!
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