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heechwe · 14 days ago

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NO DOUBT | 박종성

⟢ PAIRING: park (jay) jongseong x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 4.1K ⟢ GENRE: hints of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: ceo!jay, employee!reader, sexual tension for the win, pwp, dirty talk, oral fixation, pet names (pretty, princess, etc.), sir kink, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, breath play, spanking, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: You hate your boss to an insurmountable degree, and he more than likely feels the same with the way he constantly berates you. But only when you finally give him a piece of your mind do you understand his animosity stems from a rather surprising place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy birthday to Mr. Park himself! This was so much fun to write even if I'm losing my mind at work myself, unfortunately. Thank you to my lovely friends for beta'ing for me once again—Linda @xomakara, Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, and Booki @kwanisms—and of course we all know the song that inspired the title this time.

You might have to kill Mr. Park, preferably with something incredibly sharp.

Every remark your boss throws at you, verbal or handwritten, trickles down your body like acid. It's a wonder you haven't been eaten alive by his criticisms already, the CEO cruel in his meticulous focus and scathing remarks.

These estimates look terrible.

My dog could create a better spreadsheet than this—before he chewed it up, anyway.

Do you always lack focus on projects like this?

Just because he's the head of Daydream Media does not mean he gets to parade around with the energy of a pompous cockatiel. As soon as the thought comes up, though, you shut it down. Cockatiels are much cuter than him, and probably a lot cuddlier too.

Working under the guy for twelve months, you know how unrelenting his desire for perfection can be. Starting his company straight out of high school, the business went from a passion project in his garage to a multi-tier musical instrument and audio equipment manufacturer that could make Yamaha blush.

Park's admirable work ethic drove you to apply for a job at his company in the first place. Yet, his need to micromanage others quickly overpowered all the qualities you first admired about the man. His head status practically ensures all he needs to do during work hours is oversee company meetings and sit prettily at his desk. So why did he have to be such a prick?

You're grumbling to yourself as you type out your response to his last email regarding your monthly sales report. Every clack of your laptop's keyboard feels and sounds like gunshots in your ears. You try to remember to stick to facts, keep your response level, and do all the things you've learned from years working with pretentious dickheads like Park.

But there's something about him specifically, the irritation he stirs in you so deeply ingrained beyond the surface of your dignity you can't seem to think rationally.

Your cubby mate, Sunghoon, notices the tension pervading your shoulders and neck, the veins in them close to bulging from your skin. He slaps you on the back with a manila folder, and you roll your eyes in response.

"What crawled up your ass and took a vacation?"

You give him your best fake smile as you punctuate your email's last sentence with a period. "Who do you think?"

"Santa Claus? I hate that fucker." Sunghoon's smirk can usually put you out of any funky mood you're in, but not today. You smile with closed lips instead, hoping the message gets across well. I love you, but it's not the best time.

You close the email and rotate your chair in his direction. Sunghoon may put too much gel in his hair and annoy you to no end, but he's your best friend, regardless. He's partially the reason you stick around the hell-ridden office you've made a home in for a year. "Mr. Park," is the only answer you give him to curtail his initial sardonic guess.

"Ah, head honcho." He flicks his gaze toward your boss's office, a stray hair whipping into his forehead. "What's he mad about now?"

"My latest stats for the new snare kits." You huff out a breath of air. Rubbing your temple, you try to curtail the impending headache on the horizon. "Don't know if he's pissed they're not selling as predicted or because I didn't make the headers on the sheet the right shade of green."

"Hey!" Sunghoon points one of his slender fingers in your face. "You know the guy uses night mode on his fancy PC all the time. He needs to see the projections, you heathen."

Just as a laugh is ready to escape your mouth, your computer pings. The notification reads the email is from the devil himself. As you click it to pop open the application in full-screen mode, you wonder what Park could say so quickly after you gave him a three-paragraph-length explanation on your report.

When you read the single line of text, any semblance of happiness turns to bile in your throat.

You'd think with your degree, you'd be able to spell "acquisition" correctly.

All the composure you tried to muster dies. Your jaw muscles tighten and your teeth gnash against each other as the words replay in your head over and over. He has no right, and yet he does at the same time. He didn't need to say it the way he did, and yet it's here in black and white for you to spiral because of, the exasperated and petulant tone practically hitting your eardrum in the way only his voice can.

You ruminate on your initial thought of murder, and you know even now—despite the ever-present reason to put the guy in a casket—it's childish.

But if you can't kill him, the less drastic option is to at least give him a piece of your mind.

Your chair bangs against the cubby opposite of yours when you stand up, and Sunghoon flinches. "Hey, don't do something you'll regret," your best friend warns.

"Trust me, I won't," you mutter quickly before storming off in the direction of the executive offices.

At lightning speed, you're in front of Jay Park himself. The man's ready to dig into a chocolate cupcake when you approach him.

"Do you get off on being an asshole?" The words come out biting and high-pitched, but every knot in your gut unfurls when you say it. His eyes bug out, and that gives you the perfect signal to continue before he can open his mouth with a witty comeback.

"I spelled one fucking word wrong in an email, and it was another excuse for you to pick me apart and prove you're the one calling the shots here. But having millions of dollars to your name or a shitload of success doesn't make you a good person. You treat so many people in this company like disposable pieces of garbage, when the only one who should feel like that is you!

"You're an arrogant, self-centered, irritable…" Your last words disintegrate on your tongue when you see the single pink candle strewn across his desk. The flame was puffed out long ago, but it tells you all you need to know.

You're giving your boss the proverbial middle finger on his birthday.

In the second between realizing you've been telling him off to considerable lengths for a long minute and the fact you've done so on his birthday of all days makes you flush. Your entire body drains of its color the longer you remain silent. How could you forget this day? Why did you have to find courage at the worst time?

He doesn't yell back, scoff, or do any of the telltale things you expect from him by now. Instead, all he does is laugh. He almost smashes his face into the cupcake in front of his lips as the chuckles exit his mouth.

"I thought Chaewon in accounting giving me this would be the highlight of my day," he lifts his cupcake for dramatic effect as he speaks, "but that…tirade has to be the best present I've had in a long time." He sets the cupcake down and stands up from his desk, but not before rolling the cuffs of his button up to his forearms, wiping the crumbs off of his fingers with disinterest.

You stutter, unsure how to continue now or what he plans on doing. As you try composing an apology, the automatic blinds to the windows that give Jay a bird's-eye view of the employee floor from his office come down. You slowly watch the people outside of the room leave the corner of your eye, and you gulp. "I—"

"I admire your courage, you know. Walking in here with that angry pout and little performance. I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

"I didn't pre-plan it," you interrupt him, some of your flare coming back in full color. Even as you say it, your mind hangs on his last word like a clothespin. Cuter?

You never would've expected that word to come from his mouth. Not in relation to you, anyway.

"Of course." His smile remains plastered across his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Do you remember that team-building retreat in Seosan? It must've been around your three-month mark here with us."

You nod vigorously, going back to the memories of that vacation in your mind's eye. That word fits better, you think, when you recall sipping cocktails and lounging by the pool with Sunghoon and your mutual friend in sales, Jake. You did your typically professional routine by day, attending meetings and learning seminars like an astute employee. The nights that accompanied them were filled with fun and laughter you were glad to have with your new coworkers.

"Yes, I remember." You stand stock still even as he steps closer, the professional bubble on the precipice of being popped with every step he takes to get closer to you.

"Do you ever stop to think when my…excuses to pick you apart, as you said, began to occur?" He holds his fingers under his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer to the question with you, and while it riles you up, it leaves you more confused.

"It must've been…" You bite your lip, unsure what intentions are hiding behind his questions. "I'm not sure."

"One of the first emails I sent to you was marked right after we came back from the trip."

"I—I don't understand."

Jay laughs again, the sound hollow. "For an incredibly brilliant woman, it seems you need things made explicitly clear to you."

He's so close now, you smell the mint on his breath. It's intoxicating mixed with his cologne—Prada, you think. The mixture combined with his proximity makes your knees buckle a fraction. "Maybe something about you caught my eye, sipping Mai Tais one minute and being so prim and proper the next, and I've been spending the past excruciatingly long nine months trying to figure out what. All I know is that it's definitely not your penchant for spelling." His eyes gleam with sincerity, a rawness that you've never witnessed in his presence. This is the first time you've ever been alone together, truthfully.

"Respectfully, sir, there's nothing particularly eye-catching about me," you say meekly. "It's not like I'm the one with the company—"

Jay's lips slamming into yours is the last sensation you planned on feeling because of him. You can live with displeasure, annoyance, exasperation, but this is entirely new. He captures the inside of your mouth with his tongue, pressing in and probing like he's never felt someone more worthy of exploring before.

His fingers find purchase at your waist, and he takes your bottom half in both of his hands as he continues navigating your mouth. The spank he lands to one side pushes you further into him, and his body rumbles in delight. He's searching for the answer to his previous question; you can tell. What is it about you that's been driving him crazy, and continues to do so?

His intense physical analysis of you and your body makes you cry out, eager for more and not settling for anything else. Has this been always sitting under the surface, the tension you so adamantly assumed was hatred? You should've noted the way he stared at you from across the bar all those months ago, lights twinkling behind his head as he quietly observed you in all of your alcohol-flushed but starlit stupors.

Again, the words run around the two of you like a marathon, practically screaming in your ears: it's always existed, this tie between you both that you once assumed was founded on disdain.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

Jay pulls away when he hears your moan fill the room. "Forgive me," he starts, "I just couldn't help myself." You must look breathless, seem dumbstruck, for him to hold you with such care and tenderness. You barely recognize the man in front of you, the tyrant you purported to know long gone.

He runs a finger across your bottom lip, and you can't fight the urge to take the digit into your mouth. When you bite down on the soft skin of his index finger, he groans. "I just apologized for my lack of control. Don't make me lose it again, princess."

The pet name shoots you in between the legs, your body jelly in his hold when his eyes stare you down so intensely. "What if I want you to…sir?"

He takes your throat in one palm and kisses you deeply, cutting off your breathing just a touch for you to focus only on his mouth. Like he's the only thing that can keep you breathing if you just give into him.

"I thought you hated me," he confesses in between kisses. He peppers them across your cheeks and takes a long pull at your mouth again before pushing you into the edge of his desk. You squeal when he lifts you up and sets you down on the glass tabletop, not stopping his barrage of kisses and licks to your skin.

"B-Because it's not normal to feel the opposite. To have a crush on your very powerful and intimidating boss isn't exactly smiled upon in the code of conduct, sir," you whisper as he trails his lips down your neck, across your collarbones. He even goes so far as to dip his nose towards the center of your cleavage. You never hated him, you realize. He frustrates you to no end, for sure, but that emotion clearly has many facets that you never dissected before.

"So you think I'm intimidating now?" Jay questions you with a lilt of humor that is unmissable. He unties your blouse and unclasps your bra in record time so both articles of clothing fall to the floor like raindrops, insignificant now that they're out of the way. It would be incredibly easy to get lost in the beauty of your chest, the peaks of your nipples and curve of your breasts, details Jay wants to take to his short and long term memory, but he's got a one-track mind that points south. If he enjoyed making you squirm with words before, he smirks to himself at how different it'll be for you when uses his body this time.

"I've always thought you were," you confess. You gasp when he bunches your skirt between his fingers to sit the material at your hips, exposing your lace panties. The fabric is soaked by now; you swear you can feel a damp spot forming under you and on his desk.

But he looks more than satisfied.

"Fuck, this is how wet you get?" The question is more for his ears than yours, and you whine from the lack of his touch on your skin, although you've had a plethora of that merely a second ago. You thought you were burning before, but now you're on fire and close to becoming ash before he's even truly done anything.

"Mr. Park, p-please," you beg, slightly gyrating against the glass desk for some relief. It's better than doing nothing to fix the ache he's created.

"It's Jongseong," he interrupts you with a smile. "Jay if it's easier pretty, but I do love it when you use my surname like that." He nips your lips again, licking inside your mouth lewdly.

"Lie back," he commands. It's hard to do as he asks with so much in the way, but the problem's immediately solved when he throws the contents on his desk—including his laptop—to the side. Everything clatters to the floor, but you fight the urge to react outwardly. The only physical reaction is your eyes going wide at the sound the clattering of his pencils, books, and electronics just made. Your reaction causes him to scoff, the sound on the edge of wickedness. "I can get all of this brand-new in a second. Don't focus on that," he says with his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs in tender circles, "and focus on laying down now, princess."

You let your bare back softly hit the glass. The desk is cold against your naked skin, but the sensation's immediately replaced by the warmth of Jay's breath against you. "You're beautiful. Just like I dreamed," he whispers, partly amazed and fully intoxicated, before diving in.

Jay immediately laps and sucks along your folds—the sounds of his mouth working your hole reverberating across the walls—as if he's been starved for decades. He takes your clit between his lips as a finger prods your center. The digit hooks inside of your core without issue. He eats you out like no man has ever done to you or for you before, his method alternating between long strokes of his fingers and little flicks of his tongue. How could heaven be so attainable with someone you initially saw as the devil incarnate?

"You asked me if I get off on being an asshole," he whispers into your cunt. "I don't. But I just might from touching you. You taste impeccable." He slaps your clit abruptly, making you keen. He presses the hand originally at your neck against your chest, your heartbeat thrumming against his palm. The tempo is all for him, a beat he wishes to hear on loop forever.

“It's like you were made for me," he whispers, "the perfect little slut splayed out like this." He inches your thighs further apart to see the way your hole glistens with his spit and your gathering arousal. The sight makes the strain of his erection in his slacks a touch more painful. It begs for him to do something else fast to relieve the surmounting pressure, but he puts off the urge for now. "I fucking love it."

"Jong—sir—I'm gonna come," you announce, the lower half of your center bumping into his chin harshly from how hard you're following the movements of his mouth. You shouldn't chase it so fiercely, but you want him to pick you apart in this way. You've never wished for anything more in your life.

And you know he'll put you back together just to repeat the process all over again.

"Come for me, princess. I want to feel it on my tongue." He replaces his finger with the wet muscle, dipping inside of you to lap up all of you before you completely crumble. Jay takes it all beautifully, allowing his face to be covered in you in the aftermath. You scream out as your release continues overtaking your better judgement. Your brain doesn't care how loud your cries of pleasure must be or have been.

Your coworkers saw you walk in here moments ago; they have to know what you're getting up to, legs spread for your boss and letting him use you for all of his fantasies. But, as you float back to consciousness, you don't seem to give a fuck about any of them.

"You did so well for me, pretty." Jay unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly just a touch to pull his cock from his pants. He hisses when he touches himself, and you know he must be aching from no stimulation prior to this moment. "Think you can handle one more?"

"Yes, sir, please." You say it with such a twinkle in your eye, Jay doesn't seem to care if he breaks the Italian-made iron of his desk. He has to have you, to cover your body with his and push you beyond your limits again.

Jay does exactly that, squishing you between his white button up and the glass underneath you, but you wouldn’t mind if he collapsed your lungs at this point. He's taken you to the edge of breathlessness by now, so there's nothing stopping him from fully toppling you over.

He slides inside of you without issue, your previous arousal creating the right amount of slip. But he's so big, his cock tightly filling your pussy with every inch, the tears that fill your eyes are unavoidable. "S-sir, it's t-too much—"

Jay halts the lie on your lips with his own, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip with a fierce power. "It's not nearly enough, pretty. You feel incredible, so tight. Such a tight little cunt, and all mine."

You nod your head as he thrusts, fat tears falling down your cheeks as he sets a relentless rhythm. The iron fixtures of Jay's desk squeak and tremble from how hard his hips snap up into you, but the only sounds he focuses on are your mewls and labored breaths. You're a vision, fucked out and trembling, and he can't picture a moment where you don't captivate his very being.

The answer to his earlier question hits him like a flutter of wind to the face: it's everything about you. Your relentless effort to every minute task that mirrors his own, your smart retorts to his endless critiques, the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh. It's all that pervades his mind, but the new images of your slung mouth and sounds you make on the brink of your second orgasm take precedence on the list of ways you enthrall him.

He reaches in between you to pinch and roll your clit against his thumb and index finger, feeling his own release on the tip of his tongue. "Come with me, princess. Let me feel it."

You don't need to hear it a second time to listen to his words clearly. You rattle around his cock like thunder that follows a stroke of lightning, your body shaking as your body surges with endorphins. If your first orgasm was bright and blinding, this one is all-encompassing and soul-shattering, threading into every seam of you so you don't forget how it feels to be pleasured so well, loved so thoroughly.

Jay comes right after you, his warmth flooding you as his body goes taut from his own shocks of numbing pleasure. You know he feels the same, with the way his brows knit together and his jaw slacks. His hips stutter to a full stop, and he can barely pull out of you without his body quaking. He watches the traces of his cum leak out, mixing with the arousal still surrounding your hole, and he knows he's in it now. He'll never go back.

You slump against him when he lays back on the table. The staccato of his heartbeat sweeps through your right eardrum. The muscle's tempo is an exact match for your own racing chest.

"I can't believe I was so loud," you murmur into the silence that follows your labored breaths. Jay looks down at you with a dazed smirk, and you giggle with a shy smile before tucking your face in between your fingers.

Jay takes both palms in his own to kiss, and semblances of the sweat on his skin touch you like dew. It's beautiful to be so wrong about someone, this gentleness he's displaying proving that fact perfectly. "The glass is laminated, and the rest of the walls are soundproof, princess. Nobody could hear you in here unless I truly gave it my all."

You smirk, unruffled by the fact your boss always thinks one step ahead of everyone, even in situations like this. "That wasn't your all?" You blush and tuck your face into his neck, the question rhetorical and teasing. "Seems you have a lot to show me."

"That I will." He takes your jaw between his fingers when he kisses you again. Mint still lingers on his tongue behind the traces of your arousal, and you could become a puddle again from how unreal it all seems. The past thirty minutes, the preceding moments before you walked into his office, and the plans that lay ahead for the future. "But not before I take you on a proper date."

Months later, you sit at your desk with only your boss on your mind, his eyes lingering on you even as his CFO Lee Heeseung discusses something menial with him. You try to go back to your laptop screen, the seasonal trends report for the new line of guitar strings begging to be completed, but it's no use. You're enthralled with the man across the office space, just like he is with you.

So when the email to meet him in his office for an "oral report" of the latest documented projections comes a few moments later, you don't question him, the man you love.

You thought you wanted to kill your boss before, but it was truly unexpected how many deaths—both little and enormous—Jay Park seemed to have in his pocket for you.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @/moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @sweetvenomnet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

#enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #jongseong smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha x reader #park jongseong fic #jongseong fic #jongseong fics #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #enha fic #enha fics #[ lexi's works ]#[ lw - enhypen ]

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thinkinonsense · 9 months ago

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I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

#logan howlett imagine #hugh jackman wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine angst #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #wolverine #wolverine fluff

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thefanficmonster · 5 months ago

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What friends are for...

Declan O'Hara x Reader (Female) [Rivals TV]

Warnings: SPOILERS for Rivals S1, Mild Infidelity, Recreational Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Best friend's dad (Reader is 21 years old), Romance, Fluff

Summary: Y/N is typically good under pressure. But with alcohol lowering her inhibitions, allowing a brewing crush to swim up to the surface, she panics a little when she needs to pull through for her friend Taggie

"Alright, doll. I've had enough watching you run around this kitchen like Cinderella. Go on and mingle with the bourgeoisie." Y/N sighs, swiftly stealing the plates Taggie was carrying with one arm while her free hand cradles a glass of whiskey.

She carries the plates over to the sink, letting Taggie's complaints play in the background as background noise as she finishes off her fourth drink of the night and sets the glass down in the sink.

"Do you see this mess?! I can't possibly let loose knowing all this work is waiting for me at the end of the party." Taggie grumbles, folding her arms over her chest, "Besides, I don't even like most of those people."

Y/N can't help but gasp dramatically at that proclamation. In all the years she's known Taggie, she's never once managed to pry out a bad criticism from her in regards to anyone. She'd have to pat spy-like attention to her best friend's facial expressions in order to gauge all those feelings she knows she'd never say out loud.

Y/N had originally formed a friendship with Patrick who was in her grade at school. However, she formed an even stronger bond with his year younger sister. It's a girls' thing, she'd tell Patrick, we're all wired to be closer to one another than we'll ever be to a man.

And her statement still rings true nearly a decade later. It's Patrick's birthday and yet Y/N is finding far greater entertainment in the kitchen with Taggie rather than mingling with the crowd of London high society. She gets more than enough interaction with them during her daily internship at the Corinium, she doesn't need her New Year's Eve poisoned by them as well.

That being said, she shares Taggie's sentiment to the full extent. But she's not about to let up on her convincing, not with Rupert Campbell-Black in attendance.

"You don't have to like them all, Tag. One sometimes makes all the difference. And that certain one of yours is in the building, no doubt looking for you amongst the crowd. Yet you're cooped up here, dodging him as if he matters to you as much as those grease-pole climbers and cheaters." Y/N playfully scolds her.

"Don't speak ill of the cheaters, they are his prime area of expertise." Taggie chuckles into the back of her hand as if shocked by the words coming out of her own mouth.

Y/N snorts, throwing a smirk her friend's way over her shoulder, "I don't remember ever saying any names and yet you knew exactly who I was implying. Hmm...." The older girl teases, only to have a dish rag tossed at her head by a blushing Taggie.

"You're in-insufferable, you know that?!" She says, glaring daggers at her best friend.

Y/N laughs heartily, stepping away from the sink. She reaches one hand behind herself, starting to unfasten the corset she has on to keep her emerald dress snug and tight while using her free hand to pinch Taggie's cheek, "And you're absolutely adorable when you're flustered, love." She uses that same hand to yank Taggie's shirt free from her jeans, "Get that off, hun. Don't worry, I'm not looking." She adds the last part with a laugh and a roll of her eyes as she continues battling with the lace fastenings of her corset.

If it were anyone else asking - or rather instructing - her to do this, Taggie would've probably protested and refused. However, if there's one thing she's learned over the nearly decade long friendship with Y/N is that, although her ideas sound like trouble, they're always a recipe for a good time. Tag wouldn't exactly say she's had an exciting life but those pockets of adventure and excitement and thrill that she can recall she owes to Y/N. And so, she complies, lifting her shirt over her head just as her friend frees herself from her corset, causing her dress to hang more loosely around her body but still catching on her curves at certain areas.

"Good, turn around for me." Y/N instructs yet again as she unclips Taggie's bra before quickly putting the corset on her, glad they didn't flash anyone in the split second the action took. Once she's finished lacing it up, Y/N's hands lazily rest on her best friend's shoulders, turning her around to see if her vision looks just as good in reality as it did in her mind. "Dashing, my darling. Take a deep breath for me, hm?"

Tag again complies without complaints, expanding her chest with a deep inhale to see if the corset needs any loosening but it is perfectly snug, still allowing her to breathe freely though. "You really think so?" The younger girl asks, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes.

"I swear on all that's dear to me, love." Y/N says, giving Tag's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "One more thing...", she mumbles, leaning in to press a kiss to each of Taggie's cheeks, leaving behind lipstick stains on her skin which she later smears to give her a natural looking blush. "Voila! Now go knock Campbell-Black off his high horse and into your bed, doll."

Using the grip she has on the girl's shoulders, Y/N practically ushers her out of the kitchen and into the sea of partygoers before retreating into the quiet solitude herself.

She enters her fairy godmother mindset as she prances around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess around the kitchen, letting the rhythm of the music carry her movements. She periodically refills a new whiskey glass she got from the cupboard. She had really intended for it to be her last drink when she set her previous glass in the sink earlier but she gave up when she saw Mr. O'Hara's whiskey collection. With all these people around, she's certain she'll get away with sneaking a couple glasses of one of the more expensive looking bottles.

"Ah, I see the kitchen mouse has gotten into the good stuff."

Y/N damn near chokes on the amber liquid she just downed when she hears the voice of none other than Declan O'Hara.

She turns around slowly like a scene from a horror movie, or rather a kid getting caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. Only worse, more embarrassing considering this isn't her house. Although if she were to say that out loud all three O'Hara siblings and their father would be quick to tell her off.

An array of apologies circles around her head, none sufficient enough to mend the situation - especially not when Declan is smirking at her like that from the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets. So, instead she settles for the truth: "I was hoping you wouldn't catch me."

Declan only chuckles in response, the sound rich and sweetened by the numerous drinks he's had throughout the night. He's nowhere near drunk but he's had enough to drink to accentuate his natural charm and charisma, softening his otherwise sharp edges.

Edges nearly everyone at Corinium has been cut on since he started working there. And when I say 'nearly' I mean very few have managed to avoid Declan O'Hara's spitfire - Y/N being one of the lucky few despite typically being bad at following orders due to her stubbornness. She isn't sure what exactly it is about her best friend's father that tames that snippy, downright bratty side of her. All she knows is that when he looks at her with those warm, kind eyes and asks rather than tells her to do something, adding a little 'darling' or 'love' at the end, she folds like a house of cards in the wind.

Declan strolls in with an easiness in his step, his eyes never leaving her. As he nears her vicinity, he holds out his own glass, "Care to treat me to my own whiskey, sweetheart?"

Well would you look at that - there she goes folding again. Or more so melting into a puddle at his feet on the tiled kitchen floor.

Words have dispersed into unconnected letters in her head and all she can manage to do is nod as she picks up the whiskey bottle with a trembling hand, pouring a good amount into his glass.

"Thanks, love." He gives her a lopsided smile, lifting his glass, "To the new year."

Y/N is suddenly reminded that she is still in one piece physically - not a pathetic puddle of herself - and in turn she needs to function like a normal human being and avoid embarrassment that will keep her up at night for the upcoming century.

She schools her expression in a faux easy smile as she clinks her glass against his, "To the new year." she repeats before they both take a sip of the lovely whiskey Y/N had helped herself to.

After taking a moment of silence to revel in the pleasure of the amber liquid burning its way down his throat, Declan's eyes focus on her, giving her a head-to-toe scan before speaking, "Where'd your corset go?"

Her heart skips a beat at both the way his gaze is running over the length of her body and the question that insinuates he'd noticed her outfit to begin with. His eyes on her feel like a palpable heat, almost like the feather like touch of a hand. "I-I, um, I lent it to Taggie for a bit. I wanted to doll her up a little and force to enjoy herself. Let loose a little."

Declan nods, a small hum leaving his throat, "Well you've done a good deed, my dear. And a great job taming the kitchen into something presentable. You're a great friend, dear. I'd say you've earned your stolen whiskey." He adds the last part with a quick wink that turns her brain to pudding.

Y/N smiles in response although she wants to absolutely kick herself for involuntarily making bedroom eyes at said friend's dad. She cannot seem to morph her expression into anything other than an openly 'well I'll be damned...' look. So she opts to look away from him instead.

"Oh please, sir, it's nothing. That's what friends are for..." She instinctively takes a sip of her drink to cool down only to be rudely reminded it's whiskey and it has the complete opposite effect to the one she was hoping for.

Speaking of a friend's duties...

Just over Declan's shoulder, Y/N catches glimpse of Rupert and Taggie in the comfortable embrace of one another on the dance floor. Although, judging by the proximity of their faces, dancing isn't their priority at the moment. A split second and a millimeter is all it would take for Y/N to rejoice that her agenda had been successful.

But that's also precisely what it would take for Declan to catch sight of it and lose his everloving shit which would undeniably cause a rift in the mission.

Just to the girls' luck, the moment Rupert's lips touch Taggie's is the exact moment Declan starts turning around - or at least that's how Y/N perceives it.

And Y/N would be damned if she let him.

Before she can think better of it, the alcohol in her system takes a seat behind the wheel and all rational thinking is tossed out the window. At least that's the only way she can explain her following actions.

There isn't a single sober thought behind it when her hands firmly rest on Declan's shoulders, instantly grabbing his attention and prompting him to turn to face her once more. And in that split second, Y/N pushes up on her tippie toes, her lips colliding with his in a kiss that momentarily stuns them both.

The last bit of sobriety fights to regain control of her mind mere seconds after their lips come in contact. It's not much but it's enough to scream at her to pull the fuck away and then run the fuck away. And she would've done just that had Declan's hands not come up to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss which she instinctively - and eagerly - allows.

All thoughts - both sober and drunk - fall silent in her head. The party in its entirety falls silent around her. All she can hear is her own heartbeat in her ears, mingled with his slightly labored breathing as the kiss reaches new heights in passion and heat with each passing second until they both run out of breath - the lack of oxygen being the only thing to force them apart, not at all the notion of how wrong what they're doing is.

Again, apologies stack themselves sky-high in her brain but none reach her whiskey coated tongue. Instead, she looks up at him wide-eyed and breathless, her now lipstick-void lips parted as she blurts out the first thought that manages to slip past the fog of shock.

"Taggie's gonna kill me"

Declan's own stunned expression gives way to a wide smile as he chuckles breathlessly at her panicked statement, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her, darling."

Even in the midst of her panic and moral crisis, Y/N can't help the flutter in her heart at the petname. "You....you won't tell her, will you?"

Declan clicks his tongue, shaking his head as one of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, "Of course not, my dear. I can keep a secret. That's what friends are for, after all."

Y/N is just about to throw all hesitance to the wind and lean into him fully, reconnect their lips and give herself over to him entirely when - for better or for worse - the clicking of heels approaches the kitchen entrance, sending them on opposite sides of the room like same charges of a magnet. The poor flustered girl is left frazzled, standing on weak knees without Declan's arms to hold her up. Luckily, however, she finds herself on the side of the kitchen where the door to the backyard offers her solitude and salvation within arm's reach. And she takes it a mere second before Maud strolls into the kitchen to show her husband a fraction of the affection she's been showering the other partygoers with all night.

Regardless of the state of Declan and Maud's marriage and their relationship as a whole, what they just did is wrong from all angles and aspects. It's a betrayal to Maude, to Taggie, to Caitlin and Patrick, to Y/N's parents who Declan has known and been friends with for years.

And as such they deserve to be drowning in guilt and remorse for their actions.

One problem: they're not. Not in the slightest. Especially not Declan who cannot seem to tear his gaze away from the backdoor Y/N disappeared through even as his wife finally graces him with her attention and presence.

Attention, presence and affection Y/N would love to give to him and only him. No division or sharing, no inhibitions or reservations.

No wrong or right.

Just a little secret amongst....friends

#rivals #rivals 2024 #declan o’hara #declan o'hara x reader #declan o'hara smut #declan o'hara imagine #rupert x taggie #taggie x rupert #taggie o'hara #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell black x reader #rupert campbell black smut #rivals fanfiction #rivals spoilers #cameron cook #aidan turner #alex hassell

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Little Surprises 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, cheating/established relationships, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Andy Barber, side of Mike Weiss

Summary: You have a baby on the way but it’s not the only surprise.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You cup your ear as your voice echoes in the stairwell, "no, Mike, today, not tomorrow."

The sigh rolls through you. The one that says I have more important things going on. What's more important that his child? Both of your child? You frown.

"You said the 14th," he snips.

"No, 13th," you insist. "I wrote it on the calendar."

"Babe, you know I got a lot going on. This deposition could be it," he says.

You shrink down. It's always how it goes. He always has something more important. He's always restless. Always busy. Even too busy to put the condom on right.

"I'll find a way there," you mutter. "Good luck with the deposition."

"Babe--"

You hang up. Your eyes sting. You turn and nearly throw your phone at the unexpected figure. It's the last person you expect.

"Mr. Barber," you put your hand on your stomach instinctively. His eyes follow the movement. "I didn't hear you."

"Sorry, I-- the elevator's under maintenance for the hour. I was just..." he points past you.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," you move aside, even though the stairs are wide. "I was just... getting back to work."

"Right," he accepts with a sliver of doubt. "So, he must be excited."

"Who?" You ask as he comes parallel to you.

"The father," he suggests.

Your sole slips and you scuff up onto the next level. He catches your elbow. You giggle as your heart flutters.

"Woop," you gasp.

"You alright?" He asks, keeping his hand on you.

"Oh, Mr. Barber, I'm fine, really. I'm clumsy, is all."

"Yeah, but if you fell..." he drags his hand down your sleeve and lets you go.

"Yeah, well..." you shrug and look away. Would Mike even care? You hate to think of what could go wrong but you're already doing it all alone.

"Well, what?" He wonders.

"Nothing, nothing, I just... lots to think about," you make yourself chipper.

"It's not easy. I remember. Laurie was in the hospital back and forth. Every little thing she was sure was this, that, or the other. She was fine, just nervous," he says.

"Right, I... just got an ultrasound," you explain.

"That's fun. He picking you up then? What time?"

"Noon. I'll be done. Think I have some bus tickets left--"

"Bus tickets?" Barber clucks. "You can't-- you're telling me your husband's gonna make you go all by yourself."

"Well, he might meet me there," you lie. You're embarrassed. You said too much.

He opens the door for you and you go through. He sighs as it falls shut behind him, "I'll drive you."

"Mr. Barber?" You look at him, "you can't--"

"I don't have much on the docket, I can do it."

"No, I couldn't-- no way."

"I couldn't imagine if it was my wife or my child. You shouldn't have to go all that way by yourself." He insists. "It's no bother."

"But... it is to me, sir."

"You gotta take care of yourself, your baby, but more importantly, he should be doing the same," he shakes his head.

"That's so... nice, but..."

"I've made up my mind." He says. "Come get me when you're ready, alright?"

"Mr. Barber--"

"Andy," he corrects you. "And sweetie, you make sure you take some breaks. Sit down when you can."

You smile at him. He's so nice. Still, you hate that this pregnancy makes you feel so useless. Mike wouldn't disagree. You're too tired to wake up when he is home. You hear him in the bathroom getting what he needs.

"I will, thank you." You sway slightly, "you know, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just the cleaner."

"Just the cleaner? Don't sell yourself short," he touches your shoulder then backs up. "Just give me a knock, okay?"

He turns and marches off. You watch him. You feel small. He has everything figured out. Not like you. Or Mike.

🍼

It's nerve-wracking just approaching Mr. Barber's door. Usually, it wouldn't affect you. You'd be doing your job. He offered but you still feel as if you're asking a favour.

He opens it, already in his jacket, ready. You hope he wasn't waiting, or even, distracted, by you. You smile sheepishly as your coat swishes with your nervous fidgeting.

"All good?" He asks. You nod.

"Thanks again, Mr. Barber," you say.

"It's Andy and really, it's no problem."

He waves you ahead of him. The elevator is back in service, to the relief of your hips and feet. The ride down makes you dizzy. You come out into the lobby and wring the strap of your bag.

"Nervous?" He asks as he holds the door for you.

"A little. It'll be okay but... I wasn't planning on a baby, you know?"

He follows you out into the damp grey. He points you to the parking lot and directs you around to his white SUV. It's a nice car. Mike just has his beat up Pontiac.

Again, Andy opens the door. He holds your elbow as you haul yourself up. You thank him and reach for the seat belt. He closes the door and goes around the other side.

He turns the engine and glances at you, "what about the dad? Is he ready?"

You stare through the windshield. You don't know but you don't want to admit it out loud.

"He's a lawyer too," you deflect. He's working a really important case right now."

"Ah," he pulls out of the spot, "tough when you're starting out. And a baby won't make it easier. Trust me, I know."

"Yeah, but we'll make it work," your words peak with your anxiety. "It's early."

"Goes fast," he says. "Before you know it, you'll be ready to pop."

You laugh thinly. You're in dread of that. You put your hands on your stomach.

"I could tell because your face. You're glowing," he explains. "Laurie had the one. C-section. Didn't wanna do it again."

"Yeah I'm... just focusing on this one."

"I wanted a girl," he says. "Got Jacob. Good kid. What about you? Girl? Boy?"

"I'll take either. I just hope they have Mike's eyes," you chime.

He smiles, "he's lucky. The baby too. You're going to be a good mother."

"I really hope," you say and pick at the zipper of your bag. "It'll be nice to have someone new to love."

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #drabble #mike weiss #dark mike weiss #dark!mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #little surprises #puncture #defending jacob

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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

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the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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leashybebes · 5 months ago

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wip wednesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard 🥰

more post-makeup amnesia fic. *slaps the roof of tommy kinard* you can fit so much guilt and shame in this bad boy

Maddie and Howie arrive with the kids in tow. Jee Yun runs over to give Tommy the same little high five-fist bump-punch to the palm routine she always does, and Tommy feels himself smile for the first time since Evan woke up and asked what he was doing there.

"Sweetheart," Maddie says. "Do you want to go see Uncle Buck with Daddy and Kevin? I need to talk to Uncle Tommy."

Tommy looks at her, a little alarmed. "Is that the best idea?"

Maddie shrugs. "No better way to show him what month it is than a whole new person who was just a - " she glances at Jee Yun and remembers herself. "Just a little bean in Mommy's tummy the last he remembers."

"I guess," Tommy says, a little doubtful.

Howie gets a finger hooked into the back of Jee's collar, shifts Kevin higher on his hip and expertly guides his little family towards Evan's door, sparing a second for a sympathetic glance at Tommy.

Maddie watches them go with a little smile, then sighs and sits down next to Tommy.

"What are you doing out here?"

"As far as he's concerned, I broke his heart last month. He won't even look at me, Maddie. Me being there is not keeping him calm."

Maddie purses her lips, glances at him from the corner of her eye. "Are you going to run?"

Tommy bites his tongue. Reminds himself that she's Evan's sister, and like she's told him, she's a runner herself. She has a right to ask.

"No," he says.

"Good. Let me go talk to him."

Right on cue, Howie pokes his head out of the door. Tommy can hear Jee chattering and Evan - thank god - laughing.

"Mads?"

"Got it," Maddie says, and she briefly squeezes Tommy's shoulder as she goes, trading places with Howie, apparently concerned about visitor limits in a way no one connected with Evan or the 118 usually is. Tommy's aware that he's being managed, and is pathetically grateful.

"Here," Howie says, transferring Kevin into Tommy's arms before he has a chance to object. Not that he would, really. Tommy loves babies. Likes kids, but loves babies. But he can see it for what it is - you can't be tense while you hold a baby, not if you don't want them to pick up on it and become absolutely miserable in a split second.

"Low blow, Han," Tommy says, spreading his hand across Kevin's back and breathing slowly.

"Whatever works, man. How you holding up?"

"Uh. Kind of want to walk into traffic, honestly."

"Fair. This is one goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation."

Tommy gives Howie a narrow-eyed look. "That feels homophobic."

Howie laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

"When did you last eat something?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits.

"Alright. Leave Kev with a nurse if you decide to go hiking on the freeway, I'll be right back."

"Jesus, Howie."

With the baby in his arms, Tommy can't duck his head to avoid the way Howie ruffles his hair so he just rolls his eyes, resettles in his seat and waits.

no pressure tags for @rcmclachlan, @apollabarnes, @ambernotember and @jamieroyjamieroy

#bucktommy #my writing #wip games #amnesia fic

254 notes · View notes

rottiens · 5 months ago

Text

nocturne, gojō satoru

summary. you feel strange, something that had never happened in Satoru’s presence before. He had never made you feel anything more than comfort, confidence and respect, but now the air is slowly charged with a heavy mist that begins to seep through your skin, weighs on your lungs and makes your beats detonate just a little. You can't know what it is but there's something different about tonight.

tags. (18+), touch starved fem!reader, size difference, dubcon, manipulation, praise kink, reader is geto’s “ex”, gojo a little gay/bi (the usual), just the tip, cum eating, thigh job.

WC. 10.8K — read on ao3

notes. ok, first of all, I have the hc that gojo dances very well (I have zero proof, zero doubt). Second, this is inspired by my under my skin series with geto, writing the last chapter made me think about the people geto left behind when he left jujutsu tech and how they handled those feelings and this was born (you don't need to read that series at all to understand this), third; this came out darker than I had thought and I hope you still love me as much as I love feral gojo

You like to think that nothing has changed since he left. After all, the sun still shines just as brightly, the rain still drenches even the remotest corner of Tokyo, you keep drinking tea without a spoonful of sugar and you still attend Jujutsu Tech like the obedient little sheep you are (his words).

You still work for the higher-ups despite disagreeing with them all the time. You keep improving yourself as a sorceress, completing mission after mission and sending money to your parents every end of the month so they can finish paying off the house and maybe after all the only thing that has changed is that you now have your own apartment, which well, officially will be yours in about two more months when you finish paying off the loan. You are surrounded by things that you can proudly say belong to you and that you were able to buy for yourself, things that you may not need like a vase of candy that you keep in the kitchen for when Satoru is visiting or the cotton candy flavored lip balm that you are currently entertaining yourself with while waiting for the kettle to start squeaking.

The clock-like cat in the background meows at 1:56AM, yet another item Satoru threw in the shopping cart when he helped you get the essentials you needed to furnish your apartment a couple of years ago. It's something you didn't need because you're never home to look at the time or that's what you have your phone for, and after all you were never much of a cat lover. However when Satoru was looking at you over the top of his glasses and those bright eyes were begging you, it was almost impossible for you to say no to him.

Though, how could you? Satoru has been the only friend you've kept after so long, the only one who knows all the pain you've gone through in silence and the only one who was there with you the day Suguru left Jujutsu Tech. Truth be told, you were never that close to Satoru back then, you two never managed to talk that much except for when you would go out in a group and Ieiri would invite you downtown to go with them to eat, shop or drink sake, the memories make you sigh heavily. An ironic laugh crosses your chest along with a bitter memory of those days where you kept looking at Suguru from the other side of the table, every time his eyes met yours you were forced to look away, to run away from that heavy feeling that burned your chest and to ignore the fact that every time he laughed his knee met yours. You remember his cold fingers under the table touching your knee, touching your shoulder when he turned to tell you something funny.

The clock strikes 2:03AM, the exact moment when the kettle starts to squeak and forces you to get up from your stool and shuffle your bare feet across the tiles to the stove. You turn it off and the smoke leaving the kettle makes you focus again on that day... The day when The High-ups decided that Suguru Geto was officially enemy of the sorcerers and was now considered a curse that needed to be executed, that day Satoru was there too. It was the first time you saw him so quiet, without that sarcastic laughter that characterized him filling the room, the same silence that filled the others rested even heavier on Satoru's head and yours, it was as if a heavy black cloud began to rain down on your heads.

Satoru was silent but his clenched fists spoke for him, shaking on the table. White knuckles and thick veins were marked on the backs of his hands and when you looked up into his face he was glaring at you, that icy stare still makes your back bristle every time you remember it. His nose flaps were dilated and his sharp jaw was clenched. You on the other hand were shivering, as if the gray cloud above your head was actually starting to rain, as if the drops were real and together with Satoru's gaze it was raining on your body.

You never told anyone, not Satoru, not even Ieiri, but deep down you blame yourself for never noticing how he was slowly drifting away from you, how he was losing himself. In the middle of the nights when you talked lying on his bed, while he smoked and passed you the cigarette and asked you about the origin of the curses, when he asked what you thought would be the solution for a world without curses are clues that should have raised alarms in your head, yet you could never connect the dots of the red alerts that screamed to you that the person you were in love with could be about to fall into the abyss.

You lie to yourself, when you fix your hair every morning and put on the spotless uniform next to the plastic smile you have become so used to wearing, you lie to yourself and tell you that everything is fine, that even though you haven't known where he is for four years, even though you hear the trail of death he leaves in his wake, you are fine, everything is fine, the reflection in the mirror smiles back at you and repeats the same thing. You're glad you have a roof to live under, a place to work, friends to worry about, it's okay if you couldn't save one of them after all, right? It's not your fault. The important thing is that you are doing the right thing, that you are saving dozens of innocents, right?

You just pray every day, to whatever higher being might be listening to you not to be the one to find him, not to be the one to confront him... because if that day were to come, you...

Your phone chimes with a notification and the fact takes you so abruptly by surprise that the teacup you're holding slips and shatters to pieces on the floor, splashes of hot chamomile drops burn on your bare feet and exposed legs, you groan in pain and curse walking away to pick up the phone resting on the counter, just in time to receive another message.

S. Gojō: Knock knock, silly

S. Gojō: I'm outside

Sent at 2:21AM, he's never visited you this late. Usually Satoru would show up suddenly in the nights because he couldn't sleep, midnight, eleven, ten but he always left after two hours of drinking tea and talking about anything. Other times he would text you very late in the dawn because he woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, then he would find you awake because you couldn't sleep either and both of you would stay up late talking and then he would always be late the next day for his classes.

But today was unusual... your phone vibrates with another notification.

S. Gojō: Don't make me break the door, I can feel your cursed energy from in here :p

You must have been too deep in thought not to notice the strong smell of his cursed energy coming through the door, the sensation even through the walls tingles your skin.

You flee the kitchen scene with your feet marking wet footprints all over the floor, on your way to the front door you stop in the small living room to turn on the lights and give a little more life to the gloomy place. Your footsteps stop right in front of the frame, your fingers curl around the knob and you take a deep exhale that allows you to search for the plastic smile to put on your face, a smile that manages to mask how exhausted you were feeling tonight. Of all the nights, this might have been his worst choice to come visit you.

"Hey—" The creation of your fake smile falls halfway off. You don't remember the last time you'd seen Satoru out of uniform, or at least dressed so formally, just to come see you? But seeing him in casual clothes caused the wheels in your brain to stop working just a little. "What—"

He chuckles, adjusting the sunglasses better on the bridge of his nose. "They canceled the mission to Kyoto." He pauses to tap twice on the carry-on suitcase dragging near his feet that you barely notice. "So I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

That was it? "You always dress like that for all your missions?" Now he was smiling, almost looking amused at your reaction. "What's wrong with my clothes?" Nothing! That was the point, rather than a mission, he looked like he was dressed for a date.

He was wearing a black synthetic jacket that came down to his wrists along with a shirt the color of his eyes underneath, the two buttons near his collarbones open revealing a flash of his chest. Those oval sunglasses that couldn't be missed and tight black pants that matched the shiny loafers. Without the uniform he even looked taller, he smelled like he just got out of the shower, a kind of icy mint where you are forced to inhale while blinking slowly.

"Nothing," you comment after you've examined him up and down. You think you were subtle enough that he didn't notice, but you're sure he did anyway.

"May I come in?" he still keeps a smile on his words.

You step aside without adding something else that sinks you into a debate you can't get out of. You wait patiently for the wheels of the mini suitcase to cross the threshold of the door and for Satoru to give you the space to close it behind you.

"Want some tea?" you cross past him to head for the kitchen, his footsteps following your trail.

"Yeah, tell me you have sugar." You want to fight him, to tell him that chamomile tea doesn't really have sugar in it because it's a sleeping tea, but you know you'd just be wasting your time so you end up pointing your finger at one of the shelves instead.

"It's right where—"

"Wow!" His hands suddenly squeeze your waist and make you stop, you stutter his name in confusion. His fingers burn against the flesh your pajamas fail to cover and he pulls you back. "What happened?" he says low behind you. You notice how his hands look squeezing you and then look at the puddle at your feet along with pieces of pottery strewn in front of the sink.

"Your text message, you scared me."

"So it was my fault, hm?" you can guess the smirk in his tone. "It's okay, I always take care of my messes."

Satoru gently pushes you aside, then asks you to sit on one of the stools while he takes care of picking up the pieces because he's afraid you might cut yourself in the process. He further alleges that you are barefoot.

"My hero," you say, exaggerating your voice for a louder one. This time Satoru laughs and it rubs off on you. He takes several paper towels and squats down spreading his knees as far apart as he can to soak all the paper while you stare at him silently, it's impossible not to think how big he is if you compare him to your kitchen space or if you compare him to any other object in your apartment really.

"I know, I know. What would you do without me, huh?" he looks up at you from below and you catch a glint of the blue in his eyes before he turns his attention back to the floor, focusing now on picking up the broken pieces and carrying each one to the trash can behind you.

"Sooo." You exaggeratedly lengthen the word until he's back in your field of vision, rummaging through your cabinets effortlessly as if he owns the floor.

"So?" He walks toward you with two mugs that he places side by side. Then he turns around to pick up the teapot and starts pouring the hot liquid.

"Do you always go on your missions like this?"

"Like this how?" Oh, he knows very well what you meant. Like this, you want to tell him, but you know it would only serve to boost his annoying ego a little more. "Tell me when to stop," he asks you, starting to empty the hot liquid into the cup, the smell of chamomile and cinnamon wafting up towards your nose.

"That's good," you tell him a few inches before the infusion touches the rim and you bring it to your mouth almost instantly. "And I mean like this," you point his body up and down with your free hand, then sip slowly, "so elegant."

"What do you mean? This is me in my regular clothes, this is how I always look." Satoru finishes filling his cup and puts at least six sugar cubes in it before speaking again. "Let's go to the couch." You just shake your head and follow the path he traces because you're sure you're going to be more comfortable on the L-shaped couch he helped you pick out (which is why he loves it so much), conventionally too big for your living room space, but big enough for Satoru to spread his legs and arms on the back and coo like a pleased kitten. "Today's mission was special..." He answers a question you'd forgotten about and takes the first sip of his tea.

"Hm?" you inquire, curiously looking for more information. Now that you're sitting up, the satin fabric of your shorts rides up a few inches over your thighs and in a vain attempt to pull it down just a little, you find him peering out of the corner of your eye.

"It was someone... important." You feel his eyes on your thighs, he tries to disguise it but doesn't try very hard either. "I had to escort him somewhere."

"It had to be someone important to be escorted by the strongest." This time he's the one cooing, hesitant. You know there are missions you can't divulge too much about or you might get in trouble, and even for someone like Satoru Gojo who giving his tongue a life of its own has never been a problem, him being quiet now should be enough to make you desist on the subject or maybe he's just too distracted going back to your legs again and again. You clear your throat. "I-"

"Mind if I turn out the light?" you blink slowly in his direction. "My eyes," he clarifies something that should be obvious to you. An Oh louder than it should makes your throat vibrate.

"Sure."

"I just want to take a break from the sunglasses for a while."

"Sure, yeah."

Satoru first sets the cup down on the small table in front of the couch, then gets up and walks over and through the various objects in your living room until he reaches the switch. You try not to notice his body as he does so, his long legs or how wide his shoulders look as he walks back towards the couch making the place his catwalk, the height and appearances have always made him look like a model in your eyes, a comment you want to make but your coherent side makes you bite your tongue, you're still too awake for that.

You try to hide that it doesn't affect you when he takes off his jacket and settles back on the sofa with his mug in hand, staring at you.

"Better?" You clear your throat again, feeling it irritably dry.

"Yeah. I have been using them all day and the bright light sometimes ends up bothering me.” The conversation makes you look at his eyes, even in the midst of the darkness that surrounds you, you can see them shine.

“I'm sorry,” you say, but you don't know exactly what you're apologizing for. Uncomfortable and overheated, you decide to take another long sip of the infusion.

It's strange, you feel strange, something that had never happened in Satoru's presence before. He had never made you feel anything more than comfort, confidence and respect, but now the air is slowly charged with a heavy mist that, although you cannot see, begins to seep through your skin, through your pores, weighs on your lungs and makes your beats detonate just a little. You can't know what it is but there's something different about tonight.

"What about you?" Satoru murmurs with his mouth on the cup, his sweet voice echoing among the ceramics and the way he speaks seems like he's telling a little boy a secret. "Haven't you been on missions in a long time?"

"I don't usually take so many important missions, no." You didn't need to give him any more details because you're sure he knew… that your last name wasn't as well known as his or the Zenins, that you weren't as strong compared to other sorcerers, and that you didn't normally leave town, unlike he.

"I remember when Suguru was here it wasn't like that." His name makes you stop breathing for a moment. Your fingers squeeze the semi-empty cup and your gaze escapes from his to focus on some point on the floor. "He always said how strong you were, how much he wanted to have you under his arm and show you what you weren't able to see for yourself, one day." Was he really saying all that about you? This time you go back to his face, on his expression, his half-closed eyes fixed on what was in front of him, it seemed that he was serious.

"He never told me that."

"I guess it wasn't necessary, was it?"Yes? You have always been a person who likes to hear what others think especially regarding their feelings, no matter how much their facts speak for them, you need to hear them say those three important words. "You guys were really close after all." Yes, Suguru and you were very close indeed. So close that sometimes he would rather study with you than with Satoru even though you were a year younger than them. You were so close that sometimes you slept together, he would listen to your secrets and he would babble about his.

“Gojo…” You scratch the back of your neck, massaging a tendon that tightens and pulls your nape toward the floor. You weren't sure if this was the topic you wanted to talk about tonight.

“Please, we are the same now. You don't have to treat me with such respect, Satoru it's okay." You leave the empty cup on the table before looking at him, a smile was waiting on his face that barely curved the corners of his mouth but there was something in all this that although it seemed innocent, it was not right, and while you pull down the fabric of your shorts you realize what it is.

"Satoru." You say his name for the first time in a long time and that makes the grin on his face widen, he tilts his head forward a bit showing you more of his eyes and invites you to continue. "I don't know if I want to talk about it right now."

You knew exactly what that was on your chest, tight, like a rope knot. It was guilt, because even after so many years you felt that you had to continue being faithful to a person who disappeared without giving you an explanation, guilt because you were seeing who his best friend was with different eyes. Because you were thinking of Satoru in a way that one friend wouldn't think of another.

"Do you still love him? Is that why you don't want to take on the important missions, are you afraid of running into him?" your tongue is heavy, your stomach sinks even deeper. Satoru wasn't looking at you, his attention was fixed on the unlit lamp at the other end of the couch.

"Yes." It's all you can say, running from his expression to your legs. Not having enough strength to clarify which of the two questions you are answering, concentrating on the heating in your apartment, on how warm it feels to be there.

"Yeah..." He sighs, pausing for a long time. "Me too. I miss him, it's hard not to think about him sometimes." You can sense the melancholy in his voice, his cup crashing against the wood as soon as he finishes speaking, the silence and darkness in the room adding a bit more melodrama to the scene. Satoru splits his legs, spreads his thighs wide, and the mix of emotions inside you intensifies.

"He never contacted you again?" you ask desperately to occupy your mind. He shakes his head, still focused on the lifeless lamp. You? "No."

And maybe it was better that way. To live in silence, to live hiding and filling the emptiness he left inside you with books and knowledge, with other people who look like him, with missions where you pray you never meet him face to face because the moment you did you wouldn't know exactly what to say or what to do, even though you know well what the orders are supposed to obey.

You look at the lamp along with him wondering what he's thinking. Filling the gaps in your memory with banal conversations you two might be having right now, yet this didn't seem like one of the many times Satoru has come to your place to chat and drink.

"When was the last time you did something fun?" Out of the corner of your eye you see him rest his head on his shoulder and relax a little more on the couch. “Something that has nothing to do with work. Something you really enjoy.”

If you were honest... "I don't even remember."

He clicks his tongue and you look at him just in time to see him reach for something in his pocket. The blue light from the screen illuminates his face, the keyboard squeaks under his nice fingers, strands of hair stick to his forehead and the light is so bright it makes his eyelashes look like snowflakes. A soft melody begins to play, you're lost, you drop your head to the side along with a pout that makes him laugh, then he holds out his hand.

"Dance with me."

“Gojo— no, no. I Can't." You laugh nervously, the heat rising from your cheeks to your chest. "I don't know how to dance." You confess quietly, more embarrassed to share that secret than you should.

"Okay, me neither." Liar, you'd definitely seen him dance before at teacher parties and maybe he wasn't a pro but he was good, he did that thing with his feet that was impossible to take your eyes off him when he was on the dance floor. "Come on."

You chew your lower lip, exchanging glances between the hand that moves its fingers strangely in front of you and Satoru, who is waiting for you with a smile. No, don't, don't take his hand… You know he feels your icy damp fingers as his hand clings to yours and helps you up to cling to your chest. Your lungs empty and fill with him, his perfume, his natural scent, the faint cotton candy scent you manage to identify among the tangle of faint scents. The fact that he had deactivated his infinity so that you can touch him shoots adrenaline through your bloodstream, skin against skin.

"Okay, what do I do?" You were laughing shyly again, allowing his fingers to take hold of your waist, fixing you close to him just as he wanted you.

"Just follow my footsteps." It was hard to follow him, keep your nerves in check and at the same time try to breathe.

"I'm going to step on you." You tease, his open palm descending to your lower back as the violins pick up, pulling you further into him. "Go—!"

"You're not going to step on me, we're fine. Put your hands on my shoulders." He instructs you. That meant having to leave his chest, stop yourself from looking at his collarbones and look into his eyes. "Like this." He does it for you, takes one of your wrists and delicately places it on one of his shoulders then returns to your waist, his ice-cold fingers a little further below your waist this time, you feel his fingertips brush against the elastic of your shorts, his nails barely scratching your skin. “This is my favorite part,” he says low in your ear, almost mischievous. And in the midst of the symphony of your blood rushing violently in your ears and the drum of your heart, you hear it. The violin had increased in speed which made you go faster, it was almost impossible to follow his turns, impossible not to step on him but this was something Satoru ignored, he allows your bare feet to step on him again and again and again, bringing behind these one apology from you after another.

Satoru was practically on top of you now, hugging you closer to him. His face hidden in your neck —which you appreciate because how could you look into his eyes and dance at the same time—, his lips on your skin, humming the melody of the instruments. His arms squeeze you, make you groan in surprise. Then he kisses your neck and that makes you aware of every little thing around you, the noise that the silence makes, how slowly his feet took you on the impromptu dance floor because the violins had decayed dramatically, you could clearly hear how quickly you were breathing with your mouth open, his arms gripping your waist make you feel small, you can tell how hot having him close is making you, the warmth of his body, how the tender fabric of his shirt felt crinkling against your exposed skin. Satoru kisses you again, this time near the ear.

“Gojo…” you call him, your hands pushing his shoulders in search of regaining your personal space, you needed it or you were going to faint.

"Satoru." He corrects you, breathing heavily into your ear. The warm breath makes your thighs rub against each other.

"Satoru." You repeat, he makes a growling sound. "I don't… think…"

"Do you think he will come back?" A phantom hand oppresses your chest, destroys your ribs to the rhythm of the dramatic melody with which the song continues that seems to never end. "Is that why you haven't been with anyone else?" Satoru leaves the comfort of your neck to look at you, his arms still tied behind your back. He has the look of a feline on his face, white locks falling across his forehead serving as curtains for those eyes that glow like neon lights. An iciness rests on your abdomen, as faint as the flutter of a butterfly.

The song stops abruptly, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart, your stomach sinking with each breath you take.

“How do you know—” He snorts, his laugh sounding cruel, cutting your sentence off in mid-air.

"Have you?" you refuse to answer, you refuse to keep looking at him so you evade him and those eyes that seem to watch everything. You think you have nowhere to go —literally, because his arms hold you prisoner—, wherever you look there he is. So you stare past his shoulder, past the baby blue of his shirt to the fresh coat of paint on your wall. "Look at me."

You refuse to do it and show him your vulnerability. Sinking deeper and deeper into that heavy, cold sensation that walks from your navel to your ribs, turning into a bitter cocktail of emotions that you don't know how to swallow. When you don't look at him, one of his hands goes to the back of your neck and forces you to do so, fixes your gaze on him, on his slightly half-open pink lips, then on his eyes and the bitter cocktail becomes digestible, clear....

"I've always had my eyes on you."

...So clear. Underneath the layers and layers of raw human emotions you could make out so clearly the primal fear, you wanted to run away from the almighty, hide from his intense gaze but you also feel guilt because inside you still waited for Suguru, because you still expected him to come back even after four years. Guilt because you still felt you had to remain faithful to someone who never asked you to be his girlfriend, to someone who never told you he loved you. You still want to stay faithful to a ghost. Shame, because you couldn't help that your body reacted so well to his closeness, you were hot in every corner of your body and underneath it all, you were aroused.

Your quick blinks took care of erasing the stupor you were in, protecting your tears from spilling over, why would you cry after all? If you never cried when he left, it wasn't time to cry now.

"What did you say?" You tell him in a shaky voice.

"Whenever you were looking at Suguru I was looking at you, watching you laugh, watching your eyes sparkle every time they met his." You see him move from your eyes to your lips. "Watching you fall in love with my best friend. But I don't blame you, I too wondered how his lips tasted."

"Satoru, I didn't—" You were dizzy, your guts in knots. Your frail fists push him again achieving the same result: him remaining motionless. "I don't think it's right that we..."

"He's gone." He says your name, the tone he uses is so ruthless, his voice sounds broken, hoarse and you can't help but shed a single tear that he tries to wipe away immediately, his thumb scrapes your cheek and the touch makes you close your eyes looking to escape from there, to escape the pain, the loneliness and the hundreds of emotions you shouldn't be feeling right now.

"You're his best friend," you say in a tired sigh, looking for him to see the logic to a situation that is obvious to you.

"Yeah." That's all he says. You see him approach you and your eyes snap open meeting his face bathed in darkness, the shadows of the room dancing across half of his face, it makes the features blur and stand out so much more at once. "But we haven't done anything, have we?" he says even closer to your mouth. "At least not yet."

Before you can protest, complain or bring any sense to his brain, Satoru was kissing you and all you can feel for a long moment are his gentle, expert lips, kissing you frantically, forcing you to open wider to give him the space he needs to deepen the kiss. You try to push him away but any kind of physical force you try to exert on him is less than pathetic, your fists don't even faze him and as much as you try to run away, his hands are squeezing your forearms tightly forcing you to remain immobile.

After a while of struggling, of denying yourself the pleasure, you let him in. Satoru purrs reaching your tongue. You are clumsy at first but manage to keep up with him, melting into his rough grip that contrasts gently with the way his mouth caresses yours. His tongue drags your lower lip and that makes you moan in surprise, embarrassed your face boils and his teasing chuckle makes your whole body tighten.

When Satoru finally pulls away, it seems like an eternity has passed, every little corner of your body feels hot and unstable. Your lips tingle and your thighs tremble, you don't remember the last time you... actually, yes, you remembered very well.

He still stands close, with a smile you can glimpse cutting through the night. With slightly swollen lips, painted a pink a few shades more intense than before. As you struggled to get fresh air into your lungs, Satoru still maintained the same breathing rhythm as when he walked through your door.

"You really haven't been with anyone else,” he says, tasting his lips with his tongue.

"N-no, I..."

You didn't have to answer, it wasn't a question, you still looked to try to give him a logical explanation for the physiological reaction you were having but he was already smiling, much wider this time without actually showing his teeth. Satoru lets go of your arms and seems to widen on you, he seems taller, stronger, as if all this time he had been bending his knees so he could be completely at your eye level. Suddenly his hands were all over your crotch, squeezing your pussy above the fabric of your shorts, sinking deeper between your folds. The sticky puddle immediately stains the fabric, you feel it and you know he feels it so you slip away from his face paying more attention to the floor.

"No panties," he says loudly in a mocking tone. Your nails dig into his wrist, a futile attempt to make him stop.

"Satoru, please."

"Please what?" With the help of his fingers he strokes your slit up and down damaging your shorts with your arousal, the delicate fabric feels so good on your swollen clit, someone else's touch even with your pajamas in between is so good you can't help but moan, your nails digging a little deeper into his skin. "Please, keep going?" his caresses are barely perceptible now, toying very very slowly with your clit, your jaw drops to the floor. "Or Satoru, please stop?" He pats your pussy in a gentle slap as if trying to prove a point, your whole body arches falling forward towards him and Satoru welcomes you in a kind of strange embrace. "You have to use your words," he clarifies, his voice so much like a siren's song.

With your face in the middle of his chest he turns you into a shell that does nothing but tremble, a shell empty of all logical thoughts. All that comes to you is an explosion of emotions bombarding your senses, you are overstimulated with smells: you inhale with his hand on the back of your neck petting your hair, giving you time to clear your head. Your belly tingles because he smells so good, the icy mint mixes with a somewhat sweet manly perfume that invites you to sniff harder. His chest feels hard and pleasant at the same time giving you the security you've been lacking the last months, you want to hug him and cry while you let him take care of you, the heat emanating from him almost burns you, it seems impossible to you that he's so hot; your eyelids squeeze tighter making the pitch black take shapes: stars, constellations, random dots.

"If you're not going to decide, then I think I should give you space." He takes a step back and your brain has to force itself back to reality, you regain the unsteadiness you lost when you stopped touching him and take two strong steps backwards moving further away from him, even though the heater is still on, your whole body suddenly feels cold. You hug yourself to cover your erect nipples. "I'll leave you to rest and we can talk tomorrow."

Your tongue stays heavy and sticky, your teeth are biting it slowly as you watch him grab his jacket determined to leave.

"Don't go." You don't recognize your own voice.

"What? Sorry I didn't hear you."

"Please stay." You assumed he was smiling, you couldn't bring yourself to lift your head from the tip of his shiny shoes that are getting bigger as he approaches you again. His presence makes you feel under some kind of spell, you inhale looking for the oxygen that was stolen from you, you feel weak, dizzy... and his long fingers grab your chin to make you look at him, then you confirm he was smirking, the corners of his mouth slightly raised towards the sky.

"Do you trust me?" You do. You'd be a fool not to. Your lips part to respond, but the height difference makes you clam up. "You know I'd never hurt you, right?" You know. "Go to the couch."

That's how you find yourself doing the next thing he asks, sliding your shorts off and placing your legs on the soft surface in an awkward V, exposing your wet pussy to a hungry gaze. In a way he reminds you of Suguru —the way he walks towards you brimming with confidence, the way he looks at you, the aura of superiority with which his height looms over you— and that makes you feel more shame, more guilt, you want to hide your face but you know that would be much worse so you force yourself to watch him walk towards you and drop to his knees in the middle of your thighs.

Satoru grabs your calves, your yelp in surprise. The soles of your feet are on his broad shoulders, you feel the muscles there tense and stretch as he settles in, you watch him lick his lips and your pussy clenches under his nose. Without hands —because these are on your waist, walking shyly over your ribs—, he kisses your navel and your body contracts. Relax, he murmurs, kissing your skin, tickling you every time his pretty lips go down a couple of centimeters more.

The waves of heat produced by his laughter go straight to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you were shivering under him, as if your body was freezing to death but on the contrary, your temples were wet with droplets of sweat, your back is hot and your hands are soaked, still you can't stop shivering. His nose brushes the short hairs on your mons pubis, then he kisses your clit hidden between your labia and with the help of his tongue he searches for it with his eyes closed, parting your soaked lips until he manages to make direct contact with what he craves so much.

You don't know what to do with your hands, you want to leave them to the side of your body but they start to tremble, you want to take it into his short strands but you don't know if that would be something he would approve of.

"More," he says. Satoru takes your hands and makes his words make sense, he helps you place your fingers under your knees, forcing you to open wider for him in an embarrassing position. "Keep your legs open, just like this."

He mumbles something else between his teeth but you don't pay attention, his thumbs were spreading your lips further apart, uncovering more of your clit and the inspection gets your arousal spilling from your pussy to your thighs and from there to your ass. You were so wet, you could feel it touching the couch. You wanted him to do something, anything, if he kept looking at you like that you weren't going to be able to control yourself.

"Stop it," you beg him, squeezing your eyes shut, the grip on your thighs weakening a little.

"Let me look at you. You're soaking wet from just a couple of kisses..." The left one holds your pussy open, the thumb of the right then makes tight circles over your most sensitive spot and an electric current runs through your body. "That's cute." The thumb slides down to your slit, there it collects your juices and returns to the top where it drags them over your clit using them as a lubricant. "I wonder..." You feel his breath close to it, speaking so softly it feels like he's not even talking to you, your hips thrust upward. "Are you this wet because no one has touched you in years or is it just because it's me?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, you don't even know if you'd be ready to. Suddenly his lips were locked on your clit, sucking roughly, making your legs slam over his head, the vibrations of his laughter going straight to your core.

"Mhm no, stay wide open for me. I want to taste every last drop." You take a deep breath in search of silencing another moan. His hands on your legs forcing you to open them a second time.

It's been so long since another person touched you that his strokes seem to come in waves, forming with each moan a knot in your lower abdomen tighter and tighter, sharper and sharper. You couldn't form a single coherent thought other than a distant, welcoming white noise as Satoru devoured the feast that seemed to be your cunt, his soft tongue parting your slit and pressing hard enough on your throbbing clit. You open your eyes after a while, you blink looking up at the sky, the darkness you had grown so accustomed to is replaced by the dim lighting in your living room, the white noise turns into the wet and sloppy sounds of Satoru kissing your pussy and between long blinks you gasp—

"I'm close..."

Satoru stands up just a little to tease you and the sensation of not having his mouth near you is almost painful, you feel him shudder beneath your feet. "Already?" he asks without really expecting an answer, his open palm squeezing your clit mercilessly. The sudden electric touch makes you snap your eyes shut again, your eyelids fill with lightning and a cold current coils up your spine. "No— huh, I don't want you thinking about anyone else while I make you cum... open your eyes."

"That wasn't—! Ah." That wasn't what you were doing! That's what you mean, but his fingers were hitting your aching flesh a little too hard, emptying your lungs.

You are so very close to reaching that longed-for sensation but he stops. A coo of no, no, no, no, comes out of your throat, forcing you to swallow a ball of saliva that had formed. But Satoru was standing now, he had left your wobbling body to one side, your weak legs dangling off the couch and he was in front of you, undoing the belt with one hand and stroking the prominent bulge with the other. Now the white noise of your thoughts passed your ears, the drums in your chest were beginning to sound much louder. Then with a, Get on your knees, you knew this was really happening, this was real.

You want to protest because you want to find the release that is burning your core, you want to beg him to continue touching you until he makes you cum but the look he gives you silences any protest, you really didn't want to challenge him. Satoru plops down next to you occupying the previous empty space on some cushions with his body, his legs stretched out as he pleases, lightly colliding with your knee. You get up from your seat to crawl to his feet, there, with his arms on top of the backrest and legs spread apart add that air of superiority that always surrounds him.

Your hands look small on his legs, the shadow of his cock resting on his thigh makes them look much smaller. The size intimidates you and detonates dozens of unseemly thoughts inside you —how big will he be when you take it out, if you've taken Suguru before you could definitely do it with Gojo— you were scared and you knew he knew it, silently Satoru raises his hips letting you know he's still waiting for you, but to your surprise he was being much more than patient with you. In the process of lubricating your throat with enough saliva and stroking his cock over the fabric at least thirty seconds pass.

You hear him sigh in relief, your palm is like the touch of a feather, so light that you know you will make him desperate if you keep it up. You see him drop his head back and decide to work up the courage to remove the button and then undo the zipper. Satoru helps you with the rest by hooking his fingers into his pants and pulling them down to his knees along with his boxers. You cling to his thighs, your nails digging into his porcelain skin, even with the absence of light you can see it quiver, the size makes you squeeze your legs together, your juices running from your cunt to the inside of your thighs. Again your memories travel to Suguru and you find it hard not to unconsciously compare the two of them, Satoru was definitely much less thick than his friend, something you are thankful for as it makes you think you would have an easier time taking it; however it is long enough to make you just a little terrified at the thought of having it inside you. It was long, pale and slightly curved to the left.

You swallow and come to the conclusion that the right thing to do would be to take it from the base with both hands made into fists, you squeeze it, he groans through his teeth.

"What are you thinking?" you are surprised to hear him speak, you thought after all this time he had run out of inappropriate comments to make.

"It's big." There's not a single filter in your brain at that moment. You still contemplate how much you have left to take in even as you hold it, one fist over the other.

"You like it?" You lick your lips in response, moving from the sticky wet head to his eyes and think as you look into them now they are darker, still glistening with lust. "Use your words, angel."

The petname makes you dizzy. You look down at the cock in your hands again, then back up at him. "I like it," you confess.

"Do you need help?" You didn't think it was possible to get your heart to beat faster but somehow you manage it. You shake your head in denial, see him smile and assume maybe he's proud. Satoru spreads his legs wider and moves his hips closer to the edge of the couch to make you more comfortable, two of his fingers manage to start removing the buttons on the wrinkled shirt. "No? Alright, show me what a good girl you are then."

His praises were going straight to your head making your brain turn into a sponge asking for more of his voice, more of his compliments. You stir between your legs, the position quickly numbing your knees. You start to move your hands at the same time, up and down very slowly, hoping to get some sign of approval from him but all you get is a long silence, even though it only makes you want to please him more.

You let your hands continue to massage the shaft and focus on the head. Trying to remember the last time you sucked a cock you remember Suguru, you remember what he used to like, the instructions he used to give you, after all he has been the only man you have been with, the only one who has taught you everything you know so nerves eat away at your bones when you finally put it in your mouth. It's strange because you were expecting another taste but surprisingly it tastes like nothing so this makes you suck, swirl your tongue in circles sensing every detail of the smooth texture, that's when you hear him moan, you hollow your cheeks and seek to take it deeper.

You pause for a moment to spit on it and fuck just the tip of it with a tight fist, Satoru gasps and his back arcs in your direction. Standing closer to you his fingers sink into your silky strands and he forces you to steady yourself, his height widening over your crumpled figure.

"Say 'aah', that's it, atta girl." Satoru snatches his own cock from your hand to flick your tongue, then forces your head down to take him deeper. You feel the tip hit your throat which makes you gag around it, you squeeze the fabric of his shirt in your hands, protests get stuck around his shaft and when the saliva is touching your jaw he pulls out of you to let you breathe, as soon as his cock stops clogging your throat you start coughing. "Sh, sh. You're going to take it again." He speaks to you so sweetly he almost makes you believe that you can.

"I can't—"

"Let me try again, your throat feels so good, look how hard you've made me." Amidst your watery eyes you manage to see it throbbing in front of you as Satoru pleases himself by stroking it vaguely with one hand, the head tinted a darker red. "Just a second time, I promise." His words are cotton candy on your palate, they make it all make sense, make you trust him because he would never hurt you and get you to end up opening your mouth like an obedient lamb for a second time.

Satoru slides inside you with a praise and an animalistic growl, first he takes his time and rubs himself on your tongue back and forth, your lips close around him sucking devotedly. You take a big inhale to try and prepare to take him again, this time the fist binding your hair forces you to go deeper. You protest, your hands slapping his thighs. "Mhm almost... almost. I know you can take it all, relax your throat." In between gagging comes the thought that you are going to choke, not just because of the size, but because of the amount of saliva you have accumulated and with the fist on your head pushing you deeper you come to the conclusion that you were going to pass out. Even though you managed to breathe through your nose your throat was burning, you could barely see because of the salty drops accumulating in your eyes and when you had given up and relaxed your throat, the tip of your nose brushes the short white hairs, there finally Satoru lets you go.

You are coughing at his feet with your sore and bruised throat, one hand wiping the drool from your cheek and another drying your tears that apparently overflowed at some point. If you told him to stop, would he really stop now, could you really go through with this? Your lips hurt, your throat burns and your stomach sinks a little at the thought that Suguru might find you like this. What would he say? You don't know at what point you started sobbing quietly or when you ended up in Satoru's lap but when you opened your eyes all you could find was that pair of deep blue eyes staring at you, singing you a coo as he stroked your back.

"You did so good for me." You did? Your eyes shining with illusion, your stomach in knots. You shouldn't be happy. His thumbs wipe away your tears, his big hands cradle your face and you melt into them, rubbing your head between his palms like a needy puppy. He deposits two wet kisses on your moist cheeks. "You liked sucking my cock that much? Is that why you're crying?" You... you were stunned, you didn't know exactly what you were supposed to answer. You try to swallow and your throat s scratchy, your tongue gritty. "You made me so fucking hard and took me so deep, you should be proud." His thumb travels from your burning cheeks to your lip and he squeezes it back and forth, the soft touch feels so good that you are forced to close your eyes again, letting yourself be consumed by that cloud of pleasure. In the midst of your stupor, you feel two fingers bring a new flame to your core, caressing your clit in lazy circular motions.

"Satoru..."

"Open your mouth." You find yourself doing it before you can process the idea, his thumb is heavy on your tongue, the sensation is pleasant and reminds you of his cock; the idea makes you clench around nothing. "Suck it nice and deep, like it's my cock." That makes you moan, his touch has you melting, his fingers go from your clit to your hole and there he slides a finger inside you with such ease, the squish of his finger digging deep inside you exposes how wet you are. "Do you want me to make you cum with my cock in your mouth?" The moan he steals from you is lewd, Satoru replaces your thumb with two of his longer fingers, he squeezes your tongue and thrusts in and out of your mouth as spit starts to puddle on your tongue. "All this wet from sucking my dick?"

Satoru laughs behind your ear, leaving a kiss there that makes you clench around the second finger he presses inside you. Massaging your pussy slowly in and out, you're sure his fingers are soaking wet when he reaches your g-spot, all the way to the knuckles deep inside you, making your cunt scream with those clicking sounds. He starts to increase the pace pumping that spot and fucking your mouth at the same time, getting your body to start bucking on top of his lap.

His fingers keep pounding your sore pussy and that makes you want to collapse in his arms, his fingers longer and more expert than yours manage to easily reach deeper inside you. You cry out his distorted name thanks to his fingers reaching for your throat, your body twitches and falls silent until he pulls his soaked fingers out of your mouth and lets you collapse onto his body, sobbing into his shoulder as his fingers continue to ride each wave of your orgasm, your hole tightening again and again around him, you are exhausted, empty as he pulls out of you.

You moan because your whole body is numb, more perceptible to the dim light, to the sounds you distinguish in your own apartment and his dirty fingers from your orgasm now begging for entrance to your mouth.

"Clean your mess," he says, but he is really ordering you. Your still mush brain allows him to enter your mouth and you suck with devotion until he deems them clean enough, only then does he drag them out of you, gently pat your cheek and that gets your attention back to reality.

"W-what-" Even though you had learned that complaints were worthless with Satoru, you decide to whine in confusion as he was helping to gently lay you down on the couch and next he positions himself better on top of you. "Wait, Satoru..." You clearly knew what was coming.

"Squeeze your thighs together." He ignores any kind of complaint to your non-surprise. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, his hair falling messily across his forehead giving him a feral touch, almost covering the wild look he was staring at you with... though he wasn't looking at you, at least not directly. His cock slams into your clit, squeezing it back and forth beneath his heavy head and the impact makes you wince. "You know what..."

"I don't think, really... really I—"

"It's okay," he says. Gathering your legs so easily in one hand, pushing them together until they touch your chest. "I'm not going to put it in, it shouldn't count as cheating." He's so hard against your sodden folds, you gasp as you just the fat head tease trying to push inside you, bumping into your hole to slide all the way back up your slit. You shudder, your hips squirm. "Though for someone who doesn't want to get her pussy fucked, you're pretty fucking wet," he snorts wryly, slamming into your pussy harder this time. "Maybe we could try it next time, it wouldn't count as cheating if I fuck your ass either." Next time.

You don't have time to complain or mention that you've never done anything like this before... you can't take in the icy fear mixed with excitement that settles in your belly as you listen to him talk about fucking your ass because Satoru was pushing himself into the middle of your tight pussy lips, Squeeze your thighs for me, he reminds you, so he can let go and rest both hands on the sides of your head. Your feet are pressed against his chest, Satoru starting a firm pace where he shamelessly fucks your thighs and where you can't do more than take it because your hands are busy holding your legs closed so they don't spill out beside you.

Satoru is close to you, his shirt falls open around his ribs making it bounce with each sharp thrust. You're panting with your mouth open getting your tongue dry as you desperately search for the oxygen that each time his hips bump against your thighs makes escape. He's certainly not inside you, he's not stretching your insides nice and deep but it's as if he is— each thrust makes you feel dizzy, the swollen tip of his cock rubbing against your tender clit over and over again, your pussy still sensitive from the recent orgasm he had snatched from you.

Contrary to what you might have imagined, if you had ever allowed yourself to fantasize about such a thing, Satoru is quiet, grunting and moaning without any modesty, sometimes gritting his teeth or you notice the Adam's apple go up and down yet he doesn't bother to disguise how good you make him feel, not caring much that the whole building realizes you have company tonight— knowing him, you imagine the idea only turns him on more. You're sure he'd rather be inside you but the expression on his face right now is one of pure ecstasy and lust, a hint of morbidity even as he's not even fucking you properly, the idea of him fucking you with that same intensity... that you even let him use your ass makes you clench painfully around nothing, your walls feel achingly empty.

From below you notice his pearly teeth chewing on his lower lip, his arms tensed at your side from the force he's exerting mark prominent veins and the occasional white strand bounces off his forehead from the intensity, his forehead beading with droplets of water.

"Fuck, I'm close." Satoru sits back on his calves and runs a hand through his hair pushing away the annoying strands. Your legs open, drop down to rest a little from the position feeling already the burning that chews your muscles and will be much worse tomorrow.

He takes the time to take off his shirt which is a mess and you lose yourself for a moment in what little you can appreciate of his marked abdomen, much stronger than you could ever imagine. Satoru wasn't as muscular or beefy as Suguru, but he was just as attractive.

Holding onto your elbows you see him grab his cock with one hand and slap your aching flesh again, tap, tap, tap. "You want to cum like this? Me slapping your clit?" you couldn't answer, you don't really know what you wanted, too deep in a thick fog of desire that manages to sink you deeper and deeper into that white noise. Far away, you hear him chuckling without stopping, rubbing your clit, hitting it with the red tip, teasing it until you gasp squeezing your eyes tight, a big hand pushes your abdomen down telling you dirty and sweet things, thus helping you to reach your sweet orgasm just with the stimulation of his cockhead.

Satoru drops down on you again but this time it's much closer, his wet chest is crushing yours, between your legs you how heavy his thighs and hips are. His heavy breath hitting your neck, from there he goes to your ear. "Can I put it in? Just the tip, I promise." The tantalizing whisper makes your hips thrust upward seeking more of his hard cock sliding in between your slick folds, you feel it hard, throbbing, begging to finally be emptied. "Please, please..." Your nails dig into his back, he growls biting your neck in response.

"Yeah..." You respond lost amidst your carnal desires. Overwhelmed by the beads of sweat on his back under your fingers, the fragrance of his sweaty shampoo hypnotizing your coherence, his clammy hair tickling your shoulder line. Satoru marks your neck, peppering it with little kisses and sucking until it hurts.

"Yeah? That's a good girl." Satoru's heat suffocates you against the couch, his thighs heavy on top of yours making you sink between the cushions just a little, forcing you to open wider to take it. You are too hot, too wet. Satoru jerks the tip of his cock at your entrance, making circles that make you clench wanting to have it inside, teasing you one last time he does as he promises, he shoves just the tip of his cock in making you so empty, it's not enough, it's all you can think about.

You are aching still thanks to your previous orgasm, sobbing, lost in the sweet babbles he drops as he licks your ear.

"I'm going to cum inside you," he blurts out. Followed by a long thrust that gets his hips sliding inside you but he pulls out right away, the motion makes your nails dig deeper into his back. "Sorry, you're so wet..." He shuffles his hips again to thrust into your pussy with a faint clap of colliding skins, there he just grinds his hips against yours, stimulating your clit at the same time, making you feel how deep he is, making you feel every inch of his cock, twitching, as Satoru gasps at the line of your neck, telling you how good you've been for him.

Your body is sticky as he pulls away from you tracing a line of kisses from your mouth, collarbones, navel and reaching your crotch. As he deprives you of his warmth a cold air seems to rush through your limbs.

"Gojo..." You say softly, lifting your head.

"Sh. I always clean up my messes." You fail to articulate another word, sore and tired you give up on the couch as Satoru takes over licking your pussy collecting his own cum, you feel his fingers inside you a couple of times pumping it just a little, delighted by the way your hole quivers faintly around his digits. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Satoru gives one last suck on your clit and climbs towards you to take you in a strange position, in a sort of spooning attempt but the space is so small you feel like you're going to fall off at any moment, yet his long arms manage to clutch you tighter to his chest, managing to coordinate your unrestrained breaths. Then you let him shower kisses on your shoulder and neck, his long fingers petting your belly.

"Let's go take a bath." Satoru tries to get up but you stop him with a groan, too heavy to even open your eyelids.

"Five minutes..." you say, your voice sounding distant. Within the mental morass you sink into, you feel him squeeze you, he leaves another kiss on your shoulder.

"You're going to sleep. I want to clean you up first."

"Mhm."

You can't get up now no matter how dirty you feel, your legs are mingling with the cushions, chains pulling you down forming one body with his. You don't know how you're going to present yourself to Jujutsu Tech tomorrow with your neck probably hurt, you didn't know if Satoru had left visible marks but the idea stirs up a feeling of anguish that fades as you give in to sleep— especially you didn't know what was going to happen now, what was going to happen next, you didn't know how you were going to look him in the face…. But maybe this was just what you needed, a reality check, a slap in the face of cruel realism that told you that you can't be loyal to an absent person. You will forget him, you would… you would… you repeat to yourself, having no idea how close you were to uncovering again that Pandora's box you had so much trouble closing.

#wr #wr.gojo #cw dubcon #cw manipulation #divider creds: adornedwithlight.#gojo x reader #i truly don't know how to feel about reposting this lskd #but #maybe i'll end up deleting it #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

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flowersforthemachines · 1 month ago

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Useless Veilguard fact of the day: Day 57

It looks like you were originally able to craft items when interacting with the faction merchants. Each merchant has an assortment of lines about crafting items - for example, they can praise Rook for their skill, comment on Rook using their tools, or just provide a general greeting or goodbye.

These lines also appear to be voiced. Though I've only extracted Vorgoth's (Doing all of them would take a lot of time, I'm not sure there's that much interest. Maybe some other day).

[Accessing the crafting screen for the first time] Vorgoth: MAKE YOUR WILL MANIFEST. [Crafting something cool] Vorgoth: WELL FORGED. Vorgoth: BEHOLD YOUR CREATION.

The text versions of lines of all other merchants can be found under the cut.

Check out the tag for more useless facts: #useless davg fact of the day!

Amylia (Veil Jumpers merchant)

[Crafting greetings] Amylia: So you like to tinker, eh? I appreciate someone who's good with their hands. Amylia: Let's see what you can do. Amylia: Watch your fingers. Amylia: Tinker away. Amylia: Making your own bits and bobs, eh? Amylia: Make something good. [Reaction to Rook crafting something] Amylia: Very nice. Amylia: Oooh, I like that. Amylia: Couldn't have done better, myself. Amylia: A fine treasure, indeed. Amylia: Now, that's a bit and a bob. Amylia: All right, then—you know what you want. Always nice to work with people of discerning tastes.

Fletcher (Antivan Crows merchant)

[Crafting greetings] Fletcher: Build away. Fletcher: Make whatever you need. Fletcher: My tools are all but unused. Fletcher: Go on. I don't mind sharing my tools. Fletcher: My workbench is free to use. Fletcher: You're welcome to use my tools. Just clean up, if you please. Fletcher: Build whatever you like. Fletcher: Mind your fingernails. Dirty work. Rook: No shame in working with your hands. Fletcher: None at all. And I'll sell you a nice scented balm when you're all done. Fletcher: More do-it-yourself plans? Fair enough, if that's what you like. Rook: You don't maintain your own supplies? Fletcher: By the time it needs repair, it's so very last-season. Fletcher: You've used my tools more than I have in the last six months. Rook: Is that why they're impeccable? Fletcher: I supply the best whether I use it or not. That's just good advertising. Fletcher: Oh, up to making your own gear? Rook: You sound disappointed. Fletcher: I respect the skill, but thankfully for my business, Crows tend to buy new. [Crafting something cool] Fletcher: That's fine handiwork. Fletcher: Can't say I've seen anyone do better. Fletcher: You're the match of any maker I know. Fletcher: Impressive work. You freelance? Fletcher: You sure you don't do this professionally? [Farewells] Fletcher: Always enjoy watching you work. Fletcher: Whenever you need to do more work, come on back. Fletcher: Come by anytime. Fletcher: My tools are always here for you. Fletcher: Come back whenever you need.

Mateo (Lords of Fortune merchant)

Mateo: If you can't loot the right gear, make it yourself. Mateo: Remember, anything can be called tactical if you paint it black. Mateo: Ancient artifacts are great, but sometimes you've gotta forge a new legend. Mateo: You want gems on that? We can do gems. Mateo: Custom job? You've got it. Mateo: When in doubt, stick a rune on it.

Lorelei's assistant (Shadow Dragons)

[Greetings] Assistant: Feel free to tinker. Assistant: Working on something? Assistant: I'll stay out of your way. Assistant: Let me know if I can help. Assistant: Oh, trying to make something? Go ahead. Use whatever you need. [Crafting something cool] Assistant: That's quite impressive! Assistant: Good work! Assistant: Wow! Look at that! Assistant: That is some fine work! [Farewells] Assistant: Done for now? Assistant: See you later, then! Assistant: See you again soon! Assistant: Come back anytime!

Holden (Grey Wardens Merchant)

[Greetings] Holden: You looking to hammer out your own stuff? Rook: If you don't mind. Holden: Feel free to borrow my tools. Good work starts with good tools. Holden: Watch your fingers. Rook: I will. Holden: Sorry. I say it on reflex. Can't imagine why. Rook: You really don't mind me using your stuff? Holden: Nah. There's a lot out there that's hard to fix. Holden: So you come here and fix something small or make a thing yourself. It feels good, right? Holden: Lots of Wardens lend a hand from time-to-time. Holden: Just remember who the expert blacksmith is. Holden: What's the plan for today? Holden: Take your time. Holden: All yours. Holden: Getting to work? Holden: If you need anything, let me know. [Crafted something cool] Holden: Looks good. Holden: It's different when you make something yourself. Holden: That's some nice work. Holden: Fine quality work. Holden: You've got an eye for this. If you're ever looking for a change in work… [Farewells] Holden: All done? Holden: Take care out there. Holden: Done for the day?

#datv audio #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #da voicelines #flowers blogs #flowers.txt #I will always find queue like it's written in the stars #useless davg fact of the day #vorgoth

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wonderlandwalker · 1 year ago

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He Knows Better | Finnick Odair x Reader

thg masterlist / inbox / part two

summary: Finnick tells himself not to get close to you, because what is the point? But when you survive your games he finds that he can't stop thinking about you. When he finally comes to see you, you're in pieces, and he swears to himself he will put you back together, no matter the costs. tags / content warnings: mentions of prostitution/sex trafficking, angst, Finnick deserving better, crying, bad representation of a panic attack, not proofread word count: 1.6k

requested by anon: I loveeeee love love love your Finnick fic. It was the perfect mix of sweet and so angstyyyyy !! I'm having constant Finnick brainrot 😭 I was wondering what you think about writing a finnick × reader fic sort of loosely based on Hozier's "It Will Come Back" where reader is maybe a tribute or another Victor and the first person to show Finnick softness and kindness without asking for anything in return in so long and he's like "dont let me in with no intention to keep me" and "dont be kind to me" and he just is totally feral and obsessed with the reader ? You're such a talented writer !! ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: There is this Dutch expression which goes ‘the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ loosely meaning the hidden meaning is revealed and I couldn't for the life of me think of the English equivalent that made sense to me, so, well, I hope the story is coherent. As usual, divider by @saradika

He remembers first seeing you, you were so young, but to be fair, so was he. In previous years he had always become quick friends with the tributes he was supposed to mentor, how could he not? But it didn't take him long to figure out that they never made it back, and while the company was nice for a while, the hurt in the end wasn't worth it anymore. There's something about you that he can't quite place, but it doesn't matter, because he's not going to get attached. When you first stepped into the training hall you didn't look scared, you didn't even look excited, no, you looked like you had made peace.

He didn't get to talk to you much, you spend most of your training with Mags, not learning how to fight, but learning how to survive. And every time he watched you, he watched how your eyes lit up when learned how to filter water, he watched how proud Mags was of you each time. And he felt something tugging at him, he felt a need to get to know you. But he knew better.

Because what were the odds, he had seen this before, he had done this before. No, he shouldn't get attached to you. And yet, for the first time after returning from his own, he found himself watching the games. Watching the tributes become fewer and fewer, hoping, praying, that you'd make it through. The fewer left the more desperate he became. You've gotten this far, don't let the luck run out just yet. He saw how your last opponent fell, and he saw your face in the centre of the screen, of virtually every screen. And once again, you didn't look excited, you looked like you had found peace again, and maybe, just maybe, he let himself believe he could too, that you could show him.

He didn’t go see you after, it wouldn't be of any use. What more did he have to offer you, you did not need a mentor anymore. He had made peace, he had made peace with never seeing you again. So what was the difference if you were alive or not? That's what he thought, if he gave in now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go, it would keep coming back.

It wasn't until a few months later when someone knocked on his door, and in a sleepy haze, he opened it without thinking. He had spent the night at the capitol, and he never managed to get much rest after. Usually, when he had been gone for the night, Mags would come to check in on him, and have Valerian tea with him. He doubted it actually worked, but the effort was enough to brighten his day. So he opened the door, but it wasn't Mags, it was you. Your face was fuller, it had more colour, but the bags under your eyes were still there. Would Mags bring you Valerian tea as well? No, no he needed to stop thinking about you. The last time he had actually seen you was when you won. He had forced himself to avoid you ever since, he hadn't been completely sure why anymore, but now he knew again. The way you looked at him gave him hope, hope he couldn't afford. “What do you want” he asked, he sounded upset, and in a way he was, but the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed made him regret it.

And so he opened the door further, stepping aside, and you didn't need more of an invitation before you walked in. You took a seat at his small kitchen table, and he decided it would be impolite not to join you, so he sat down as well. He was about to talk, but you beat him to the punch.

“Snow came to see me.” There is was he thought, the reason, everyone always had a reason. Still, he found himself allowing you to continue, wanting to hear your voice again, even if it brought bad news.

“I talked to Mags about it, but she said I should come see you, so here I am.” You chuckled, but the situation was not something that asked for it, must be nerves, he thought, but why were you nervous, surely he didn't make you nervous.

“Look, I don’t want to bother you with my problems Finnick, I know you're dealing with enough yourself, but I don’t know what else to do.” Your eyes glossed over, and you looked like you were about to start crying, but you didn't. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but what was there to say? And so you two sat in silence, he was looking at you, he was memorizing your face. This was the last time he would let himself see you. He didn't want to get close to you, and with how mesmerizing you were to him, he knew better.

And yet, as days passed, he found himself thinking of you. Whenever he needed comfort, he thought of you, the way you smiled at him when he told you a nervous joke. He could get lost in the memory of your eyes, and more often than not, he did. Every day he spent without seeing you made his heart hurt.

Without thinking, he found himself walking to your door. It was like he wasn't in control of his own feet. He was in constant agony with himself. He wanted to be with you, but your kindness was one he couldn't afford, because it had the power to break him. He knocked on your door, not even aware he was doing so until he heard the sound echo back to him. He heard rustling, but he didn't hear you approaching the door, so he knocked again, and for good measure, he decided to call out. “Y/n? It’s me, it’s Finnick”. He heard someone approach the door at that, and a little bit of hope sparked inside him that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, but he knew better.

The door opened, but it wasn't you that he came face to face with, it was Mags. She was standing in your hallway with a sad smile on her face, and she didn't say anything, but she looked to the stairs on the right end corner. He didn't need any more encouragement, and he sped up them, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door he was in front of, but there wasn't an answer. But when he listened more closely, he could hear crying coming from the other side. You were crying. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but whatever it was that had caused this, he swore to himself he would fix it, even if it broke him.

And so he entered the room, opening the door softly so as not to startle you, but it didn't matter. He saw you in the corner, you had pulled your knees to your chest and he couldn't see your face from where you had hidden it, but his heart broke over it nonetheless. He walked towards you, testing the waters, testing his luck. He was scared for you, but mostly, he was scared you wouldn't want to see him. When you heard him, your head shot up to look at him. The way in which your eyes were bloodshot and swollen made him want to punch a hole in the wall next to you. The way your voice cracked when you said his name made him want to curl up right next to you. he got closer to you, kneeling down in front of you. Allowing you to take the next steps on your own time.

After a few minutes, you had slightly calmed down while he was tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You spoke to him, but you didn't look him in his eyes.

“They’re bidding on me Finnick, they’re bidding on me like I’m something to possess”

The feeling of dread that came over him was something he had never felt before. He thought he had gone through all someone could. He thought there was nothing that could hurt him anymore in a way he didn't already, but he had been wrong.

He was willing to do anything for you to be spared from this, but he knew it wasn't any use.

He knew better. And so he did all he could, taking you in his arms and whispering reassuring words, until your crying and your shaking stopped, and you seemed at peace again.

He had tried himself to get away from what snow had wanted, what the capitol had wanted, he tried everything he could think of, but he couldn't get away from it. He had made peace with the fact that people always wanted something from him, and maybe that's why he couldn't get you out of his head, because you were the only person that was at peace with him, without anything more, just him. So he told you the only thing he could. He told you he’d be there for you, that you’d get through it together. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he knew it was what you needed to hear, it was what he had needed to hear, except there had been no one to tell him. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if you needed him.

But he won't shut you out again, he knows better.

Part 2: Should've Known

#finnick odair angst #finnick x reader #finnick angst #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #hunger games #hunger games angst #angst #finnick odair fic #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair sad #finnick odair imagine #finnick fic #finnick fanfic

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satzumosupremacy · 1 year ago

Text

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.7

Inevitable Night

Male reader x Noh Jihye(Noze)

Tags: Smut 2.4k words

“I know this isn’t your first rodeo,” Jihye said with the blanket covering herself from last night. “It was fun.”

The smile she made to you in the early morning was for sure all from last night. No doubts. You get up and look around for your clothes, only to remember that your shirt is in the living room. “I can tell from the smile you’re giving me."

“Well, it’s pretty hard to keep a straight face,” Jihye chuckles shyly. “You aren’t leaving, are you? This early in the morning?”

You look at her, eyes all wanting another round. “Want another go? Can't stay long. I have a client in the late afternoon.”

Those cat eyes of hers—the woman who you slept with last night after a long day. At the same time, she wanted you. Her room was dark, only your pupils dialed as time went on with her in bed. Although last night wasn’t called for, somehow it turned out this way in a flash. Jihye, or Noze, as many call her, asked for a drink at her place. She’s classy and sophisticated, with such an angelic face, and you couldn’t let go until you had her.

No one in their mind would think it’s just a simple drink together after a day. She had her thoughts, and you had yours. Yesterday, you had a male client, and Jihye was a dancer. Behind the stage and in the waiting room, she talked with you, getting way too comfortable together as the day went by into sunset. You went off the grid for the night when your phone died right in the living room of her house, and you were only thinking about having her.

Somehow, and someway, you opened her shy nature, even opening her legs last night. Jihye got along with you in a matter of hours backstage. And this was a mistake until you realized again that both of you wanted this. There’s a sense of guilt about being right in bed with someone you aren’t supposed to, but you wouldn’t deny Jihye.

“About last night…" she hesitated. “Can we keep this a secret?”

She’s beautiful while laid under you, moaning each other’s names, and it only fueled more passionately. Her hands were all gripped to your back, desperately not wanting you to stop deep in the night. There wasn’t any talking—just two bodies making love in a dark bedroom.

“I don’t brag who I slept with. Don’t worry.”

“Can you stay?” Jihye starts caressing you with her thumb on your hand, rubbing slowly to another round. “For another hour or so? C'mon, I'm still naked. At least finish what we started last night.

You stared right at her sharp cat eyes. In that moment, as you gazed into her eyes, you could see emotions reflected in them. “Hangover sex?"

“Is it too much to ask? I know you’re busy.”

“I can stay. Give you what you desperately want more of.”

She smiles brightly to know both of you are on the same page. “What are you waiting for?”

You pull the blanket off her and get closer to her face, seeing her eyes close with a smile, just waiting for a kiss, and you glue your lips to hers, making her quiet and hum with the sounds of loud kisses. Jihye didn’t hesitate to wrap her small hands around your cock, just to make it even harder.

You break off the kiss and stare into her eyes. “I bet you would look beautiful with my cock in your mouth, Jihye."

“I know you like staring at me. Just like last night.”

“I do, Jihye.” You’re baffled still, wondering how you actually got her to be naked—right in her very own bed with you and spreading a dancers legs.

Jihye gets up and kneels between your legs while you lay down. The smile never left her face. “An hour. Just for another hour, handsome."

The room becomes quiet; she’s jerking you off and staring at your cock, fantasizing and smiling at what made her moan last night. You start to breathe heavily, grunting softly as Jihye picks up the pace. She spits on your cock to lubricate it even more and slides it into her palms like butter, while her thumb teases your tip.

“Fuck, just like this,” you grunted even more.

You’re gasping to the point of your abs showing. Her hair has been messy since last night, and you loved how beautiful she can still be. Without a word, she sucks the tip of your cock. You feel every nerve and sensation as your legs tense up. Slurping, spitting, and even her hair stuck to her face.

“Jihye,” you groaned with heavy breaths. You’re breathing harder and louder as she sucks you off. Her nose was felt on your crotch, and you heard all the gags she made. It’s only you closing your eyes to relax with such a feeling in the morning. To Jihye, she loved seeing you pleasured.

Jihye remains quiet. Even she knew how you could toss her around. She’s fragile and light, enough for you to make her limp. Strands of saliva and pre-cum were on her mouth as she pulls off to stroke your cock. “Thank you for last night."

“It was inevitable.” You sat up to brush her lips and she sucks on your thumb, staring at each other lustfully.

“Damn, you taste so good,” Jihye said, putting your cock back on her tongue. And with a smile from her, you knew she’s loving this in the morning, and you did too.

She sucks you off quietly from your hand guiding her, hearing the slurps and moans Jihye made in the early morning as the sun shines through the window. For the moments of Jihye sucking you off, it was nothing but relaxation; she didn’t go fast or slow, only a moderate speed that you couldn't be more than grateful for. It was the way she looked at you, gazing at you wickedly.

“Keep looking at me like this, Jihye. That’s so hot of you.”

And by your words, she doesn’t break eye contact; from bobbing her head up and down, she remains looking at you. With her back arched and ass in your view, morning sex never felt greater from a person you didn't know until last night.

She pulls off to spit on your cock, then jerks you off slowly with the squeezes you felt. “What do you say? Do you want to cum inside me again instead?”

“Want to go for a ride, Jihye?”

“I sure do,” she said with a smirk.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and she catwalks over seductively as you can’t help but stare at the woman you got naked last night. Jihye sits on top, arms hanging from your shoulder, with your cock sliding inside her. She starts to grind, and both of you groan quietly.

“Just like last night, Jihye.”

“Just like last night,” she repeated. Jihye hugs you, bodies glued to each other. “Having you in me feels like a massage. I love the feeling."

“You’re tight. And I can’t stand it but hear you moan.”

She pauses to laugh, laughing in such a cute and beautiful way that she can’t look at you but to the side. Jihye pushes you down and puts her hands on your chest. “That was hot of you. Just lay back and relax, handsome.”

��I know this isn’t your first rodeo too, Jihye.”

“Not as much as you, but you’re probably the best I’ve ever had.”

“Show me how good you are. Dance.”

She starts to ride and grind, tilting her head back and closing her eyes towards the ceiling. Just sexual instincts taking over. Jihye’s moaning loudly; every heavy breath she took was therapeutic. You pull Jihye down, making out with her shoulders and neck. She smelled like soju and beer from last night, squealing out painful moans, but didn’t stop whatsoever. Only riding you was the only thing that kept her going to such a feeling.

The noises of the bed creaking and both your voices are only heard. You caress her soft back down to her ass, gripping it tightly. No words were said; fucking was the only thing you two wanted. It went on for several minutes, with Jihye constantly riding and grinding. You start grunting and groaning her name so passionately.

“You’re so good, Jihye.”

“Fuck. It feels so good inside me.” Jihye picks up the pace with all the pre-cum coating her walls. You hold her nape, looking at each other and exchanging breaths. “Slap my ass. I know you can’t stop feeling it.”

It didn’t take a second; you slapped her ass, harder with every slap, until the presence of your print was on it. She moans and groans more, and the bed creaks louder and faster. Jihye slowed down after a couple of minutes, tired and hungover. She grinds on you slowly with an open mouth, catching every breath.

“Seems like it’s my turn to handle your fragile body.” You said playfully, staring at her.

“Wait, I need water.” Jihye’s gasping at this point from riding you. She gets off your cock and walks quickly to get a cup of water, which you follow behind seconds after as she’s pouring water.

“Jihye.”

“Mhm?” Jihye said, gulping down half a cup of water from a clear glass cup. She pours you water right after and hands you the cup. Gulping down the water, the next gulp wasn’t for you, but for her mouth. You approach her closely, positioning yourself right in front of her. A kiss is shared with Jihye, accompanied by the exchange of water. She responds with a seductive hum, drawn in by the unexpected kiss and the touch of your hand on her chin. You lift her, legs wrapped around you, and she laughs shyly, “Fuck, that was pretty….”

Staring at each other, she becomes speechless with rosy cheeks. “Pretty what, Jihye?”

“Pretty-”

You cut her off, French kissing her. Both your heads tilt, making out with each other as she holds you by the nape. You insert your cock in, and Jihye’s going for a ride. “Shouldn't have left me right in the middle of what we were doing, Miss," you said teasing her.

Walking towards the bedroom, you pin her to the wall and thrust every inch into her. She screams in pleasure, gripping your back so tightly. You held her in, gluing lips to each other as you became addicted to her soft lips. Time is of the essence, totally forgetting as it’s almost half an hour already.

“Fuck, right there, right fucking there!” Jihye screamed pleadingly.

The way she’s gripping onto you is life or death, tightly with her nails digging in. Her legs get tense, cumming right on your cock as she squirms, moaning loudly and squealing from you being deep inside her. There’s no time for Jihye to rest; you turn around and fall into the bed with her lying under you.

"Jihye,” you moaned her name.

“I love it when you say my name.”

“Jihye.” You said slowly, a tone lower to make her turned on even more. It’s working; she’s smiling so brightly and giggling.

“I’ll remember you.”

The bed creaks again, thrusting deep and hard while her legs are up in the air. She’s having trouble gripping onto something—the bedsheets or your back. You kissed her neck up to bite her lips; it made Jihye melt. From the sudden passion, she moaned even more erotic.

She guides you back to stare at each other with a grin. You knew this would be a memory for Jihye. “Only look at me, beautiful,” you said, seducing her. And you rub her clit in circles to make her squirm around. Wanting Jihye to cum a second time would be such a sight to see. Your eyes gaze at her, bodies making rough love, yet she still hasn’t looked away for a single second, which you respect even more.

“I’m going to cum.”

“Give it to me!” She screamed and moan loudly.

You thrust her slower, but harder into her walls. She felt every inch and sensation. You groan louder, pulsating as a warning, as you’re going to cum any second now. You grunt hard, pausing deep in her as she holds tight to moan from feeling your warm cum inside her.

Her breaths are heavy, her chest pumping, and she is moaning softly from feeling you fill her pussy. She’s holding you in, all for her selfish greed. Moments after a quick and quiet rest, you pull out.

“Jihye.”

“Can I cook you breakfast before you leave…please?”

“Okay, but I really have to leave after.” You assume it's been almost an hour, which is positively correct. Your cum leaks slowly out of her—thick and white. “Have you seen my phone?"

Even Jihye was looking for hers after you realized your phone was nowhere to be seen. “I think our phones have been in the living room since last night.”

It gets both of you surprised, never knowing a night with her would end up this passionate and reckless at the same time. You stand up to only see your boxers, shorts, and her panties all on the floor. Assumingly, you know where the rest of the clothes are.

She’s cute after being fucked. You look at her, almost limping and hanging onto the wall. She turns to you after putting on her panties along with brushing her hair. “Ramen?”

You nod in silence and walk with her to the kitchen. “Is there anything I can help?” Even after having a woman in bed, you respect each one of them.

“No. It’s my house. Just sit on the couch.”

You walk to the couch with open bottles, shot glasses, empty boxes of delivery food, and cups of unfinished beer since last night was just placed there unattended. You helped her clean up even if she didn’t ask.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I should help out. Thanks for having me over, Jihye.”

“Ramen is ready.” She places the ramen on the living room table with two plates and chopsticks. “Dig in.”

The time spent with her eating was all talking about both your professions and the TV playing in the background. You wash the dishes with her and pack up your stuff.

“See you around,” Jihye said.

“See you around, Jihye.”

#kpop smut #noze smut

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lunarflux · 5 months ago

Text

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

EPILOGUE

word count: 2,424

tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass | @strangeobsessed

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

It was late, the two of you alone in the dim quiet of the study, a night that felt heavy with unsaid things. Tommy sat across from you, elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-hooded and distant. The faint lines of exhaustion showed on his face—exhaustion from the work, the world, and perhaps, from you.

The silence had settled deep before he finally broke it, voice low and rough. “Arthur and John had a talk with you about Grace, didn’t they?” His gaze held you, unyielding, though there was a tension around his mouth, a crack in the armor.

You nodded, meeting his stare head-on. “They did.”

You didn't think it was odd at the time. It only seemed natural that they would approach you with a topic, as sensitive as it could have been. Admittedly, they didn't say much, and, as expected, you didn't respond in the way they'd braced themselves for. They tried to be gentle, knowing fully well that whatever lie ahead was something no one had expected. And still, you couldn't help but smile as they walked away. You still weren't used to this level of care. Though it was foreign to you, you accepted the gesture anyway.

Tommy looked away, drawing in a long breath, the cigarette smoke curling up between you. “I'd hoped we could talk about it alone...” He trailed off, and you caught the faintest tremor in his hand as he stubbed out his cigarette. After a beat, he added, “You ever think I don’t feel as much for you because of her?”

It was a question that carried weight—Tommy rarely invited vulnerability, rarely opened himself to any perception of weakness. He was offering you a window into his mind, no matter how tightly he guarded the door.

Your voice was calm but sharp, so sure in how you'd respond when this conversation eventually came. “I didn't agree to marry you because I thought you loved me more than her, Thomas Shelby.” You leaned forward, holding his gaze. “Just like you didn't propose because you thought Ezra was anything less than he was to me. You'd do well to remember that. But if you have any doubts, say it now, and we'll bury it for the sake of the day.”

He met your stare, his hand clenching into a fist before he forced it to relax. His eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. “I wanted more. Only I didn't. I couldn't step away from all of this, not really. I used to say that the storm would find me. Maybe that was an excuse. But you're not asking me to step away. I invited you in, and now, you're in it beside me.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the tension between you like a pulse, rhythmic and alive. Then you spoke, quieter, but unwavering. “And that's how it's supposed to be. If I didn't love you the way I do, then a storm would be a fleeting moment. But here I am, bracing myself for whatever weather finds you—finds us. Because that's what people do when they love each other. They don't cast the lightning away. They hold your hand and remind you it'll all be over soon.”

Tommy's gaze dropped to the floor, and for once, he seemed at a loss. “It’s not easy,” he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. “I still feel like there’s parts of me left with her that I can’t reclaim.”

You softened, reaching out and resting a hand on his, grounding him. “Then let those pieces be lost. We can't be ghosts chasing after the forgotten pieces we've left behind forever.”

He looked up, a flash of something almost desperate in his gaze, as though your words had struck a nerve, revealing a raw edge he couldn’t protect. “It’s you, you know.”

A quiet filled the room, and you saw the shift in his eyes—the recognition of a truth he could neither deny nor escape. He leaned forward, closer, his voice a rasp.

“You’re not a replacement, love. You’re the storm as much as you are the calm aftermath.” Tommy reached for you, pulling your waist before pressing his cheek deep into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking a deep breath, you tangled your fingers in his hair as you felt him breathe against you. "How did we get here, Tommy?" You whispered.

He didn't respond at first, knowing the answer wouldn't be so simple. But when he finally spoke, the single phrase revealed every truth behind what came to be.

"I called, and you answered."

Your hand found the back of his neck, and you held on, letting the silence speak what words couldn’t. There, in the dark quiet of the night, Tommy Shelby was finally yours, fully and without reserve. The ghosts were laid to rest, a whisper in the past as he turned toward what was real, toward you.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The small chapel was filled with muted whispers and glances, everyone acutely aware of the atmosphere—a mix of expectation and undeniable tension that seemed to follow you and Tommy wherever you went. This wasn’t just a wedding, not in the traditional sense. It was a statement, a promise made in defiance of a world that had tried again and again.

Arthur stood near the front, his gaze bouncing between you two with an expression that was hard to read. There was a protective edge to it, something almost brotherly. He’d been there through every dark night and hard-fought victory, and though he would never admit it aloud, Arthur found himself feeling strangely proud. He’d watched Tommy transform from the ruthless strategist he’d always been into a man softened, if only slightly, by you.

Polly, seated in the second row, leaned forward, her gaze razor-sharp as she took in the sight of you in your gown. Her fingers wrapped lightly around her cigarette, though she’d promised to put it out before the ceremony. She was the only one unafraid to say what was on her mind, and Polly knew exactly what she was seeing—two people who, against all odds, had found their equal match.

Ada sighed, her eyes studying the subtle interplay between you and Tommy. “Not gonna lie to you, Pol. Didn't think we'd be back here so soon after Grace,” she whispered. There was a quiet awe in her voice, a recognition that her brother—who had once vowed to never love anyone the way he loved control—had found something, someone, he couldn’t control, yet could trust. “But you were right,” she added, almost to herself. "He looks different."

"He looks whole." Polly stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. "With y/n he's not looking for some ideal life. He's learning to appreciate what he's already got."

The ceremony began, and as you and Tommy exchanged vows, your words were soft, almost inaudible, but there was no need for volume. Everyone present could see the conviction in your eyes, feel the weight of unspoken promises. This wasn’t a flowery exchange of empty words; this was raw, stripped of sentimentality.

Finn leaned toward Michael with a bemused expression. “If Tommy mucked up his vows, you reckon she'd hold a knife to his throat?” he jested, only partially kidding as he knew you were more than capable.

Michael shook his head slowly, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don't tempt fate. If she'd do that to Tommy, imagine what she'd do to us for messing up her wedding day.”

Finn's eyes widened a bit as he watched Tommy reach for your hand. The action was subtle, just a brush of his fingers against yours, but it was enough.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur watched you from across the room, leaning against the bar with his drink in hand. He hadn’t said much all night, a fact that had earned him curious glances from Polly and a few wary looks from Ada. But he wasn’t ignoring them; his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought as he observed you with his brother.

As the reception began, the tension relaxed, but only slightly. John sidled up to him. “Think this’ll change him?” John asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Arthur glanced at him, then back at the couple. “Nah,” he muttered. “That's not what he wants. Not what she wants either.” He watched as you leaned in, your hand lightly resting on Tommy’s arm, your eyes fierce but warm, as though reminding him of something only he knew. “Pol and I used to say she could either break him or make him unstoppable. No doubt about that now.”

He had always known Tommy was capable of love—he’d seen it in fleeting moments, hidden under layers of steel, shielded by calculated silence. Arthur knew Tommy better than anyone; he knew what it looked like when Tommy cared for something, truly cared.

“Look at ’em,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. He took another sip, glancing sideways at John, who was studying just as he was. "Like a fuckin' painting."

John smirked, his brows knitting together. “You're getting all sentimental, aren't you?”

Arthur let out a dry laugh, looking at him as if he’d asked the most obvious question in the world. “Look closer, mate. Tommy don’t trust easy, you know that. But you see the way he looks at her? Like he’d damn well tear apart anyone who tried to take her from him.” Arthur shook his head, a glint of admiration in his eyes.

John glanced back toward you and Tommy, and for the first time, he saw it—truly saw it. The way Tommy’s hand moved toward yours instinctively, the way he tilted his head, listening intently as if your every word held some kind of answer. It was in the little things, and they both knew how much those little things mattered.

As the night wore on, Arthur found you alone by the window, staring out into the darkening sky. He hesitated for a moment before approaching you, clearing his throat softly to get your attention.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

You glanced over your shoulder, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Wouldn't be normal if you didn't.”

Arthur stepped up beside you, his gaze following yours out the window. He scratched his beard, casting you a sidelong glance.

“You remember the first thing you ever said to me,” he started, his tone unusually reflective. “Told me to take two steps back while you held a bloody knife to my bollocks. If someone had asked me back then if I ever thought we'd be here, I'd spit in their face.”

You laughed softly, remembering the moment quite well. “This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you, Arthur.”

“You asked before how Tommy would show you what possessing him would cost and all that,” he started quietly. “Did you ever get your answer?

"It was never about being paid even though that's how I made it seem," you sighed, closing your eyes briefly.

He chuckled, the sound low and almost disbelieving. “You finally admitting that out out? Could've fooled me. Could've fooled all of us.”

"It's always been about the truth." You absorbed his words in silence, your gaze softening. "People are so quick to say what they want if it's something valuable but not him. Tommy would never tell the truth about what he wanted. Doesn't often grace anyone with that truth. What I truly wanted was for someone—anyone, not just Tommy—to look me in the eyes and realize that happiness is not found chasing a better life. It's in the moments where you see what's in front of you, whatever it's worth, and to want nothing more than time to simply be. Whether that meant wanting me or something else, that was his decision."

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his voice dropping even lower.

“I don’t know how long it’ll last,” he admitted, his tone somber. “This life we lead, it don’t exactly lend itself to happily ever afters.” He paused, his gaze steadily refocusing on you. “But if anyone can keep him on the right path, it’s you.”

Your smile was small but genuine, a quiet acknowledgment of his words. “Thank you, Arthur. But who would you really be without this life?”

Arthur nodded, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes. “Ain't that the truth. Just make sure you hang around. 'Cause if you walk away, he’ll be right back where he started—maybe worse.”

As he started to walk away, you called him back. You leaned against the wall, the small smile fading into something more sentimental and somewhat somber. "I mean it, Arthur. Thank you."

He turned, slightly confused at your tone.

"For finding the truth for me."

"You know, I was just following Tommy's orders," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, but you told me in a way that showed me you cared. Could've been cruel, you know that. You're perfectly capable."

Arthur lowered his drink with a grimace that was foreign to both of you. He approached you again and placed a firm hand on your shoulder. He didn't say anything else. He squeezed his hand gently before turning away. For once, he felt a flicker of hope—a rare, fleeting sense that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

As the night came to a close, you and Tommy quietly walked upstairs to the bedroom. Once the door shut, he watched you sit in front of your vanity to take off the many pieces of jewelry draped around your neck. And after a moment, you felt his hand on your back, slowly taking them off for you with care.

You closed your eyes with a heavy sigh and rested your head against his chest. He wrapped his arms snuggly around you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your shoulder.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Shelby?" Tommy whispered against your skin.

You chuckled, turning to face him. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, catching the full depth of his eyes in the moonlight. "Ready for what, Mr. Shelby?"

Tommy's lips touched yours so faintly and then a second time to savor the feeling. With one hand, he removed the pins in your hair until the locks cascaded around your shoulders. He studied your face, tracing every line and shadow.

"For whatever happens next."

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