#I don’t think I’ve ever written this much about my feelings

[muffinsin]

Hi! I discovered your page recently and have been in LOVEEE with it ever since. It says your inbox is open, but getting full so i hope requesting something right now is okay! I was just wondering if you could do a dimitrescu sisters × teen sister reader? the reader is human and I think it would be cool to see how the sisters react and treat her (I think they would be really gentle because they're scared of scaring/hurting her) ty so much! <3 (I love your prompts)

Awhhh, this is such a cute, wholesome prompt! And funnily enough, I don’t think I’ve ever written HCs about a teen sister!🙌 I’m happy to hear ya like my prompts, hon :)

Let’s get into it🙌🥳

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is, by now, utterly used to her role as the eldest sister

And while she does consider and call Cassandra and Daniela her “little sisters”, they’re really not all that different as it comes to their ages

A difference of mere hours, really, biologically speaking

When she was a newborn fly spawn, they were newborn fly spawns

When she was a toddler, they were toddlers

When she was a teen, they were teens

When she turned into a (-responsible) adult, they did. Biologically speaking, of course. She’s certain especially Daniela hasn’t made it all the way there, at times

But, all in all, she’s very similar to her sisters as it comes to age, despite being the eldest and their older sister

And then, there’s you…

A new sibling, a new sister

A little sister

But…a real, far younger sister

A teen

A teen, whereas she has lived for centuries

Bela has been fond of you from the start. Sure, she wasn’t originally happy about getting another sister, but the moment she laid eyes on you and got to know you, she started to love you just as she loves and treasures and protects her sisters

At first, it’s very difficult for her to act as a sister, truthfully, rather than a mother

You’re just so…young, compared to her! It’s difficult for her not to get overly maternal, as she sometimes still tends to get with your older sisters

Bela tries to understand you, and your interests

That doesn’t mean she’s good at it, though. She doesn’t care much for things she deems a waste of time, and is hardly a troublemaker. This alone has her stray from anything that could be considered rebellious

She also has difficulty not telling on you to your mother when you do something, or to take matters into her own hands and scolds you

Technically, you know she’s supposed to do this, being the eldest and all

Still, it’s sometimes a little difficult for the two of you to connect

Especially with how unreachable Bela seems at times; so intelligent, such good manners. Loved or respected by nearly everyone despite her nature, purely because of how she presents herself

Mother’s heiress…

She seems so impossibly strong, in her own way. Of course, you partly look up to her. But it’s difficult to see yourself on the same level as her

Sometimes, you’re sure because of all this she must be Mother’s favorite, and it occasionally nabs at you, how you have no chance of getting to where she is

But, she loves you dearly, and you love her

She will always comfort and guide you, even help you grow

She’s your protector, in a way, helping you always

Especially when feelings get the better of you. She reassures you often; it’s okay to feel this and that, and that it’s perfectly normal to feel certain things at your age

She also puts you in your place when you’re in the wrong, though, gently telling you and ensuring you know: she still loves you after

And, actually, you find Bela gives amazing hugs, and while she isn’t the sister to hug without asking what’s wrong, you find comfort in that, too

Out of all of your sisters Bela is best at controlling her strenght

Which, sometimes, is a little unfortunate because she’s also the sister that refuses to wrestle with you for fun. Apparently, she doesn’t “see the point” in that

At least she feels utterly comfortable hugging you, knowing that she won’t hurt you

She would never hurt you

Cassandra

The first time she heard of having a sister, she was thrilled!

And when she met you the first time, the two of you got along instantly

Cassandra feels much less unreachable than her older sister

Much more- approachable

She’s sadistic, has a short temper- much like your mother, at times- and rough

But you love her, and she loves and treasures you

She’s the first to take you out on a hunt to the forest, is the one to teach you to fight and keep yourself safe

While she has a little more difficulty controlling her strength at times and therefore occasionally keeps her distance, she has never hurt you

Cassandra is, in her own way, a role model to you

She’s fierce and powerful

She easily takes down her prey and entertains you with her stories of her hunts and previous victims

She teaches you to be strong, teaches you what it means to be a Dimitrescu. And even when you can’t be strong, she’s strong for you, easily putting others in their place with a mere glance their way

Cassandra and you spend a lot of time together, and she’s genuinely interested in most you have to say

By now you know, she will not care for gossip or anything like that. The wrong sister for that, certainly. And you know, she won’t even bother pretending to listen to that

But, she’ll listen to all you’re genuinely passionate about, perhaps even participate if it’s for her

She encourages you to follow your hobbies and make the most of them

Like with her sisters, after all, Alcina allows you to choose at least one hobby and fully supports it. She will not stand for any of her daughters not pursuing anything, however

When you have difficulty choosing what could be fit for you, Cassandra is eager to help out

She shows you this and that, and is eager to try most new things with you

Cassandra is also the sister to turn to when you want to know what they and your mother were like a few centuries ago

The fun stuff, that is

She’ll tell you every detail she so easily remembers, occasionally also brag about things she did particularly well

Often, she’ll sprinkle in a few details you’re sure aren’t quite that true, but you don’t mind

You find, she also inspires you to be creative like that!

Speaking of little half truths here and there, Cassandra is the first to teach you how to lie and get away with it at the castle

Now, of course you’ve lied plenty times already in your life

But with Alcina, it seems impossible. Like she fully knows when you’re not being entirely honest

Even Bela seems to know, somehow, sometimes!

It’s infuriating, but Cassandra is quick to teach you

In return, she becomes about the only sister you are always truthful to

You never feel the need to lie to her, even when you’re planning on doing something stupid or risky

Often enough she’ll join in, or cover for you at least

When she does tell you not to do something, which is rare, you listen

You know, she means well, and doesn’t underestimate you or whatever you’re about to do

You value her opinion, and when she says not to do something, she tends to be right

Daniela

Daniela finds you utterly adorable, as she calls you

She doesn’t quite remember her “teen” years, really

But that’s okay

She’s every bit as playful and still has a bit of a habit to get herself into trouble, much like you do, occasionally

She likes to join you when you’re about to do something risky, and at times even is the one proposing it and whining to you about joining her

Of course, she will always keep you safe during those times

Though your mother is unhappy to say at the least when she catches you, her youngest, covered in dirt and blood from head to toe after your sister insisted throwing guts like snowballs is a blast!

In many ways, Daniela doesn’t quite feel like an older sister

She’s playful, a little immature, teasing, socially intelligent, and quite handsy with the maidens. She’s a little clingy and delusional, but always has your best interests at heart, the same as your other sisters

She always has some gossip to talk to you about, rambling about this and that she picked up while lounging and swarming about in the castle

She loves to read, and loves to share her favorite books with you

Unlike her sisters, she isn’t overly picky with her interests, either

She isn’t into mathematics or science. Aside from that, she’ll happily learn about all you’re interested in

She’ll participate in your hobbies, or lounge on your bed like a lazy cat while you ramble about your hobbies and fixations

She doesn’t mind at all. She loves to learn about new things, and remembers surprisingly much you tell her despite her short term memory span

Often, she remembers even more of your stories and ramblings than your other sisters do, as she’s genuinely interested in your hobbies, even when she has no clue about them

Daniela, in a way, feels like a best friend rather than a sister

She’s always there for you, will always protect and teach you. She’s silly, playful, will never say no to some good fun and often even convince you to “play” with the maidens or her sisters, seeing how much the two of you can annoy them until they notice

She teaches you to be strong too, yes, but perhaps even more so, Daniela has a way of teaching you how to get along with people

How to blend in with them, how to lure information from others by casually being around them

No, not by using some reverse psychology and what not like Bela. By listening. By being friendly. By making them ramble on their own

She teaches you to make friends, even with the reputation of your family, and how to effortlessly start conversations

And even when you can’t make a friend, she reminds you that you will always have your family

She teaches you, of course, also how to get what you want from Alcina

Generally, Alcina has a hard time saying no to any of her daughters. You’re all so precious to her, and there’s rarely a time she’ll deny a wish coming from one of you

Daniela, having been in the role of the youngest for the longest time and still having her sweet, pouty puppy eyes ready, teaches you how to get just about anything you want from your mother

Whether it’s clothing or toys (often in Daniela’s case those are servants), treats or anything from the outside world, she teaches you to properly ask for it

And yet; she has the hardest time controlling her strenght

She loves physical touch as a means to show her affection. She loves to hug her sisters even when they try to peel her away from them, acting all annoyed when they really aren’t, and she loves to wrap her arms around Alcina’s waist, hugging her whenever she can in exchange for some heat pats and scratches

With you, she must actively hold back

You’re…fragile

You’re human

You’re her little sister

She would never want to hurt you!

But, she can’t help it sometimes, and feels horrible when she hugs you and is just a tad bit too excited, causing her arms around you to be a little too tight

She always takes care of you after, her eyes wide and wet as she blinks away tears, feeling so utterly guilty for hurting you

You always reassure her; it’s not her fault

You still love her

She’s still your older sister

You still admire and look up to her

And it’s all it takes to have her smile widely again

[cmkren]

— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

[cosmicalily]

"written by the aces" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

6. "stay" | lee felix x gn!reader

Don’t be lonely ‘cause you’re not alone, gotta send me pictures, save em to my room, if I fly to see you would it feel like home? If I change my number, you’re the first to know

author's note: literally minimal side notes from me, i just rly love this angel boy.

warnings: ji gets drunk, ji gets kicked (with much love)

“No, dipshit, I said orange soda, not lemon,” Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically as you showed him what was in your shopping basket. 

“Shut up, they’re literally the same,” you fought back, not wanting to walk the full length of the grocery store again. “You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.”

Jisung smiled sweetly. “I am! What a bundle of joy you are, Y/N!” 

You reached forward to smack him with the bottle, then, thinking better of the carbonated consequences, kicked his shins instead. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” Jisung whimpered, rubbing his leg. “Do you have to wear those platformed boots everywhere?”

You giggled and flicked a braid over your shoulder. “It’s part of my charm. And actually, they’re called stompers. My friend named them when I got my first pair of Docs as a kid.”

“The Monster Stomper 3000s,” a voice added from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and turned around, coming face-to-face with a boy with freckled cheeks, feline-like features and big brown eyes. A boy whose face you most definitely recognised, although his features had matured. Cheeks a little less chubby, making his cheekbones more prominent. Lips a little fuller, and his hair was now dyed a sandy blonde, the roots darkening. 

“That’s actually the most appropriate name I’ve heard. Especially for a pair of footwear that seem to have caused me more bruises than a weapon of war,” Jisung nodded in agreement, then wandered off to the chip aisle.

The blonde boy was still staring at you, plush lips settling into a sweet smile. “I thought it was you, Y/N, then I knew it was you when you started talking about your stompers. I’m glad you didn’t forget.”

“It was pretty iconic of young Felix, to be honest,” you replied, smiling back. “Why are you back?”

Felix shrugged in Ji’s direction. “His birthday party. Didn’t he tell you? And also, I just missed it here. You never moved out?”

“The little fucker didn’t tell me. And nah, I didn’t want to,” you glanced at a now rather distant Jisung. “Close friends and stuff. I didn’t want to start over. How’s it in Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Felix said thoughtfully. “Nobody knows what stompers are, though.”

“Nobody here knows what stompers are either,” you giggled. Jisung started shouting something from across the store, and you rolled your eyes. “Birthday boy assistant’s duty calls. Sorry, Lix, I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”

Felix nodded and leaned in to hug you before you walked off. It caught you off guard, but you soon melted into his embrace; soft and warm and welcoming, just like he always had been. Your heart thumped a little louder and you swallowed before stepping away. “See you!” he smiled, not missing the pink flush that tinged your cheeks.

Lying face-down in your empty bathtub, Han Jisung was drunker than you’d ever seen.

It was now 5am, and everyone had, naturally, gone home. Although the party had been hosted at Jisung’s, you knew better than to leave him in his current state. He’d probably have found his way to yours regardless, and you didn’t need him wandering the streets. But as you glanced down, taking in his pink cheeks and soft snores, you wondered if you could’ve just left him to sleep in his own bed.

“I told him not to open that second bottle of soju,” Felix sighed, scratching his neck. “He’s really going to regret it when he wakes up.”

“It’s not really in Ji’s nature to listen, Lix,” you replied, resting your head on the blonde’s shoulder. “That’s one habit he definitely hasn’t outgrown since you left, and probably never will. It’s not your fault.”

Felix nodded, slumping a little further onto the cold tiles of your bathroom wall. You two had been sitting there like exhausted parents of a newborn, checking to see if Jisung woke up and cried, needed a drink of water or just wanted to be petted until he fell back asleep. But it had been almost an hour, and despite the occasional snuffle, he seemed out cold.

“I think he’s dead,” Felix remarked, prodding Jisung’s warm cheek.

“Don’t!” you half squealed, half hissed. “He might wake up!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“Well, he’ll probably start complaining and need me to give him medicine and water and then he’ll start talking and you know he won’t stop,” you replied, sighing.

Felix smiled. “Isn’t he like that regardless of whether he’s drunk or not?”

“Pretty much. But I need a break sometimes, you know?”

“You sound like an overtired mum,” Felix chuckled. “We’ll leave him be.” He grabbed your hand and stood up, leading you towards the bathroom door.

You bumped against Felix’s chest awkwardly, your legs asleep from being on the floor a little too long. He caught you, slipping an arm around your waist. You paused, startled by the sensation, then glanced up at him. His eyes were sparkling, the way they always did, but there was some kind of an extra shine to them. You weren’t sure what it was, but you leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, the way you’d been longing to do for so long. Since before he’d left. Since before you’d realised the intensity of your feelings for him. His lips moved against yours, softly, and when you pulled apart, you weren’t sure it had even happened at all.

You felt a dampness on your face, and saw a single tear roll down his freckled cheek. He was still smiling, his eyes shining.

“I really missed you,” Felix whispered. “A lot. I regretted going home a lot of the time.”

“I know,” you replied. “So stay this time. Even just for a bit. Please.”

Felix’s smile faltered a little. “I can’t, as much as I want to. Where would I live? What would I do?”

“You could stay with me, you know you could. Please, Felix. Everyone here loves and misses you. It’s your decision, but just think about it, yeah? Stay the night at least; you can decide in the morning.”

“Alright.”

The sun beamed through the kitchen window, and the soft, sweet scent of pancakes filled the air. Felix was standing by the stove, an arm slung lazily around your waist as you stood beside him, cutting strawberries. You popped one into his mouth, and before you could grab one for yourself, found his lips pressed against yours, the same way he’d kissed you countless times this morning.

There was a sudden thump and a whine, and the both of you sprung apart and turned around. Jisung, hood skimming his squinted eyes, cheeks still flushed and body slouched, was sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

“Where the fuck did you two go? And what’s Felix doing here? I thought your flight was this morning.”

“It’s just now, actually,” Felix said with a smile on his face.

Lee Felix was staying. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was here.

He’d told you he’d be here for as long as you’d have him, and you were pretty darn sure that would be forever.

“You missed your flight?!”

[songbird-and-her-fos]

Dance Lessons

Emmrich/F!Rook

Emmrich likes to indulge in the finer arts, including dance, and wants to share this with Rook. Sadly, Rook has little confidence in her dancing abilities

-

A quiet day at the Lighthouse. Lyrei “Rook” Ingellvar didn’t know what drew her to the small hidden room with the big piano, but she found herself there nonetheless. There were so many more enjoyable things she could spend her time with, she told herself, so why come here? Perhaps it was the instrument itself that attracted her to this seldom visited corner of the Lighthouse; Rook loved music, though she had never had the opportunity to learn to play. So her fingers only lightly grazed the ivories, never truly pressing any of them hard enough to produce a sound.

She missed music. Be it the lengthy elegies written for funerals back in Nevarra or lively drinking songs filling the air of taverns; she hadn’t heard any of that in way too long a time.

Hadn’t Bellara discovered an ancient Elven music box not too long ago? Just as Rook resolved to ask about it soon, someone entered the room.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, dearest. I’ve been looking for you.”

She turned around, her face lighting up with a smile. “Emmrich.”

He held up the artifact in his hands. “I asked Bellara if she would let us borrow her music box; there’s something I want us to try with it.” He placed it on a nearby table. “I had at first considered trying to teach Manfred how to play the piano for us; he was very interested, but I think he needs to focus on his magic training for the time being.”

“Now you’re making me curious”, Rook said cheerfully. “Don’t keep me in suspense like that!”

“My darling, have you ever tried dancing?”

Rook bit her lip. “I haven’t. I’m not sure I would be any good at it, to be honest.”

Emmrich stretched out his arms to pull her against him. “Nonsense. I see how you move in battle; you are a born dancer if I’ve ever seen one.”

Her eyes flitted about the room, for the first time trying to look at anything but him. “I don’t want to embarrass myself; especially not in front of you.”

Emmrich leaned forward and kissed her. “I would never judge you, you know that. Come, we'll start with a simple waltz. Without music, so you can get a feeling for the steps first.”

Rook hesitated for a moment, but found herself unable to say no to him. Not when he was so excited at the prospect of dancing with her. “...Okay, but I take no responsibility for any damage done to your toes.”

“Marvelous! It's easy, really.” He placed one hand on her waist and took hers with the other. “Start by taking a step forward with your left foot, then a sideways step with your right foot…”

This “simple waltz” felt anything but simple at first. She executed the steps just as Emmrich instructed, but kept losing the rhythm and felt her face heat up every time she stumbled. Just when she was about to ask if it was time to stop, Emmrich paused.

“Rook, my dearest, you are way too stiff. Relax. Don’t worry too much about executing every step perfectly. Just focus on me.”

Rook took another deep breath. “Focus on you. Okay. I can do that.” She concentrated on his eyes, gentle and loving as ever. No trace of judgement or annoyance. He moved, and she followed, her mind easing to a pleasant emptiness that left space for the two of them, and nothing else. She barely noticed when his hand slightly moved and the music box began playing. It was an ancient Elven song, a far cry from modern ballroom music, but it still flowed into their movements like a guiding breeze. That was her entire world in this moment; music and movement… and Emmrich, smiling at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I knew you could do it.” Delight lit up his eyes.

“What can I say? I have an excellent teacher.”

Step by step, they twirled through the room, allowing themselves to get lost in the moment. One, two, three…

Emmrich’s hoarse chuckle slightly pulled her from her thoughts. “You are absolutely beautiful. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Says the stunning man in front of me.”

He laughed, and her heart did a little flip.

The song slowly fizzled out, and with a final spin, Emmrich, kissed her and then rested his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“And I love you. And… thank you for teaching me how to dance. Maybe we can do this more often?”

“Whenever you like, my dearest.”

[lightlycareless]

i just read ur reader piercing naoya's ear fic and i was wondering can u write smth about naoya finding out reader got their belly button pierced? xx

Hello!!!

Did someone say smut? because that's what we got. I think hehe. I'm still somewhat uncomfortable writing it but you know what they say!! practice makes perfect 🙈🙈🙈 Anyways, thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask!!!!! 🥺 it took me a while to get an idea of what I wanted to write, but here we are :> I hope its to your liking!

Also, I believe this is the fic anon is referring to :> If not then gee I've written more about piercings that I've ever expected lol.

warnings: smut. MINORS DNI. you get a piercing and decide to... act weird about it. naoya does not like it :)

Happy reading!

How you managed to hide your piercing from his ever-wandering hands is a commendable feat, even after all went down, you still don’t know how you did it.

Though all this could’ve been easily avoided in the first place if you hadn’t convinced yourself to do it after seeing a particular photoshoot and thinking “I can look just as good.”

As well as believing this would further spice up your life with Naoya. Like it wasn’t spiced enough!

But only after you surpass both your embarrassment and heal; unfortunately, the former only growing stronger and stronger upon realizing this was far more than what you bargained for.

You initially try to play it off as being sick whenever he gets too close. Not in the mood, even. “I’m dizzy.” “My head hurts.” “I’m on my period.” Are just a few of the excuses you deployed.

And your loving husband, always the (surprisingly) patient one, takes it, because he supposes that for his ever-willing wife he could allow these exceptions. Thus, right after you reject him, he cuddles up to you and falls asleep.

However, his tolerance quickly ends when understanding this wasn’t to be a 1-week occurrence. But rather, a monthly endeavor that soon turned his everyday into utter punishment.

Naoya frantically attempted to make sense of it all. Think that perhaps the reason behind your distance was because of some unknown issue that troubled your mind; you always tended to keep things to yourself, even if he’s countlessly assured you he could fix all of your problems—he just needs to know them first.

…

But even then… Naoya could not understand how easily you were able to detach from him. Because to him… to do so meant death itself.

The problem wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Naoya had more than enough means to keep you satisfied however you needed it, and he made sure of that too.

Thus, at the lack of answers, he begins to feel threatened. Intimidated. Replaceable.

And we all know how Naoya gets when feeling such way.

“Princess, you will explain yourself—now.” Naoya demands, his abrupt, towering presence forcing you deeper into the bedroom, nowhere to escape.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You gasp, a blatant lie that only served to bury you deeper into your mistakes.

“Oh, no. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, mochi.”

If you hadn’t transgressed Naoya, you would’ve found his approach very, very inciting.

Unfortunately, even if you wished to go down that path, your dear husband was far too infuriated by your ridiculous behavior to consider anything else that wasn’t confronting you.

“Why are you avoiding me? And don’t even try to get out of this one, I’ve been patient enough.”

You knew this moment was fast approaching; only a matter of time before you ran out of excuses… or patience to abuse.

There’s only so much he’s willing to tolerate before he… well, you don’t want to think about it.

“I’m just… I just— I don’t know how to tell you…” you breathe.

“How to tell me what?”

“Do you promise to not get angry at me?”

“I’m not sure if I can promise that.” He frowns. You swallow.

“…at least not too much?”

Naoya squints his eyes, as if considering it. You knew he wouldn’t, you were in the wrongdoing after all.

“Just don’t judge me, please.” You eventually profess, and after taking one last breath, you reach for your obi and untie it, careful to not reveal too much but just enough to show the bare skin of your abdomen—

And the shiny addition to your navel.

Naoya couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Is that all, princess?” He chuckles loudly, like you just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. You do not find it amusing. “Is that the reason why you’ve been avoiding me??”

“Y—yeah I—I guess!” You frown, cheeks burning hot. “Don’t make fun of me, I was really hesitant whether to tell you or not!”

“Really? For this silly little thing?”

“It wasn’t silly to me, Naoya!” you cry.

“Alright, alright—I didn’t mean to upset you.” He says, curiously attempting to reach for your piercing before you smack him away. “Hey!”

You glance away, placing your obi back in place.

“Come on now, you don’t have to hide it from me.” Naoya smirks, stepping closer. “Hey, princess—”

“It’s still healing.” You quietly explain; a partial reasoning behind your dismissal.

“Ah, so you’re telling me you wouldn’t like me to help you?” He enticed, you retreated further into the wall; if possible. “I have more than enough experience with piercings, there’s no one in the estate more qualified than me.”

“Don’t misinterpret my words, you know I didn’t mean... that.” You caution, though he spoke nothing but the truth.

“Is that a yes?” Naoya continues, placing his fingers under your chin and pulling your gaze back to his.

“…only if you don’t make fun of me.” You eventually agree, and he seals the deal with a chaste kiss on your lips, followed by a tight hug that has you whining in pain. “Na—Naoya!”

“Oh, princess, I’m sorry.” Naoya says, quickly releasing you. “You poor thing��� is this how it’s been since?”

You nod.

“Well, you’re in good hands now; and luckily for you, I know just the right thing that will ease your pain.”

Had you known Naoya would completely dedicate his time to make sure you weren’t passing any discomfort, then maybe you would’ve told him of your small endeavor from the very beginning.

It just… to see him so enthralled by your impulsive decision, you couldn’t help but wonder how different everything would’ve been if you had decided otherwise.

As well as how much you exaggerated your worries; hadn’t your husband consistently proven how far he’s willing to go just to make you happy?

From whatever craving you desired (but nothing that would hinder your healing process) to the endless kisses he’d place on your navel—as if he weren’t sufficiently hypnotized by your body, your piercing heightened that desire—Naoya was all yours. Completely allured.

But mostly by the rush he got at being the only person to know of the debauchery that hid beneath the pristine, meek and obedient look you carried around the estate; fitting to the wife of the future leader of the Zen’in— the same woman many admire by her gentleness, how you’re his living contrast, his better half; never daring to be as outrageous at he is!

If only they knew the truth.

No. It was better if they didn’t. He’d fervently keep all this enjoyment for himself.

“St—stop, Naoya!” you cry, squirming beneath his touch that roamed across your body, caressing the places where he’d like to taint next, such as your now sensitive nipples, which he’d squeeze and pinch incessantly for you to suffer in the following days.

Or your twitching clit, grazing it with no particular desire outside of tormenting you with pleasure. Remind you who really was in charge of your mere existence.

Yet, nothing compared to the way his cock plunged into your warm, tight walls—choking him so painfully exquisite, Naoya can’t help but moan whenever you do. Keeping your hips steady as he gives you all that he could not these past few months—blinding your sight with stars when bruising that one spot that always has you coming undone, which you desperately grasp whenever possible, wanting to steady that agonizing sensation.

Because as cruelly as your husband teased you, you equally desired to pour out all the desire you bottled up by a silly fear, let him enjoy the gift that was always meant for him. Your role in this marriage.

“It—it hurts—Naoya—!” you whimper, a profession Naoya was quick to interject as a lie given the way your cunt refused to stop milking him.

“Hmmm, it does, doesn’t it?” He breathes against your skin, placing ardent kisses across your cheek down to your neck as his hands reached for one of your nipples once more, giving it a particularly tight pinch that made you squeal.

“N—Naoya—!”

“Would it hurt here too, if you got a piercing?” he ponders curiously, another wave of excitement travelling all the way down to his member, which you felt grow even harder, bigger at the thought. Hips unwavering as if he were attempting to drill the proposition deeper and deeper into you.

Naoya was pretty much depraved when it came to your breasts, his hands or mouth always on them whenever possible; So, with this, you fear your chest will never know peace again.

But it doesn’t frighten you. In fact, you are willing to entertain such an idea. Endure the pain that follows this decision—for him to completely succumb to you.

“Would you do that for me, princess?” Naoya gasps, plummeting faster, stronger into you in that familiar sloppy way that signaled to you he was dangerously close.

You instinctively, as if second nature, wrap your legs around him, keeping him close, right there, followed by the agonizing tightness of you walls that soon make his voice tremble—stopping any silly consideration he might’ve had of spilling his seed anywhere else except where you deserved… though Naoya never entertained otherwise.

“Show how much you truly love me, by—by doing this?” he gasps, firmly shutting his eyes to not urge his release at the sight of your bouncing breasts.

“N—Naoya—!” you gasp, pulling him closer to you and captivating his lips in a heated kiss. Moaning into his mouth as your tongues intertwined with one another. “Ah—Naoya~! I—”

“Ple—Please, Y/N!” He suddenly begins to beg, now delirious with pleasure. “Please—Please do it for me, princess, you don’t know how happy this would make me—how much I wanted this!”

The combination of your devotion, your sweet whines, the tightness of your core, and the eagerness in the markings in his back is his ultimate downfall, just a few more thrusts and the first spurts of his burning seed spill deep within you—ropes of white covering your walls which you welcome almost jealously, as if wasting the smallest drop was the highest sacrilege.

And to a longing mother, it just might—but beneath your desires of a family, you wished to welcome back the husband your actions had unwillingly estranged: his intoxicating scent, the strength he’s amassed throughout years thanks to his strict routine, his burning touch tracing your skin with invisible lines…

But most importantly, his love, which you tightly held onto as he came down from his high, resting on your chest as he lets out a deep sigh, still plugged into you, just as he’d done the past few times in hopes his seed will finally take root. Naoya wishes to be a father too, and the thought always makes your heart flutter.

It’s the look of a man well satisfied. A man that has wholeheartedly committed to you, body and soul…

A husband that deserves to be rewarded, consoled. Urging you to speak coherently for the first time that night and let him know he no longer stands alone.

“I’ll do it.” You say, Naoya snuggles closer to you.

“Hm?”

“The piercing thing. I’ll do it, if that’s what you want.”

“The… oh.” Naoya blinks, moments of his passion suddenly flash back to his mind. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s spoken at the heat of the moment, nor the last.

“Do you really… want me to do that?” you murmur hesitantly. “Get another piercing?”

And for a few seconds, the two remain in complete silence, whether enjoying the intimacy he’s been cruelly deprived from, or considering your words… it didn’t matter. Neither wanted this moment to stop.

It was simply… perfect. Just the two, with each other’s heartbeat to fill the quietness in the room—and the doubts in your mind.

“No.” Naoya eventually confesses, placing a kiss on your skin. “I do not.”

Because as much as the idea enthralled him, he didn’t want to force anything on you. Certainly not for a piece of metal.

“You’re perfect to me like this. With or without piercings.”

Your heart tightens at his words.

“You don’t mind the one I already have, then?” you ask, he laughs. As if it hadn’t just shown you.

“No. Not at all; I didn’t think you could be any hotter, and yet, here you are… proving me wrong, my adorable lava cake.”

You frown at the gross nickname, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

“Hey! What’s with the aggression?” He jests, but you simply hug him tighter, closer to you. “Is that how you treat the husband that had so lovingly filled you with his seed—"

“Shut up, don’t be crude!” You say, resting your head on his. After a few moments of silence, calming down, you declare: “…I love you.”

Naoya lets out a breathy chuckle, succumbing to your affection moments before his slumber.

“I love you more, my little mochi.”

Oh, how could you ever doubt his affection?

I always suspected Y/N to be more of a tattoo kind of person; idk why, but I think it would complement each other nicely too. Naoya is with the piercings, and you with the tattoo's. We all known which one he'd like.

Also, I will never tire myself of writing Naoya as completely gross with you. Like, the mere thought of you hiding such a simple piercing from him is OOF he loves it. I mean, without the constant pushing him away lol But yeah, watching you walk around in one of those traditional yukatas with your hair all pulled up in the most appropriate way ever, looking to appease the Zen'in only for him to be like:

"Yeah, you see her? No one would suspect my wife has her nipples pierced." IS SUCH a HUGE turn on to him. Maybe you do get them later on, who knows? 😏

Anyways, I hope you liked this small thing I wrote 🫣 I shall continue to strive improving my smut skills, sometimes I get so inspired, sometimes... I don't even know what I'm doing :'(

Well, still; I wish y'all enjoy it. Take care and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️

[crybaby-bkg]

Arranged marriage AU with Barbarian Bakugou who is so daunting to be around at first. He’s all gruff curses and broad shoulders and scarred cheeks and neck and jaw. He scowls constantly, stares at you while your parents auction you off like some show pig, but doesn’t say much to you besides a grunt of his name. You’re terrified, thinking that he’ll be cruel to you, that you’re being set up for a life full of unhappiness and terror and regret.

But he’s the exact opposite. Bakugou is gentle in ways a man of his size typically wouldn’t be, but he shrinks himself for you. Not in a way that diminishes his status as the newly appointed king, but to respect you, show you that you’re beside him instead of behind him.

He picks you berries on his hunts because he knows the smell of a fresh kill brings nausea to your stomach. You find him along with the other maidens and helpers around his village, sitting beside them, big fingers holding tiny little flowers that he weaves into a crown for you. When he sets it on your head, he purses his lips, mutters something under his breath in his language that you’re still not too familiar with, but sure it means something along the lines of pretty and soft.

And when he finds you bathing in the river only few have access to, he’s sweet the whole time. Doesn’t make a spectacle of you being naked, and is relieved when you don’t instantly cower when he wades his way over to you. You try not to stare at the clawed scars that decorate his pec and jaw when he stands above you, and it helps when he suddenly dumps water all over your head. He shushes you when you splutter, continues on with cupping his hands and letting the water run off of your hair and down your shoulders, scrubbing at your skin until your flesh squeaks. He doesn’t expect you to do the same for him, but he hums in satisfaction when you push him down a little lower so you can wash the crown of his head.

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–

[milo-is-rambling]

I find it so funny that summer is when the yearning starts bc all my oc writing is still housed in wattpad drafts (too lazy to move my self indulgent stories to my google docs) and it all says last edited in late May or June July August like all my self indulgent imaginary soulmate shit is just bc I get incredibly lonely in the summer and it’s so much easier to daydream constantly when you’re working shitty retail jobs with repetitive tasks ands the days feel like you’re swimming thru molasses and everything is sticky and you’re eating cold fruit constantly and smoking and lounging around in front of a fan like it’s what you were born to do and so you’re laying there with your eyes closed imagining the way it would feel to be loved by someone as imperfect as you and so you write OC’s that you always used as a way to brainstorm a world where you didn’t want to die you imagine a version of yourself that did it all right the first time and or built something from the failure you feel now and so you spend all summer writing about an imaginary love and an imaginary happy future bc the summer drags u slowly against the burning pavement and you need to remember what it’s all been for you need to find a version of yourself you could imagine someone loving

[cookinguptales]

So I’ve been enjoying the Disney vs. DeSantis memes as much as anyone, but like. I do feel like a lot of people who had normal childhoods are missing some context to all this.

I was raised in the Bible Belt in a fairly fundie environment. My parents were reasonably cool about some things, compared to the rest of my family, but they certainly had their issues. But they did let me watch Disney movies, which turned out to be a point of major contention between them and my other relatives.

See, I think some people think this weird fight between Disney and fundies is new. It is very not new. I know that Disney’s attempts at inclusion in their media have been the source of a lot of mockery, but what a lot of people don’t understand is that as far as actual company policy goes, Disney has actually been an industry leader for queer rights. They’ve had policies assuring equal healthcare and partner benefits for queer employees since the early 90s.

I’m not sure how many people reading this right now remember the early 90s, but that was very much not industry standard. It was a big deal when Disney announced that non-married queer partners would be getting the same benefits as the married heterosexual ones.

Like — it went further than just saying that any unmarried partners would be eligible for spousal benefits. It straight-up said that non-same-sex partners would still need to be married to receive spousal benefits, but because same-sex partners couldn’t do that, proof that they lived together as an established couple would be enough.

In other words, it put long-term same-sex partners on a higher level than opposite-sex partners who just weren’t married yet. It put them on the exact same level as heterosexual married partners.

They weren’t the first company ever to do this, but they were super early. And they were certainly the first mainstream “family-friendly” company to do it.

Conservatives lost their damn minds.

Protests, boycotts, sermons, the whole nine yards. I can’t tell you how many books about the evils of Disney my grandmother tried to get my parents to read when I was a kid.

When we later moved to Florida, I realized just how many queer people work at Disney — because historically speaking, it’s been a company that has guaranteed them safety, non-discrimination, and equal rights. That’s when I became aware of their unofficial “Gay Days” and how Christians would show up from all over the country to protest them every year. Apparently my grandmother had been upset about these days for years, but my parents had just kind of ignored her.

Out of curiosity, I ended up reading one of the books my grandmother kept leaving at our house. And friends — it’s amazing how similar that (terrible, poorly written) rhetoric was to what people are saying these days. Disney hires gay pedophiles who want to abuse your children. Disney is trying to normalize Satanism in our beautiful, Christian America. 

Just tons of conspiracy theories in there that ranged from “a few bad things happened that weren’t actually Disney’s fault, but they did happen” to “Pocahontas is an evil movie, not because it distorts history and misrepresents indigenous life, but because it might teach children respect for nature. Which, as we all know, would cause them all to become Wiccans who believe in climate change.”

Like — please, take it from someone who knows. This weird fight between fundies and Disney is not new. This is not Disney’s first (gay) rodeo. These people have always believed that Disney is full of evil gays who are trying to groom and sexually abuse children.

The main difference now is that these beliefs are becoming mainstream. It’s not just conservative pastors who are talking about this. It’s not just church groups showing up to boycott Gay Day. Disney is starting to (reluctantly) say the quiet part out loud, and so are the Republicans. Disney is publicly supporting queer rights and announcing company-supported queer events and the Republican Party is publicly calling them pedophiles and enacting politically driven revenge.

This is important, because while this fight has always been important in the history of queer rights, it is now being magnified. The precedent that a fight like this could set is staggering. For better or for worse, we live in a corporation-driven country. I don’t like it any more than you do, and I’m not about to defend most of Disney’s business practices. But we do live in a nation where rights are largely tied to corporate approval, and the fact that we might be entering an age where even the most powerful corporations in the country are being banned from speaking out in favor of rights for marginalized people… that’s genuinely scary.

Like… I’ll just ask you this. Where do you think we’d be now, in 2023, if Disney had been prevented from promising its employees equal benefits in 1994? That was almost thirty years ago, and look how far things have come. When I looked up news articles for this post from that era, even then journalists, activists, and fundie church leaders were all talking about how a company of Disney’s prominence throwing their weight behind this movement could lead to the normalization of equal protections in this country.

The idea of it scared and thrilled people in equal parts even then. It still scares and thrills them now.

I keep seeing people say “I need them both to lose!” and I get it, I do. Disney has for sure done a lot of shit over the years. But I am begging you as a queer exvangelical to understand that no. You need Disney to win. You need Disney to wipe the fucking floor with these people.

Right now, this isn’t just a fight between a giant corporation and Ron DeSantis. This is a fight about the right of corporations to support marginalized groups. It’s a fight that ensures that companies like Disney still can offer benefits that a discriminatory government does not provide. It ensures that businesses much smaller than Disney can support activism.

Hell, it ensures that you can support activism.

The fight between weird Christian conspiracy theorists and Disney is not new, because the fight to prevent any tiny victory for marginalized groups is not new. The fight against the normalization of othered groups is not new.

That’s what they’re most afraid of. That each incremental victory will start to make marginalized groups feel safer, that each incremental victory will start to turn the tide of public opinion, that each incremental victory will eventually lead to sweeping law reform.

They’re afraid that they won’t be able to legally discriminate against us anymore.

So guys! Please. This fight, while hilarious, is also so fucking important. I am begging you to understand how old this fight is. These people always play the long game. They did it with Roe and they’re doing it with Disney.

We have! To keep! Pushing back!

[gojorgeous]

"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.” 

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.” 

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.” 

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.” 

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–” 

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.” 

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–” 

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry. 

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm? 

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer. 

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach. 

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope. 

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road. 

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.” 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.” 

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.” 

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.” 

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare. 

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to. 

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto. 

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck. 

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed. 

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home. 

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. 

“Yes you can. I know you can.” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” 

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.” 

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.” 

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–” 

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.” 

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours. 

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

~

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly. 

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs. 

“Feel anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter. 

“Sleep, baby.” 

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot. 

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs. 

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.” 

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint. 

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-” 

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.” 

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.” 

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place. 

“No, baby.” 

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully. 

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin. 

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.” 

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” 

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight. 

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants. 

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead. 

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit. 

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives. 

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him. 

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need. 

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. 

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away. 

“Gonna knot you good, princess.” 

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes. 

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk. 

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.” 

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss. 

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.�� He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything. 

“Sugu–” 

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling. 

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens. 

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness. 

~

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that. 

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…” 

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much. 

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine. 

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.” 

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams. 

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.” 

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it. 

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…” 

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl. 

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised. 

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

please consider leaving a comment, sending in an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[angelicsoka]

THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is. 

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through  your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel. 

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare. 

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles. 

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks. 

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–”  you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave. 

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties. 

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more. 

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head. 

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.” 

[obsesssedblerd]

Part Four (2): “I promise, I’ll make this right.” 

- the jjk men promising to be a better partner for you after they forget your anniversary. 

final [second] written part of this smau series. 

Pt. 2: Choso, Shiu, and Gojo

Contains: angst to comfort 

a/n: and here’s the last, last part with the remaining characters! again, thank you so much for being so patient! <3 once again, sorry for any mistakes! 

---

CHOSO 

Truthfully, you didn’t know if you were actually ready to confront Choso, but you know that it’s time. You stand in front of the door to his house, and knock. You wait for less than a minute, then the door opens to reveal Yuuji on the other side, rubbing his tired eyes. His pink hair was messy, so you know that he woke up from a nap not too long ago. 

When he registers that it’s you, he gasps loudly, then holds up a hand and smiles nervously. “H-Hi! Um, wait just a minute, I’ll grab him! Please don’t leave this spot.” 

“I won’t leave, Yuuji.” 

His smile falters a bit. “No, seriously, please don’t. Me, Cho, and Megumi couldn’t find you for days.”

You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I promise,” you say slowly, “I won’t leave.” 

“Good. Be right back.” He gives you a thumbs up, closes the door, and you hear him scream from behind it, “Choso!! CHOSO!!! She’s outside, so stop blasting your sad music and get down these damn stairs!! No, I’m not kidding, why would I do that?!” 

You blink in shock, then Yuuji opens the door once more to smile sweetly at you. “He’ll be out in just a moment.” 

“Uh- Alright, thanks.” 

Not too long after, Choso appears. You can immediately tell that he hasn’t been sleeping much the last few days. Other than that, he looks relieved to see you there. He reaches towards you to hug you, then stops himself, remembering the situation. “Hi,” he quietly greets. 

“Hi. Walk with me?” He nods, and you two walk side-by-side to a nearby park. You let the silence drag for only a few minutes before you ask him the question that’s been weighing on you for the last couple of days. 

“Be honest. Before we got together, did you want to date Yuki at one point?” 

Are you only with me because you weren’t able to get with her? 

Choso stops in his tracks, and looks over at you, eyes blown wide with shock. “No. Never. We’re just friends, like I’ve told you before. I know it seems like-” 

You hold up a hand. “Cho, please just understand where I’m coming from. The-” 

“I do understand,” he says desperately, taking a step closer to you. “Of course I do. That's all I’ve been thinking about. I chose to hang out with her instead of you, numerous times. It’s unfair to you, I know, but I swear-”

“I feel like you love her.” Your biggest fear of your relationship flies out your mouth, and tears rush to your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. “Every single time, it’s her. It feels like it won’t matter how special something is—like our anniversary—because you’ll run to her the second she asks you to hang out and completely forget about me.” You take a breath and exhale slowly, trying not to make yourself look even more pathetic. “I’m tired, Cho.” 

“Listen to me. I do not love Yuki,” Choso says slowly. “Not now, not in secret, not ever. I am in love with you. You’re the one I want to wake up next to every morning, you’re the only one I trust when it comes to helping my siblings, and you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He scoops your hand into his. “There’s no way in hell that I would choose her or any other woman over you, so I’m begging you, please get that out of your head.”

Before you can use a sleeve to wipe your tears, he wipes them for you, then uses his hand to cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. You spent so long planning the dinner for our anniversary and I completely forgot about it like it was nothing. I wish I could go back in time, but I can’t. All I can do is beg for another chance to be a better boyfriend. So, please, let me have another chance.”

You notice that his eyes are also watery. You’re about to point it out, but he hugs you tightly before you can, his body slightly trembling. “These last few days have been killing me, because I’ve messed up so bad to the point where you think I’m in love with another woman, when you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my  life. I don’t want anyone but you. I could never choose anyone over you. I don’t care who they are.” 

He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back. “Please,” he repeats once more. 

“Never again, Choso,” you mutter shakily. “I mean it.” 

He sighs in relief, then kisses you. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Walk back with me? I have your present back at the house. Then, we can plan another dinner, and something special after that.” 

---

SHIU

When you enter the hotel room, you see Shiu Kong there, leaning in the chair with a light, but nervous smile. “Hey, princess.” 

The door shuts, and you furrow your brows in confusion. “How the fuck did you get in here?” 

“Well, you weren’t answering your phone anymore, so I found a different way to track you.”

Your brain whirrs with multiple possible scenarios, then you roll your eyes when you figure it out. “You asked Toji, didn’t you?” Your work partner was the only one who knew your location.

“I had to blackmail him in order to find out where you were. It wasn’t easy.” 

You give him a fake smile. “Well, I don’t really care about that. You should leave.” 

“No.” 

“Shiu. Don’t piss me off,” you warn. “Go.”

“Not until we talk.” 

You cross your arms. “It’s either you leave, or I will handle you the same way I’d handle any person that comes into my room without my knowledge or permission.”

Shiu holds his hands up. “I’ll let you shoot me after I apologize.” 

“You’ve already apologized plenty over text. I already told you that I’m done. I’m better off focusing on work, and you’re better off just hanging out with your friends.” 

“Can you stop saying that shit? Baby, please, I swear that missing our anniversary dinner was a horrible mistake, and I’ll never make it again if you give me another chance.” When you don’t answer, he sighs desperately, taking a chance with his life and walking over to where you’re standing. “I’m sorry, princess. I completely understand why you’re pissed, and like I said, I’d let you shoot me if it’ll make you feel better. However, I will say that I can’t let you go. I love you.” 

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Look, that’s sweet and all, but I don’t think you understand how awful it is knowing that your boyfriend chose a random night of drinking with his friends over a romantic dinner that you spent weeks planning. It makes it hard to believe that you even like me, let alone love me.” 

“I understand why you’re doubting my feelings for you. Anyone would after their lover forgets their anniversary. But I promise, I do love you, and if you give me another chance, I’ll show you. I’ll make you feel it. Please give me a chance to fix this.” 

“...But what if you don’t?” 

“Then I’ll let you kill me, like you’ve killed your other boyfriend after he fucked up and broke your heart.” When you raise your brow in question, he answers you, “Toji told me about that when he warned me to leave you alone earlier. Not taking his side at all. Heard he was an asshole, anyway. But, I’m serious. If I don’t do better, and I hurt you again, I won’t run or fight back when you come to kill me.” 

“Shiu, I don’t want to kill you,” you say, slightly frustrated. “I just want you to care more.” 

His thumb brushes underneath your eyes. You didn’t even know that you started crying. “I know, princess, ‘m so sorry. I promise, I’ll never make you cry again, and I’ll be better.” He’s relieved when you allow him to hug you. “Come home, okay? We’ll talk more there, and then I’ll start making this up to you.”

You nod, then rest your head on his shoulder. “You do know that Toji’s more than likely going to kick your ass for blackmailing him, right?” 

“You’re in my arms again, so it was worth it.”

---

GOJO

You’re speeding through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. An hour ago, you got a text from Maki, your precious second-year student, telling you that something bad happened and that you need to come to the school quickly. 

“Maki, I’m here! Are you okay?!” You shout as you burst into the empty classroom. You find her, and you tilt your head in confusion. 

She looks fine. In fact, she’s standing next to a Yuuta Okkotsu, who looks like he’s about to vomit. “S-Sensei! I-” 

Maki cuts him off with her usual, sharp glare. “Not. A. Word.”

Inumaki and Panda are also there, and across the room, the three first years are standing stiffly. 

Something’s up. 

“Okay,” you say to the students as you cross your arms. “What on earth is going on?” 

Nobara looks over at Yuuji, who’s sweating nervously, and raises a brow. “Um… Haha,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Kugisaki. H-He should be here any second, I swear!” 

He? 

Suddenly, Satoru Gojo teleports in. “What’s going on?” He asks as he looks over at the students. “I didn’t see a threat outside of the school. Yuuji said something bad happened?” 

“Great!” Nobara claps her hands together. “You’re both here!” 

Satoru goes quiet, and you raise an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah?” 

Maki points to you and Satoru. “You two need to talk.” 

“...Sorry?” 

“You two need to talk!” Nobara repeats Maki’s words. “Listen, we can’t stand having our two favorite teachers separated like this. [Y/L/N]-sensei has been gone for days!” 

“Plus, Gojo-sensei, you’ve been super stressed!” Yuuji shouts in defense. “Fushiguro says that you eat a lot more sweets when you’re stressed. You ate two packs of those mini cupcakes, plus the brownie that Nanamin gave me!” 

When Satoru looks over at Yuuta, he throws his hands up. “No, no, please don’t look at me like that! I voted against this! I said that w-we should probably give you two some space to figure it-” Inumaki slaps a hand over his mouth. 

“We’re just… worried,” Megumi mumbles. 

“Yup!” Panda shouts. “Very worried, and that’s why we came up with a plan to get you two back on track. We’re going to lock you two in this room, and you’re not coming out until you’re happy and in love again!” 

“Because you two are supposed to be together forever and get married and invite us to the wedding!” Yuuji pouts, and the rest of the students voice their agreements. 

You can’t believe it. They set you up. Your mouth falls open in shock, and the students all walk outside of the classroom. Maki and Nobara are the last ones out, and they both glare at Satoru. “Geto-sensei said that you missed your anniversary dinner,” Nobara hisses. “You better give her the most amazing, romantic and extravagant dinner after this, or we will deal with you!” 

Behind Nobara, Yuuta chuckles nervously. “...Pretty sure that you won’t be able to get past his infinity-” 

“Shut up, Okkotsu!” The rest of the students shout, then the door shuts and locks with a loud click. You drag a hand down your face, then scoff. Great.

“Wow, they’re really something,” Satoru chuckles, but when you don’t say anything, he turns to face you, his expression serious, even with his usual blindfold on. “Say the word, and I’ll teleport you out of here. Then, I’ll talk to them.” 

“No, it’s okay,” you say quietly as you sit in one of the empty chairs. “We can talk.” 

As you look around the classroom, a few memories from the year before came back. “Wait, this is the classroom where we met, isn’t it?” 

“Looks like it,” Satoru says as he leans against the wall, smiling softly. “Zen’in, Panda, Inumaki, and Okkotsu were first years. You were standing right here. Your first day as a transfer, and you were already teaching these kids as professionals.” 

“Yeah.” You stifle a laugh. “You stayed for the entire lesson, even though you had a meeting with the higher-ups. Suguru and Yaga had to practically drag you out of here so you wouldn’t spend another hour flirting.” 

“They were pissed, but it was worth it. Our newest team member is just so pretty,” he says, then reaches for your hand, your thumb lovingly brushing against yours as his voice dips lower. “The most beautiful woman that my six eyes have ever seen.” 

It’s a nice memory, but when you remember everything else, your smile falters. Satoru sighs, “I’m so sorry, pretty girl. Not just forgetting the annivesary dinner that you planned, but also for leaving you hanging. I don’t blame you for disappearing for a few days. If I were in your shoes, I would’ve been upset, too. I really don’t have an excuse. That was just… wrong.” 

“I appreciate that, Toru, but… are you sure that this even works? All of the chasing, the begging to spend just a few hours together, it’s draining. I know you’re the strongest sorcerer-” 

“You matter more than that,” he says firmly. “So much more than that. If it came down to choosing between you or being the strongest, I’m choosing you in an instant. I meant it when I said that I’d let Toji Fushiguro kill me again before letting you go.” You wince when you remember the gruesome details of that story, but don’t interrupt. “I made a horrible mistake by forgetting that date. I can’t imagine how awful it was sitting at the restaurant all alone. I’m so sorry. I don’t care how long it’ll take to make this up, I’ll prove that you mean the world to me.” 

You consider his words. While you’re still a bit hurt about being forgotten, you miss your boyfriend, and you do believe that he’ll make it up to you, despite you being a bit hesitant. “One more chance, Satoru,” you tell him. “Don’t ever do this to me again.” 

“I won’t. I promise,” he says, lifting his blindfold to reveal the gorgeous, cerulean eyes that you love so much. “You won’t regret this.” When you reach for him, he lowers his infinity fully to let you hug him, a long exhale leaving your body when you’re suddenly wrapped in his arms and his scent. “I missed you,” he whispers to you. “I was so worried. I couldn’t find you.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

He kisses your cheek, then pulls away from you. “Okay, time to go.” 

“Go where?” 

Satoru chuckles. “I owe you an amazing, romantic, and extravagant dinner, otherwise my students will find a way to kill me. Plus, we’re going to be disappearing for a while. I got a trip planned. Flight leaves early in the morning.”

You gasp. “What?! But what about work? Or the students? Or the-” 

He interrupts you with a feather-light kiss against your lips. “All taken care of, pretty girl,” he purrs. “Just let me make this up to you, okay?” 

“Alright, but first you need to apologize to the students for wreaking havoc while you were stressed, and buy Yuuji a new brownie.” 

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ���100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

[msmk11]

Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: some nsfw

♡ fem reader

Thinking about what a dumb party girl you are and the poor loser who's stuck tutoring you in all the classes you skip.

You were one of those people who believed everyone to be her friend. The type that went shopping a lot and hung at the mall more days than you bothered showing up to class – a bit of an airhead.

He’d call you a bimbo, but you’re not really known to sleep around – something about finding the right guy.

You opened the door with a smile, “Hi, welcome! Come in~” and pulled him inside by his arm. “I just got out of the shower, so I haven't really gotten dressed – hope you don’t mind!”

You’re in pink from head to toe – a bit excessively, like you’d gone shopping in the little girl’s section, only… you don’t have a little girl’s body… and that top and those shorts are a little too tight on your curves.

“Doesn’t really matter what you wear as long as you got your books.” He answers nonchalantly – as though he isn’t trying hard not to make out the outline of your cunt where it’s cupped so tight in unfairly thin cotton.

“Okay then~” You giggle, interlocking your fingers with his before turning around and leading him in.

His eyes go to the crease of your asscheeks as soon as you turn around, looking at where they peek out from under your bootie shorts – plump squeezable fat jiggling on every peppy step you took in your fluffy bunny slippers as you pull him into the private comfort of your room.

“My parents are out of town, but they left money for pizza – or whatever else you might want~”

You were all alone?

He doesn't know if he likes that or not. Blind trust. Don’t you realize how much bigger he is than you? Doesn’t it cross your mind at all how you’d have to call the police if he decided he didn’t want to leave at the end of the night?

“Pizza’s good.”

You smile, plopping down on your bed. “Okay then, mister Tutor~” Everything in your room is pink as well. “What do you have in store for me?”

You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Gives the wrong impression. You’re lucky he isn’t a bad guy.

“Where’s your books?”

You look a little puzzled for a moment – as though it was an unprompted question. “Right! Uhm…”

You kneel down in front of your bed and drag a dusty stack of textbooks from underneath.

“Here.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Have you ever even opened them?”

You giggle again. “I’ve written my name on the inside like a good girl~”

He struggles hard not to swallow the tightness in his throat – feeling a twitch in his pants at the sight of you sitting on the floor like that.

“Well, it’s a pretty name.”

You look a little disappointed – or maybe it’s just in his head.

In any case, you rise from the floor and sit down in one of the chairs by the desk, which he’d guess had never held any book other than a magazine.

He picks up the textbooks and sits down in the other chair. And it’s odd, staring at himself in the mirror in front of you – but he has to, to see if he looks suspicious – if he’s showing any tells of how badly he wants to touch you.

He opens up the book on the top of the stack, hopes he doesn’t smell like sweat – and you put your hand on the tent in his pants.

The book flaps close, and he jumps out of his chair – and you innocently peer up at him with your long lashes.

Then you say, “What?” as though his reaction surprised you. 

He stays silent – blinking once, then twice – mouth dry and out of words.

You slant your head to the side. “Don’t tell me you had your heart set on teaching me math.”

You have a look on your face that makes him feel like begging.

Standing up, you stalk him until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he falls down on it with a heavy thud – still stunned and stupid, looking at you with wide eyes as you mount him – rubbing that cute tightly-hugged mound upon his bulging crotch – making him groan with cinched brows, watching your pretty manicured fingers as they fiddle with his belt buckle.

“You really want this?” He asks breathlessly, and you stop to eye him – eyes wondering over that cute look of shock riddled all over his face.

You gave him a small catlike smile, bit your lip, and batted your coy doe-eyes down at him – running your hands up his chest until you reached his throat. “I wouldn’t exactly invite a big boy like you over, much less into my bedroom, if I didn’t want it.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu ♡ HxH – Feitan, Leorio

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here: