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syd-djarin · 2 days ago

Text

nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow?

You: Yes, of course :)

Frankie: Good.

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It��s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;)

You: STOPPPP

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness.

You continue your scrolling.

*ding*

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group.

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off?

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :(

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake.

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it?

You: Can we drop it?

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing.

You: This is so fucking embarrassing.

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t

Frankie: You really think about me like that?

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please.

You: I already feel terrible

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it?

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay?

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now.

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come.

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock

You: Do you really mean that?

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment.

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense.

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay?

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears.

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.”

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver.

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!”

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know.

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs… make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven.

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me

You: can I send a video?

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me

You: Attachment: 1 Video

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…”

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosa cosita más linda

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me?

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home.

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…”

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion.

You: I think I just blacked out

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡

Frankie: that’s my girl

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

#snail trail alert 🚨#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie fic #francisco morales #catfish morales x reader #frankie kitty destroyer morales #text fic #nut vid with the sound on #syd djarin fics #ppcu #pedro pascal characters #pedro stories

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enigmatist17 · 1 day ago

Text

Continuation/just ideas I have of the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon

First part can be found here :)

A03 version -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60978709

---

No one is really sure what to think when Jazz finally returns to the general populace, the crowded common room he steps into with Prowl at his side going silent at the mech's arrival.

No, not a mech, a frame piloted by an organic Wheeljack swore to the Pit and back was smaller than most of their servos.

"Soooo, what's up?" Jazz leaned against the closest table as Prowl got himself some energon, no longer keeping up the pretense he needed such liquid.

"That's what you have to say?" Starscream gawked from his seat, the seeker looking like he wanted to start dissecting Jazz's mecha as much as pry the pilot out. "Are all organics from your planet this...this flippant?"

"Not really?" Jazz shrugged, glad no one could see the grin on his face when Prowl rejoined him, placing himself between Jazz and everyone else in the room with a minute flick of his doorwings. "Hell, you sound like one of my commanders, he'd be having a fit right about now."

"Rightfully so, I should say." Mirage commented from behind Jazz, the pilot grinning to himself when he turned, only to see what was supposedly a blank wall. "Then again, you seem to be the type of bo - organic to cause mayhem on the regular."

"Human." Jazz could hear more than a few processors whir at the strange term, and after a moment, grabs a seat at the table next to him. "Organic sounds weird to me, so you can call me human or just my name, I'm not picky."

"Human...weird." Jazz isn't sure who spoke as his visor offlined, ensuring his mecha was supported before fully breaking the connection. The entire room went silent when Jazz's chassis made a soft click before opening, noises of alarm escaping vocalizers as they expected to see a spark, wondering what in Primus' name the org - human was thinking when something moved. What should have been a spark chamber was something else entirely, the central interior some sort of piloting seat that housed the human they'd all come to trust and fight alongside, who waved as he undid a harness. Prowl was the only thing stopping the Cybertronians around Jazz from moving any closer, his doorwings up in a sharp V when he carefully placed one of his servos just below Jazz, Mirage shimmering into view on the other side of Jazz's mecha when the human hopped onto the limb.

"Hey, fellas." Prowl kept his hold on Jazz as he stepped back from the temporarily deactivated suit, setting him on the table's surface as carefully as possible. "Aw, thanks Prowler!"

"You look strange for an organic." Thundercracker tilted his helm slightly, wanting a closer look but not stupid enough to test how close he could actually get.

"I guess?" Jazz reached up to unlatch his helmet, biting back a laugh when there were a few surprised vents at the reveal of his hair. "Back home, I'd say I'm about the best we humans can look."

"With an ego to match." Mirage cycled his optics with a smirk, eyeing his friend curiously while keeping himself between any bot stupid enough to try and sneak up on Prowl's blindside. "Your frame suits you."

"And don't I know it." Jazz winked, setting his helmet on the table by his feet. "Man, you guys are just...so much bigger in person. I mean I know you are, it's just weird ta see it with my own eyes, er optics."

"Trust me, it's weird for us too." Sideswipe commented from his spot among the crowd, amused more than anything when the inevitable questions started pouring in. To his credit, Jazz tries to answer some of them, but he steps back when Prowl draws himself to his full height and silences almost everyone when he crosses his arms, smiling to himself when the bot speaks.

"If you have any further questions, you can ask them another time, most of you are late for your assigned duty shifts, Jazz included."

"Ya wound me Prowler!" The human let out a whine at the supposed betrayal, but the grin never left his face as he turned to his mecha. "I guess I could get movin', don't want to keep Brawn too late."

"Indeed." Prowl offered his servo once more, aware of the many prying optics watching as Jazz hopped onto his palm, slipping his strange helm covering back on as he was safely delivered back to his larger frame. They watched Jazz buckle himself back into the harness within the spa - piloting chamber, the chassis closing up when something connected with the back of his helm covering, the visor on the frame they were all accustomed to lighting up with a slight hum.

"Fun time's over." Jazz waved his servo, everyone murmuring to each other while they slowly dispersed. "Man that was fun."

"You find most activities fun, dangerous or otherwise." Prowl shook his helm in exasperation as Jazz laughed, the human leaning over to gently bonk his helm against Prowl's.

"I'll see you later, gorgeous." With that Jazz sweeps out of the room, Prowl watching him go with a look that made Mirage do a double take.

"You definitely chose someone...interesting." The saboteur chuckled, saving the image of a soft smile on Prowl's face for some future use.

"So I have..."

---

Jazz had wondered what Prowl's face felt like from the moment the met, in awe at how the metal creased and smoothed out much like his own skin did. Would it be cold and stiff, or warm and pliable? Ah the thought plagued him from time to time, becoming worse when he fell for said mech.

So, when he comes across Prowl asleep (no recharge) at his desk, a data pad clutched in his clawed hands, Jazz grins. Locking the door to Prowl's office, more for the tactician's peace of mind than his own, Jazz quietly grabs the only other chair in the room and sets it down on the other side of Prowl's desk, resting one arm on top of the table. Prowl is still asleep when Jazz powers down the link with his mecha, shivering at the sensation of becoming so small before slowly unbuckling himself, setting his helmet aside before starting the (admittedly) long journey across the room. Thankfully his magnetic lock boots made his journey down the arm of his faithful mecha relatively safe, staring up at his boyfriend (boybot? Ugh no, no way in hell) with an amused smile.

"Always gonna be the smallest huh?"

Now, here comes the hard part, one that could end up getting him flung across the room or smashed into paste if he triggered the wrong response from his sleeping partner. Okay, deep breath, and with a quick crossing of his fingers, Jazz activated the magnetics in his gloves before placing them on Prowl's arm as a test run. One doorwing twitched at the initial contact, but Prowl remained still, and with a deep breath Jazz started climbing, climbing up his mech's arm nice and slow. It was a little tricky when he reached Prowl's shoulder, but with a little awkward shuffling and a twist of his upper body, Jazz was within reach of his partner's face.

Now here comes the Hard Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.

It took a few tries to unwrap the base of his glove with his teeth, heart racing when he was only attached to Prowl via his shoes and magnetized knee pads in order to free his hand, but soon he was ready to do the biggest thing he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on Prowl. His hand is shaking slightly, but that doesn't matter when it makes contact with Prowl's cheek, brain short circuiting at how...soft and warm the metal was to his touch. While it didn't exactly move with his touch, Jazz could feel the nanites that were on the outer surface of every Cybertronian react, twitching when he felt a buzzing under his finger tips. He becomes used to the buzz as he takes his time mapping out the dips and curves of Prowl's face, missing the cycling of optics before a loud chirp breaks the silence, Jazz yelping as he jerked back in surprise far enough to detach from Prowl's shoulder. He doesn't fall very far when he lands on a hand (servo dude) with a grunt, Prowl looking worried as Jazz propped himself up on one arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yep! Next time I need ta clip a harness on you or somethin', don't want to fall again." Jazz waved with his uncovered hand, sitting cross-legged on Prowl's palm. "Saw you asleep, an' I couldn't resist."

"Resist what?" A quick look at his chronometer showed he'd not been asleep too long, optics flickering down to his partner when he felt something strange touch one of his digits.

"This might sound kinda weird, but I've wanted ta touch your face since we met." Jazz had uncovered his second hand and was touching the closest digit, a look he couldn't classify crossing Jazz's face when he gave it a squeeze. "Weird, these are warm, but not as warm as your face."

"Did you enjoy your...examination?" Something fluttered in his spark at the smile Jazz gave him, and once again gave thanks to Primus that he'd been given a chance.

"Mhm! I'd love to again some time, see those pretty lil' optics of yours." Jazz winked, watching doorwings give a full on flutter. "Glad we both agree."

"You shall be the end of me, Jazz." Embarrassment colors Prowl's words as he sits back in his chair, watching Jazz lay back on his palm, hands underneath his head as he sighs happily.

"Your hand is pretty comfy...not a sentence I ever expected to say to my boyfriend, but it is what it is."

"I suppose you shall have to make yourself comfortable then, I still have some reports to finish." Prowl clicked, grabbing the pad he'd been reading before he fell asleep.

"Gives me an excuse to nap then." Jazz moved to remove the outer layer that supported his pedes, his processor supplying the word shoe as Jazz resumed his position with a yawn. "Have fun Prowler."

"Have a pleasant recharge, Jazz."

Jazz doesn't need to know he had already completed his work before his "nap", merely settling in for a novel he'd wanted to get through as his partner slept in his grasp.

#personal #transformers #mecha pilot jazz au #tf mecha universe #jazzprowl #jazz #prowl #mirage #absolutely adore this AU #feral Prowl barely holding back to keep his human safe

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suksatoru · 2 days ago

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flawed and flawless 𝜗𝜚₊˚⊹♡ dabi x you

You never thought Dabi could be insecure.

Dabi, who walked over people like they held the same worth as the dirt beneath his boots. He was so confident—in himself and his abilities, so you could've never expected him to be insecure about anything at all.

Dabi knows his scars aren't appealing. He knows the appearance of charred flesh held together by staples isn't attractive, by any means. He never cared about it before, never even bothered to think about what other people thought of his looks.

The first time he kissed you, Dabi wasn't thinking about how you perceived his scars. He was too swept up in the moment to even consider how you might feel kissing him, too enamored by your taste and glossy eyes as he deflowered you with a tenderness inside him he didn't know he had

Dabi's kissed you many times now. So he doesn't know why it's this particular moment where he's suddenly hesitant to

You're tracing the staples on his chest gently, laying on top of him with your legs intertwined since his mattress wasn't big enough for the two of you to lay beside each other. He's listening quietly to your words, playing with the hem of your shirt before he gently pushes the fabric aside, moving his palm under and inside the garment

Your stomach is so soft. He rubs the mounds of plush skin with his rough fingertips, loving the way you felt beneath him.

He thinks about how different your skin is from the texture of his arms and face. The flesh on him was marred and tainted, and yours is so pure. Something untouched by the cruel world, flawless compared to his flawed one.

He suddenly pulls his hand away from you

Did you like the feeling of his sharp and cold staples rubbing against your skin? He imagined it would be an alarming feeling—the metal wasn't warm and inviting in his eyes. He curls his fist and hesitantly rests it against your clothed back instead. You're still telling him something as he does this, but you quickly realize he was distracted after calling his name and being met with no reply.

He peers down when you stop talking. but then he realizes you're moving to kiss his jaw

And he moves out of the way, effectively dodging your kiss.

He winces when he sees the look on your face, the pout that quickly forms as he begins to panic about how he was supposed to explain why he didn't let you kiss him just now

"Dabi? Why're you making that face?" You mumble, gently cradling his face as he stiffens under your touch. You see the shift in his mood, and gently move your hands away to rest on his chest instead as he sighs

"Nothing. What were you saying?" He mumbles tiredly as you squint up at him, entirely unconvinced by his words.

"It's not important. Tell me what's wrong." You frown, not moving your hands to comfort him as you realized he wasn't reciprocating your touch for some reason

Dabi stares at you. You stare back. He thinks he's the luckiest man in the world to have you love him. You just...understand. He didn't think he deserved to know you, let alone love you. But here you were, patiently loving him.

"Do you like touching me? I mean, is it not fucking uncomfortable for these baby fingers?" He chuckles dryly, grabbing hold of you as he feels your palm in his. Carefully, he intertwines his fingers with yours. He almost cringes at the contrast of the feeling of his wrist resting against yours as he sighs, before pulling away.

He's staring at the ceiling, not meeting your eyes as you're quite literally stunned into silence. The fan hums quietly, filling the silence as you stare up at him. You suddenly realize what he was trying to say, and your soft voice snaps Dabi out of his train of unwelcomed thoughts

"Dabi."

He looks down, but he has to physically swallow the lump in his throat when he sees your face. He can't respond because he knows his voice will come out shaky and tremble no matter how hard he tries not to let it

"I love you, okay? I don't...I never thought you were hard to touch. You're perfect. There isn't a single thing I'd change about you."

He doesn't know why he feels like crying. His throat feels like its closed, and his eyes burn as his hand returns back to your stomach. He runs his hands all over your body, desperately trying to pull you infinitely closer to him as he lets out a shuddering breath

"I love you too, sweetheart. So damn much." He croaks, his voice strained with so much raw emotion that you can't help but lean into his touch and swipe at the stray blood that trickles down his cheek from his eye

"You should sleep. I'm right here, kay? And when you wake up, we can make those pancakes...the ones with faces on them." You muse, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips that he desperately reciprocates

He nods his head before tucking it into the space between your shoulder and neck, murmuring your name before his breathing slowly begins to even out

Dabi falls asleep before you. At least, you thought he had fallen asleep. That's the only reason you started to gently kiss across his jaw, just to try and soothe him as he slept. He once told you he loved when you kissed his jaw, saying something about how the feeling was a nice one

His grip on you tightens just the slightest bit. Normally, his heart beat would increase whenever you kissed him. Sometimes it sped up at the mere thought of you—but these kisses didn't have that effect on him. Mainly because they were slowing his heart, instead. Calming him. Grounding him.

He fell asleep with your skin pressed against his, both of you content. He wanted to feel you closer, so he pressed his cheek against yours without fear that his staples or scars would be uncomfortable for you. He knew they wouldn't—knew they couldn't with how you yourself leaned into him the same way he leaned into you, like a flower dipping towards the sun for warmth.

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cvnntagious · 11 hours ago

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:: babydaddy!matt has no problem sticking up for brat!reader

matt wasn't the type to get easily riled up—especially not to where he felt the need to get physical about it. he was more the type to talk things out, most would say. and that's exactly why it was such a shock when you made your way towards the commotion in the living room to see matt with a guy under him, fists of fury hammering into the poor dude's face.

for a moment, you contemplated if this was something you even wanted to involve yourself in, given is was your child's father. but when matt's hand continued coming down repeatedly with no sign of stopping any time soon, his opposer barely fighting back at this point, you couldn't find it in him to let him just keep kicking this guy when he was so clearly down.

giving a harsh tug on matt's plain black t-shit, you pulled him off like he were a misbehaving dog. his head snapped back to see who had grabbed him, brows unfurrowing the moment he came face to face with you.

his breathing was ragged, waiting for you to berate him as the people surrounding you two scrambled to stop the guy who was once lying on yhe dloor from standing up. to his surprise, you pulled him along with an annoyed grunt, slipping out of the party amidst the chaos of the fight. "where're we going?" matt asked, only to be ignored as he followed behind you until you guys were far from the house.

"i knew this was a stupid idea," you finally muttered, letting go of his wrist to turn and look up at him as you two stood in front of his car. your eyes, scanned his face, maneuvering your head to get a good look at any injuries he may have.

matt's mouth opened, wanting to explain. he knew you didn't want to hear it. "m'not hurt," he replied simply, shaking his head as his eyes finally met yours.

you clicked your tongue, giving him a deep sigh as your eyes rolled for what already felt like the millionth time tonight. "what's your problem?" you asked, addressing the big fat elephant standing right in front of your guys' faces, "forget you're an adult now, hm? have been for almost five years... fighting's how you catch cases, dumbass."

the scoff that left his lips made you want to slap some sense into matt, giving him a look that said, 'are you a fucking idiot?' as you waited for whatever lame excuse he might conjur up. but you should've known better than that. you knew matt had never been the type to go out fighting recklessly, so you should've known something had seriously bothered him. and the fact that something so simple had slipped your mind made his reasoning all the more shocking. "kid was talking shit," he answered, eyes averting to look anywhere but you, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

again, you weren't paying enough attention. "yeah? what, he said your fancy little carharts weren't cool enough or something? so you had to go and risk literal jail time?" you insulted, growing increasingly more annoyed with each passing second, "i mean, seriously, i don't know what i'd do if that guy chooses to press charges—you better hope nobody recorded that."

matt looked at you with a softness to his eyes, feeling his chest tightening a bit at your words; for a moment, those last few sentences made it feel like you needed him. of course, he knew in the back of his mind that you were thinking of mazzy, but he'd like to remain at least the slightest bit delusional in the moment. "come on," he scoffed again, "it was about you... the guy was talkin' shit 'bout you. was i supposed to jus' let him?"

the confession made your breath hitch a little, head pulling back and brows furrowing in a mild confusion. then, you came back to your senses, the attitude rising within you apparent on your features. "what'd he say?" you asked with a quick work of your neck.

"s'nothing important." matt was quick to brush you off, a certain coldness washing over him.

"really? then why'd you fight about it," you pressed on, a brow raising as if to tell him you simply didn't believe him.

he shook his head, mouth openining and closing as matt thought of an excuse. he couldn't – or, moreover, he didn't want to lie to you. "jus' spewin' some bullshit about you, like, bein' overly difficult... said you rejected him an' shit earlier. i guess he was upset about it," he answered, realizing he may have overreacted a bit now that he was explaining it out loud.

"that's all?"

matt shot you a confused look, shrugging a bit. "yeah—i mean, i also saw him tryin' t'grab on you earlier, so..." even that that wasn't really all, truthfully. it was the way the guy was so persistent, eager to start some sort of smear campaign against you between all of his friends. his lack of regard for matt as he badmouthed you, knowing what matt was to you. what you meant to matt.

you were quick to push past him, another annoyed grunt as you shoulder checked him. "just let him talk next time," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "that's not your battle."

matt turned and watched you walk away, in utter disbelief that this was how he was getting treated for standing up for you. of course it was his battle. who else was going to fight it? you? absolutely not. that guy got what was coming to him, saying whatever so carelessly.

"stay if you want," you called back, head turning to look at him, "m'gonna stop by your house to pick up mazzy from chris and nick."

w/c : 971 taglist : @mattsturnswife, @br1annax, @x0x0bunny, @m4ttsmunch, @mattsnumberonehoe, @k4yd1, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @sturnstar169, @bxtchboy69, @strnilolover, @little-miss-shay, @sweetobservationface requested by anon.

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alltimefail · 2 days ago

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Why doesn't Edwin call Charles, "Charlie?"

I shared the isolated audio of Charles' death scene where his "friends" taunted him as they killed him, and in that video, they called him "Charlie." This confirmed what many people in fandom already believed: Charles, a sporty teenage boy in the 80s, would not have gone by his proper first name and likely went by a nickname/shortened version of his name instead.

Now that we know that to be true, it does beg the question: why does Edwin call him Charles? I told you all not to get me started on this in the tags, but you stinkers want me to yap, so let's get into it! 😜

This is a very uninteresting answer, but I think Edwin does not call Charles "Charlie" simply because Charles did not introduce himself as such. Had he introduced himself as Charlie, I don't think Edwin would call him anything else.

This actually brings us to the "meat" of this analysis, and the more important question we need to ask: why would Charles choose not to introduce himself as "Charlie" if that's what people seemed to call him?

I have a couple of theories:

The first one: when Charles meets Edwin he's in a fragile state. A boy he's never seen in all his time at school approaches him, seeming to come out of thin air, just to bring him a lantern without any strings attached (even though Charles cannot give him anything in return). Charles has never experienced that kind of unconditional kindness in his life, and I'm sure that alone was enough to be a bit earth-shaking, mind-scrambling, and intimidating.

But it doesn't end there! The boy who brings the lantern is also claiming to be dead. Delerium/hallucinations are a common symptom of hypothermia so Charles could have though that Edwin was not real or was maybe even some kind of angel-like figure coming to keep him company in his final moments. I mean, the boy's wearing a dated school uniform, enters in a halo glow of golden light, and can walk through walls...it's not the wildest conclusion to jump to.

I think either of thos things individually or a combination of having your guard up, being a bit frazzled from the whole "dying" thing, and believing you're in the presence of an ethereal deity (combined with the fact that you're a people pleaser at your core) is enough to feel compelled to introduce yourself not in formal manner. Not to mention if Edwin introduced himself first, hand outstretched in a formal matter and proper posh accent on full display (something I can totally see him doing), Charles might have felt a bit silly calling himself by such a casual title.

While I think all of this can be varying degrees of true, however, my biggest personal headcanon is that Charles might not have introduced himself as Charlie because who's to say he LIKED that nickname? My circumstances were similar to Charles' growing up, I also had many nicknames from friends and family that I didn't ask for but was given anyway against my will... and I always hated it. Still cringe at some of them to this day, actually! So I think it's possible that Charlie Rowland met Edwin Payne, with all his formal stature and proper professional-sounding name, and took the opportunity to choose what he'd like to go by, without the influence of family or friends. In that way, his chosen identity that would kick off the rest of his existence moving forward (unknown to him at the moment, but true from a narrative standpoint nonetheless) serves as a "Taking your power back" moment for Charles who literally just heard the name "Charlie" being hurled at him as he begged for mercy from people who were supposed to be his friends. Even if he tolerated the nickname "Charlie" before, it certainly wouldn't have fond associations following the event that ended his life (if it had any positive associations to begin with).

Again, speaking from experience, Charlie also sounds like the kind of nickname that could be sugar-sweet on some tongues, innocent even, (his mother cooing over a young Charles), but terrifying from an abusive figure... a scathing kind of mockery. I've always imagined that Charles' dad more than likely called him Charlie, for example, and not in a fond, loving way (in the same way his so-called "friends" were not doing so in a loving way).

So yeah, why would Charles WANT to go by Charlie?

Now that we've established that, we can go back to Edwin...what you came here for!

All that in mind, I still don't see Edwin as the nickname type at all. From a romance standpoint I could maybe see him using a few dated, sappy endearments, but we don't ever hear him use a casual name toward anyone. In his lifetime Charlie would have been a perfectly normal name, but the kind of "fond" nicknaming practices and casual male friendships that happened in 1989 were not common practices in 1916, the Edwardian era. Even with his infinite fondness of Charles, I could never see Edwin uttering "Charlie." It doesn't feel right.

Plus, let's be honest: Edwin says Charles' name with enough love and reverence that he doesn't need to use an endearment. His tone says it all (lol).

Beyond that though, like I said above, I can't see Edwin feeling to impulse to call him "Charlie" because that's not how Charles introduced himself. Edwin strikes me as the kind of person that would be like, "If he wanted to be called Charlie, he surely would have said as much" and left it at that. But a name like Charlie also conveys a sort of youthfulness, and while he and Charles are 16 forever, technically, they have been detached from their lives for a long time and they're MUCH older than 16 in experience and in their professional life.

The only question I was left with, and one I've seen several people ponder, is why Charles would suggest they call The Night Nurse Charlie, (like from Charlie's Angels), as it seems a bit strange if his own name is Charlie/he went by Charlie. My answer/interpretation isn't that exciting, but it's one I feel makes the most sense: I honestly think this can easily be explained away by the fact that Charles is so far removed from that identity and so dissociated from his life that he no longer associates the name "Charlie" with himself in any way. Like it literally didn't even occur to him, in that moment, that Charlie/Charles are so similar because he has built a barrier in his mind between himself and that nickname; they're two entirely different identifiers to him. Whether that be a coping mechanism, or simply just something he wasn't thinking so deeply about (it has been 30 years since anyone called him that, except for Brad and Hunter in Port Townsend), we can't say for sure. However, it's clear Charles does not want to go by Charlie, and at least now we can safely assume why.

Let me know your thoughts! Do you agree with my interpretation? Do you have your own opinion that I didn't cover? Feel free to share with me!

Keep streaming Dead Boy Detectives & screaming about it ! Hugs to each and every one of you! 💜

#That was a LOT of words. Sorry I told you all not to get me started lmao #Charles Rowland my son my baby boy my little angel...life was so unfair to him. Poor boy #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dbda meta #dbda analysis #mine #jayden revri #the dead boy detectives #the dead boy detective agency #save dead boy detectives

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lesbikaiser · 2 days ago

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hi hiiiii can i pls request reo losing the NNN? istg my purple haired rich boy needs more love >< thank u sm!!

hiii hiii my lovely! im glad to be feeding reo stans, he deserves it and so do y'all!

i almost forgot that nnn posts are supposed to be made in november and started writing this one like three days ago or so, i really hope you like it ><

mikage reo who engages in no nut november because he needs to prove you wrong. how dare you say he wouldn't make it to the end because he's used to "getting anything he wants." not that you're wrong though, but what does that even mean? he can't see any connections between having purchasing power and... cumming?

well, he could not see it, not until now. but it's as clear as day for him now that he's knuckles deep inside you, having your pretty body sprawled on his lap as you moan so perfectly against his chest, desperately riding his fingers like your life depends on it as you try and chase your high. it makes all sense in his head now, because watching you makes him so hard, throbbing dick bulging his shorts and the pre-cum leaking from his tip leaving a wet spot on his boxers. god, he would pay any amount of money to be let cum right now.

shit, it's been not even a week since you challenged him.

"reo– oh, reo! reo, reo, reo–! " it does nothing to help him how you call out for him so sweetly, his name like a mantra on your tongue, clammy hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life as your walls clamp down on his fingers, slick all over his palm and lap as your cute, needy cunt makes a mess on him, the way you look up at his face with big, doe eyes and fat tears pricking the corner of them really turns him on, his cock jumping and twitching at the sight.

he wants to fuck you so bad.

"gonna cum, reo–reo! please don't stop, reo..." your voice is high-pitched, thighs trembling around his wrist as your moans only get higher, needier, mixing with the squelching sound your pussy makes every time he plunges his fingers into your hole, reaching so deep and hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

why did he agree to finger you, again? surely he wouldn't be able to watch you falling apart for him without letting it get to him, he knows how much control you have over his body, so why is he doing it? did he really think he could take it?

but how could he ever say no to you when you asked him so prettily to 'please make you cum', with that sweet voice of yours? of course, that's why he agreed. he loves to spoil you.

he watches the way your greedy cunt swallows his fingers in, gripping onto them whenever he slightly pulls out to shove back into you, he can see the way they shine with your arousal, you're so damn wet, he bets he could easily slip his dick into that cute pussy of yours, he could be fucking and creampie-ing you right now and you could be moaning so louder, he would fuck you till you get too dumb to speak, only babbles coming from those pretty lips of yours, too fucked out to even think straight, the only thing in your head being his name...

he can feel his balls tightening at the thought, his body heating up and dick oozing more pre-cum from the tip, his boner is very obvious now and he knows you're too lost in pleasure when you don't notice how his cock is literally poking against your inner thigh, otherwise you'd have already teased him for being so hard when all he's doing is finger fuck you.

but how can he help it? you're definitely a sight to see, tits spilling from your small tank top with the way you arch your back, hips moving back and forth against reo's hand and your own fingers grabbing at anything they can – be it his sleeves, collar or just his shirt at all. he can feel your toes curling atop his thighs, and the outline of your nipples is very clear on the fabric of your clothing when you push your chest towards reo, lips parting to let out the prettiest moans.

he's mesmerized by the shape of your mouth, how your lips are a shade darker than usual because of the way you've been biting onto them, slightly swollen and so inviting, he feels like it's been ages since he last kissed you even though it was just a few minutes ago, he wants to feel your tongue against his, taste your spit mixed with his own. and it's like you've read his mind when you lean against him, arms draping over his shoulders as one of your hands fist his hair, the other caressing his nape so affectionately, he can practically see the heart-shaped orbs in your eyes as you stare at him, noses touching before you press your lips against his.

your tongue nudges his bottom lip before delving itself into his mouth, sliding against his own as you kiss him messily, spit running down both of your chins and your needy whimpers being swallowed by reo, teeth clashing a little due to how sloppy the kiss is.

he can't hold back a groan when you press your body further against his, unconsciously humping your thigh on his over-sensitive dick, his arm looping around your waist to bring you closer to him as his fingers work at a furious pace now, slick gushing out of your cunt and spilling everywhere, staining both of your clothes and it makes you roll your eyes when he curls his digits inside you, soft, warm palm touching your denied clit pushing you over the edge.

"mmph–! " your orgasm hits you like a train, electric waves shooting through your veins making your whole body writhe in reo's grasp, head thrown back and mouth agape with no sound coming out before you lean forward, resting your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as he helps you ride out your high, hand on your hair caressing your strands. you whine at the sudden emptiness in your insides when he pulls his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, slurred words leaving your lips. "love you, reo..."

you say it at the same time he pushes his digits into his mouth, tasting the residues of your cum on them, and that's his last straw. how you whisper so drunkenly against his ear, followed by a wet kiss on his neck and a cute whimper, your taste is so good on his tongue it makes him roll his eyes back, his dick twitches uncontrollably inside his shorts, load bursting on his boxers and soaking everything. he cums untouched, moaning pathetically onto your hair as his orgasm washes over him, not as strong as yours but enough to make his mind blank for a second.

you're too lost in reo's scent to notice anything, basking in the afterglow of your climax and breathing in his cologne, not really seeing the moment he comes down from his high and regains his senses. you giggle when he flips you both over, pinning your spent body down to the couch as his knees force your legs apart. a dumb smile stretches your cheeks when you bring his face closer to yours, arms still around his neck as you kiss him again.

this time though, it's him who shoves his tongue past your lips, licking at your mouth and stealing your breath as he devours you, you whine when your brain registers the taste of your cum, one of reo's hands gripping your thigh as the other pull his shorts down along with his underwear. it's only when you feel his slicked tip nudging your sensitive little clit that you open your eyes, breaking the kiss as you look confused at him. gazing down, you notice his shaft covered in an opaque, white liquid, as it sticks to your folds now that he's sliding his dick through them.

"reo?" the look on your face is priceless. the way your brows knit together, eyes slightly wide and a pout on your lips as you stare at his smirk, voice small when you call out his name. "did you– you came just from fingering me?"

he slaps his tip against your clit, smirk only getting wider when you yelp his name, hips writhing in his hold. "r–reo! what're you doing?" he doesn't even spare a glare at you, aligning his dick with your entrance as he watches your hole fluttering and clenching around his cockhead, desperate to be filled.

"it's already over for me, isn't it? so why not indulge in my wishes anyway? after all, i do get everything i want..." his purple eyes finally lock with yours, they're darker than usual and carry a hungriness you rarely see in them, you can tell how pent-up reo is from not being allowed to cum for the past days.

"and right now, my love, i wanna fuck that perfect pussy of yours."

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #reo smut #mikage reo smut #ㅤ𔘓 – my works...!

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s3renascorner · 2 days ago

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Have you ever tried this one?

MDNI!!

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Warnings!: oral (f receiving) p in v (don't be like them and use protection!) Pet names, cursing, mentions of being tipsy. I think that's it.

Not proofread! so sorry for shitty grammar.

You

"Noah are you finally ready!?" You yelled from your room to your roommate and best friend. You heard heavy footsteps approach your room as Noah walked towards your room, he stops right at your front door and says "damn can't you be a little more patient? I was just finishing up" you quickly grab your purse and put on your shoes, you open up the door revealing yourself to Noah. "no Noah I can't be, we have to be there early so we can get merch remember?" Noah's eyes slightly widen as he takes in what you're wearing, a very short light pink sparkly mini skirt with a matching top and platform boots resembling a stage outfit Sabrina carpenter wears. "You look, extremely good ya know?" He says looking at you up and down. "uh huh thanks now lets go" you say rushing.

After the concert had started Noah was definitely sure he was going to tease you at home after the concert especially after hearing you say "come right on me, I mean camaraderie" well, until the song 'juno' started playing and Noah quickly got what the song was about but what he didn't expect was the position part, Sabrina laid on the floor lifting one leg then swiftly going into the splits, you had jokingly told him that you had apparently "never tried that one in your life" obviously this was supposed to be a light hearted joke especially with the amount of teasing this man gave you every day, but he took it another way, those words making him feel warm and weak, in that moment he thought about you laying there for him completely at his disposal, doing everything and anything for him. He wouldn't lie and say that he's never thought about you in another way than more than friends or that he's never thought of you bare before him doing so many sinful things to-and with him but damn, right now he just wanted to take you away and fuck you til your dumb in the back of his car.

After the concert had ended and you guys got back in the car (well, barely since you were tipsy) Noah couldn't stop thinking about what you had said, it was stupid really, but the fact that just thinking about you in that same position, making you cum until you were seeing stars and just have you. "I actually think that this is the best night of my life" you slurred while giggling. "oh really? And why is that miss I love to scream horny lyrics?" You dramatically gasped and put your hand on your heart, "you wound me sir, and also you listen to the weekend, that's wayyyyy worse than just saying I'm so fucking horny"

sir. That word alone made his cock twitch, not because he likes being called that but because he wants to hear you call him that again and again. "I guess your right" he clears his throat "well, we should get going traffics gonna suck either way right?" He tries to change the topic, You hum in response "well I mean yeah but why don't we wait for a while? Everyone's gonna be headed the same direction and we don't have to be up early tomorrow, plus if I get motion sickness while being tipsy, well that's not gonna be pretty so lets just, wait it out." That wouldn't work for Noah, he just needed to take a cold shower and relax cause if not god knows he would be struggling especially with how you act while tipsy. Last time he was alone with you while tipsy it ended up in you talking about how no one was good for you and that you couldn't even have sex because it didn't feel right, and yes you did cry on him that day. Noah wasn't going to push the idea of going back home since he knew you were gonna make him agree with you either way. He just needed to figure out how to distract himself.

"you okay? You seem tense... Like a lot." You said putting a hand on his shoulder, "uh yeah I'm fine just a little tired that's all." "Um..." You said trying to come up with something. "well you can sleep in the backseat with your head in my lap for you to be comfortable" "um, sure" he said, he climbed into the back of the car and sat down waiting for you to come climb in the back, once you did you accidentally fell on his lap, your skirt rose up and you felt his semi hard on. "Shit, sorry noah" your faces had matching flushed cheeks and that nervous look in your eyes, you tried to move away so you could sit down on the seat but his grip was firm holding you in place. You looked at him nervous and slightly excited, he started lightly caressing your exposed thighs not realizing you half exposed ass since he was so focused on your face and on every little expression that changed. The air felt hotter and your senses had heightened feeling every bit of him covered body except for the hand that was on your thigh that's the thing you could feel the most. The moment felt like eternities but was actually mere seconds. "Y/n?" "yes?" You said barely above a whisper.

"hypothetically if I were to kiss you right now, what would you hypothetically do?" His question took you aback, was he actually going to do this? "Hypothetically, I think I would want more than just a kiss." His eyebrows slightly raised and he nodded just a tiny bit, he carefully but quickly lifted you up and positioned you so you were straddling him. "So... About what you said inside, you've never tried that? Ever?" He said a teasing smirk on his lips. You gulped trying to understand what he was trying to do, "no... I haven't like ever." "would you like to?" Your eyes widened, your breath got heavier, jesus this man could make you nervous in a second.

"What?" "Would. You. Like. To. Try. It?" He put punctuation at every word, soaking up the fact that he could get you like this without even doing anything. "y-yes" you said basically breathless, Noah didn't say anything he just slowly lifted your skirt and made sure that you would be prepared.

He leaned in leaving a peak on your neck going all the way up until he reached your lips and asked "may i?" After you nodded just wanting some kind of touch he leaned in, lips touching yours as if he was testing the waters first. you both had a good rhythm it was slow and passionate, god knows how long you've been wanting to do this with him, his hands started to ride up your thighs to grip your ass, once he did you slightly gasped which gave him the freedom to slip his tongue into your mouth tasting you properly. He slowly moved his hips against yours trying to get some friction as he couldn't get enough of you, your hands were tangled in his hair making it disheveled and messy but he didn't give a shit about that with you like this.

"Fuck Noah, I need you" you moan out breathlessly. "need me to what princess?" God that nickname could make you fold any day, "i... I need you inside me" he nodded quickly and laid you down in the backseat slowly stripping you of your clothes, every layer he took off weirdly felt like a layer of the feelings that you two had for each other was being exposed and shown, with no lies nor any doubts, and sure you could've expected this to just be another quick fuck but it wasn't, it was love and passion that you two had been holding on to and keeping a secret for the years and years of your friendship.

Noah gazed and admired your naked body taking everything in as if he were never to see it again, he softly kissed up your thighs and stopped at were your core is to ask "are you sure?" You nodded but responded with a quick yes because you knew he needed a verbal answer "green if you're okay, yellow if you need to slow down and red if you want me to stop. Ok?"

"ok." Noah placed a soft kiss on her core earning him a soft whimper from you a signal that he could keep going, he left kitten licks still just warming you up until you had finally had enough and had asked him for even more which was what he was waiting for. He, to put it bluntly, ate you like it was his last meal making you say his name like a prayer. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach tightening begging to release, "Noah I'm gonn- can i-" you barely muttered out "cum for me baby, let go." euphoria washed over you, making you feel like you weren't real. "you still with me princess?" Noah asked making sure you were ok, his hands rubbed up and down your thighs the feeling making the sense of touch come back. "Yeah, yeah I just I need you inside me noah." Noah smirked and for one last time kissed your thighs each two times, "your wish is my command doll."

He sat up and stripped himself of his clothes, you couldn't help but stare at his bare self, you'd imagined him before but god it was better than you'd expected. "take a picture it'll last longer" he teased "oh shut it" you said, he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to him hooking a leg on his shoulder the other resting on the seat as you laid on your elbows, this was a surprise because you didn't think he would actually do the position you just thought he was joking or teasing you like always. "what are you doing?" He raised an eyebrow "I told you we would do it." You just shut up and bit your lip as he positioned himself to your entrance. He slowly slid in making sure you adjusted to his size before starting to thrust, when you gave him the signal he started moving at a slower pace but quickly picked it up when he heard the first whiny moan you let out, it felt fucking magical for a lack of words, every thrust and moan that you both let out was so intimate and special because you both knew that it was just for you two, not for anyone others ears to hear, not for anyone other to feel how deep he went and how fucking wet you were for him it was just, the two of you.

You could tell he was about to cum when his thrust got sloppy and fast, you weren't to far behind either the second knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter waiting for you to cum, you walls tightened against him and you started basically chanting his name, your hands intertwined as your head fell back as your breath got unsteady. "Fuck doll, I'm gonna come." You squeezed his hand "come for me noah" you both let out groans as you came at the same time, his hot seed filling you up until you were leaking cum. He collapsed on top of you breathless but so fucking satisfied and so were you. "We- we should probably get home shouldn't we?" He held onto you tighter "in a bit"

The next day...

You were scrolling on your phone through tiktok while laying on Noah's chest when a video of the concert from yesterday popped up, specifically the juno position part, you watched as Sabrina raised her leg while asking the question "have you ever tried this one?" remembering last night. Noah spoke up as he heard and just said-

Yes we did.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian davis

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covenha · 2 days ago

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Shame | JWY

Synopsis: Wooyoung can't stop thinking about you (and what he wants to do to you ;) Pairings: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader Genre: smut (+18), mdni WC: 1010 Warnings: this contains smut so if you don't like what please click away! reader ovulates, wooyoung having major pervy thoughts a/n: I wrote this all in one sitting after doing so much math for a booth making competition so there's probably grammatical errors and this might be all over the place woops, but at least I'm back from the dead! formatting for this one is non-existent but I don't have the time (or energy) to stretch this into a proper fic so this will have to do. I cannot stress enough how this is FICTION and this definitely is not telling of how the characters in this story are irl. And as always, feel free to leave your feedbacks in the comments or request something, they are much appreciated. Enjoy!

So imagine this, you get a notification from your period tracking app that today you are ovulating but you don’t pay it much attention

You haven’t been having such a great day so far, the coffee machine broke for reasons unknown so you haven’t had your daily dose of caffeine, you misplaced one of your bluetooth earphones so now you have to survive a day with ½ of your music fix, and to top it all off, because you were busy looking for your missing earphone you lose track of time and miss the school bus leaving you no choice but to walk to school

On your way to school you pass by one of your upper classman’s house, Jung Wooyoung , vice-president of the radio broadcast club who’s in charge of school announcements

You give him a polite smile and walk on your way, but you slow down when he shouts at you to wait up

He suggests you guys walk to school together since it “just makes sense”, the introvert in you is dying to say no but the people pleaser in you just nods along to his suggestion

As he’s busy yapping about the festivities at your school’s upcoming founder’s week, you feel a weird sensation start to rise in your body

Unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung happens to have a black cat that he so lovingly calls “toothless”, an animal whose fur you happen to be very allergic to

You start sneezing every now and then, interrupting Wooyoung’s monologue on how the school should be investing better speakers for the football field, the first few times he just shrugs it off to some cool morning air sniffles but as the sneezes get a tad bit more aggressive he starts to feel concern for you

He asks if you’re okay, to which you just say that “it’s probably pollen or something” and he just nods at your reason

But as the sneezing doesn’t stop, a few blocks away from your school, he asks again “Are you really okay?” and then he puts a hand on your forehead to check if your temperature is up

He feels your skin is a little warm and offers to walk you to the nurse’s clinic to which you repeat what you said about it probably just being allergies

But he relents and brings up how you feel like you might be coming up with a fever

You sigh at this. because how were you supposed to bring up that your elevated temperature was probably just because it was this time of the month?

As Wooyoung continues to urge you to at least ask for some medicine from the clinic you just decided, you know what? I’ll just tell him, he definitely won’t stop until I tell him. So you cut him off and say “It’s because I’m ovulating.”

Then comes a pregnant pause (I intended this joke okay please laugh)

“Oh.” is all he has to say. He feels the blood rushing up to his cheeks (but also down there if ykw I’m sayin)

“Yeah. That’s why I’m a little warm today.” You just give him a tight smile as the both of you enter school premises.

He doesn’t have much to say as you guys walk into the hallways, I mean how could he even talk to you after that?

He had the fattest crush on you since you signed up for the photography club last fall, and boy was he smitten. He was so excited to see you walk past his house this morning that he basically yelled at you to stop in your tracks. (This was not one of his proudest moments but he’ll just have to move on and rant about it to toothless later when he gets home.)

You had the prettiest smile, an infectious laugh, and you had a humor that just had him in a chokehold. So when you said so straightforwardly that you were ovulating, he didn’t know how to react.

He liked to think that he was better than to fantasize about you in a sexual way, I mean, you barely knew him. Up until this point, he was probably just the Junior Social Sciences student who yelled at you to walk to school with him.

But the way you looked when you were focused on taking the best shot, with your camera all adjusted and moving to get the best angle. He was weak to his body’s primal desires.

Even as you both exchanged pleasantries as you parted ways, you were still on his mind. He was so unusually silent that even his friends started wondering if something wrong was going on with him.

It was midway through a psychology lecture that he just couldn’t stop thinking about you. How soft your skin was, even from the few seconds that he put his hand on you. He bets the rest of your body is just as soft…. Soft and supple and aching for him to take a bite out of.

He wonders if your moans are soft and breathy during foreplay, then he imagines your noises getting more whiney and drawn out. You’d look so cute all teary with your eyes squeezed shut as he kept hitting that special spot in you.

He wonders if he could make you beg… to go harder? For more? To stop? Who knows what's going on in his brain. He just knows that he desperately wants to know how you sound when he angles his thrusts to hit nice and deep.

But most of all, he wants to know just how much you can take. I mean it would be such a shame for you to not be pleasured when your body is at its prime.

That night, he jacks off to the thought of you. And as he lays there on his bed watching his cum drip down his softening tip, he thinks to himself how it's such a shame that it be wasted like this.

Because he would rather it be dripping out of you.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez au #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez headcannons #ateez hard hours #wooyoung au #wooyoung smut #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung headcannons #wooyoung drabbles #ateez drabbles

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soulstutters · 3 days ago

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Okarun had messed up. He knew that. But this was getting excessive. You guys were going against these schlong-stalking aliens and their stupid shrimp but it was starting to feel like he was your enemy.

Every time he treaded towards you in the water, you would swim in the opposite direction. You used Momo as an excuse, saying you wanted to be near her, but you were a terrible liar.

When Momo insisted you all get on Okarun's back, you were practically floating above him the whole time. He almost chalked it up to an aversion to touching skin on skin, but you stubbornly clung to Momo.

Once the whole ordeal was finished, you all found yourselves in the school nurse's office. Okarun tried to extend an olive branch, offering to help you find clothes in your size. But, again, you made the insane decision to avoid him against your better judgement. In his opinion, at least.

At this point, Okarun was really starting to get irritated. He spent several minutes listening to Momo's ticked off rant pushing him to apologize. But how was he supposed to explain if you wouldn't even look him in the eye?

So, he cornered you. Kind of.

You sigh as you reach for the handle of the door you were changing behind in the nurse's office, preparing to face Momo and the two lovebirds again. You don't really like the idea of them together, but if Aira's who Okarun's chosen, it's fine. You'll get over it. Eventually. For now, though, you're dead set on avoiding him.

You very quickly find out that Okarun is dead set on making that extremely difficult to do. As you step out in your borrows clothes, you're faced with the sight of a lone Okarun staring at you expectantly. You almost want to step backwards into the closet, but you've been trying to keep your evasion subtle.

You close the door behind you and stand there for a moment, suddenly feeling awkward. Your willpower could have you standing there across from him forever, but your legs don't have the same strength after today. Trying to make it look smooth, you stride over to the recovery couch.

Eternally persistent, Okarun moves from his chair to sit on the opposite end of the couch. You can't find it in you to spitefully move right now. Instead, you just clench the sheet under you and lean back on the wall behind you.

Okarun starts to talk. You let yourself listen, finally.

"What you saw with Miss Shiratori and I earlier is not what you think." You're tempted to get up and leave at his first words, peeved that he has the nerve to lie to you. But you'd promised Momo you'd give him a chance. And, if you're honest with yourself, you want to hear this. You don't want to believe they're really together.

"Ok," you state simply, giving Okarun the space to speak. You can tell he appreciates it, if his relieved sigh means anything.

"She came onto me. I guess she developed some weird crush on me after we helped save her. She ambushed me while I was outside-"

"But why were you avoiding me - I mean us during lunch? If you were so busy working, what were you doing outside?"

"..."

"Right." You stand up to leave, pace around, do something other than listen to Okarun lie to your face. His hand shoots out and latches on to your wrist. You glare down at him, only to be met with a pleading face. You are weak. You sit back down.

"I was training," Okarun mumbles so quietly you almost don't hear. But you do.

"Training for what? How to be someone's boyfriend?" You spit at him. You know you're being petty but he clearly thinks you're stupid.

Okarun groans loudly and throws himself back against the wall. "I was training...so I could be stronger. Like Miss Ayase's grandmother said. I have to be strong to..." He paused as if he was trying to find the right words. "To protect you." At this, he looked back at you.

"Okay." You were really stressing him out.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I believe you." Okarun beams. "But!" He deflates again. "I don't need you to protect me. What I need is for you to be honest with me. Okay?"

Okarun smiles so brightly you almost get angry at him all over again. "Okay!"

You two look at each other in silence before you hear a click. Both of your heads swing towards the door, which opens to reveal a smirking Momo.

"Are you two done with your little quarrel," she asks, mischievous eyes darting between you and Okarun.

"Yes," you both say in sync, though in completely different tones.

"Good! Now you can focus on your love for each other!" Momo starts to chuckle.

"WHAT!"

"Our What."

Momo's giggles quickly grow into cackles as she almost falls on the ground laughing. Behind her, Miko and Muko appear.

"Do you two know what's going on with her?" Okarun asks tentatively.

"Never do," sighs Miko as Muko shakes her head.

You simply sigh deeper into the couch, not noticing Okarun's adoring stare on your form.

#dandadan #okarun #momo ayase #dandadan anime #okarun x reader #ken takakura #ken takakura x reader

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captain-kit-adventuress · 1 day ago

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Ok, even if Snow is young, that doesn't mean the Prince can't be an adult and it could still be innocent. Like, "true love" can mean a lot of things.

This is a girl who's stepmum threatened to kill her because she thought a literal child was prettier than her, and she is That Kind Of Person that it mattered and she needed her fucking gone. I don't think there's a lot of parental love in that house, is all I'm saying.

But then, she's pseudo-adopted by this motley gang of seven dudes who basically take care of her in secret (at great risk to their own safety, I might add) because it's the right thing to do, and suddenly, Snow has a chance to blossom a bit. And, yeah, they've got to work the mines every day and don't really have much in the way of childcare, but do you think Queen I Will Kill A Bitch If They're Prettier Than I cares that her tax policies are fucking punitive to the peasantry?

And this child, this actual, human child, is so love-starved, that when an old lady shows up and starts offering her pretty presents for free, she mistakes it for the affection she never got at home. She has absolutely no frame of reference for what normal relationships look like at any level, so, yeah, if a stranger gives her lots of pretty things with no strings attached, she's seven and doesn't know better, of course she's going to take them. And better yet, some of the gifts are apples, which are her favourite. She doesn't know how the old lady knows, and she doesn't really care, but she's not going to turn down her favourite fruit.

So when the Prince discovers her in the tiny child coffin in the forest, his first thought should be, "Oh. Oh, no. Something totally fucked up has happened here," because it's a child in a glass coffin looking for all the world like she's supposed to be idolised and he's heard the nasty rumours from the neighbouring kingdom about the Queen, who has a reputation as the jealous, malicious sort and whose husband and stepchild both mysteriously die under suspicious circumstances not so long after she takes the throne.

And he wants to weep for Snow, because he realises all the rumours were true. That the Queen (who he met once absolutely, in his mind, is capable of this) really did banish this child for being too pretty and then tried to kill her besides and for all he knows, totally succeeded. This tiny little girl who deserved nothing but love and affection now lies dead because of the monstrous selfishness of the Queen, her own stepmother. And the thing is, the Prince has compassion. That's why he's Prince Charming, because he genuinely cares about his people and wants to be a good king when the time comes and it makes him furious that such an injustice could happen to a child. He loves her without even knowing her because he's just that compassionate, and he opens the coffin, and maybe strokes her little cheek and smoothes her hair, even though it doesn't really need it. He is determined to bring her back, to have his alchemists work their magic, to see if there isn't something they can do for this little girl, even if it's to keep her as an example, somehow, to give her the funeral she always should have had.

Maybe he wants to "keep" her in the same way the dwarves did, as an adopted daughter, who finally gets all of the love and affection and parental care that she always should have had. So he orders his retinue to help bring the coffin back. But the forest is growing dark, there are lots of rocks and roots, and, you know, maybe someone trips. Bearing pall is not easy, and that coffin always looked heavy as hell. Being glass and marble, the foundation cracks and the glass top shatters as it slides off, and Snow hits the ground as one by one, the burliest men of the retinue lose their grip on it.

An unnatural silence falls among them, and while they don't really fear retribution from the Prince, they'd also never seen him so angry as when he'd found the coffin. He didn't say much, but that was a clue all the same. Now? Now that little Snow White is lying on the ground, dirty and rumpled and somehow looking even smaller than she did on that grand bier, now the retinue gets nervous. The Prince rushes to her without addressing them, cradles Snow as tenderly in his arms as any father would, smoothes her hair again, and gently kisses her forehead. But instead of a furious tirade or more deathly silence, there is...a miracle. A few sputtered coughs, the soft bounce of an apple piece as it hits the forest floor, and Snow is as alive as any of them. The Prince laughs, laughs as they haven't heard him laugh in years, laughs and cries and dances with this little one who has been saved from the curse by her true love. She's a bit confused, but she's also seven and she's had a pretty weird life up until this point. She rolls with it.

And the Prince takes her back to his castle, to what will become her beloved home, and makes a formal and official adoption of Snow White. He declares the evil Queen forfeited any parental rights to the girl when she, you know, tried to repeatedly murder her, and yeah, sure, he can still have the epic fight with the Queen and whatnot, but if that's not love, too, then I don't know what is.

So Snow grows up loved and happy and learning to rule how a proper queen should, and not being so torn by jealousy and cruelty that she can no longer access her humanity.

While I also really enjoy the idea of them being 7 together, I just couldn't help but wonder if there are enough people on this site who are convinced that a kiss from an adult to a little girl couldn't be innocent in any way, and that's why he had to be a child also. True love doesn't have to just be romantic love, it can come in any form.

You know the Grimm version of Snow White makes more sense than most versions if only because in that version Snow White was like 7 years old.

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betweenstorms · 3 days ago

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Hi hello, hope you're having a good day Stormy! Your writing is always so good sjdjsjd always makes my day when I have the chance to read em! Not sure if you take requests, so if you don't, you can always ignore this! But I have a pretty interesting prompt that might pique your interest 👀

We all know Simon doesn't show emotions easily, usually the people very close to him will spot out the minute details that give away how he's feeling. Small twitch of the lips, tense of shoulders, that kind of thing. But how about reader who is slightly different, in that they also don't show emotion that well, but it's because they forget to? Sounds confusing I know, but for me I forget my mouth exists and constantly forget to smile at people when greeting them. So for reader, the only way others know how they're feeling is with the tone of their voice.

Hope that isn't too confusing to understand! It's a very weird thing I have, and have not encountered anyone else who share this lmao

Anywayyy have a great rest of your day, and remember to hydrate and eat something! 🖤

- Biscuits 🌺

Hi Biscuits! 🌺 First of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so sorry it took me this long to reply, but I’m excited to let you know that my interpretation of your idea is finally here! I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed exploring such a unique and fascinating prompt. I hope you’re having a wonderful day, and don’t forget to hydrate and eat something too! Thank you again for trusting me with your idea. 🖤

You didn’t need to look up to know the weather outside was a dreary shade of grey.

Strangely, it was always just grey here. Overcast skies that seemed to stretch endlessly over the joint military base somewhere in Germany, as though nature itself had resigned to a dull monotony. Not that it bothered you. Weather, much like people, had a way of projecting its moods that you’d long stopped trying to interpret. Clouds could loom ominously, sunlight could break free in radiant streaks, but it all felt the same to you.

Emotions were like that too.

Amorphous, indistinct, slipping through your grasp when you tried to name them. For as long as you could remember, you’d lacked the innate ability most people seemed to have, the quick flick of recognition when faced with a scowl, a smile, or a furrowed brow. You saw the movements of mouths and brows but couldn’t place what they were supposed to mean.

To you, the dance of expressions was no more than a series of movements, the subtle lift of lips or tilt of a head stripped of the weight they were meant to carry. And so, your own face reflected the only truth you understood. Your own face usually mirrored the neutrality of the weather, a blank slate that rarely shifted unless you consciously willed it to.

Price and Gaz were out on a recon mission, leaving Soap, Ghost and you on the foreign base. With no immediate orders other than to wait for their return, the three of you had the rare luxury of downtime. However, despite this, none of you strayed from your usual discipline. The day began at dawn, as always, with the shooting range, gym sessions, or reviewing intel as needed. The quiet efficiency of your routines spoke volumes about the kind of people you all were, professionals through and through. There were no shortcuts at this level, no slacking off. You were the best of the best after all.

Each of you carried that mantle in your own way.

Soap’s energy crackled like a live wire, his easy laughter and constant chatter an antidote to the grim seriousness of your world. Ghost, by contrast, was the anchor—silent, steadfast, a figure carved from stone. And you? You found yourself somewhere between them, detached yet watchful, a quiet observer tethered by a relentless need to prove yourself.

You liked working with Ghost in a way that was difficult to articulate, even to yourself. There was no camaraderie in the traditional sense, no banter or easy companionship, but strangely, there was something deeper, something unspoken.

Your lieutenant moved through the world with the same deliberate calm that you valued in yourself, his every action sharpened by precision and purpose. You respected him for that, his unrelenting dedication, the quiet strength he carried like a shield, and the way his presence seemed to command gravity itself, pulling the air taut whenever he entered a room. And somehow, Ghost felt like a reflection, as though the world had cut both of you from the same cloth. He, too, was a figure cloaked in neutrality, his mask hiding not just his face but the emotions that might lie beneath.

Even with the lull in operations, you didn’t take the task force’s trust for granted. You had fought hard to earn your place here, shedding blood and sweat to prove yourself to Price and the rest of the team. The task force was a strange paradox—these were people you trusted implicitly with your life, but you knew almost nothing about them on a personal level. That was just how things worked. Bonds forged in war zones didn’t require knowledge of favorite foods or childhood dreams. Still, you couldn’t deny a small, nagging curiosity about the men you worked with—especially Soap and Ghost.

Both were enigmas in their own ways.

Soap, all charm and humor, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, yet you suspected there was more to him beneath the surface. Ghost, on the other hand, was a locked vault, his emotions buried under layers of stoicism and a mask that seemed to shield more than his face.

You had been with the task force for four months now.

It had been an honor to receive Price’s invitation, and though you felt pride in your accomplishments, showing it outwardly had always been a challenge. Ever since childhood, you’d struggled with recognizing and expressing emotions.

Your family had always been understanding, brushing it off as an eccentric quirk, and you’d never sought a formal diagnosis. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel, far from it. You just didn’t show it in the usual ways. Smiling, frowning, or even appearing annoyed often felt like trying to mimic a foreign language without understanding the grammar.

As a child, you were always the odd one, the kid who stared too long, too intently, when other children laughed and cried. Your parents, to their credit, were patient. Your mother, warm and pragmatic, would gently remind you to smile when greeting your grandmother or reassure you when a relative’s frown went unnoticed. “They’re not cross, love,” she’d say, her hands light on your shoulders. “Just thinking. You’re fine.”

But the world wasn’t as kind as your family.

As you grew, the peculiarities of your face invited suspicion, sometimes ridicule. “Why don’t you ever smile?” teachers would ask, their tone suggesting you were withholding something from them, as though joy was a currency you refused to spend. Friends, when you had them, would mistake your silence for coldness, your neutrality for indifference. By the time you reached your teens, you’d grown used to the questions and assumptions, building an armor of pragmatism around yourself. What was the point in trying to explain something you didn’t fully understand?

Somehow, your body simply forgot the script.

You forgot to move your lips when greeting a loved one, forgot to furrow your brows when confusion took hold, forgot to cry when sadness settled heavy in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel. Feelings bloomed and churned within you like storms on a distant horizon, but they never found their way to the surface. You were a house with locked shutters, and though the light was on inside, it rarely spilled out to illuminate the exterior.

Oddly enough, this trait had become an asset in your line of work.

Pragmatic, objective, and unshaken by emotion, you excelled in high-pressure environments. It was this armor that had served you so well in the military and later in the SAS. Neutrality was an asset here—a foundation upon which precision, discipline, and logic could thrive. Emotions muddied decisions, and in your line of work, clarity was king. When the invitation to join Task Force 141 had come, you’d accepted with quiet pride, though you’d made no effort to show it. Your calm, measured responses made you reliable and efficient, qualities that had undoubtedly caught Price’s attention.

But outside of missions, it created a distance between you and the rest of the team. Building camaraderie required a kind of emotional fluency you didn’t naturally possess, and though you didn’t dwell on it much, it sometimes left you feeling a little isolated.

Four months in, you’d cemented your place among the team.

They trusted you on the battlefield, and that was enough. Personal bonds were optional here, weren’t they? You’d told yourself that many times, but the truth was harder to swallow, trust in war didn’t translate to understanding in peace. Soap’s boisterous banter, Gaz’s easy charm, and Ghost’s impassive stares all existed in a language you couldn’t quite speak.

This morning, however, was different.

Breakfast was normally a solitary affair, a brief respite from the day’s structured chaos. But today, Soap and Ghost had joined you in the mess hall, their presence sat heavy at your periphery. You sat across from them, meticulously working through your meal while Soap tapped his fingers on the table in a rhythm that suggested trouble. Neither of them was eating, and their idle presence felt vaguely unsettling.

It didn’t take long for your suspicion to be confirmed.

“Y’know,” Soap began, his voice lilting with mischief. “Been meanin’ to ask you somethin’, lass. How’s it possible to sit there, day in, day out, with a face that doesn't move? Like a bloody mannequin, you are.”

You raised a brow, a slight, subtle motion that could have meant anything, but didn’t stop eating. Soap took this as an invitation to continue.

“You don’t smile,” he declared, as though it were a groundbreaking revelation. “Or frown. Or even twitch your face half the time. How d’you do that, eh? Are you secretly a robot?”

“I’m not a robot,” you replied, your tone flat but perfectly even.

He leaned back, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re like a statue, don’t even look annoyed when I’m talkin’ shite at you. Bet you couldn’t make a face to save your life.”

You paused, setting down your fork with deliberate precision.

“I can make faces,” you said coolly.

“Aye, then let’s have a wee go at it. Give us a smile, eh?” Soap’s lopsided grin widened, and he glanced at Ghost, who remained silent but was now clearly paying attention, his hazel eyes flicking toward you. You blinked at them, debating whether it was worth the effort to argue.

Instead, you attempted to comply.

The corners of your mouth lifted in what might have passed for a smile if not for the stiffness in the gesture. It felt awkward, like wearing someone else’s skin.

Soap slapped the table, his laugh booming across the hall. “Creepin’ Jesus, that’s tragic! Like watchin’ a bairn try to wink for the first time.”

“Better than watchin’ you try to think,” Ghost deadpanned, not missing a beat.

Undeterred, Soap straightened up. “All right, fine. Forget smilin’. Show us angry.”

You weren’t bothered by Soap’s teasing, not at all.

Sarcasm and banter weren’t your battlefield, and you didn’t need to win these small wars of wit. If anything, you found his energy oddly endearing, a welcome distraction in the quiet monotony of downtime. So you furrowed your brow and narrowed your eyes slightly, aiming for something approximating irritation. Soap burst into another peal of laughter, throwing his head back and letting it roll out uninhibited.

“Honestly, you’re hopeless,” he howled, tears of laughter glistening in his eyes.

Ghost sighed, setting his tablet down with deliberate care.

“Enough, Johnny.”

Soap held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin lingering like a spark refusing to fade, but your attention had already wandered, your gaze tracing their movements like studying a map of familiar terrain. Soap’s restless energy hummed, his gestures loose and unrestrained, a stark contrast to Ghost’s deliberate stillness, every shift of his body a calculation.

And then his hazel eyes met yours—sharp, unflinching, and so steady it rooted you in place. There was no hostility, no question, only a quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter, a strange, warm stirring low in your stomach that you didn’t dare acknowledge. His gaze held you captive for a beat too long, the air around you heavy, before he turned away, leaving behind a weight you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t quite shake.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice lower now, more measured. “Faces lie. It’s your voice that tells the truth.”

You blinked. “My voice?”

Ghost nodded, leaning back slightly. “You can hear it. If you listen proper. More honest than any forced smile could ever be.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Compliments, if that’s what this was, were scarce in your world, as rare as sunlight piercing through storm clouds. From Ghost, they were practically unheard of. Yet his words lingered, carrying a weight that pressed gently against the walls of your chest. A quiet warmth began to unfurl there, blooming softly like a flame coaxed from dying embers, a mixture of gratitude and something unnamed, something that settled in the hollow spaces you hadn’t realized were waiting to be filled.

Soap, visibly startled by the uncharacteristic remark, stared at Ghost as though he’d grown a second head. “Bloody hell, Lt.,” he muttered. “Didn’t know ye had a poetic streak.”

Your lieutenant paid him no mind, his focus already returning to the tablet in his hands, as if the moment had never existed. But you remained still, the weight of his words draping over you like a thick, unshakable cloak. Honest. The word lingered, unfamiliar yet strangely resonant, threading itself into the quiet spaces of your thoughts, where it settled with unexpected ease. Soap broke the moment with a playful nudge to your shoulder.

“Still, you could do with learnin’ a proper smile, eh? Just in case.”

Your eyes rolled, an instinctive motion this time, unbidden but oddly fitting. Soap’s laughter rippled through the room, bright and careless, but it barely registered, a distant echo against the steady hum of your thoughts. Ghost’s words lingered, heavy with meaning, a rare compliment that pressed itself into the quiet corners of your mind with a significance that eclipsed anything you’d ever known. Perhaps, you mused, letting the warmth of the moment settle over you, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Maybe that was something you could finally understand.

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delulustateofmind · 9 hours ago

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Long Distance III - Don't Go

Sometimes you just can't say goodbye

Gojo x Reader

Blurb, Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: ANGST/FLUFF- I've been too kind on the last few with the fluff. Satoru crying, switching to Japanese and English.

WC: 7.7k (Holy...shit I think this might be up there with my longest)

A/n: I did do less Japanese this time to kind of showcase that his English is getting more confident. I don't know if there is going to be another part or not. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them! (I might do an epilogue, who knows)

You sat on Satoru’s couch, listening as he paced back and forth across the sleek living room, his voice sharp as he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese on the phone. His frustration was palpable, each clipped word bouncing off the spacious walls of the penthouse.

Your gaze drifted over the room for what felt like the tenth time since you’d arrived. A penthouse in Shibuya. A penthouse. You didn’t know much about professor salaries, but the last time you checked, astrophysics didn’t exactly pay this well.

Satoru ran a hand through his already-messy white hair, ruffling it further until it stuck up in every direction. He cast you an apologetic glance, his blue eyes still managing to sparkle despite his irritation. Your lips twitched into a shy smile as your eyes flicked to your luggage sitting near the door.

Apparently, the hotel had overbooked and lost your reservation. And now, here you were—in Satoru’s impossibly fancy apartment.

You sighed softly, turning toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of Tokyo’s skyline. The sun was just beginning to set, the city’s dazzling lights coming alive in the distance.

Behind you, Satoru muttered something under his breath in Japanese, and then you heard the couch creak as he flopped down beside you.

One thing you’d learned in Chicago was that Satoru had no concept of personal space. Before you could so much as glance at him, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his silver hair brushing lightly against your neck.

“Smells nice,” he murmured, the words half in Japanese, half in English. Then, just as quickly, he sat up, burying his face in his hands with a groan.

“This was supposed to be perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “I can always stay at a hotel nearby,” you offered hesitantly, “or maybe one of those capsule hotels?”

That earned you a sharp look from Satoru, his lips tugging into a pout that was as dramatic as it was annoyed.

“Not safe, Y/N,” he said with a slight whine, his English faltering as he pointed at you for emphasis. “You stay here. My place is better. Safe.”

His tone was final, like there was no room for argument, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his overprotective streak. “Okay, okay. No capsule hotels.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking to yours with a faint grin. “You’ll like it here. My place… very comfortable.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, you found yourself smiling, the surreal absurdity of the situation starting to settle in.

Satoru sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair as he sat back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His pout deepened, and he glanced sideways at you, his brows furrowed in thought.

“でも、本当に大丈夫？(But, is this really okay?)” he asked, his tone quieter than usual. “I mean… you, here, with me?”

You tilted your head at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my friend, Satoru. And it’s not like I had anywhere else to go tonight.”

His lips twitched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious. “Friend, huh?” he muttered under his breath in Japanese before switching to English. “But… I’m still a man, you know. 男だし。(I am still a man.)”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden admission. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Ah…何て言えばいいか分からない…(I don’t know how to say it…),” he mumbled, his voice muffled. Then he peeked up at you, his blue eyes uncharacteristically hesitant. “You… staying here. It’s… how to say… difficult? For me?”

You frowned, your heart starting to race. “Difficult? Why?”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically and flopping backward against the couch again. “Because you’re… you,” he said, switching to Japanese for the last part. “君が…君だから。”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked again, your voice more flustered this time.

“It means,” he said, pausing to search for the right words, “that I… ああもう! (Ah, forget it!)” He waved his hand in frustration and sat up straight, his expression more serious now.

“Look,” he continued in a mix of English and Japanese. “I… care about you, okay? Like, a lot. More than… ah…普通の友達。(Just a normal friend.) So, having you here, in my home, so close…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again as his ears turned pink. “It’s hard.”

Your breath caught, his words sinking in slower than they should have. “Satoru…”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, waving you off. “I’m being weird, right? Strange? What’s the word? Uh… creepy?”

“You’re not creepy,” you said softly, your voice steadier now despite your racing heart.

He glanced at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, though your cheeks burned. “I mean, I get it… kind of. But you don’t have to worry. I trust you.”

Satoru blinked at you, and for a moment, his usual teasing grin faltered. His gaze softened, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, he let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the couch as a small, wry smile tugged at his mouth.

“You’re too trusting,” he muttered, his voice low. Then, in Japanese, he added, “君が思ってるよりもっと。俺がどれだけ君に落ちてるか分からないでしょう。(More than you think. You have no idea how hard I’ve fallen for you.)”

“What was that?” you asked, catching his tone but not the meaning.

“Nothing!” he said quickly, straightening up and forcing a grin. “Just saying… you’re stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking,” you shot back, though your heart was still pounding.

He laughed, the sound a little too loud to be natural, and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. You stay. But—” He turned to face you, his expression more serious again. “If it gets… too much, you tell me, okay? I’ll sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to…” He trailed off, searching for the words again. “What’s the word? Cross line? Break… uh… rules?”

“I’ll tell you,” you promised, smiling despite your nerves. “But you’re overthinking this, Satoru. It’s just one night.”

He nodded, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his lingering awkwardness. “Right. One night. Just… one.”

As the night wore on, you tried to push the conversation out of your mind, but Satoru’s words—and the way he’d looked at you—kept replaying in your head.

When it was finally time to settle in for the night, he stood in the hallway, awkwardly gesturing toward the guest room. “Bed’s there. You sleep. I, uh…” He scratched his neck, his gaze flicking anywhere but at you. “I stay here. Couch is fine. Perfectly fine.”

“You’re really not going to sleep in your own bed?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you repeated, laughing softly.

“For me,” he muttered under his breath, switching back to Japanese.

You stared at him for a moment, the pieces slowly clicking into place. Your chest tightened, and you quickly looked away, not trusting yourself to say anything without your voice giving you away.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you said finally, your voice softer than usual.

“おやすみ、Y/N,” he replied, his tone equally quiet.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but lean against it for a moment, your heart racing as his words echoed in your mind.

I care about you, okay? Like, a lot.

Little did you know, Satoru was still standing on the other side of the door, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself in Japanese.

“バカだな、俺。(I’m such an idiot.)”

The smell of coffee lingered in the air as sunlight streamed through the massive windows of Satoru’s apartment. You had just finished your shower, wrapping yourself tightly in one of the fluffy white towels he’d lent you. Your hair was still dripping slightly as you stepped out of the bathroom, hoping to make a quick dash to the guest room before running into anyone.

Of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

The door to the apartment swung open just as you stepped into the hallway, and Satoru walked in, a gym bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his fitted workout shirt clung to him in a way that made you immediately regret leaving the safety of the bathroom.

He froze mid-step when he saw you, his pale blue eyes widening as they flickered from your face to the towel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” he said, switching to Japanese instinctively. “あの…(Um…)”

You stood there, rooted in place, your face growing impossibly warm. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d be back so soon!”

“I—I didn’t think you’d—uh…” His English faltered as he struggled to piece together a sentence. “I came back early. Gym close… uh, towel! You…” His hand shot up to cover his eyes, though the way his fingers splayed slightly made it less than effective. “ごめん! ごめん! (Sorry! Sorry!)”

You clutched the towel tighter, trying to will the heat away from your face. “It’s fine! I’m going to my room!”

He took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to give you space. “Right! Yes. Room. Good idea!” He turned his head, his voice dropping to a mutter in Japanese. “落ち着け、五条悟。(Calm down, Gojo Satoru.)”

You dashed into the guest room, shutting the door behind you with a quiet groan. Great. Just great. That wasn’t awkward at all.

By the time you emerged, fully dressed and slightly less mortified, Satoru was in the kitchen, his hair damp from what you assumed was a lightning-quick shower of his own. He was pouring coffee into two mugs, his movements unusually quiet.

“Good morning,” you said cautiously, your face still a little warm.

“Morning!” he said, his usual grin plastered across his face, though the faint pink on his ears betrayed his earlier embarrassment. “Coffee? I made some. Very good. You’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” you said, sliding onto one of the barstools.

He placed a mug in front of you, leaning on the counter as he watched you take a sip. “Better now?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him, confused. “Better?”

“You looked…” He hesitated, searching for the right word in English. “Uh… embarrassed? Before?”

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly looked away. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Me too,” he said with a laugh, though his tone was tinged with nervousness. He switched to Japanese, his words coming more easily. “でも、正直言って…少しドキドキした。(Honestly… it made my heart race a little.)”

You choked on your coffee, your eyes snapping to his as he grinned sheepishly. “What?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly, waving his hands in front of him like he could physically erase what he’d said. “Forget it! Stupid joke! Bad English!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out if he was serious or if his words had just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Either way, your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t quite meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

“So!” he said, clapping his hands together in a sudden burst of energy, his voice a little too loud. “Today, we go to bunch of places! We eat breakfast at my favorite cafe… and then we walk. A lot. I show you the university I work at! Very impressive.”

“The university?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” he said, leaning forward on the counter, his blue eyes sparkling again as he regained his usual confidence. “You see my office. Very cool. Best professor office in the whole building. And I give you tour!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You’re really proud of your office, huh?”

“Not just the office,” he said, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “The whole thing. Students love me. I’m very popular, you know.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

“Good!” he said, standing up straight and grabbing his phone. “Now, we go eat. I pick best breakfast spot. Trust me, you’ll love it. But… you ready?”

“Almost,” you said, glancing down at your still-damp hair. “I should probably finish drying this.”

He gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish, his grin wide. “Take your time! I wait. Very patient.”

Patient? Yeah, right. You shook your head as you disappeared back into the bathroom to finish drying your hair. Satoru wasn’t exactly the patient type—not with his energy or how often he seemed to invade your personal space without a second thought.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him—charming, funny, and total boyfriend material—was even single.

When you finally emerged, he was already at the door, holding it open for you like a perfect gentleman. Or at least, that’s what you thought until he casually reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You hold my hand, okay?” he said, his tone almost offhand as if it was no big deal. “Busy streets.”

You blinked down at your joined hands, your cheeks warming. “Uh… okay.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swore you caught the faintest tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he turned away, leading you toward the elevator. His grip was firm but careful, and he didn’t let go even as you stepped out onto the busy streets of Shibuya.

The cafe he chose was tucked away from the bustling main streets, a cozy spot that smelled of fresh bread and coffee the moment you stepped inside.

“Mmm, everything here is good,” he said confidently, gesturing to the menu as you both sat down at a small table near the window. “Pancakes are best!”

You glanced at the menu, noticing immediately that there was no English. The pictures helped, but you hesitated, your Japanese still a work in progress.

“No English menu,” he added, tapping the table with a satisfied grin. “But you can ask me. Anything. I translate for you.”

“Why do you sound so proud of that?” you teased, earning a laugh from him as he leaned back in his chair.

“I am very helpful,” he said, his grin widening. Then, his phone buzzed, and his expression shifted slightly as he checked his emails.

You watched him for a moment, noting how serious he looked when his attention was on the screen. He wasn’t the carefree, teasing Satoru you’d grown used to seeing—here, he seemed… important.

“Are you just a professor?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you as you scanned the menu, trying to decipher the items from the pictures and your limited knowledge of Japanese.

“Hmm?” He glanced up at you, setting his phone down as he leaned forward. “Mmm, yes… and no.” He shrugged, his tone lighter now. “I’m supposed to take over my family business soon.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Family business?”

He nodded, his grin softening slightly. “Big deal. Very annoying. Too much responsibility.”

“Then why do it?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because it’s… important. To them.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten, but before you could ask more, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Have to be married, though.”

That caught you off guard. “Married?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, taking a sip of his coffee like it was no big deal. “Part of the deal. No marriage, no… inheritance, I guess.”

You blinked at him, your brain racing. “Wait, so you’re… looking for someone?”

His lips quirked into a small, mischievous smile as he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Why? You interested?”

Your face went red immediately. “I didn’t say that!”

He laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Relax! Joke, joke. You’re too cute when you get embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure, sure,” he said, still grinning as he leaned forward again. “But really, I don’t think about it much. Right now… I’m happy. Here. With you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His blue eyes held yours, soft and warm, and you had to look away, focusing back on the menu to avoid the growing flutter in your chest.

“Pancakes,” you mumbled, your voice quieter now. “I’ll have the pancakes.”

Satoru chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Good choice. See? I knew you’d trust me.”

As he called over the waiter to place your orders, you couldn’t help sneaking another glance at him, your mind swirling with thoughts of what he’d just said. Married. Satoru. How does that even fit together?

But the moment passed quickly, his easy smile and lighthearted jokes pulling you back into the present. And as you sipped your coffee, you found yourself thinking that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being here with him a little longer.

The day passed in a blur of activity. True to his word, Satoru took you to his favorite places in Tokyo, showing you hidden gems you would never have found. From a tiny shrine tucked between buildings to a bustling street market filled with tempting food stalls, every stop felt more magical with him by your side.

At one point, he stopped to take a photo of you in front of a lantern-lined alley, insisting, “Memory! Very important!”

“You just want a new photo for your phone,” you teased as he held up his camera.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin wide. “But still cute, right?”

By the time the sun set, painting the city in hues of orange and pink, you were exhausted but happy. Satoru led you to a quiet park overlooking the skyline, where the two of you sat on a bench, sharing a bottle of water as the city lights began to twinkle below.

“You had fun today?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, glancing at him with a small smile. “Yeah. A lot of fun. Thanks, Satoru.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back and looking out at the view. His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… shy. “I’m glad.”

And as the quiet stretched between you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were—how this day felt like something out of a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

As the day began to wind down, Satoru’s energy remained as...boundless as ever. Seriously, how does he do it?

“For the final stop,” he announced proudly, hands in his pockets as he led you through yet another bustling Tokyo street, “we go somewhere very special. My second home.”

“Second home?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced back at you, his grin wide. “The university. You’ll see! I give you very special tour. Labs, classrooms, my office… very cool. You’ll be impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. “If you say so.”

The university campus was sprawling, with modern buildings mixed seamlessly with traditional Japanese architecture. Satoru walked you through it all, pointing out everything from his favorite vending machines to the quiet corners he claimed were the best for napping.

“This is where I teach,” he said as he led you into one of the classrooms. It was a sleek lecture hall, equipped with the latest technology. He hopped onto the desk at the front of the room, grinning down at you. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“You sit there like that when you’re teaching?” you teased, gesturing to his relaxed posture.

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “The students love it. I make science fun.”

“Of course you do,” you said, laughing as you playfully pushed him off.

Next, he took you to the labs, which were pristine and filled with high-tech equipment that made your head spin.

“This is where the real magic happens,” he said, gesturing broadly as he explained what some of the equipment was used for. His voice grew more serious as he talked about his research, his passion evident in every word.

You found yourself staring at him, not just listening to what he was saying but also noticing how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his work. He wasn’t just charming or playful—he was brilliant.

Finally, he led you to his office.

“This,” he said dramatically, pushing open the door, “is my kingdom.”

The room was neat and organized, with shelves lined with books, journals, and small trinkets. A large window offered a stunning view of the campus, and his desk was adorned with a few personal touches—a photo of him with what you assumed were his colleagues- one of which he seemed rather close to a man with long dark hair, a small model of a rocket, and a mug with a sarcastic science joke printed on it.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the walls, where several framed awards and certificates were displayed.

“You weren’t kidding,” you said softly, stepping closer to get a better look. “You really are impressive.”

Satoru, who had been leaning against the doorframe with his usual grin, straightened slightly at your words. “You think so?” he asked, his voice unusually quiet.

You turned to him, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, look at this. Awards, degrees… You’ve done so much.”

He scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Ah, it’s not a big deal. Just… work?”

“It is a big deal,” you insisted, smiling at him. “You’re really amazing, Satoru.”

He stared at you for a moment, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more vulnerable. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice sincere.

His grin returned, though it was softer now. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But…” He stepped closer, his blue eyes holding yours. He almost said something...but stopped tucking a hand into his pants pocket.

“Anyway!” he said suddenly, breaking the moment as he stepped back with a laugh, his ears tinged pink. “Enough about me. Let’s go! Dinner next! I show you another great spot.”

You blinked, the sudden shift leaving you momentarily dazed. “Uh… yeah. Sure.”

As you followed him out of the office, your thoughts raced. No matter how much he joked or teased, there was something unspoken between you—a warmth that lingered in the air, making every moment with him feel more significant than you wanted to admit.

“Actually… since I’m staying at your place for more than one night… why don’t I cook you dinner?”

Satoru froze mid-step, turning to look at you like you’d just suggested something outrageous. His usual grin faltered, his cheeks tinging pink as he muttered under his breath in Japanese, “ほんとに？(Really?)”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening into something almost shy. “You… cook for me? ありがとう。(Thank you.)”

The grocery store was a mix of playful banter and quiet touches.

Satoru’s hands lingered as the two of you walked through the aisles, occasionally brushing yours as he reached for items. Every now and then, he’d grab something off the shelf with an exaggerated flourish, holding it up as if it were a prize.

“This one,” he’d say in English, grinning like a kid. “Good choice, right?”

When it came time to pay, you insisted on covering the bill, refusing to let him even pull out his wallet.

“No way,” you said firmly, holding your ground.

“But I am host!” he whined, leaning his head against yours dramatically. “You can’t… uh, break tradition.”

“What tradition?” you teased, nudging him away.

“My tradition,” he muttered in Japanese, his tone half-serious. “君は頑固だね。(You’re stubborn.)”

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere shifted into something quieter, warmer.

The faint hum of your voice filled the kitchen as you worked, preparing one of your favorite comfort meals. Satoru sat at the dining table nearby, a stack of papers in front of him as he graded with a red pen. Occasionally, he’d glance up to watch you, his blue eyes soft as he listened to you hum.

At one point, without looking up from his papers, he spoke in Japanese, his tone low and thoughtful.

“君は僕の人生に光をもたらす。(You know, you bring so much light into my life.)”

You glanced at him briefly, thinking he was just talking to himself, and continued chopping vegetables.

He paused, his pen hovering over the paper, before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“僕は結婚しなければならないんだ。(I’m supposed to be getting married.)”

That made you stop. Your hands stilled as you turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the papers in front of him.

“Before you came here, before Chicago,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, “I went on one hundred and fifty-two dates.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you murmured, the word slipping out without thinking.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours. “People my family thought were… ‘worthy.’” He switched to English briefly, his tone flat. “Rich. Beautiful. Perfect. All fake.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to process his words.

“That night,” he said softly, his gaze distant now, “when you joined that server… I had just come back from another terrible date. Some woman only interested in money. Power.” He paused, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. “You see, in Japan, everybody knows who I am. But you… didn’t.”

His voice softened further, and he switched back to Japanese, the words carrying a raw honesty that made your chest ache.

“それが僕に特別な何かを感じさせた。(That made me feel… something special.)”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“When you texted me, ‘I paid the town rent! Welcome back!’” he said, switching seamlessly to English, his grin returning briefly. “It was stupid. Funny. But I needed that. Someone to play with. And then…” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “I started to fall for you.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

“I lied,” he admitted, his tone quiet and unsteady. “No conference in Chicago. I… I needed to see you. It was physically hurting me, wondering if I was falling for you or just… the idea of you.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in like stones.

“And now…” He gestured toward the room, his hand falling back to his lap as he looked at you with a raw, vulnerable expression. “This. You cooking. Me here. It feels so… domestic. Like it could be real.”

“Satoru,” you started, your voice trembling.

But he pressed on, his gaze locking onto yours, his next words spoken entirely in Japanese, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“僕は君に帰ってほしくない。(I don’t want you to go back.)” His voice cracked slightly as he added, “自分勝手になりたい。君を引き止めたい。(I want to be selfish. I want to keep you here.)”

Your chest felt tight, your breath shallow as Satoru’s words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. “僕にも夢があるんだよ。(Can’t you see? I have dreams too.)”

The faint sizzle of the stove was the only sound filling the room as you tried to steady your trembling hands, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You turned back to the pan, desperate to focus on something tangible, something that wouldn’t pull you deeper into the whirlwind of emotions his words had stirred.

“I…” you began, your voice faltering, the weight of everything catching in your throat.

Suddenly, you heard the scrape of his chair as he stood, his movements quiet but deliberate. A warmth radiated behind you, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine before you felt it—his arms wrapping carefully around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back.

You froze, your breath hitching as he nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and the tension in the air seemed to thrum louder.

In Japanese, his voice came low and trembling, each word slipping out as if it pained him to speak.

“もし君に結婚を申し込んだら、答えてくれる？(If I asked you to marry me, would you?)”

Your pulse quickened, but he didn’t stop, his voice cracking slightly as he continued.

“君の人生を捨てて、ここに移ってくれる？(Would you give up your life and move here?)”

You felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around you, his vulnerability pressing against your heart like a weight.

“そんなにわがままを言ってもいい？(Can I be that selfish to ask that of you?)”

Even though your grasp of Japanese wasn’t perfect, the emotion in his words was unmistakable. You didn’t need to understand every word to feel the raw desperation behind them.

And then you felt it—soft, warm tears that brushed against your neck.

Your chest ached at the realization. Someone so confident, so effortlessly charming, was crumbling in your arms.

“Satoru…” you said softly, your voice as gentle as you could manage. You placed the spatula down, turning the stove off as you carefully rested your hands over his. “Are you…?”

His grip didn’t loosen, and he didn’t lift his head. Instead, he whispered, his voice trembling, “Just… let me stay like this. A little longer… yes?”

Your heart clenched, and you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay,” you whispered.

For a while, the two of you stood there, enveloped in a quiet intimacy that felt far too fragile to break. His breathing slowed, and the tension in his arms softened, though he didn’t let go.

“I lied again,” he murmured finally, his voice still muffled against your shoulder.

“About what?” you asked, your own voice quiet, as if afraid to shatter the moment.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “When I said this was selfish… I meant it.” He hesitated, switching back to Japanese. “でも君に嘘をつくことはできない。(But I can’t lie to you.)”

His hands lingered at your waist as his lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m falling for you, Y/N. Actually… no. I already fell.”

Your breath caught, the words sinking in as your gaze held his.

“I thought I could just…” He trailed off, laughing weakly. “Keep it inside. Be cool. But I can’t. You make it impossible.”

You swallowed, your throat felt dry, unsure how to respond, your emotions swirling too fast to catch.

Satoru seemed to notice your hesitation, his hand brushing against your cheek gently. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice soft. “Not now. I just… needed to tell you.”

The air felt heavier as his words lingered between you. Finally, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and forcing a grin. “Dinner smells good,” he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held traces of vulnerability. “We eat, yeah? Before it burns?”

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat as you turned back to the stove, feeling the weight of his confession settle deep in your chest.

Dinner passed quietly, the usual playful banter replaced with soft glances and unspoken thoughts. Satoru tried his best to act normal, throwing in the occasional joke or complimenting your cooking, but you could feel the shift in the air—something had changed.

When the plates were cleared, and the kitchen was tidied, he lingered near the window, staring out at the city lights.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying a faint smile. “I used to think I had everything. Money, success, whatever. But now… it feels empty without you.”

You froze, the vulnerability in his words once again taking you by surprise.

He turned to you, his blue eyes soft but steady. “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting you to stay. But…” He chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to force you. I just want you to know… you’re welcome here. Always.”

“Satoru… I…” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Of course you hesitated—this handsome, wonderful human was being so raw, so honest, and you had no idea how to match that level of vulnerability. “I’ve never dated before, so… I don’t know how to react.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. His blue eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across his face. “You…?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks burning. “I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship. Ever.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do. This is all so new to me, and you’re just…” You gestured toward him vaguely. “You’re so you.”

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I know that’s probably weird to hear. I mean, look at you—you’ve probably had… a lot of experience.”

He blinked, and then, to your surprise, a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “A lot of…?” He switched to Japanese, muttering under his breath, “そんな風に見えるのか…(Do I really seem like that?)”

When you gave him a questioning look, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Okay, maybe I’ve had a few… dates,” he admitted, his voice hesitant, as though he was treading carefully. “But they didn’t mean anything. Not like this.”

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked up at him. “This?”

He nodded, stepping closer. “You. This… connection we have. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before.” His voice softened as he switched back to Japanese, his tone more earnest. “君といると、本当に生きていると感じる。(When I’m with you, I really feel alive.)”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his words, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through every defense you had. Tears threatened to spill as you stared at him, your chest tight and your thoughts swirling.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I… can I hold you tonight? You have the rest of the week left here, and if…” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes searching yours. “If anything, I’d want us to act like a couple. Even just for now. I want to know everything about you. I want you to be engraved in me because when you leave… I already know it’s going to hurt.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping as he muttered in Japanese, “行かないでほしい。(I don’t want you to leave.)”

The weight of his confession hung between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know it’s selfish,” he said, stepping closer, his hands twitching slightly as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “But I can’t help it. You’ve already taken over my thoughts. My dreams. And I—I don’t want to regret not telling you.”

It felt like you both kept going in circles.

Your chest felt impossibly tight, your heart pounding as the world seemed to blur around the edges. All you could see was him—the way his usually playful expression had softened, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the way his lips trembled ever so slightly as he waited for your response.

“You can kiss me,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “And you can hold me tonight.”

His breath hitched, his blue eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to push you—”

“I’m sure,” you said, stepping closer until you were just inches away from him. “I want this too.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours one last time for any sign of doubt. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his hands lifting to cup your face gently as if you were something delicate, precious.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft, tentative—like he was afraid of crossing some invisible line. But as the kiss deepened, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through you like fire.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered in Japanese, “君は本当に特別だ。(You’re truly special.)”

You didn’t have the words to respond, your emotions too overwhelming to articulate, so you just nodded, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

Later that night, the two of you sat on the couch, the city lights casting a warm glow through the windows. Satoru’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“This feels… nice,” he murmured, his voice soft as his fingers traced idle patterns along your arm.

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “It does.”

“I don’t want this week to end,” he admitted, his eyes flickering with something vulnerable again. “I don’t want you to end.”

You placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I don’t want this to end either. But…”

He tensed slightly at the word, his gaze sharpening as he looked at you. “But?”

“I don’t know how this works,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to leave and not feel like I’m leaving part of myself here with you.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, and he switched back to Japanese, his words quiet but resolute. “僕が君のところに行くよ。(Then I’ll come to you.)”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“I’ll come to you,” he repeated in English, his voice steady. “If you can’t stay… I’ll visit. As much as I can. Or maybe…” He hesitated, his lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. “Maybe you’ll come back here. For me.”

The idea made your heart flutter, the thought of him waiting for you, of building something that spanned the distance between you.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “Good. Because I’m not letting this end. Not yet.”

As the week unfolded, Satoru made sure to fill every moment with something, as if he was trying to show you that Japan could be your home.

He brought you to his family estate in Kyoto, a sprawling property steeped in history and tradition. As he guided you through the serene gardens and ornate halls, his playful demeanor softened, his pride in his heritage evident in the way he explained every detail.

“This,” he said, gesturing to a centuries-old stone lantern, “is where I used to hide when I was a kid. My mom would call for me, and I’d pretend I couldn’t hear her.”

“You sound like a handful,” you teased, earning a sheepish grin.

“I’m still a handful,” he admitted, nudging your shoulder. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

In Okinawa, he took you to the famous Churaumi Aquarium, where you marveled at the massive whale sharks gliding gracefully through the water.

“They’re amazing,” you whispered, your face pressed close to the glass.

“They are,” he agreed, though his gaze wasn’t on the tank but on you.

When you turned to look at him, you caught the softness in his expression, and your cheeks warmed. “Satoru, stop staring. You’re going to miss the sharks.”

“Hmm.” He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his lips. “I think I like my view better.”

He even took you to Disneyland, insisting on matching outfits—a pair of silly Mickey and Minnie sweatshirts that he picked out with way too much enthusiasm.

“You know people are staring, right?” you said as you walked through the park hand in hand.

“Let them,” he said, grinning as he adjusted the ears on your headband. “We look good. Best couple in the park.”

Each moment had been perfect, almost too perfect, and now, as you stood in the airport, the weight of goodbye threatened to crush you.

Satoru walked with you to the security gate, carrying your bag in silence. His usual grin was gone, replaced by an expression of heartbreak that you’d never seen on him before. His steps were slow, deliberate, as though dragging out every second could somehow delay the inevitable.

When you reached the gate, you turned to him, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you saw the raw emotion swirling in his pale blue eyes.

“Well,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it light, “this is it, huh?”

But Satoru didn’t laugh, didn’t tease you like he usually would. Instead, he dropped your bag by his feet and stepped forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to merge your soul with his.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please… stay.”

You froze, your chest aching as you felt him bury his face in the curve of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the dampness of his tears soaking into your shirt—it was too much.

“Satoru,” you said softly, your own tears starting to spill, “you know I can’t.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and trembling. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want you here.”

Your hands clutched the back of his hoodie, holding him as tightly as he held you, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

“I don’t want to leave either,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the sight of his tear-streaked face shattered what little composure you had left. His usually bright eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing away his tears. “You’re not saying goodbye,” you said, though the words felt like they were ripping you apart. “This isn’t goodbye, Satoru. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He shook his head, his hands tightening on your waist as if anchoring himself to you. “It’s not enough,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t want promises. I don’t want ‘someday.’ I just want you.”

Your tears spilled over, your vision blurring as you leaned your forehead against his. “I want you too,” you said, your voice trembling. “More than anything.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, clinging to each other like the world might fall apart if you let go.

Then you felt it—his hand slipping into his pocket. Before you could process what was happening, he took your left hand in his, his movements trembling but purposeful.

When he slid a delicate ring onto your finger, the perfect fit, your breath caught in your chest.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your heart pounding, “what are you doing?”

“Marry me,” he said, his voice raw and pleading. His blue eyes locked onto yours, shimmering with tears. “Not now, not tomorrow. Just… someday. Marry me. Please.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out as he continued, his voice cracking as he stumbled through the words.

“In Minecraft, we’ll put our beds together,” he said, a watery smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll get married in Stardew Valley, I'll buy the stupid ring recipe. I’ll move next to you in Animal Crossing—or I’ll just live in a stupid tent near your house. I don’t care how. I just… I want you to be mine.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Gojo Satoru, confident, brilliant, and larger than life, was standing here in front of you, completely vulnerable, begging for you to stay.

“I…” Your voice broke as you looked down at the ring, delicate and simple yet impossibly perfect. “You’re making this so hard, Satoru.”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “But I can’t stop. Not when it’s you. Please, just… think about it. Think about us.”

You nodded, your chest heaving with emotion as you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “I promise. And we’ll figure this out. I swear.”

When you pulled back, he placed a trembling hand on your cheek, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll wait,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “For as long as it takes. I’ll wait.”

With one last shaky inhale, you stepped back, your hand lingering in his before you forced yourself to turn away.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice trembling, and you stopped, looking back at him through tear-filled eyes.

He stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body shaking as he tried to keep it together. “Don’t forget me,” he said, his voice raw and desperate.

Your heart shattered at his words, and you nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. With a final, shaky smile, you turned and walked through the gate, your tears falling freely now as the distance between you grew.

But just before you disappeared into the crowd, you glanced back one last time.

Satoru was still standing there, his tear-streaked face illuminated by the harsh airport lights.

You blew him a kiss and he grabbed it. A smile gracing his lips before he wiped his tears.

This wasn’t goodbye, but it felt like it.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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