#I have a ref for this I just can’t find it…
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Zombies
(So this is a little continuation from this post)
So basically in that post, Marvel and Aquaman got separated from the JL and find some ancient underwater Atlantean zombies.
*zombie groan*
Aquaman and Marvel: *slowly look over*
Giant Horde of Zombies: *just standing there*
They proceeded to go on a scooby doo be do type of chase, eventually deciding to hide in a ruined building.
Aquaman: “Should we just get rid of them?” *peeks head over some rubble to look at the zombies and is already readying his trident*
Marvel: “We can’t.” *also peaks head*
Aquaman: “What do you mean, we can’t? We have to take care of this now. If we leave, they might follow us back to Atlantis.”
Marvel: “I’m not saying we should leave them. They’re cursed.”
Aquaman: “Magic did this?”
Marvel: “Yeah.” *nods head* “We have to find out what happened to them.”
Aquaman: “Wouldn’t killing them be much easier? It’d be putting them out of their misery.”
Marvel: “Arthur, they’re still alive.”
Aquaman: “Eeeeh… Are they though?”
Marvel and Aquaman: *watch has a zombie runs into a wall and keeps trying to walk through that wall*
Marvel: “They are. Killing them will be our Plan B. If the curse is lifted, they might go back to normal and if not...”
Marvel and Aquaman: *look back at the zombie that is still running into the wall repeatedly*
Marvel: “We’ll get rid of them.”
After sneaking around a bunch more, they finally found a temple.
Marvel: “Gosh, I remember this place!” *looking around in wonder* “It was beautiful. It’s a real shame it’s just ruins now.”
Aquaman: *leaning down and looking at some broken stained glass* “I bet it was.”
Marvel: *spots a chalice on an altar* “I think that’s is it. I can sense some magic residue.” *jogs over*
Aquaman: *also walks over and spots a plaque on the altar* “Ancient Atlantean?” *skims it over* “Wow. The thing in that cup was a glorified liquid plague.”
Marvel: “It was? All the priests always talked about it like it was holy water.” *picks up the chalice* “Looks like someone drank it.”
Aquaman: “No wonder they’re zombies.”
Marvel: “Huh. To think the plague lasted this long. It’s a wonder they aren’t decomposing.”
Aquaman: “Uh, Cap?” *points to the horde rushing at them*
Marvel: *sighs* “It looks like we’ll have to get rid of them after all. If they’ve been with this plague for so long, it’s probably bonded too deep for me to use a counterspell.”
Aquaman: *pulls out his trident and gets to work*
Like Two Days Later…
Supes: “You were gone for almost two days, where have you been?”
Aquaman: “Oh yeah, that’s our bad. We got rid of some zombies-
Flash: “Zombies??”
Aquaman: “-and then popped up to the surface for some burgers.”
Batman: “And you didn’t think to contact us at all?”
Marvel: “We were really hungry. Arthur also tried to pay them in Atlantean currency cause that was all he had. So I spent like twenty minutes having to convert it into US dollars.” (Ref to the Wonder Girl and Marvel post from a long long long time ago)
Flash: “Cool! Uh… but why’re you guys covered in blood.”
Aquaman: “This is from the zombies.”
WW: “Have neither of you bathed yet…?”
Marvel: “Nope.”
They were in fact covered in blood. Fun fact, after killing all the zombies, Arthur actually found out the hard way that Atlantan zombie blood doesn’t infect you if it gets in your mouth. Though, he still ended up retching for like five minutes while Marvel was just patting his back.
Aquaman: *violently retching his guts out*
Marvel: “It’s okay, pal. Let it all out.” *patting his back*
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#captain marvel dc#fawcett city#fawcett#fawcett comics#aquaman#arthur curry
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GET HIS ASS
#Jean is about to break a pillow over Harry lmao…#god I love and miss them.#disco elysium#harry du bois#kim kitsuragi#jean vicquemare#I have a ref for this I just can’t find it…#I’m sure if I typed in ‘pillow fight meme’ it would pop right up#but alas I am so tired…going back to bed for a moment lmao..
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What a loser /pos
Close ups under the cut!
#been absolutely exhausted lately I haven’t been able to make a full piece just for myself in 1000 years#I only have the energy to doodle if I’m drawing for myself these days#also don’t even ask me about the red robin costume ok I don’t get it either#it has a look somewhere in my brain I just don’t have the energy to draw it#my art#doodle#tim drake#red robin#dc#what does zesti look like?? I don’t know#can’t be bothered to search hard enough to find a ref#he would put orange juice in his cereal unironically cause I said so#he would have bat themed socks#he would wear his ex’s superhero merch
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Looped Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother for three hours and now there’s guys
#just me#look I drew a thing#ballad brothers#Kyrie Ballad#(x5)#Alonzo Ballad#(x4)#Ari Finch#(x4 again)#fun fact the finch family portrait is reffed off of my great great grandparents and my little sister#Alonzo diagnosed guy who’s so low-level pissed off all the time but has the biggest wettest eyes imaginable#I don’t have anything to say about Kyrie I just think it’s Neat when women have stubble#did I already post this#I thought I posted it last night but I can’t find it
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being fat is fun and all but also a nightmare for drawing. majority of my characters are not obese like i am (for a myriad of reasons, not cuz i hate fat people or something lmao) so when i take my own reference pics, the drawings don’t always come out well cuz i’m having to imagine what a skinnier body would look like doing the pose i’ve chosen
#and also i can’t always find the right pose refs online#just kind of really annoying…#same w the face too. a lot of my ocs don’t have the same face as me#so it’s hard to use my own face as a base#don’t even bring up 3D programs idk how those work#gee.txt
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i’ve been deadass tired these last couple days i think the exhaustion from school finally hit me i’ve mostly been sleeping lmaooo
#playing some video games now tho and all i can think about is infamous#i finally craving to draw so probably on thursday i’ll try it out and see what happens#i have appointments tomorrow lol#lyriumsings txt#i’m so ready tho#i wanna tweak sevens hair#and i need to find a more concrete facial ref for DW#rn i mostly am just thinking about general features#what i have isn’t bad#but i can’t shake that it’s not good enough#i’ve gathered SO MANY REFS THO#so i’m excited to organize them#and put them to use#rowan is also living rent free in my mind#i hope his warm up goes well lol
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The Sweetest Thing - Rafe Cameron
+18 Minor DNI
CollegeHockey!Rafe x gf!reader
⭐ republished ⭐
+18 Minor DNI
ask: sex with hockeyplayer!rafe after he won an important match
Thank you so much for your ask 🌺
🪄 hockey!rafe, bf!rafe, swearing, name-calling, Rafe & reader’s POV, hockey violence, pet names (daddy, doll, baby, babygirl etc, degradation, Rafe talks about the reader in an explicit fashion to her ex without her there, rough oral, throat fucking, cum play, creampie, semipublic sex, unprotected p in v, jealous!rafe, ownership kink, squirting, lots of dirty talk from him
📖 CollegeHockey!Rafe can’t wait to get his hands on you after winning the Frozen Four Championship game, especially after playing against your ex.
✨ He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.✨
2.3 K lightly edited (<- mostly smut)
NCAA Men’s Frozen Four Championship Game…
30 seconds remaining in the 3rd Period 1-0:
Rafe’s POV:
The ref’s whistle screams through the arena. The puck drops again. I skirt and push as I look for an opening, waiting for my pass. I charge past the student section, catching her eye as I always do. My number one fan. My girl. Mine.
Easton Lawrence is a bitch. He has been since juniors; y/n’s ex-boyfriend no less. He and I usually both end up ejected from the game without fail. Not today. I promised her I’d play as nice as I could. ‘He’s not worth it. He’s a dick. He’s just trying to get under your skin, baby.’ That’s my girl’s pep talk. But Jesus fuckin’ Christ, three periods of this shit-talkin’ from him has me wanting to toss all that out the window. He loves to fuck with me. And he always has—every damn game.
Easton bumps his stick against the glass, giving her a smile that she doesn’t return. Good girl. We meet at the line, getting ready for puck drop. His silver chain hangs out of his jersey. Of course, I stalked her IG before we dated; I know that pendant was a gift from her. #6 shines in the bright rink lights, making my blood boil.
“Y/n looks good, Cameron. Sweetest fucking pussy I ever had.” He chirps, taking a jab as he has, each one getting more infuriating than the last as he inches closer and closer to my soft spot. Her. He just had to do it.
“Say her name again. Do it, bitch,” I warn.
“I miss her sayin’ mine, that’s for sure,” he sneers as he tightens his stick in his mitts.
“You startin’ shit ‘cause you’re losin’, asshole? This game is almost over. Give it up.” The whistle blows, a false start, leaving him plenty more time to run his mouth. My turn. “Good? Nah, buddy. My girl looks perfect. And I’m man enough to agree with you, perfect fuckin’ pussy. Too bad you weren’t man enough to make her cum. Huh?”
Easton laughs wickedly and shakes his head. “Gonna fucking kill you when I find you in the parkin’ lot, Cameron. I swear to Christ.”
“No, you ain’t. ‘Cause I’m gonna take that sweet pussy to the first locker room I find and rail what’s mine. Gonna make her forget that any man’s name’s ever passed her lips but Rafe Cameron.”
The whistle blasts, and the puck drops. I get an elbow to the gut immediately, Easton prodding and taunting me instantly. There are so many bodies in front of the net, but I catch my opening. The puck hits my stick, a little backhand flick. I watch as she trickles past the goal line.
The siren sounds, and the crowd cheers loudly as the music blares. I skate toward him, getting in his face before my teammates can reach me to celebrate, making the refs rush around us, anticipating a brawl. “Gettin’ her and the win, pussy. Have fun beatin’ your own dick, bitch,” I dig. Easton shoves me hard, and I shove him back, slapping his chest and ripping that cheap-ass Zale’s chain off his chest before hurling it over the glass.
"Break it up!” The refs scream, blowing their whistles again.
My co-captain bumps me with his stick, giving me a broad smile. That was the winning goal. A few boys drag me in for a celebratory hug before skating back to the bench. There are only a few seconds left, and the crowd’s goin’ crazy aleady. Y/n can barely contain her excitement. I give her a wink, and she smiles back, giving me a little finger wave that has me even more eager for the final buzzer.
Sure, they’ll be press after this. A quick interview with ESPNU, maybe a few words from the coaches; a quick speech from us captains. But when I’m done with all that shit, I’m fuckin’ my girl just like I said I would.
My coach smiles at me proudly, not wanting to jinx the next 30 seconds of play. The only thing that would be better is if the puck passed the white ice before the clock hit 0.0.
But I don’t wanna get greedy now, do I? I’ll save that for her.
Reader’s POV:
“Congratulations, captain…” Your lips meet his neck, a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock, rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. Rafe moans deeply, vibrations buzzing against your lips. You work a little lower, kissing and tracing his strong chest and abs, working to the locker room floor.
Your fingers run softly against the deep indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him from your knees, catching your fingers under the band of his boxers, pulling them to his feet, watching as his aching cock springs free, Rafe letting out a sigh of relief.
He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.
“I love your cock, baby,” you laud as you take him in your hands.
“Yeah?” He groans, watching you near his tip; a bead of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly before it falls to the concrete. “Don’t go wastin’ it now,” he teases as you run your tongue along your bottom lip; mouth water, wanting the weight and taste of him on your tongue.
“If I was at the hotel, I’d lick it off the floor. I swear,” you smile as Rafe looks down at you in awe.
“Just a filthy little slut for me. Aren’t you, baby?”
“Mmm… Mhmm.” You hum, preening him up with your tongue. Rafe closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling. He cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly.
“This mouth, baby,” he mumbles.
Rafe’s eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him fully, the warmth of your mouth swathing him. “Shit,” he pants, sexual tension painted all over his handsome face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly as he watches you take him into your mouth. “Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, choking on his big dick each time. He holds your head a little tighter in his hands as you increase your pace.
Rafe starts to trill on your tongue, mumbling praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair, causing you to moan around his cock. Rafe takes control, gliding slower, taking a different grip entirely, holding your cheeks in his large hands. The fat tip of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth.
“This mouth is mine. All fucking mine,” he grunts. “And you’re gonna swallow it all. Yeah?” Rafe asks raspily, stroking your full cheeks with his thumbs. “‘Course you are. Can’t answer with this pretty little mouth full of dick. Can you?”
Rafe thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully, a gasp for air releases from your open lips, drool connecting from the tip of his cock to your kiss-swollen lips. You spit on his dick, getting messy just like he likes, stroking him with your fist. "I’m all yours, Rafe.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Mhmm… That’s right, princess.” You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him moan your name. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass, as you start to stroke him with your mouth again. Lewd noises fill the locker room; Rafe, panting and like a dog; you, slurping and squelching with each bob of your head. Tears leak down your cheeks, eyes locked on him, watching as he starts to near his finish. Rafe’s cock swells on your tongue; his muscular thighs trembling as you squeeze. ”So good, baby… I’m gonna - Fuck.“ Warm, white ropes hit the back of your throat as you take his big load, swallowing it all.
You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along his tip, catching what little remains, flattening your tongue to show him yourself. “My girl,” he smiles, hooking a finger under your chin, leading you to your feet. Rafe spits in your open mouth one moment, kissing you deeply the next, slipping his tongue inside. Your tongues swirl together, Rafe holding onto you tight.
"I need you, baby,” you plead against his lips, and he smiles on yours.
“Yeah? You need this dick, princess?”
“I need it,” you whisper, taking his bottom lips between your teeth.
“She needs it… I wanna fill up this sweet pussy,” he mumbles. “Nobody else gets you but me. No one else knows this cunt like I do. Do they?” He asks, all low and husky against your neck. You respond with a needy uh huh, making him chuckle as you melt into him more, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. “I’m gonna be drippin’ out of you all night.”
“I’m counting on it, Rafe,” you breathe. He strips you out of his jersey quick; your pants already tossed to the side, leaving you in your black lacy bra and panties. Rafe unclasps your bra as he kisses down your neck, holding your breasts in his ringed hands. He reels and flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud, pinching the other between his rough digits. You scratch your fingers into his damp hair, guiding him lower and lower.
“Babygirl,” he chuckles as he snaps your panties at the hip, seeing his #2 embroidered into the fabric. “I fuckin’ love you. You know that.”
“You like it?”
“You know I would. I love ‘em.” He kisses your skin, then the number, working lower and lower, hitching your leg over his shoulder to get better access to your sopping core. Rafe licks the fabric, tasting you, groaning against your clothed cunt at the taste. “M’gonna leave these on… Get ‘em all messy. When we get back to the hotel after the bar, you can take ‘em off. Deal?”
“Deal,” you smile as you brush back his bangs to see his pretty baby blues.
“‘N by you I mean me,” he smiles playfully. “I’m already thinkin’ about later, baby. Got me fuckin’ pussy whipped,” Rafe laughs as he lifts you into his strong arms.
“I’m addicted to you, Cameron. I guess we’re even,” you whisper against his lips as you hook your ankles around his waist, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool brick wall. ”Fuck me?“ You whine, desperation laced in your tone. ”Please.“
“I love when you beg for my cock. Think you could get nice and loud for me, princess?” You bite your lip and nod in reply. “Beautiful.”
Rafe pushes your panties to the side; you tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. ”Shit,“ you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. Rafe moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his pink, swollen tip. You both moan in unison as he fucks up into you.
You gasp and fuss, feeling him split you in two. Your boyfriend wasting no time stroking, hitting that special spot. He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His thrusts are merciless, absolutely intense as you cling to his shoulders. You cry out in pleasure as his toned body claps against your clit, his ruddy head repeatedly striking your g-spot.
“Atta girl. Keep screamin’ like that.”
”Rafe… Oh my god. I’m gonna cum,“ you moan as stars dance in your eyes, white-hot pleasure overtaking you entirely as you cum all over his cock. Rafe works you even quicker, fucking you through your orgasms as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.
“Got this pussy creamin’ for me. Think I could make her cry,” he taunts through mumbled words, sucking and biting your skin, marking you up.
Rafe pulls you off the wall, leaving you gasping, his dick still buried deep as he carries you to the bench. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as you kiss. Rafe adjusts slightly, leaning back into the wall, enjoying the view, catching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising fully before spreading your thighs wide again. Rafe grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. ”It’s too much,“ you whine, bottom lip wobbling, as he stretches you out.
“You’re lyin’,” he laughs breathily between jagged breaths. “My baby can take it.”
You throw your head back as you bounce, nailing the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge of Rafe’s dick as your thighs start to burn. Rafe’s thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top. ”Say my name when you cum, princess. Scream my fuckin’ name.“
”Sh-Shit,” you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm. “M’gonna cum.”
“Cum on my cock, baby. Let me have it.”
Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release, toes curling as you’re sent into ecstasy. Before you can come down, he picks you up, pushing you onto the cold bench, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echoes through the locker room. You let out a loud cry, making him smile wildly before your eyes pinch shut, gripping the metal edge, making your knuckles turn white.
“Look at me, princess. Eyes on me. M’almost there. You’re doin’ so good, f’me.” He lifts his hand, pressing two fingers between your lips before bringing them down to your clit, playing with your pussy.
”Yes! Just - Just like that. Fuck. Rafe,“ you squeal. ”Oh shit-“ Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting your panties and his thighs. Rafe’s hips snap into you, filling you with his warmth. He topples down on top of you, burying himself in your neck, mumbling soft “I love you’s” as he rocks through your shared release. Rafe kisses your cheeks, then your lips, lingering close as you both come down from your bliss.
“Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”
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THE BLUE OF THE SKY MUST HAVE BEEN MY IMAGINATION ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; satoru can’t take your grief away. but on days when you feel as if it’s swallowing you whole, pulling you underwater, he’ll be there to reach a hand out.
word count; 10.9k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (gn prns are used, but gojo calls you sweet girl and princess), depictions of grief/allusions to death (reader mourns their dead best friend), hurt/comfort (heavy on both), fluffy towards the end, satoru is a good partner <3, stsg subtext if you squint, switching povs, reader is implied to be a non-sorcerer!!
a/n; i’ve always loved the idea of gojo being with a reader who also lost their best friend/other half, so this is just me playing around with that concept :3 losing a soulmate and finding a new one through the loss of that thread must feel really meaningful, right? + i’m also dedicating this piece to @neptuneblue my precious bday girl <33 i added an extra dose of devotion, flower symbolism and greek mytho refs just for you!! (pretty dividers by @/saradika-graphics <33)
a pang of sorrow.
as your consciousness begins to unfurl, cruelly torn apart from the realm of dreams, the sensation hits you like a hammer to a nail. your eyes flutter open, and your muddled mind adjusts to the soft light dyeing your bedroom a mellow gold — patches of sunlight splattering on the bed and warming up your skin, illuminating your features. gentle and soothing.
almost as if trying to coax you back to sleep; trying to protect you from something you don’t quite understand. just close your eyes, your body whispers, your mind shushes. don’t think about anything at all.
but you don’t listen.
part of you knows it’s a mistake. trying to identify the source of your sadness usually only makes your heart feel more tangled up — but you get the sense that this particular sorrow is one you should never, ever let go of. so you rest against the mattress, focus on the rise and fall of your chest, and simply feel it out.
it’s a strange sensation. blooming like a flower, in the back of your brain, expanding at an alarming rate — seeping into your bloodstream, soaking the sheets beneath you with something dark and gritty, something that sends shivers down your spine. an acute sensation that something is wrong.
that something has been wrong. for a very long time.
(and then it hits you.)
— ah.
an intake of breath. the open air has been warmed up by caring sunrays, bouncing off the glass of the windows. it tastes like dust and daydreams.
it’s today, isn’t it?
the flower in the back of your brain keeps unfurling, leaving you with a certain ache you can’t get rid of. a stain you can never, ever rinse away — and the sun’s comforting embrace does nothing to quell its weight.
what a shame, you think, gazing out at the blue of the sky. the weather is so lovely today…
something tickles your cheek. it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts; and this time, you don’t need to feel it out to know what it is. you’re already well aware. your brain knows, your body, every string of your heartbeat.
a strand of white hair. ghosting over your cheek, causing you to stir.
two big arms are looped around your midriff, heavy and slumbering, practically immovable. you’ve tried to peel them off more times than you can count, but they just won’t budge — if anything, that only makes him cling to you tighter. subconsciously or otherwise.
(you suspect it’s the latter, on most days.)
as always, you’re pressed up against him, close as can be. completely enveloped by his scent and body warmth, strawberries and stardust, cocooned in the safety his touch brings you — like a big, weighted blanket. or maybe more like a clingy dog.
and, despite everything… it manages to cheer you up a little. doing what the delicate caress of sunlight couldn’t. just feeling him close is enough for the corners of your lips to curl up, a warmth trying to take root in your hollowed out chest; feeling his heart beat against your own, in steady motions.
satoru. your very own personal sun.
he’s admittedly cute like this, soft little breaths slipping from his parted lips, quiet snores that he’d deny if you ever brought them up — his jaw resting contentedly on the top of your head. it’s sweet. he’s sweet. but the feeling of his hair tickling your skin is a little insufferable.
insufferable, but still somehow so endearing.
(you’ll probably always find him endearing, no matter what he does. maybe you should feel embarrassed.)
when you crane your neck, glancing up at the man in question — your breath hitches. halts, in the back of your throat. afraid to come too close.
satoru is always pretty, but there’s something so serene about the way he looks in the morning. before he has a chance to wake up, cover up, make himself seem bigger than he is. right now, he looks so unguarded; so sleepy and pretty and comfortable. specks of sunlight scatter across that pretty face of his, like little freckles, caressing his skin with a heavenly glow.
it really is such a shame. the sun is shining brightly, waving hello to the newly-awakened city, and your own personal sun is right by your side. snuggled up with you, and looking prettier than ever.
but neither of those blessings are enough to change the inevitability of what day it is, today. you feel a little bad; but you know what you have to do.
just to see the limitations, you squirm away — or try to. you don’t even move an inch. satoru’s got you trapped, caged in by his strong arms, like he’s making sure to protect you even in his dreams. a big, overprotective bear.
wanting not to rouse him from his peaceful slumber, you can’t bring yourself to make much of an effort, either. your hands travel down to the expanse of his arms, wrapped around your midriff, gentle and light as you try to tug them off. but he won’t relent so easily — the moment you succeed even slightly, those insistent arms fall back in position. only trapping you further.
after your fifth attempt bears no fruit, satoru lets out a low groan; shifting closer, and hugging you just a little tighter. muttering under his breath.
so you resort to a different tactic.
when you finally get a proper look at him, craning your neck as far as you can, your eyes soften. his expression makes your heart melt; sleepy and snug, and just a tad annoyed. because of your numerous escape attempts, no doubt.
he’s so beautiful it hurts. just a little, just to look at him, just to map out every contour of his angelic face.
so you feel a little guilty. you really don’t want to wake him up, when he so rarely gets to sleep in like this — and he’s been working so hard, lately. doing his usual sorcerer thing, that he never lets you know too much about. the guilt seeps into your bones, growing deeper with every second spent etching his soft expression into your memory, knowing just how tired he must be.
it’s not like you really have a choice, though.
leaning closer, so close you can hear his heartbeat if you strain your ears enough, you put your lips against his skin. he smells like strawberries, from the shampoo he always steals from you, and he’s pleasantly warm. like a confectionary.
a moment passes. you drag it out as long as you can, indulging in the sweet fragrance.
then you begin trailing kisses up his jaw, ghosting over his skin. soft little butterflies, fluttering from his jaw to his cheekbone.. once you get close enough to see the way his eyelashes flutter, and he stirs ever so slightly, you lean in to whisper in his ear.
”satoru,” you murmur. ”just need to go to the bathroom. can you let go for a little bit, please?”
you try your best to speak as quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb him too much — but you can tell he hears you, even in the state he’s in. all tuckered out, his muddled mind still registering the sound of your voice, how you move your lips to form sounds. a lullaby to his sleep-ridden brain.
bringing a hand up to his forehead, you brush his bangs away with palpable tenderness, leaving a kiss against his forehead. satoru stirs, again; letting out a sleepy noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a whine. squeezing his eyes shut.
”honey,” you coo, hoping the term of endearment will get his attention. ”let go, please? i’ll be quick.”
satoru’s eyes blink open, slowly, like the shutter of a camera. you wish you could take a picture of him, right now — in all his angelic glory, painted over with warm colours and tangled up in freshly washed bedsheets.
he takes a moment to adjust, unaccustomed to the bright morning light of your bedroom, face scrunching up — then his gaze falls on you.
and his heartbeat picks up.
you’re looking up at him so sweetly, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, smooth skin against his own. the cerulean of his eyes flutter shut once more, as he nuzzles into your palm; moving one of his arms from your waist, just so he can place his palm over yours, where it rests against his skin. absentminded.
a smile crawls up to your lips.
”… mm,” is all he manages, an incoherent little mumble. you make another attempt at getting away, only one of his arms caging you in now, but it still doesn’t work. the moment he feels you even try, he tugs you even closer. arm keeping you nice and safe in his embrace.
satoru makes sure that his palm is still resting over yours when he leans forward, snuggles further into your side. nuzzling into your neck, pressing his lips against your collarbone, muffling a low whine.
”stay,” he murmurs, sleepy and upset, and you almost give in. he’s still too tired to really register what’s happening, only that you’re trying to leave him.
it makes your chest ache.
a soft sigh leaves your lips. ah, this really is too cruel. how are you supposed to ever leave his embrace when he’s acting like this?
”satoru…” your free hand finds its way to his hair, carding through the pure white strands, and he practically purrs. ”just gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay? i’ll hurry.”
another incoherent mumble. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to. still kissing your collarbone, content to have you run your fingers through his soft locks.
and you feel awful, you do — but desperate times call for desperate measures.
as you feel him slowly, gradually fall back asleep under your caring touches… you opt to make your move. this time, you’re a little rougher — tugging his arm off and squirming away before he can think to stop you. it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially with the whine satoru lets out, arms blindly reaching out towards you — to no avail. you’re sure the loss of body warmth hits him just as hard as it does you.
an urgent voice inside your chest begs you to soothe him, to console him. seeing the little pout on his pretty lips, the furrow of his brow.
so you lean over, carefully, cupping his cheek to leave a soft kiss against his forehead. a silent apology. ”i’ll be back soon, toru. go back to sleep, okay?” you hope he feels your love, in the action, in the words. even if he’s not really conscious enough to properly respond.
just in case he doesn’t, you state your feelings more transparently. thumb caressing his cheekbone, as a whisper flows from out your lips: ”i love you.”
maybe it’s just your imagination, or a coincidence, but you swear he settles down a little after that. succumbing to the needs of his sleepy brain, still a little groggy and frustrated; but soothed enough to rest easy. so far, so good. caught up with thoughts of satoru, and how tiny he looks all alone in the big bed, your brain momentarily forgets about the sorrow.
but the moment you step out of the bedroom, it’s there to greet you again. creeping up on you — a subtle, gentle kind of shock. almost kind. but hollow and cold, like the temperature of the room dropped, your almost-smile fading like a piece of paper blown away by the wind.
and suddenly, you remember what day it is. you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.
as you brew your morning cup of coffee, trying to distract yourself with the purring of the espresso machine in front of you, you find your thoughts drifting back to satoru. hoping he’ll manage to stay asleep, despite your interference — it’s his first day off in a while. he needs to rest.
… and you don’t really know if you could deal with him, if he were to wake up and locate you right now. you can imagine what he’d say, what his expression would be like; and you can imagine the exact moment he’d realize that something is wrong, how easily he’d be able to squeeze the answers out of you. you’re weak to satoru. you’d tell him immediately, just to get him to stop frowning that subtle way he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want you to know.
which is exactly why this is your only option. sneaking away while he’s asleep, blissfully unaware, even if the guilt eats at your heart. you suppose it’s a welcome distraction.
(today was going to feel awful, one way or another.)
everything feels a little like a struggle; putting your coat on, stepping into your shoes, making sure you have everything you need. and then, lastly, the note. satoru leaves them for you fairly often, on days he has to go to work early and doesn’t want to wake you, before late night missions and sudden workloads. when the reverse is true, you do the same. just something simple, a little act of love.
i’ll be back around midnight. don’t wait up for me, okay?
have a good day. :)
don’t eat my portion of the kikufuku! i know you’re thinking about it.
i love you. <3
… usually, leaving a little note behind for him to find would make your heart feel light. but today, it’s not nearly as fun. you try your best to sound lighthearted; wholly aware of how ominous the contents still end up sounding.
good morning, satoru ♡ i’m sorry for waking you up before :( and for leaving without saying anything. i have an important errand to run, so i’ll be gone for a while. i’ll make sure i’m back before the sun sets, so just be patient, okay? i know you’re probably really mad, but don’t be too angry with me when i get back, please? i’ll buy you something sweet omw back!! ^^ that’s all, i think. i know how this sounds, but don’t worry. i’ll be back before you know it. have a good day, alright? enjoy your day off!! i love you ♡ :)
in all honesty, it’s a little mean. telling satoru not to worry about you is like telling the sun not to shine. he’s confident when he’s with you, thoroughly assured of his ability to protect you… but when you’re out of his sight, you think he gets a little anxious. even if he’s awfully good at hiding it.
still, there’s nothing else to do. you swallow the guilt, stick the note to the fridge, and step over the threshold. out into the real world, the cold world, the empty world. as the sun envelops you, and a spring breeze enters your lungs — that acute awareness strangling you only seems to grow deeper.
everything finally dawns on you, all at once. and it’s impossible to shake away that suffocating feeling —
the feeling that something is wrong.
(that something has been wrong. for a very, very long time.)
the cemetery is empty, this year.
you suspect the glaring sun has something to do with it. blinding you, casting a bright glow over the tombs of the dead, entirely out of place. no one wants to do their mourning in this kind of weather. it just feels wrong.
that hasn’t stopped you, though. you wonder if it’s due to a love so strong it disregards the weather, or a blatant disregard towards the feelings of the dead.
maybe both. probably both.
the solitude creeps up on you like a hungry ghost, but it’s a blessing in flimsy disguise; right now, you’re all alone. and today, that’s all you truly need. a feeling almost like stepping into another realm, one with no connection to things like reality or time. it’s just you, and the graves, and the ghosts. there’s no one here to see you cry, no one who can pretend like they understand. no one to witness the price you’ve paid for loving so fervently.
slowly, you make your way across the cemetery. sparing a glance towards the city skyline, before fixing your eyes on one particular tomb.
when you crouch down, the paper bag in your hand hits the ground with a soft crunch. all flowers are still in perfect condition; asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hyacinths. you cradle them tightly, pressed against your chest, feeding off your weakening heartbeat — your eyes moving, flitting over the grave, the name engraved into the stone. putting the bouquet down.
(you really hope she’ll like them.)
it’s surreal. to look at an object and still see a person, to touch the petals of a flower and remember the softness of human skin. you never quite got used to it. all you ever seem to do is lean into the strangeness of it all, the kick you get out of sullying something untainted. trying to remember something that should be left in the past. you can’t leave her alone.
”hi,” you whisper, so low you barely hear it. ”i’m back.”
with a sigh, you settle down on the ground; sitting cross-legged, getting comfortable. this’ll take a while.
the cherry trees are beautiful, this year. they always are; always in full bloom, almost mocking in their beauty. with their silky petals, fallen all across the ground, dyeing everything in shades of white and pink. as your eyes trail across the flowery landscape, basking in the sickening solitude of it all, that sense of otherworldliness deepens. you try not to look at the blinding sun, try not to think of the man it reminds you of.
it’s just you, here. just you, the graves, and the cherry trees. just you, and her, and your sorrow.
for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that it’s true — you’re in a different world, now. one that settles on the wrong axis and paints itself with the wrong colours. one that stopped spinning long ago.
(the tender stirring of your heartstrings never fades away. it sounds a little like a hymn.)
all you can think of is her. all you can feel is the grief. that hole in your heart, extending, extending, extending. it hasn’t stopped since she left. a black hole of a feeling. it’s been years since it opened, years of trying to patch it up, clawing your way to a state of normalcy. living with a piece of you carved out.
losing your other half feels a little bit like dying in reverse. having to keep going with half your shadow stripped away, out of the tunnel, into the light. even if you’d much rather fall to the bottom, with your silhouette still intact.
(throughout the years, you’ve come to a single conclusion; orpheus had it so much worse than eurydice.)
despite everything, a smile curls its way onto your lips. something soft and fleeting, that blossoms within your irises, in between your ribs. she doesn’t answer you, as always, so you keep talking — anything to still feel connected to her. anything to fill the silence of the cemetery, the numbed out grief inside your chest.
”let’s see. where should i start…” is muttered into the open air, followed by a moment of silence, as you think of what to say. ”i’m still with satoru, if you were wondering. everything is still… good. more than good. he’s a really, really good guy.”
a moment passes.
”i hope you’re doing okay. wherever you are. if you’re anywhere at all,” soft air leaves your lungs, a little slip of a breath, but it’s shallow, like your chest doesn’t really care if you miss an inhale or not. like just giving and never getting could keep you alive. ”i miss you. a lot. i wish i could see you…”
a hum buzzes in your throat. you try not to think of her hair, the scent of her perfume. the flower in the back of your brain has grown bigger, you notice. unfurling at an agonizing pace, blossoming the way a wound heals. throat burning, heart aching, you swallow.
(the hole inside your heart feels jagged, like cracked glass seeping into your pancreas. a deep, internal ache.)
when you speak, your voice comes out small. nothing more than a whisper, a flurry of air. there’s an honesty to the words that makes it hard to breathe.
”… everything is so boring without you around.”
a shuddering breath leaves your wobbling lips, and you know it’s coming. you make a halfhearted attempt to keep your voice from breaking, but it doesn’t work. your eyes are already glassy, wetness spilling out, tears getting stuck in your lashes, dripping down your cheeks — you manage a meek chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a broken whimper.
try as you might, her figure never leaves your mind. it’s all you can think of, ingrained into your retinas; a single silhouette, walking ahead of you. a sweet girl, maybe a little mean, but still so gentle. your very own moon, soothing in her confidence. every step she took was like a landmark for you to follow.
if you strain yourself a little, she appears before you — a polaroid dug out from the depths of your memories.
in almost microscopic detail, you can see her smile, the way the light reflected off her teeth. you can feel her hand, the way her fingers curled so perfectly around yours. you can see her, hear her, the colour of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. a moonlit girl, who left you all alone — walking ahead of you, always ahead, leaving you behind to catch up. bringing whispered secrets with her, soft bouts of laughter.
your one and only best friend.
(it’s not fair.)
something in you urges you to keep talking. it’s all you have it in you to do. and maybe it’s weird, maybe you’re crazy — to talk to someone who can’t hear you. less than a ghost.
but it’s nice. it’s comforting. it reminds you of the voicemails you would leave each other, on weekends you were both too busy to speak on the phone. her voice always came out a little fractured, from her shitty nuclear bomb of an iphone, but you strained your ears to hear every word she said. you always, always did.
(it was nice.)
so you continue. you tell her everything, and then some more. talking and talking, about you, about her, about satoru. by the time you’re done, the sun is getting ready to descend, painting the sky a bleeding orange. your voice has gone hoarse, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, but your chest feels a little lighter — the hole inside it a little more narrow, not as broken and split and jagged.
”so, well,” you clear your throat, finishing your one-sided conversation; smiling weakly. ”i guess what i’m trying to say is… i loved you this year, too.”
the smile on your face is tearstained, feeble, as you get back up on shaky legs, brushing petals and dust off the fabric of your pants. stretching your arms out.
”i’ll be back,” you promise, the same oath every single year. ”wait for me.”
one last look at her grave is all you allow yourself; soaking in the peace and quiet, the creamsicle sky framing it. parting with this sight always feels so strange. crossing the boundary, going back to a world where she’s dead and gone. discarding her so callously.
but you can’t keep satoru waiting, anymore. you promised him you’d get back before sunset.
when you begin your descent down the hill, you can’t help but look back — just one look, just in case she’s standing there. she never is, but you still spare a glance over your shoulder, every single time. you like to think of it as an act of love.
it doesn’t feel as all-consuming, anymore, that exhausting numbness. the sorrow is still there, the grief is still there; but it’s a little less unendurable. and you feel that you can return to reality for another year, until you need to come back and cry some more.
for now, you can manage.
(but you still have one big obstacle to deal with.)
it doesn’t take long to get back.
as your fingers curl around the doorknob, you mentally prepare yourself. taking a shaky inhale. satoru definitely won’t be happy — you can already picture the frown he’ll have on his face, his crossed arms. the neverending flurry of huffs and scoffs.
you’ll just have to bear with it. exhaustion crawls beneath your skin, and everything feels a little too heavy for you to bear without breaking. normally, you’d head straight to bed, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to coax the day into ending early. but you can’t pull something like that, today. not when satoru will be there to see it. you can only hope he’ll be understanding — even without knowing anything.
(such an unfair thing to ask of a person.)
the door creaks open, and you step inside.
a particular scent engulfs you, as soon as you cross the threshold to your apartment. a blend between sunlight, and the fabric softener he likes, and freshly squeezed fruit juice. and, of course, that certain aroma you can only ever describe as home.
it smells like satoru, too. then again, maybe that’s just the scent of home in disguise.
finally, the weight around your shoulders starts to crumble. it’s a little easier to breathe, like this, a weighted blanket of comfort around you. something sweet and soothing and smelling lightly of rosemary. peace — or as close to it as you can get, today.
a sigh pushes past your lips; heavy with fatigue. dripping with relief.
(you’re home.)
”well, well, well.”
— a moment passes.
the sudden noise makes you freeze up, eyes wide and alert, still in the process of kicking off your shoes. internally wincing, bracing yourself. here it comes.
slowly, hesitantly, you raise your gaze from the floor — locking eyes with a certain man.
satoru looks displeased, to say the very least. arms crossed, with a cute little frown playing on his lips. just as you imagined. you can’t see his eyes from behind his shades — but if you could, you’re sure they’d carry a sense of betrayal.
”… hi, sato —”
”i can’t believe you.”
an amused breath slips from your lips. amused, but sheepish, awfully nervous. like you just came home to an angry wife, after promising to be back early from work. and satoru only huffs, staring you down like you just killed his dog.
”betrayed. deserted. by my own partner,” he scoffs, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ”what, are you done with your errand now?”
”satoru,” you try, voice falling into a melodic lilt. smiling up at him, inching closer. to your surprise, he takes a step back.
(you must have really upset him.)
a sad smile. you exhale, wringing your hands together. ”… i’m sorry i left you.”
”you should be,” he pouts, voice wounded to a degree that must be at least a little bit exaggerated. ”and you said you were just going to the bathroom.”
you let out a small, guilty chuckle. he remembers that? ”i’m really sorry. i left you the note, though…”
”right. the note,” satoru scoffs, like the word itself is personally offensive. ”d’you know how awful i felt, seeing that first thing in the morning? no sign of you anywhere, and some silly note is supposed to make up for it?”
oh, he’s being so unfair. looking so disgruntled, tapping the pads of his fingers on his elbow. you wish you could take him seriously, but he’s way too endearing. and he won’t let you get a word in.
”i was so worried. i thought someone had kidnapped you.” satoru doesn’t let up, even when an amused chuckle leaves your lips. ”you turned your phone off and everything! what were you even doing?”
”i know, i know. i’m sorry, really. i am!” you hang up your coat, brushing off a leftover cherry petal. ”it was a personal thing, like i said. but i dealt with everything now, so it’s fine.”
”that’s not an answer,” he mutters. ”you’re really not gonna tell me?”
a pang of guilt hits your heart.
”… sorry,” you murmur, low and feeble. avoiding his gaze. ”some other time, okay?”
satoru only lets out another spiteful scoff, arms still crossed. you wonder if he’s holding himself back from hugging you, or if he really is so angry with you that he doesn’t want you near him.
”look, toru —” you try, again, molding your voice into something soft and sweet. ”i’m really sorry. i won’t do it again, okay? and i’ll make it up to you.”
you hold up a paper bag, waving it slightly to get his attention. you can tell that it works. ”look. i got you your favorite pastries.”
satoru’s frown remains, despite the sweet treats. he must be angrier than you thought. ”really? you think some cookies will be enough to make things right?”
so stubborn. you suppose it’s warranted, though. you know how satoru is — if you’re not by his side for an extended amount of time, he starts to mope. after a while, he starts feeling lonely.
and then, finally, he starts to get anxious.
he’s told you, before, how much these days mean to him; days when the two of you can stay in and relax, and watch silly tv shows, and cook dinner, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. days when he can just be your toru, and no one else. your personal splotch of sunshine.
of course he’d be upset.
(you really are cruel, keeping him in the dark like this.)
seeing him so grumpy makes you oddly happy, though. just his presence makes that suffocating feeling in your chest feel a little more bearable, easing the burden on your restless heart. he makes you feel vulnerable.
with a thud, the paper bag drops to the floor. you open up your arms, like a blooming flower, a sheepish little smile on your lips. ”i missed you?”
the words are tinted with honey, sweet and warm, but also kind of sad. you tilt your head to the right, slightly, a silent invitation into your arms.
and for a second, something unreadable sparks in satoru’s eyes, hidden behind the black of his shades. you still notice it, though — almost as if his whole face pauses for a second. in clever contemplation.
you wonder if he noticed it, then. your puffy eyes, the sagging of your shoulders; the fatigue seeping off you, sticking to your skin.
you wonder if that’s why he relents, finally, stepping closer to bring you in for a hug.
the moment your head meets his chest, you’re enveloped by his scent. strawberries and fresh laundry, and a hint of expensive cologne. home.
a sigh leaves your lips, deep and content. you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, melting into the embrace — and satoru can’t really bring himself to be too angry, anymore.
”… well, i guess i could forgive you,” he muses, arms securely wrapped around your waist. you’re sure he’s trying to sound stern, but it’s not very convincing when he’s snuggling into you like this. ”but you’re gonna have to make it up to me. alright?”
”right, right,” you exhale, smiling. just thankful to be close to him, to feel that he’s there. ”thank you, oh benevolent satoru.”
a chuckle slips from his lips. you feel it; the low tremor running through his chest, rumbling, as he rests his jaw on your head. ”careful with the snark. if you want to be forgiven you gotta be nice to me, sweetheart.”
you let out a breath, somewhere in between an exasperated sigh and a fond giggle. he’s relieved to hear the sound. satoru prides himself on being observant — being able to read someone with a single glance, notice if something’s off almost instantly. and he’s especially proud of his observant nature when it comes to you.
as clear as the blue of the sky, or the brightness of the sun, satoru can tell that something’s wrong. he noticed it the moment he read that note, the moment you stepped back into the house, the moment he saw your meek little face staring up at him — desperate for comfort. as if one wrong touch could have you falling apart, shattering, like a flimsy sheet of glass.
whatever you were doing, today… it couldn’t have been pleasant.
he’s curious, of course, and still more than a little irked at your escape — but that can wait until later. satoru can be patient, when he wants to be. at the very least, he can be patient when it comes to you.
(for now, he’ll focus on cheering you up.)
nuzzling further into his chest, you take a deep breath, basking in the familiar sensation creeping up on you. satoru makes a halfhearted attempt to stifle his coo.
”aw, look at you,” he grins, swaying you softly side to side. ”so clingy. you really did miss me, huh?”
a huff leaves your lips. ”shut up,” you mumble, feeling a heat rush to your cheeks.
”be nice, baby.”
…
and you relent. the least you could do is indulge him, even if you know he’ll abuse the opportunity fully. you part your lips, and speak.
”… of course i missed you.”
”there we go,” a smug grin blooms on his lips. he rubs your back, absentmindedly. gosh, he’s infuriating.
(you love him so much you want to sneak into his chest and gobble up his heart.)
after a moment, he pulls away from you. just a little, just to get a good look at your face. drinking you in, with his blue-soaked gaze, as your eyelashes flutter. he reaches out, the pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin — cupping your cheek with his palm, big and warm, cradling you the way a believer would cup a mouthful of holy water.
then he leans in to kiss you. giving you no time to prepare, drawing you in, drawn to your touch, inexplicably. helplessly.
it’s a chaste kiss, light and heart-fluttering. his lips are soft, tasting lightly of cherry chapstick. when you exhale against them, you feel him smile, almost smirking. a blissful little breath that he drinks in, hands squeezing softly at your hips, bringing you just a little closer. rubbing his nose against yours.
his tongue flits out to lick at your bottom lip, a teasing flick, and then he’s pulling back — still close enough to make you flustered.
”missed you too,” he purrs, voice deep and raspy, rumbling through his chest. ”thought i was gonna go insane without you.”
with a flushed face, and something akin to a pout playing at your lips, you avoid his gaze. you’re sure that if you looked now, you’d see those pools of blue peeking out beneath the black glass.
satoru leans in to kiss you, again. giving you no warning, as always; unable to resist the temptation.
(you really are too cute for your own good.)
it’s a little intoxicating, the way he breathes you in. sweet and warm, like he’s trying to say i love you without using any words, with just his lips and lungs and tongue. he’s a little too good at it — someone so inexperienced has no business being so naturally good at kissing. it’s a little irritating.
but that’s satoru, for you. always surpassing your expectations; like there’s no limit to his love.
satoru finally decides to spare you, satisfied with the tiny squeak that bubbles up in your throat when he nibbles at the flesh of your lip. he’ll demand more kisses later — preferably when you’re seated in his lap, and he can properly turn you into a boneless puddle.
”alright,” he chirps, a melodic lilt to his voice, stepping back with a palm still on your hip. his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. ”let’s see those pastries.”
”oh. right…” you’re quick to lean down, snatching the paper bag from where it lays on the floor. passing it to satoru, so he can look into it.
seemingly satisfied with the contents, he lets out a contemplative hum. ”okay, this is a start,” he nods, decisive. ”c’mon. let’s eat ’em by the couch.”
…
you narrow your eyes, suddenly suspicious. ”… hang on. have you had lunch yet?”
satoru gapes, as if in disbelief, barking out a soft, offended little scoff. ”really? you’re doubting me?”
”that’s not a yes.”
a pout forms on his lips. ”of course i have. who do you think i am?”
”oh yeah?” you give him a smile, a tiny raise of your brow. something in you knows that he’s lying. ”what’d you eat?”
”what is this, an interrogation?” he huffs. ”i’m a grown man. i can eat what i want!”
”not when i’m around,” you deadpan. then sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. ”satoru, you can’t eat a bunch of sweets for lunch. it’s not good for you.”
”so you can abandon me for hours, but i can’t have a little treat every once in a while? is that how it is?”
a roll of your eyes. you shift on your feet, letting out a low groan, and satoru has to reel in his growing smile. ”alright, drama queen. i get your point.” a moment passes, and you hum. ”… want me to make you something? or should i just order take out?”
satoru pouts, again, like a big huffy dog. ”babe, don’t you trust me? i’ve already had lunch. i got yakitori from the place downtown!”
”oh? you mean the yakitori place that’s closed on sundays?”
”huh. that’s weird,” he muses, smiling faintly. ”must’ve been some other place, then.”
you give him an unamused look. he returns it with a vague upturn of his lips, completely unbothered.
a sigh.
”… i’ll order take out.”
”whatever you say, princess.”
you stifle a smile, and go digging for your phone, feeling your own stomach rumble a bit. in the midst of the banter, you almost forget what day it is.
and satoru feels satisfied. you look a little more alive, now. a little more anchored to reality. as you call the takeout place of your choosing, he can even spot some earnest light in your eyes. he’s not exactly worried — but you did seem oddly stiff, just now, a little blurry. faded at the corners, like a dusty old polaroid.
and if there’s one thing satoru gojo can’t do, it’s leave you alone when he knows you need him.
satoru’s punishment for leaving him alone so long is swift and severe.
you’re seated in his lap, caged in by his long arms, and this time you know there’s no escaping them. even if you could, you wouldn’t dare to try. being caged in like this, warm and comfy in satoru’s embrace, isn’t really much of a punishment at all — even the kisses he has you press against his lips and jaw aren’t unwelcome, albeit a little embarrassing. he’s a merciful tyrant.
but you can’t help but feel like you’re deceiving him.
you still feel so lost, somehow, a murky sensation you can’t seem to shake off. and you know it’s because of your brain, because of the correlations it’s stitching and crocheting between today and her and you.
it simply won’t let you be happy, today.
you can’t help but feel a little greedy. ungrateful. even though you have your precious sun with you, even though you should feel warm, her absence hangs heavy on you. her continued absence, in your world, your life. a chill that rots your bones from the inside out. you know you’ll never get over it. you don’t ever want to get over it. it’s tough, though.
you should be happy, snuggled into your boyfriend’s arms, but her sorrow clings to you. you should be mourning, but his arms feel so secure like this. no reaction feels right, no emotion warranted.
(you really are greedy, aren’t you?)
satoru chuckles, a sound both delighted and amused — snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. as always.
you’re watching a movie he likes, some cheesy old romcom. you really, really don’t understand his taste. but his commentary is always entertaining. judging by his cute little noise, someone just said something funny — funny to his standards, anyhow.
it’s too tempting to resist. you crane your neck, glancing up at him, wanting to see his face. from this angle, you can spot the blue of his eyes — beautiful and bright, flickering with splotches of pure white. they flit down to meet your own, gleaming with amusement.
”do i have something on my face, baby?” satoru chuckles, leaning forward to get a better look at you, all tucked against his chest. he grins, smooth, handsome; tailor-made to make you flustered. ”you’re staring at me real hard, there.”
(what a tease.
unfortunately for him, you saw this one coming.)
”nah,” you show off a grin of your own, bubbly and teasing. ”you’re just pretty.”
he blinks. a few seconds passes by.
then a smile breaks out across his face. his eyes crinkle softly at the edges, like little petals, snowy bangs gliding against his skin when he tilts his head.
”oh?” he leans closer, hands still keeping you in place, making sure your gaze stays locked onto his. ”so forward. am i really that irresistible?”
there’s something soft in your eyes, something tender in the way your fingers go to touch his skin. a ghost of a caress, paired with your flimsy smile. you look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, breathing out an exhale. ”… i wouldn’t go that far.”
”aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he lets out a coo. ”come on — tell me i’m pretty again.”
”you liked that, huh?”
satoru flicks your forehead, no real strength behind it, so soft you barely feel it. there’s a certain reprimanding tilt to his voice, teasing as it is. ”be nice.”
he’s lucky you’re feeling too vulnerable to put up a fight. you turn around, to face him properly, squirming in his hold; reaching out to cup his handsome face.
”pretty boy,” you murmur, running your thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone. satoru grins, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you can spot earnest giddiness on his features — such a sucker for praise.
blindly, he searches for your other hand, bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, you notice, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. like every peck is a whispered psalm, a silent worship. but it’s light, it always has been — the weight of his boundless adoration. it’s not the heavy kind of love that gods give, not the one you hear about in stories, that always ends in death. satoru’s love isn’t crushing, and it isn’t suffocating. it’s delicate and careful, soft. it reminds you of how sunshine licks at your skin in the morning.
nothing more or less than one human being’s wholehearted love for another; giggles buzzing against your skin, crinkled eyes and mouthfuls of honey. blissful summer days.
(it reminds you of her, but it’s also something entirely different. something you can only ever make sense of when you think of the sun. when every single corner of your home has been doused in sunshine.)
a moment passes. so, so intimate, unbroken by the grief inside your chest. balm to your fractured heart, smoothing across your jagged edges. satoru leans into your palm, into your touch, relishing in the affection you give him. like a bee to a flower, blooming, wilting.
a nagging need tugs at your heartstrings.
(you want to see him. up close.)
although a little unsure, you reach your hands out, slowly, delicately, like approaching a frightened fawn — eager to remove his shades. he makes no move to stop you, so you assume that it’s okay. his eyes flutter open, when you do, white lashes parting like a bird taking flight; crinkled at the corners, overflowing with warmth. like sunshine streaming in through the curtains of your childhood kitchen.
your heartbeat stutters at the sight.
all you can do is stare. transfixed, losing yourself in their calming hue, drinking them in. you sigh; a soft, quiet little sound. ”you’re so pretty.”
…
satoru lets out a breath, tinged with laughter. his eyes are teasing, but warm even still. ”… am i, now?”
”mhm. the prettiest.”
he chokes back another chuckle. hoping you won’t notice the slight flush to his ears, the heat on the back of his neck. he’s grown skilled at keeping a poker face, even when you try to fluster him — but it’s harder when you’re not trying, when it comes to you so easily. when your words are honest.
just when he’s about to turn the tables on you, you duck your head under his jaw. nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling his cologne, craving his warmth, knowing how much it grounds you.
that, and his eyes are just a little too beautiful to stare into for too long. they always see right through you, deep into your soul, into every little nook and cranny of your mind. that undivided attention makes you feel a little meek, like you’re bare and raw before him. like there’s nothing you can hide.
(something in your hollowed-out chest begins to crumble.)
falling silent, you absently fiddle with the hem of satoru’s shirt, resting your forehead against his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything. the room would be silent were it not for that cheesy romcom, still buzzing in the background — you think the main couple just got divorced, again. or did get they married? you can’t really keep track of the plot. you can’t keep track of much at all, right now.
satoru makes you too happy.
so happy you forget what day it is, forget you’re supposed to be mourning. sometimes, you forget she’s even gone at all. as if she’s resting on some summer field, outside of your vision, alive and well.
but she isn’t. you can’t forget that.
guilt. how long has it been part of your life? you don’t know the answer. you’re not sure you want to know. most of the time, it’s all you can feel. guilt, because you’re sitting here, happy, with the love of your life — the most wonderful person you know. guilt, because you haven’t told him what’s going on, because you don’t trust him enough — even though you’d like to think you just don’t want to burden him. you don’t trust anyone enough to let them glimpse into your decaying chest. you’re afraid of the rot. you’re afraid it’ll mold his hand at the slightest touch.
guilt, guilt, guilt — because you’re lucky enough to meet such wonderful people, over and over again, and never quite manage to deserve them.
(having lost its moon, where does a star find solace?)
a hand begins to stroke your head. the weight is a comfort, reassuring, a jolt of warmth trickling down your spine. for a moment, it’s all you can feel.
(— in the warmth of the sun.)
”sleepy?” he murmurs, low and soft. a little teasing, mostly inquisitive, a calm lull of his tongue.
are you? you didn’t really notice, until now. things are starting to feel a little hazy, aren’t they? you feel comfortable, too comfortable, your body aching for a moment of rest, a chance to shut off. sleep, sleep, sleep. don’t think about anything anymore.
satoru notices your sleepy little breaths, the way you gradually soften under his touch, melt into his arms. so he continues to run his hand over your head, petting you gently — knowing it’ll coax you into resting. he’d like you to stay up and binge shows with him all night, but you seem awfully tired. just this once, he’ll let you sleep — the plot was starting to get boring, anyhow. the sequel’s way better.
”you can rest, baby,” he coos, with a gentle intonation. his voice buzzes in your ear. ”i’ve got you.”
(he’s got you.)
the words make you feel so horribly, awfully safe. you can already feel yourself drifting away. his hand smooths down your hair, and a yawn slips from your lips, and you’re just so, so tired. how nice it would be, for the day to end. to be able to forget, for another year.
yeah. how nice.
you wonder why you don’t take the opportunity.
maybe it has something to do with satoru. with the way he seems to bring you back to reality so effortlessly, soothes you without even really trying. maybe it’s the way he bares himself in front of you, blue eyes on full display, allowing you to see every single part of him.
maybe, it makes you want to do the same.
”… satoru?”
your voice sounds meek. tiny, unguarded. the man in question only hums, feeling you slump against his shoulder. ”hm?”
”today…” you trail off, unsure how to proceed. you can only think of a certain girl, a certain moon. the melancholy is almost overbearing; it pushes you over the edge. ”i went to a cemetery.”
satoru doesn’t respond. he gives you space to continue, never once halting the motion of his big hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. you gulp, trying to force your dry throat to make sounds.
”… my best friend is buried there. she died today. a couple years back… so i —” a coldness crawls under your skin, words hollow as they leave your lips.
”… you know.”
”yeah. i figured.”
a blink. your eyelashes flutter, in surprise — you can’t see satoru’s face, with the way you’re pressed up against him, but you still look up.
what tipped him off, you wonder?
you believe him. satoru has a way of seeing through you, one way or another, always more observant than you give him credit for. he’s tactful, in how he brings it up, and that slumbering maturity he tries to hide comes into view. there’s no judgement in his tone, no pity — only understanding.
”… oh,” is all you can mutter. dumbfounded.
”i’m sorry. about her.”
”don’t be,” you murmur, managing a soft shake of your head. ”i’m — i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just wanted to go there alone, and… deal with it? i guess.”
after a brief pause, you keep going. feeling so, so small. but satoru holds you so tenderly. a whisper slips past your lips, dripping with longing.
”… you’d have liked her.”
”what was she like?” comes his reply, instantaneous.
…
huh.
your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your mind spins in circles, but nothing happens.
(what was she like?)
”… i really loved her.”
satoru lets out a breath. vaguely amused, but he isn’t smiling. his words have a kindness to them; an understanding, more than anything. ”that’s all, huh?”
a slight intake of breath.
— then you bring yourself to think of her.
you think of her face, how her lips curled up into a smile when you tripped over air, the splotches of sunlight reflecting off her white teeth. you think of her laughter, how it always echoed in your head, how she took your hand in hers when you were too scared to walk ahead alone — taking the first step so you wouldn’t have to. a whole human being, multifaceted, enough traits and quirks to fill the whole night sky.
your moon. your eurydice. the only one who understood you.
you loved her a lot.
”… when i was with her, even sitting around and doing nothing made me happy.” nostalgia seeps into the whisper, like warm honey clogging up your throat, choking you. ”just her being there made every day feel like a good one.”
satoru doesn’t say anything. but he holds you, and he doesn’t let go. even when your voice begins to waver.
”i guess that’s… how i’d describe her.” a small breath. then a smile, even smaller. rueful, but it’s there, and it means everything. ”i’d do anything to have that yesterday back.”
satoru stays silent.
you’ve spoken about her, before. he knows some things. not a lot. he knows she’s important to you; the person who shaped you into who you are, your very best friend. he tries to picture her, inside his mind.
you let out a tiny sigh, your lungs feeling empty of air. ”… i’m sure you two would have gotten along.”
”yeah,” he hums, palm smoothing down your back. stifling the thought that threatens to sneak into his mind — you wouldn’t have gotten along with him, but i would’ve wanted you to. ”i’m sure we would have.”
it’s a little too sweet to be true. but it makes you happy, just to imagine that kind of reality — the two of them, together. satoru would tease her, and she’d ignore him, hiding a smile behind her palm. she’d warm up to him eventually. they’d bicker over who knew you best, and demand your own verdict —
you’d smile, not saying a thing.
your voice has gotten a little shaky. it’s scary, opening yourself up for him to see; it feels a little like being sewn open. but you force yourself to keep going. satoru rubs your back through it all, soothingly.
(he’s so, so proud of you.)
”i was thinking…” you trail off, gaze fixed on satoru’s shirt, fingers gripping the smooth fabric. ”maybe, some time in the future — i mean, if you want to — you could… come with me? maybe?”
silence.
”you don’t have to say yes. but if you do want to —”
”i do.”
satoru’s voice is absolute. there isn’t any room for doubt; he makes sure of that. ”i’d like to meet her.”
… oh.
it was that easy, huh?
(you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve him.)
”… okay,” you mumble, meekly, breath fanning over his skin. ”next year, then.”
satoru glances down at you. curled up against him, nearly sleeping, looking a lot less burdened than before — though there’s still a desperation in the way you lean into his touch, a silent terror, like you could drift away if he doesn’t keep you close. satoru wants to fix it. he wants to run his hands across your skin, stitch the scars life has left you with, even if his touch could never be as gentle as he’d like it to be. he wants to be tender.
but there’s no fixing grief. it lingers, always, no matter how much you try to scrub it away. even if you run a washcloth over your skin until it starts to bleed, the scent still remains.
and there’s a sickening sense of comfort in the knowledge that it always will.
(there’s no getting rid of him, satoru knows. and deep down, he’s glad that it’s true.)
more than anything else — satoru is content. content in the knowledge that you trust him, that you can bring yourself to open up to him about something so personal. that you chose to tell him, even though he gave you a way out. something about it makes him feel almost overwhelmed with affection. the kind he can’t bear not to show you, the kind that makes him seek you out almost subconsciously; seeking out your touch, your laughter. the smile on your face.
and maybe, just maybe — it makes him want to be a little more open with you, too.
”yeah,” he murmurs, craning his neck to leave a kiss on the crown of your head. ”you can sleep, baby. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”
”… i’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” you whisper, suddenly. a little meek. ”i felt really bad.”
satoru chuckles. raspy, an amused little breath. ”you’re forgiven, honey,” he coos. ”just don’t do it again, hm? might break my heart.”
with a yawn, you loop your arms around his neck, nuzzling further into his warmth. fighting the urge to close your eyes. drowsiness washes over you all at once, as if it was waiting for you to get the last of your worries off your chest. ”… i love you.”
”i love you too,” comes his reply, a smile tugging at his lips. ”my sweet girl.”
it’s hard to resist the temptation. almost impossible, with how warm satoru feels, your eyes helplessly fluttering close. you were supposed to stay up with him — you haven’t even finished eating. and you didn’t finish his awful romcom.
but he runs his hands over your head, and down your back, and it’s simply too hard to withstand the temptation. so you close your eyes, just for a second —
and that’s all it takes.
satoru keeps petting you, softly, until he’s sure you’re asleep, soft little breaths falling from your parted lips, drool slipping down your chin. he’ll forgive you for staining his shirt, just this once. with you in his lap, sound asleep, he feels himself soften — hands running down your back, rubbing circles into your skin. cradling you closer and closer, ensuring that you’re comfortable. taking a few sneaky pictures, that he’ll tease you about tomorrow —
(though in reality, he just wants to be able to look at them whenever he wants.)
even while eating, romcom flickering on and on, all he can think about is you. how you look so pretty sleeping against him, how you trust him enough to let him see you at your lowest. how you trust him to take care of you, run his fingers across the scars etched into your soul. even if it does no good, even if his touch is clumsy at best — that act of trust alone sets his heart aflutter.
he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this happiness.
”well, here we are.”
satoru holds a bouquet of flowers in his arms, putting it down on the grave, crouching down next to you.
a sigh leaves your lips.
”… this still feels a little surreal,” you admit, sparing a glance at the man to your left. ”sure you’re not a little freaked out?”
”nah. don’t mind me, just do your thing.”
”that’s… easier said than done,” you murmur, arranging the flowers for the grave. asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hydrangeas.
a hum buzzes in his throat. ”well, what do you usually do when you’re here?”
”i… talk to her, i guess…?” you gnaw at your bottom lip, turning your face away. you feel a little awkward, admitting it out loud, but if satoru finds it weird he’s frighteningly good at hiding it.
all he does is take a step back, as if giving space for your words to fit in. respectful, accommodating. so smooth you barely notice it. ”then talk.”
”… i can’t do that with you here.”
”eh? why not?”
”because — i just can’t, okay?” you let out a huff, averting your gaze, shying away from him. ”whatever. i’m just gonna do it in my head. she’ll have to manage.”
satoru turns his head, looking down at the city skyline below you as you clasp your hands together. when he looks back, he sees you mouthing something, no sound coming out — and decides to leave you be.
the grave is well kept. he wonders how many visits you’ve managed to sneak past him, in the years that he’s known you. he wonders if it’s supposed to feel this foreign, being here, staring down at something he knows must mean the world to you. the grave of your very best friend. someone who holds a piece of your heart, a side of you he never got to see.
he’ll have to make a good first impression.
satoru clasps his hands together, too. and he speaks, silently, with no words; lips pursed in a tight line.
(hi, there. it’s nice to meet you.)
it’s not like he has no experience of talking to the dead, himself. he’s more than acquainted with one-sided conversations, lonely visions of boys with black hair, men with sad smiles. framed by the setting sun.
so it doesn’t feel too odd.
satoru talks. about this, about that. he tries to keep it professional. this is important to you, so by nature, it’s important to him. the conversation comes to a close, and he looks at the grave with an unreadable expression — hands still clasped in silent prayer.
(i promise to take care of them.)
a sniffle.
satoru glances over at you, just as you turn away — trying to hide from him. but he knows. he’ll always, always know when you need him most.
two strong arms curl around your waist, stabilizing you, anchoring you to earth. ”i’ve got you,” he whispers, and you fall into his embrace. allowing him to pick up the pieces, to put you back together. ”i’ve got you.”
”i —” your voice breaks apart, crumbles into stardust, a shuddering breath that escapes from the back of your throat. there’s nothing to see through your tears. ”i miss her so much.”
satoru cradles you close to his chest, tucking you under his chin. ”i know,” he soothes. your little sobs leave his heart with a bitter feeling, and he wishes he could make them disappear; but he knows you need this.
when he holds you, something brushes against the fabric of your clothing. the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. something alive, deep within his chest, something for you to ground yourself with. and you know it was intentional, on his part — the decision to press your hearts together, a promise he doesn’t have to find the words for, because you know.
(stay alive for me. i’ll stay alive for you.
when you can’t breathe properly, i’ll be here to do it for you.)
your tears stain his brand-new coat, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is you, the fact that you’re crying, how to properly comfort you. it’s new to him, all of it, everything about you is just so new and he’s so afraid of messing it all up again —
but he holds you close. murmuring, right by your ear, endless sweet nothings. he waits for you to get it all out of your system, and he doesn’t let you go.
when you finally collect yourself, thoroughly tired out, eyes red and puffy — satoru smiles. it’s brighter than the sun, positively life-envoking. it gives you something to hold on to. he parts his lips.
”thank you for bringing me here.”
a shake of your head. soft, as he thumbs away your tears, one by one. ”thank you for coming with me,” you smile, small as it is, holding onto his hands. feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of his palm.
after saying your farewells, and promising to come back next year, the two of you begin your trek down the mountain trail. hand in hand. it’s mostly silent, but not at all in a bad way. satoru knows when to be serious, and when not to be. today, he knows you’re especially fragile — he wouldn’t dare overstep.
(especially when he knows your pain so well.)
”hey,” you break the silence. ”thank you, really. for… well, everything.”
satoru brushes you off, with a light squeeze of your hand. ”don’t mention it. i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i?”
”it’s not about that,” you chuckle, an embarrassed smile on your lips. ”just… thank you for existing, i guess. i love you a lot.”
…
satoru hums.
if he were any other person, maybe he’d respond with something just as sincere — something to let you know exactly how much you mean to him, how you make his world brighter just by being in it. how you mend scars he didn’t even know he had, as effortlessly as brushing a strand of hair away from your face. how you remind him of a certain boy, but also something entirely different; a love so light it makes him feel human.
but he’s satoru gojo — and so he has to do things in a more roundabout way.
”hey,” he starts, with a soft click of his tongue. ”next christmas. are you free?”
you blink up at him, with a tilt of your head. ”… of course. we always do something on christmas, right?”
”no, i don’t mean that.”
another tilt of your head. satoru hums, low and contemplative, humming quietly.
”eh,” he flicks his hand, waving you off. ”you’ll see.”
”… okay?”
silently, you study his expression, hoping to find some sort of hint that’ll give away the meaning of his words. you can’t find anything except a carefree smile, his eyes still obscured by his shades — hidden from you and the rest of the ghosts.
you suppose it doesn’t really matter. satoru seems happy; and, really, that’s all you could ask for.
so you only tug him closer, greedy for his warmth, basking in the feeling of it enveloping you. protecting you from the chilly air.
satoru closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.
(a boy with black hair smiles behind his eyelids.)
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo angst#gojo hurt/comfort#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk hurt/comfort
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ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]
author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying
dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.
in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭
when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs
but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though
chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!
jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE.
since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you.
jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it!
if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about.
you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called.
rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…
jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones.
after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3
your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning.
he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day.
it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go.
if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help
i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook.
one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good???
JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking.
one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3
he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal!
this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls
tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg.
he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side.
expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it!
i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot
or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out.
ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw
#jason grace#jason grace x reader#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x you#jason grace fanfiction#jason grace fanfic#jason grace fluff#jason grace fic#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus x reader#rick riordan#riordanverse#percy jackson fandom#percy jackson headcanon#percy jackson fic#percy jackson fanfiction
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Revenge
Rhea Ripley x Wrestler! Reader
Plot: With Rhea gone because of injury, leaving (Y/N) alone in the Judgement Day, and the new target for Liv Morgan. But when Rhea returns from injury, all is fair in love and war
Word Count: 914
Warnings: None, just an angry Rhea Ripley :)
Main Masterlist
WWE Masterlist
Since Rhea was sidelined after Wrestlemania, things slowly started to fall apart within Judgment Day. With Damian struggling to keep the group together, Finn and JD winning the Tag team belts was amazing. But having Dom running around and fooling around with Liv, was driving a spike deep into the heart of the Judgement Day.
But the person taking Rhea’s absence the worst was (Y/N). Failing to get the women’s title after Rhea relinquished it, dealing with the group, and Liv bullying her was starting to get too much for her. The boys tried not to let Liv near her, but once Dom spent a lot of time with her, keeping her distance was getting harder.
(Y/N) was getting ready for her match against her friend, Dakota Kai. Usually, Rhea would have come out with her, but because of the injury, she had been flying solo.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Damian’s voice booms in the small empty hallway. “Are you ok?” he asks.
“Yeah. This has been one of the only places that Liv can’t find me to harass me,” she says, looking down at her boots. She never likes showing how much Liv affects her.
Damian sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. He tries his best to get Liv away from her, and away from Dom, but he can only do so much.
“Do you want me to accompany you to the ring tonight?” he asks. (Y/N)’s heart warms at the offer, missing someone in her corner for matches.
“I think I’ll be fine. Thanks though. If I need you, I’ll send an arrow to the entrance,” she says while mimicking Damian's archer taunt. He lets out a breathy chuckle at her actions.
“What are we laughing at?” Liv’s voice breaks their moment.
“Um, nothing important,” (Y/N) says, becoming shy—Damian moves to protect her from the Women’s champion.
“I was just talking to her before her match, which is next so if you excuse us,” Damian says, grabbing (Y/N) wrist and pushing their way past Liv. Once they got out of the hallway and away from Liv, she let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks, Damian,” she mumbles as they walk towards the gorilla.
“You know I got you,” he says while pulling her into his chest.
“(Y/R/N) and Dakota Kai to the gorilla. Match in 2 minutes,” The voice calls out over speakers.
“You ready?” He asks. She sends him a smile.
“I’m ready. But the question is are they ready for me?”
“Yes,” Dakota replies, getting a chuckle from the two members of TJD. Dakota’s music blasts as she leaves the gorilla.
Damian places his hands on her shoulders, grounding her again. Damian has stepped up a lot to be there for (Y/N) since her girlfriend has been out. Rhea has also been in constant contact because she knew that (Y/N) wouldn’t have been 100% honest with her. After all, (Y/N) wouldn’t want her to come rushing back when she wasn’t ready.
“You got this,” Damian reassures her before her music hits. She sends him one last smile, taking a deep breath, before walking through the curtain and out to the waiting crowd. (Y/N) rocking black pleather shorts with a leather garter belt. Her top was a simple pleather wrestling top with a cut-up Judgement Day shirt over it. She made her way to the ring, ready to get this small match over with.
Once the bell rings, (Y/N) was dominating the match. They had some good back and forths but (Y/N) keeps the upper hand. She could hear the growing noise coming from ringside, but she chose to ignore the noise. (Y/N) hits her finisher (a version of the Walls of Jericho), securing her win. Dakota rolls out of the ring, refs making sure she is ok.
As she was processing the win, something hard hit her in the back of the head. (Y/N) is looking up to the rafters and Liv Morgan’s face comes into her view. Liv gives her an overly ‘friendly’ wave. (Y/N) slowly rolls off of her back, still holding her head.
As (Y/N) slowly gets up, Liv grabs a steel chair and is ready to lay a beating on her. When Demons in your Dreams belt out through the arena. The crowd cheers, Liv and (Y/N) couldn’t believe it. Liv scampers out of the ring like her life depends on it while Rhea charges the ring, wanting to get her hands on her placeholder.
Rhea made sure that Liv was nowhere close to the ring before she turns her full attention to (Y/N).
“Rhea?” (Y/N) questions. Rhea moves her hair out of her face, getting a better look at her girlfriend.
“I’m here love,” she replies. Refs came over to see if extra assistance was needed.
“I thought you were still out?”
“I’m not 100% clear but I couldn’t sit at home anymore and watch you get hurt at the hands of her,” Rhea was still enraged at what had been happening. “I’m also gonna have a chat with a certain Dirty Dom after getting you to the medics,” she says while helping (Y/N) out of the ring.
“I’m happy you’re back,” she whispers for only Rhea to hear. She smiles down to her partner and places a kiss on her forehead.
“Me too babe. Me too.”
#fanfiction#fanfic#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley#wwe x reader#wwe fanfiction#mami rhea#rhea ripley fanfic#the judgement day#the judgment day wwe#rhea ripley x you
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omg what if basketball!rafe takes reader out to dinner after a game or something, from sleeping with the enemy’s pleaseee
AHH SO CUTE YES OFC 🙂↕️
based on this fic
they keep hooking up after their first night together and rafe is in shock over how good the sex is and how much he enjoys her company. he’s a ‘hit it and quit it’ type of guy but he cannot get enough of her to the point where he can hardly wait for games against her college’s team because it’s a promise that he’ll see her.
one night a few weeks after they start being friends with benefits, his team suffers a loss by a few points against their worst rivals. he’s seething. the result of a game has a crazy effect on him. it always does.
he finds her courtside and while everyone around her is celebrating, she goes still once she notices him approaching her.
“close game,” she says, tilting her head while she looks up at him. at this point, she knows well enough how hard losses hit him.
eyes are on them. she can feel people judging how close she’s gotten to her side of the rivalry’s most hated athlete, but she doesn’t care.
rafe can tell she’s trying to make him feel better. underneath their usual harsh sarcasm and jokey insults, they’re two people who have a friendship built on sincere compatibility.
“your refs should be fired,” he mutters, pissed at how many calls against his opponents were missed. he’s sweaty and breathless from the game, his chest rising and falling at full tilt.
“oh, i’ll personally see to it,” she jokes. he scoffs, hating that he can’t stifle his smile.
“be ready in an hour,” rafe tells her. “i’ll pick you up from your dorm.”
“for what?”
“dinner,” he says assertively.
before he leaves, he pulls her in for a kiss. it’s a bonus that her ex sees. when she told him she wasn’t interested in max anymore, rafe couldn’t believe how relieved he was. he may have lost the game, but he won the girl.
rafe typically lays into his teammates after a bad loss. he’s a harsh captain but the guys respect him for it. but that night, he’s uncharacteristically quiet in the locker room. he’d never admit it to anyone, but knowing he’ll see her after this makes his anger lose its power.
she’s surprised that the restaurant he picked is as elegant as it is. she knows he came from money, but this place is nice. as they settle across from each other in a booth, she’s glad she dressed up.
“i didn’t say this,” she says, looking down at her menu, “but you’re right. the refs missed a lot of travelling on our side.”
“what?” rafe says, amused. “whatever happened to loyalty?”
“i told you i didn’t say anything,” she reiterates.
he taps his knuckles on the tabletop lightly, studying her.
“you don’t have to bullshit me,” he tells her.
“rafe,” she says seriously. “when do we ever bullshit each other?”
he meets her gaze, taking in how pretty she looks tonight. they’re just friends but on the outside, this looks like a date. he doesn’t mind.
“and you need to chill with the pushing,” she tells him. “you almost got fouled out.”
“did i?” he says with a laugh. he knows he did. he finds quite a lot of sick satisfaction in shoving his opponents.
“shut up,” she chuckles. “you won’t be laughing when you get benched.”
“don’t want that,” rafe mumbles. “who will you stare at then?”
“you stare at me,” she replies. “you said it yourself the first night we hooked up.”
“why are you thinking about hooking up right now?” he says, looking around the room. “this is a classy place.”
“you’re annoying as hell,” she laughs. “and for that, i’m ordering the most expensive thing. unless you’re not paying?”
“i’m paying,” he confirms. he doesn’t even want to joke about that. “and i’m coming over after.”
“depends on how this date goes,” she quips, looking back down at the menu.
rafe loves how laidback she is. how she can call it a date, but not expect him to be her boyfriend. it’s so easy with her. no expectations. just fun.
he never felt this good this fast after a loss. he doesn’t ever feel this relaxed with anyone. she may just be his best friend at this point.
she looks up, noticing his eyes on her.
“staring again?” she teases.
just a few seconds ago, she asked when they bullshit each other. they never do. he’d like to stick to that.
“yeah. you look good,” he tells her.
her skin flushes hot. she eyes him, the way the dim lighting washes over the planes of his face, the way he put an effort in tonight, dressing in a button-down instead of the usual t-shirt and sweats he wears whenever they meet for a booty call.
“at the risk of stroking your ego, so do you,” she replies.
“what else d’you wanna stroke?”
“jesus christ,” she laughs, nudging his knee under the table. he smirks.
whatever tense feelings were left over from tonight’s loss are gone now. he’s good. happy, even.
#swteblurb#ask#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and y/n
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Number One (2)
Hopkins!Paige x Fem!reader
Warnings: Fluff, a bit cheesy, a girl and basketball player (zombies ref)
Trope: Slow burn
Synopsis: Paige’s birthday so happens to be in your favorite time of the year, super..
“hey, stop it, i thought we worked on that?”
previous | Next
FALL,
It was your favorite season, you enjoyed the songs the trees sang at night, you loved the breeze they bring when they danced, and the colors of the trees brought a warm coziness into your heart.
You chose to walk to school today, to take your mind off of things but, your mind kept getting clouded with images of a faux blonde.
You felt a heavy arm swing around your shoulder, almost making you drop your coffee. you removed the girl’s arm.
“why are you here,” you huffed as you glanced up at the girl, your tone coming off more whiny as you intended to.
“walking to school, duh.”She rolled her eyes, fiddling with one of the gajillion trinkets on your key chain on your tote bag.
you smacked her hand away,“don’t you have a car?”
“yeah but, i gotta keep in shape, you know for the season,” She smirks, flexing her bicep. “-And i know you’ve been walking to school lately, i wanted to see you.”
You couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when she said she wanted to you but, you did not want to boost the girls ego any more. “um, we see each other, every day. you should put a sweater on, you don’t wanna catch a cold.”
“why, you’ll miss me?” she wiggled her eyebrows and you physically cringed.
“no, we sit next to each other, i can’t afford to get sick on bed rest because of you.” taking a sip of your pumpkin spice latte, dare you say ‘tis the season’, she rolled her eyes with a small huff.
“you don’t have to be a know it all, all the time, miss granger.” Her focus stayed straight ahead, her eyes wandering to your face every now and then. you almost laughed at the reference, you nudged her a bit.
“i didn’t take you for a harry potter type of girl,” now you began looking straight ahead, as you guys neared school.
“Why not? They had third grade me geeking,” you could tell she had a smile on face by her tone of voice.
“okay smartypants,” you giggled, walking through the gate, she shoved you slightly.
“i know you’re not talking, i’ll see you later, a’ight?” she held her hand out and you looked at her like she was crazy. “okay, be difficult.” she said as she hugged you and then she walked away.
“bye..” you muttered out, your heart was pounding, and you began walking to your first period.
Time flew by quickly but, you weren’t having fun. You dreaded walking into third period, the hug felt different, it didn’t feel like those fake hugs at family gatherings. Well, you’ve never hugged Paige before, so she could hug everyone like that.
You walked into your calculus class, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall— this time, not because of Paige. Ms.Carson acts as if she’s cold blooded vampire, keeping it so cold in her classroom.
You walked to your seat, sitting your bag down, good, paige wasn’t there yet. actually, you almost always beat her to class, so it’s both a shocker, it just feels good this time because you did not want to see her.
It felt like if you see her, you would word vomit all your feelings, which is weird because you don’t know how you feel.
You didn’t like her, you were just a bit shocked she hugged you? No, now you were being delirious, it’s not like it was a bad thing that you liked her—wrong. it was horrible, so you thought, it was unhealthy to have a crush on someone you knew you would never have, right?
It was like having an addiction to something you couldn’t afford, who their right mind is addicted to weed but, can’t afford a gram, idiots and beggars, you want to be neither.
You were pulled out of you thoughts, when a certain someone handed you a word search worksheet as she sat down.
“what do i need this for?” You examine the page, already finding a few words. you smile as you read one, gay, that had to have been on purpose. of course it wasn’t in the word bank though, that would be absolutely ridiculous.
“it’s a free day, remember? there were coloring sheets but, you seem like you do word search in your free time.” She chuckled at her own joke or whatever you call it. it seemed like she was trying to sneak diss.
“super funny,” you responded sarcastically, the safest option. you pulled out your pencil case of of your tote bag, setting it on the desk. highschool is so hard they said, your teachers aren’t as lenient they say, lies. But hey, you had no problem with word search.
you take a random highlighter out of your pencil case, doing the word search no problem. until you see paige peering over your shoulder, you turn your paper so she couldn’t see. “what are you doing?”
“it’s not a competition, i just wanna see what you have.” she bites back a smile, still trying to get a peek.
“if it’s not a competition then why are you trying to see my answers?” you crossed your arms and she smacked her lips.
“okay, you caught me, listen, i need to ask you something,” she set her pencil down, now you were nervous. you subconsciously began biting your nails. she gently pulled your hand away from your mouth. “hey, stop it, i thought we worked on that?” you huffed when she said that, you guys did work on it, mainly because you keep your bails painted and it’s unhealthy to eat nail polish. “Look, my birthday (Oct, 20th) is coming up, so i’m throwing a halloween costume party, you should come.”
is she messing with you? no seriously, it’s not like you were a nerd on disney channel who never gets invited to things, it’s just shocking coming from her, now you had to get her a gift.
“yeah, sure.”
“No that definitely means, ‘bring me a gift’” you whine to your mom, as you guys walked through victoria's secret, inside the mall. (best store in the mall)
“so what does she like?”
“i don’t knoww,” you whined some more, “now i have time to get a stupid halloween costume,”
“just wear something, cute, ooh!— a cute firefighter, or a jennifer’s body costume, that could be really cute, i bet you would impress miss basketball star.” she wiggles her brows, putting countless things in her bag.
“i’m not trying to impress her,” you huffed for what felt like the one millionth time today. she gave you a look, “okay, maybe a little but, i am not going to her party dressed as a slut, i am not in a movie.”
did you like it ? IM SORRY ITS SHORT !
i need halloween costume ideas now ! and what gift to give paige ?
#millie talks❀*̥˚#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#paige bueckers#uconn women’s basketball#wlw#paige bueckers x reader#drabble#fluff#hopkins!paige#women’s basketball#wnba basketball#high school#lovers#slow burn
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Not So Sneaky (Lia Walti x Reader)
“Vic please just pass the fucking ball” You whine at your best friend, Victoria Pelova. She chuckles in response and passes it back with a bit of flair.
“Show off, keep it for the matches, yeah?” You smirk as she elbows you during some 1v1 practice.
“Foul! Ref!” You say rolling around on the floor pretending to be injured, quickly followed by Victoria attacking your ribs, causing you to burst out laughing.
“Alright love birds, we’ve got an important match to prepare for!” Katie helps you up from the ground after your assault from your best friend. Jonas gets you all to rotate partners and eventually you’re paired up with Lia Wälti, who you’ve been quietly crushing on since you signed for the team at the same time as Victoria during the January transfer window, both coming from Ajax.
“Promise I won’t nutmeg you this time” You joke with Lia as you do your regular training activities. “You better not, I saw what you pulled on Katie earlier” Lia jokes in response, referencing how you nutmegged the co-captain as she was attempting to tackle you earlier on, causing her to be at the end of a lot of jokes so far today.
“Ah, who am I kidding, I can’t resist it, can I?” You wink, going to nutmeg her during your 1v1, with her expertly managing to stop it and successfully nutmegging you in the process. You fake collapsing in shock at how you’d finally been nutmegged by a teammate.
“You…you traitor!” You reach your arm out to Lia as you crawl towards her, as if you are so injured from the ‘embarrassment’ from being nutmegged.
“God you’re so dramatic” She rolls her eyes as she helps you up, instantly you feel the warmth in your body at the contact between the both of you being much closer than you have been before, your chests basically touching. You both stop and are lost looking into each other's eyes for a few moments, until Vic’s cough to your side breaks you out of your trance.
“Was I interrupting something?” Vic raises an eyebrow in your direction suspiciously.
“Nope, I was just helping Y/N up after I finally nutme-” “WOAH! What Lia was saying is that I fell over and she helped me up” You cut in, Lia looks at you even more suspicious than Vic was.
“Okay….weirdo. Y/N are we still going out tonight?” Vic asks you.
“Of course we are, you know I wouldn’t miss out on our Wednesday night date night!” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.
“I’m gonna go get changed, I’ll catch you guys later” Lia rushes off.
“What’s her problem?” Katie walks over and asks, seeing Lia jogging off the pitch.
“No idea, we were just talking about mine and Vics wednesday night date night tonight?” You shrug.
“Y/N you idiot, you’ve been flirting with her and then making you and Vic sound like you’re together?” Katie smacks the back of your head.
“Wait what? I don’t get it?” You look at her confused.
“Sorry mate, you need to work this out for yourself, not me” Katie jogs off going after Lia.
“It's okay, we're fine, we're fine.” You sigh.
“Y/N/N maybe it's time you start dropping more hints for her. We can ditch our date night and you can always ask her out instead?” Vic suggests, you tilt your head in confusion.
“But what about our date nights?” You ask.
“Y/N get a grip, we can still hang out but you need to make a move” Vic says sternly. You nod and jog to the changing rooms a few minutes later to find Katie walking out giving you a supportive thumbs up. You walk in to see Lia half dressed and just pulling her shirt over her head, you manage to catch a glance at her toned stomach before panicking and turning away.
“Oh god sorry I didn't mean to walk in on you like this” You panic, visibly flush and flustered. Lia chuckles in response and sits down on the bench, she motions for you to sit in front of her.
“Okay right, I'm nervous as hell but I just have to get it all out. Lia I, I like you, like a lot. I don't know how it started but I've just been kinda admiring you from afar, no wait that sounded creepy. Okay maybe I did but I just, I'm not good with feelings but… I know I really do have feelings for you” You mumble really quickly, nerves getting the better of you.
“But… What about Pelova? You seem to be very close” Lia asks with a somewhat sad expression on her face.
“Oh we aren't together, she's not my type anyway” You laugh.
“Then.. What is your type?” Lia asks suggestively.
You gulp, feeling a sudden rush of confidence flowing through you.
“I'd say my type is brown hair… Likes football, plays for Arsenal, is Swiss, wears number 13–” You get stopped by the midfielders lips crashing into yours. It feels as if your body could go completely limp with how breathtaking her kiss feels, finally after all this time pining. After a few minutes you eventually break away.
“Wow that was…” You say, again with the same flustered face as before.
“Are you free tonight?” She asks.
“Yep! Vic made me cancel our date night so I'd finally ask you out” You chuckle earning a glare and a shove in return.
____
The next morning you wake up with a weight on your chest, Lia’s head resting on it with her hair all over her face. You gently brush her hair out of her face which slowly wakes her up.
“Good morning” You smirk.
“Good morning, I’m sorry if that was a bit much last night” Lia blushes trying to hide her face in her bed covers.
“Lia we literally had a make out session and pizza, it’s not like we had sex on the first date or anything…that’s the third date” You wink, obviously joking.
“God you’re so annoying” She rolls her eyes as she starts getting out of bed, you can’t help but admire her as she stretches, again you find your eyes roaming her body subconsciously until she breaks your focus by moving closer to you.
“You sure you want to wait until the third date?” She says positioning herself on your lap, in her shorts and sports bra.
“Uh…I…Um” You feel your face heating up as the midfielder smirks at you.
“I’m kidding…unless?” She winks, pressing her lips to yours and gently pinning you to the bed.
____
It's been around six months since you and Lia finally made your relationship official, and yet it was still only you two and your families that knew about the relationship. You both decided to keep it quiet for a while as you didn't want people to know, so that you had time to figure stuff out and make sure you didn't let it have any effect on your games, as well as just having some privacy.
Luckily all it had done was make you play better and be in a better mood, no one was suspicious until recently, you had a feeling people were noticing the longing looks you gave each other and the way you'd blush more at team events. You knew you needed to tell someone so today was going to be that day. You were driving Vic to training and she spotted something that you clearly didn't hide as well as you thought.
“Uh… Y/N..? What is that on your neck?” She says poking your very visible hickey on your neck. You instantly blush, having vivid memories of the previous night, hearing the Swiss girl uttering your name all night.
“What are you talking about?” You panic, covering where she is pointing with your hand.
“The hickey Y/N I’m not stupid” She rolls her eyes “No wonder you’ve been less stressed, Y/N/N has been getting laaaaaid” Vic sings.
“Shut up” You groan.
“You gonna tell me who did it, so I can cover this up for you?” She tilts her head at you, motioning with the emergency makeup bag you keep in your car for you and your friends.
“I need you to promise you won't tell anyone” She nods as you pull into the car park, your phone pinging with a message from Lia, which unfortunately is connected to your car.
“One new message from Lia: I got the stuff for dinner tonight! I love you, see you at training x”
“Nevermind you didn’t need to say anything” Vic smirks, giving you a knowing look.
“Uhhhh, me and Lia have just been hanging out?” You say a bit higher pitch than usual.
“You know better than to lie to me Y/N. Why wont you tell anyone?” She sighs at you. You turn the car engine off and sigh, Vic has the makeup brushes at the ready and starts covering your hickey for you.
“Look mate, we were worried it’d change the team dynamic, especially if there’s some weird feelings with her and Caitlin still playing for the same team, and if we get distracted. Basically we’ve had a lot of time privately and it’s been so nice” You ramble.
“Well I don’t think it would or even has changed anything, Caitlin still cares about Lia, but as a friend and I highly doubt there would be any hard feelings y’know? You need to at least tell Jonas or a coach to be safe” She suggests.
“You’re right…” You both get out of your car once she is done applying makeup to your neck, and you head towards the main building, you search around for Jonas and eventually stumble upon him, stuck in conversation with your girlfriend.
“...but what I’m trying to say Jonas is, me and Y/N won’t let it affect how we play or work, if anything I think we’ve improved recently” Lia says.
“Ah Y/N! Great timing, I’m sure you’ve just overheard but Lia told me about your relationship, obviously it’s none of my business but I can tell the difference in how you two have been playing and just in general. Only positive things!” Jonas pats you on the shoulder “I have no issues with it of course, I’m happy for you both for finding each other”.
“Thanks Jonas, means a lot, like really” You give him a hug, the man being somewhat of a mentor to you over the previous year.
“Tell the team when you feel you’re ready. Remember we are a family, we support each other” He says nodding over to the groups of girls in the gym, all getting on with their own thing.
“Yeah maybe we should do it sooner rather than later, no more hiding this” You look at Lia who nods in agreement. You reach out for her hand as you both walk hand in hand into the gym to meet the others, somehow no one saw your intertwined hands. Lia decides to go on a treadmill rather than lift weights with you, so she gives you a kiss on the cheek before walking off. Jen seems to be the only one who spots it and within minutes walks over to you.
“Excuse me, what was that earlier?” Jen looks at you wide eyed.
“What?” You smirk.
“How long has this been going on for then?” She smiles, seeming proud.
“About 6 months, we’ve been pretty private with it and we wanted to make sure we were settled before saying anything” You say.
“Oi did I see Wally kiss you on the cheek? Where’s mine?” Beth comes over and slings her arm over your shoulder.
“Sorry Beth, pretty sure that’s only for her girlfriend” Jen teases.
“Since when?” Beth shouts.
“Why are we yelling over here?” Viv walks over, visibly confused and attempting to hush Beth. Lia takes the opportunity to hop off the treadmill and save you from the commotion. As she gets closer you start smiling over at her.
“Hey beautiful, you looked like you needed rescuing” She smiles reaching for your hand.
“Ah I had it under control, see?” You nod over to the girls you were talking with, who are all now gobsmacked at what they’ve seen and heard.
____
Later on that day you both get ready at Lia’s house, she’s wearing jeans and a crop top with a plaid shirt over the top but not buttoned up. You on the other hand went with a casual hoodie and jeans.
“Darling, do we really have to go out with the girls tonight?” You groan seeing your girlfriend getting ready. “We could just stay at home…” you continue, trailing your finger from her chest to her abs.
“Later, if you’re good” she kisses you hungrily and leaves the bedroom with a wink in your direction, as you audibly groan and flop back onto the bed.
“Come on! Our uber has arrived!” Lia yells from the other room.
“You mean Viv?” You chuckle getting your shoes on.
“Of course, who else?” She laughs.
You get into Viv and Beth’s car. You and Beth spend the journey singing in the back of the car whilst Viv and Lia chat at the front. After a short while you eventually park up and all walk to the venue the team had hired for the night.
You and Lia are still somewhat wary of being affectionate in public, so walk side by side but not hand in hand.
Once you arrive at the club, you get yourself and the others a drink from the bar and return to find everyone crowding around some tables and having their own conversations, you take Beth and Viv their drinks first followed by Lia’s.
“Here you go, gorgeous” You pass her the drink and subtly kiss her cheek, she smiles at you, as you float around, being the social butterfly that you are.
____
A bit later on, after more drinks have been, well drunk, the group are getting rowdier and more daring, literally.
“Katie I dare you to do a backflip off that table” Kyra points over at the table for the Irishwoman to backflip from.
“Nope! Absolutely none of that here” Kim said, patting Kyra on the back with a chorus of boos coming from some of you. Your girlfriend approaches you in the area everyone seems to be dancing in.
“I miss you” She says pouting.
“Babe we’re literally at the same party with our friends, I was standing with you like 15 minutes ago” you say quietly.
“Yeah but I always want to be with you” She frowns.
“Alright if we are still daring people to do shit, I dare Y/N to kiss Vic!” Kyra slurs.
“I don't think that's a good idea, I've got a cold after all” Vic lies, everyone falling for it.
“Fuck who else will she kiss then? Gotta get Y/N out there, she’s been single for way too long” Katie jokes as she makes eye contact with Lia “Wally how about you?” She asks with her usual cocky smirk on her face.
“Sure. It's just a quick peck after all, right?” She smiles.
“OI! Kissing is too easy, I want a dramatic kiss! Make me believe you're in a relationship or something, I don't know!” Jen pipes up sarcastically, smirking at you after finding out about you both earlier in the day. You and Lia look at eachother and shrug as if to say ‘fuck it’.
She leans forward and pulls you in by the hoodie covering your chest. You gulp in response, knowing that you find her even more attractive when she’s being bossy. She passionately kisses you and brings her hands up to the back of your neck whilst you rest yours on her lower back slowly drifting lower.
“Oi you two, save it for the bedroom yeah?” Katie yells to the group, you lift one hand from Lia’s back to raise a middle finger up at Katie hearing a chorus of cheers when you do so. Eventually you break apart, blushing whilst Lia is grinning at your friends who witnessed it.
“Christ it's like you guys are dating or something” Leah says from the side, giving you a wink and head tilt to follow her.
“Right, I'm not as dumb as these idiots, how long?” Leah asks you.
“Around 6 months” You confess seeing a giant grin start to emerge on Leah's face. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just..” She interrupts you.
“Y/N I've had an idea that there was something between you for a little while, and I know it's nice to have privacy and stuff, so I understand” She hugs you, you continue chatting to the side about how you should tell Kim as soon as possible, being the team mum after all. You hear singing get louder as karaoke starts, an idea springing to mind.
“Wait right here I've got a great idea” You say, patting Leah's shoulders and stumbling off. You yell out to Kim, who's watching the karaoke unfold.
“Kim, I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner but me and Wally are seeing each other” You blurt out when you get to her.
“I thought so! You guys seem happy, so I'm happy, ah I feel like a proud parent!” She hugs you tightly. “Have you told many people yet?”.
“No… But I have an idea on how!” You pat Kim’s shoulders as you walk over to the woman running the karaoke for the team and put in your request, but not for you to sing. When it's your song you walk up to take the microphone from Steph who was just belting Untouched by the Veronica's and hand it to Leah, who nods over at your girlfriend standing alone, watching you. You hear the opening notes to Lover by Taylor Swift as you take Lia's hands into yours on the makeshift dance floor.
“This one goes out to the lovers over there” she points at you and Lia before she starts singing.
“I love you” You mumble into her ear as you slow dance together, she responds with a loving kiss which has you both gasping for air afterwards. As you break away from your kiss you notice most of the room's eyes are focused on the two of you, knowing looks and shocked ones too, alongside cheering, whistling and the odd “Go on Y/N!”. You avert your eyes from the girls surrounding you in a circle and focus on the beauty in your arms, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at you.
After you finish dancing you're bombarded with questions from teammates, some a little inappropriate and some very sweet.
“How long has this been going on?” Steph asks.
“Around 6 months, we kept it quiet in an attempt to not mess with the team dynamic” You say. The questions die out and you eventually get to sit back down in a booth with your girlfriend and some of your teammates.
“Okay Lia I hate to be the one to ask it… But Y/N is so clumsy how on earth are you able to…have y’know… Seriously” Vic slurs, your face flushing red.
“Luckily her clumsiness doesn't affect her… Performance” Lia winks at you. Some of the girls are trying to get more details, as you decide to dismiss yourself to get yourself another drink.
“Y’alright?” Katie asks you at the bar.
“They're talking about my sex life so I'm here now” You chuckle, tapping your card to pay for your beer.
“Oh what! Let's go then!” Katie drags you back over to the girls.
“-but yeah she's so attentive and honestly, the best I've had” Lia finishes her sentence as you slide back in, groaning as they're still talking about sex.
“Y/N we've heard it all, no need to be shy. Your turn now anyway” Jen winks jokingly, with Alessia cracking up as you slam your head down onto the table. As you lift your head back up you catch Lia yawning and give her the look of ‘home soon?’.
You walk off again to chat with some of the girls to avoid discussing your sex life, and feel your phone vibrate.
From Lia -
You have been good today… So how about we go home and I show you something I got for you?
“Someones getting laid tonight” Leah smirks at your red face.
“What? No it’s just warm in here” You chuckle.
“Bullshit, I can see Lia giving you ‘the eyes’ from over there” Nodding in the direction of your lover, who was indeed giving you the eyes, causing you to look back down at your phone which Leah is also looking at. “Mate, are you stupid? Go home!” She pushes you towards where Lia is sitting.
“Lee this isn’t necessary” You groan approaching your girlfriend.
“Wally take your girlfriend home, she’s being all awkward” Leah chuckles “Have a good night ladies” she winks as she slides away from you both.
“Right I need to take this one home as she’s a bit too drunk, you guys need a lift?” Viv comes over right on time, you both nod and help her lug Beth back to the car. The short drive eventually ends outside Lia’s house, you say your thanks and goodbyes to the couple as you head into Lia’s house. You shrug off your coat and take off your shoes, but you notice your girlfriend has run upstairs to her bedroom.
“Oh it’s so on Wally” you mumble to yourself as you jog up the stairs, the girl waiting in her room for you.
“Eager are we?” You smirk going over to her.
“Well I did tell you you’d be rewarded so” She smirks, pushing you firmly down onto your bed. You’re usually the one ‘in charge’ but it seems Lia had a different idea tonight as she tells you to stay still. She slowly removes her jacket, putting on quite the show for you. You try to reach out to help her with her clothes but she slaps your hands away.
“Ah ah, no touching” She tuts.
“Right, if you don’t do something soon I’m going to eat you alive” You growl, causing a quiet moan to slip from Lia.
“Well if you weren't already saying that, then you'll definitely say it now” Lia smirks, lifting her shirt up over her head and slowly dragging her trousers down and revealing a new lacy black lingerie set that could easily kill you with how stunning she looks.
“Oh my god” You mutter.
“Now… How about we go back to how you were going to eat me alive?” Lia says suggestively, pushing you down on her bed.
“It’d be my pleasure baby” You smirk.
____
WE ARE SO BACK! Will be a return to posting a bit more frequently!
#woso x reader#lia walti x reader#lia wälti x reader#lia walti#lia wälti#lia walti imagine#woso one shot#woso imagine
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♡₊˚ 🦢🩰・₊ ♪ ₊˚⊹♡
thinking bout older brothers best friend jj, a friend he has outside of the usual pogues who he’s known since they were younger — but never got to be around his best friends pretty little sister until recently.
“you know you don’t have to hang out with us. i’m not a babysitter.” your brother lightheartedly chucks an empty beer can your way making you pout from your curled position on the futon, the two boys sprawled on the couch taking up space with their long legs.
“damn, be nice to your sister dude. she’s not hurtin’ anyone.” jj shoves his shoulder lazily, directing his attention towards you with a lopsided smile. “you’re stayin’. today you’re gonna learn about sports whether you like it or not, ‘kay?” he jokes and you nod eagerly, earrings jangling. you’d do anything jj said.
your brother finally leaves the room after an hour or so of watching the game— moreso you asking questions and your brother telling you to shut up whilst jj cracked jokes and mansplained things in a way that made your toes curl pleasurably in your socks. you take the time to strike, standing up in your mini skirt that was already testing the blonde and walking over to the tv.
“jj, do you mind if i turn the volume up? can’t hear what the ref’s saying.” you pout, fiddling with the hem of your skirt to purposely draw his eyes there. he blinks away his urges after his eyes skim down twice, lips parting like he’d forgotten how to speak.
“uh, w— yeah, knock yourself out.”
his tongue finds home between his lips as soon as you turn around, tilting his head with the movement of your ass as you bend over to the side of the tv, manually turning the volume down with the button on the side of the screen. you take your time, really bending down to give him a view of the white dainty lace beneath your skirt.
you turn your head around, smiling all sweet and sultry so he knows you did it on purpose— staying in that bent over pose just for his viewing pleasure.
“well this feels like a set up.” he deadpans, pulling a cushion subtly over his lap.
“hm?” you hum as you stand up straight. he hears your brothers footsteps approaching the room, and licks his lips with a wordless shake of the head.
“you’re trouble, ‘know that right?” he speaks right before the door opens again, forcing the two of you to leave it at that.
♡₊˚ 🦢🩰・₊ ♪ ₊˚⊹♡
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tidal.
but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”
pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.
Vernon isn’t blind.
He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.
So, yes, Vernon can see you.
He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.
For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.
He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.
You still don’t seem to notice.
His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.
You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.
None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.
Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.
You don’t reciprocate.
He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.
Which, for the record, he does not.
This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”
Ope.
It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”
A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.
“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”
He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”
Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.
“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”
For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.
“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”
Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”
Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”
And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.
But you don’t say anything.
Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.
Do you or do you not want this right now?
You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”
He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.
“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.
Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.
For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.
You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.
But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”
Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.
To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.
“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.
Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.
He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”
“Oh?”
You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.
Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.
“It might be messy…”
The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.
Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”
And he means it.
Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.
You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.
“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”
“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.
You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.
But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”
“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”
Oh, shit. Government name?
“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”
Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”
“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.
You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”
“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”
You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.
Maybe.
Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?
As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.
You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.
It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.
Perhaps.
After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.
“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.
Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.
You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.
He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.
That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.
While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.
As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.
When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.
“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.
The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.
“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”
I chose this one?
You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.
Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.
Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”
It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.
“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”
You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.
Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”
“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”
“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”
His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.
Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”
I choose this one.
Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.
You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”
“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.
You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.
“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”
He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.
You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.
“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”
Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.
“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”
He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.
Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”
“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.
He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.
At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”
“We can workshop it.”
“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”
It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.
You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.
“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”
You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”
He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.
“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”
You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.
That’s when it hits you:
Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.
God, you want him.
One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.
“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”
Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.
He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”
“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”
The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.
“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”
“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”
The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.
With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.
“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”
He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”
Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”
“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”
It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.
You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”
Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.
Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.
“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”
That hits like a truck.
He was waiting on you.
You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.
Christ.
His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.
Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”
Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.
“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.
You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.
You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”
Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.
The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.
“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”
His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.
You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.
“Fuck!”
Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.
His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”
“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.
Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”
The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.
Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”
You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.
“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”
He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”
You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.
“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”
#svt#vernon#vernon chwe#hansol vernon chwe#vernon smut#svt smut#vernon fic#svt fic#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#seventeen#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#kvanity#jade writes#re: tidal.
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Through Thick and Thin 🟨
Katie Mccabe x Reader
warning : fluffy 💭💗; (reverse) comfort 🫂💕
summary :
Katie struggles with guilt after being suspended for defending her teammate.
The news hit you like a punch to the gut. Katie was suspended, and you could hardly believe it when the notification popped up on your phone. It wasn't like her to get into trouble — well, not this kind of trouble anyway. She was fiery, passionate, and never backed down from a challenge, but that was part of what you loved about her. Still, you knew she had crossed a line this time, and now she was paying for it.
You drove over to her apartment after training, knowing she'd be there, stewing over what had happened. Sure enough, when you stepped inside, Katie was on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. Her lips were set in a firm line, jaw clenched. She barely acknowledged your presence as you sat down beside her.
"Katie," you said softly, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She finally turned to look at you, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling in her eyes — anger, frustration, and maybe even a bit of guilt. "There's nothing to talk about, is there? I messed up," she snapped, her voice harsher than usual. But you didn't flinch. You knew she wasn't angry at you.
"You didn’t mess up," you said quietly. "You were defending your team."
Katie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, and now I’m suspended for it. Some captain I am, huh?" She ran a hand through her hair, clearly agitated. "I just... I couldn’t let them get away with it. They were taking cheap shots, and the ref wasn’t doing anything about it."
You knew the incident she was talking about — it had been all over social media. Katie had gotten into a scuffle with an opponent after a rough tackle, and though she wasn’t the instigator, she had retaliated. A little too aggressively, perhaps. But knowing her, she was just standing up for her teammates, like always. That was Katie’s way. She was fiercely protective, even if it meant putting herself in harm’s way.
"You did what you thought was right," you said, inching closer to her. "I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if someone was trying to hurt my team." You gently took her hand in yours, squeezing it. "But that doesn’t mean you have to carry all this on your shoulders alone."
Katie’s eyes softened a little at that, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I just hate this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I let everyone down."
"You didn’t," you insisted. "No one thinks that. If anything, they know you’ve got their back, no matter what. And right now, I’m here to remind you that I’ve got yours."
She was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then she let her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," she murmured.
You smiled, relieved to see her slowly letting down her guard. "Luckily, you won’t have to find out," you teased, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her temple. "Now, how about I make us some dinner, and we watch something that doesn’t involve football? Just for tonight."
Katie opened her eyes and turned to you, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, alright," she said, a little more relaxed than before. "I could use a break from thinking about it."
"Good," you said, standing up and pulling her with you. "Because I’m not letting you sit here and wallow all night. We’re in this together, remember?"
As you made your way to the kitchen, Katie followed, finally looking a bit more like herself. "Thank you," she said quietly, and you knew she wasn’t just talking about dinner.
"Always," you replied, glancing back at her with a grin. "Now, come help me. I’m not letting you get off that easy."
She chuckled, and it felt like a small victory. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you knew that together, you’d get through this. After all, that’s what love was about — standing by each other, even when the world seemed to be falling apart.
#woso x reader#ireland women#arsenal x reader#arsenal wfc#arsenal women#katie mccabe x reader#katie mccabe
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