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i have to bother someone about this cause what is his problem; new wy courreges footage. cum gutters dot com -đŤ§
cum gutters dot com is SENDING MEEEEEE. this ones for u nonnie (and also for me). also i was listening to sleep token while writing this so do with that info what you will
cw ŕ¨ŕ§ making out (kind of), insinuated sexting, wooyo being a little shit as always, ab riding<3, dirty talk (like filth nasty almost), teasing, finger sucking, breeding kink but like BARELY, mention of penetrative sex but it doesn't actually happen
18+ mdni!!
Your brain clocks back in just enough to fully grasp Wooyoung's words.
His hands stall, but don't stop, their caressing of your body, curious eyes watching your face as you comprehend. You swallow and he grins, hands running up your back to push you closer to him. You shift and grind over his lap and both of you sigh at the friction.
Knowing full well what he said, you ask, "what?"
Wooyoung hums, nosing at the junction of your shoulder and your neck before licking a small stripe along your artery. "Talkin' so much about how hot I was," he starts, voice fake-sweet in your favorite way. "I remember your texts, too, baby. Ride my abs."
Your body involuntarily shivers and he laughs, pleased with how easy it is for him to get under your skin. He's right, unfortunately -- every night he was away for Paris fashion week was filled with miserable, horny text messages from you about how sexy he looked, how pretty his skin was, how mad you were that he didn't give you any warning about his outfits. And since he came over it's all you've been able to think about, all you've been able to say... in no time at all you're adjusting your position on the couch and pushing him to lay down on his back.
"You're so annoying," you say, pushing your panties down and refusing to look at the wet spot on the center lest Wooyoung decides to tease you about that, too. Your hands pull his shirt up just enough so that you have room to move and you sigh through your next works. "Total freak."
He hums, patient, letting you feel him up. "It's my job as your boyfriend," he answers cheekily, leaning forward to grab at your ass and pull you up. "Can practically smell how much you want it, baby, come on."
Your face and ears burn but you let him guide you forward until you're sitting on his torso, pussy nudged perfectly between the ridges of his abs. If you wanted to be romantic about it you could, something about how every part of you fits together with him, but you move your hips forward and the pressure and pattern is so good you think your brain starts melting.
"That's it," Wooyoung encourages once you pick up a rhythm, jaw dropped to his chest as he watches you move. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. So wet... pretty pussy loves this, huh? Feels good?"
You moan and he mirrors it, but he grabs your face to meet your eyes. "I asked a question, baby. Feelin' good?"
You're nodding before you even realize it, frantic, already panting. Wooyoung grins, tenses his abs, watches your pace falter because it's just too good. "Didn't know you were so easy," he says, hand resting on your hip. You feel crazy, the pleasure blurring the edges of your sight while Wooyoung's words go straight to your core. "Missed me that bad? You're fucking drooling... can't wait to fuck you, haven't been in this pussy for so long, gonna fill you up just right --"
You cut him off by shoving two fingers in his mouth, hooking them over his tongue so he stops talking. He whines and in turn you grind a little faster. "S...Shut up," you mumble out. Your apartment is filled with pants and whimpers and the sounds of you dripping all over his abs, and even now you feel insatiable. The promise of Wooyoung fucking you presses deliciously against your ass when you move back far enough.
"Gonna come first," you breathe out, meeting Wooyoung's eyes. They're glassy and dark, and you feel him bite down on your fingers hard enough to ache. "G-Gonna come, then you can fill me up."
#almost added choking in here (wy receiving) i had to control myself#can you tell my favorite trope is wooyo having a Dirty mouth and then shutting him up because hes a brat. Is it obvious#đŚ answers#𫧠anon#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez wooyoung drabble#ateez wooyoung imagine#ateez wooyoung x reader#ateez wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung drabble#jung wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung imagine#jung wooyoung x reader#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung drabble#wooyoung imagine#wooyoung smut
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a wise friend of mine today said âif anyone can write sex pollen BOY do i have a pitch for youâ about that landoscar vid and uh here we are. 2k of landoscar sex pollen! thanks for hitting me with the apollo dodgeball jae<3
â
It starts as something innocent. A quick and breathy shudder running down his back, touching his shoulders and gliding along the ridges of his spine.
Lando tries not to pay much attention to it because seriously, it could just be nerves, the pressure and excitement of a new season underfoot.
So Lando pushes the shiver to the back of his mind, focusing more heavily on the graphics in front of him, trying his hardest to pay even the slightest bit of attention during this debrief.
â
The next sign something is wrong doesnât manifest until an hour before FP2.
Lando has firmly planted himself in front of not one, not two, but three, standing fans in his driverâs room, and somehow heâs still sweating.
A short knock on the door has him almost jumping out of his skin before he shakily shouts for whoever it is to come in already.
Oscar pokes his head around the door, holding the edge with a fully splayed hand, Lando notices.
âHey Andrea is asking for youââ Oscar says before abruptly stopping. Lando just blinks and hopes the sweat in his hairline isnât pouring down the side of his face like he feels it is.
Oscarâs eyebrows furrow, âAre you okay, mate?â
Lando registers he has to actually use his words when a few seconds have already passed and all heâs done is hyper focus on Oscarâs knuckles.
âYeah. Yeah, no, Iâm mint. Hah.â Lando somehow chokes out. His brain feels like itâs cooking inside his skull but heâs totally fine.
Oscar clears his throat and motions towards the collection of fans, âDid you uh, need another one? I have one in my room I can bring down?â
Lando scrubs at his forehead and breathes deeply, âNo no I think this is enough, thanks though.â It is not nearly enough fans but Lando seems to be completely incapable of forming a coherent sentence at the moment and he canât handle any more conversation with Oscar or he might just start to melt. So Oscar gives him one quick nod and disappears reluctantly back out the door.
Lando doesnât notice the obvious wet stains all over his clothes, especially the one spot pooling near his crotch.
But he does notice as Oscarâs leaving that his ears are very very red. Huh.
â
Lando hauls himself out of the car after FP3 as if he might just throw up right on the asphalt but somehow he holds himself together enough to almost sprint back to his driverâs room.
His knees feel like gelatin and his head is full of cotton. The sweating seems to have only gotten worse and to Landoâs utter horror, the worst symptom of all seems to be in his pants.
He had chalked it up to a bit of pre-practice excitement when he had to roughly jack himself off in the shower before yanking himself into his fireproofs, but if the angry pulsing and sensitivity were anything to go by during practice, then this might be an even bigger problem than he originally thought.
The second his door is slammed shut he begins wildly tearing at his helmet and fireproofs, a constant stream of off off off running through his murky consciousness.
The fan from earlier is still blasting, swaying gently from side to side in a perfect rhythm of ease and calm, a stark juxtaposition to how Lando feels. Someone must have come by to collect the extra fans he requisitioned from different parts of the hospitality. Lando wishes he had told Oscar yes earlier, then at least heâd have two fans to work with.
The thought of Oscar sends a shockwave through Landoâs body, moving in a swift line straight to his dick. Lando fights the urge to squeeze at the pressure while he fights off the last of his clothing.
Usually Lando is good about keeping the very tiny crush on Oscar that heâs been harboring for at least the last season under wraps, even in his own mind. But for some unknown reason Oscar is the only thing running through his thoughts. A near constant stream of Oscarâs hands, his shoulders, the taper to his waist, the thick of his neck playing on repeat.
He tries to push the images of Oscar out of his mind after he finally wraps a shaky hand around his dick. The pressure only intensifies as he pumps roughly up and down his length, and to his utter dismay, the Oscar visuals are only strengthening in definition.
Landoâs mind is humming and his body begins jerking uncontrollably until he has to throw himself against the nearest wall. He rests his forehead against the cool surface and bucks uncontrollably into his palm.
His body is on fire and it feels like the room is melting around him as he comes for the second time that day against the cream colored wall.
He welcomes the sense of relief that overtakes him and he takes a deep breath for the first time since he hopped out of the car. But to Landoâs horror, he realizes with growing franticness that his dick is already hardening again and the haze that is sitting over his mind is descending once again.
He groans in frustration and feels his knees give out. Lando maneuvers himself back to where the couch is but somehow in his hurry to throw himself backwards he hits the rack with his backup fireproofs and ends up in a pile of clothes on the floor.
Heâll definitely feel that tomorrow but he canât even bring himself to give that thought his full attention at the moment.
The thoughts of Oscar are intensifying and now Lando is imagining Oscarâs hand around his dick instead of his own. The small whimpering noises that come out of him sound foreign to his own ears. He grabs hold of one of the shirts next to his head and swipes at the sweat on his forehead, but then as he takes a shallow breath he smells something that makes him squeeze around himself.
Oscar.
How can he be smelling Oscar on his own shirt? Itâs not like theyâre around each other enough for his scent to rub off so strongly onto Lando.
But that doesnât matter because now Lando can smell Oscar and that combined with the visual in his mind of Oscar breathing down his neck and squeezing his dick is overpowering the confusion in his mind.
And then the door opens.
â
Somethingâs been off with Lando the last few days. Oscar is sure of it.
Itâs small things that Oscar has been noticing here and there, behavior that seems off to him.
Maybe itâs the new season thatâs making Lando seem so jumpy, the pressure of renewed expectations and high hopes for what they know they can achieve this season.
There was the sweat situation. Lando has been sweating buckets since Thursday and on Friday morning Oscar happened to catch him in his driverâs room, which felt more like a freezer, sweating like he was sitting in an oven.
Then there were the little noises that Lando kept making during the presser when he was doing his shitty Andrea impression. Those noises went straight to Oscarâs dick but thankfully he was able to cross his legs quickly enough that no one wouldâve noticed his issue.
Now Lando seems to be avoiding him entirely, hiding in his driverâs room every chance he gets it seems.
Oscarâs worry soars to new heights as he watches Lando practically leap out of his car and bolt back through the garage towards his driverâs room.
Oscar wonders on the best course of action as he wanders his way back towards his own room. He manages to pull his helmet off and swipe some of the sweat off of his forehead as he idly chats to a few of the mechanics as he passes by.
Oscar thinks of asking the team doctor to check on Lando as he turns the doorknob to his own driverâs room.
But all thoughts of possible solutions fly out the window the second he swings his door open.
There, in the messy pile of clothes Oscar had left on the floor, is Lando. And heâs naked. And smelling Oscarâs shirt.
And heâs jacking himself off at an absolutely brutal pace. Then, Oscarâs eyes finally lock onto Landoâs crazed ones, and the world explodes.
â
Everything is white. The world turned white.
Wait, the world isnât white. And something is terribly, terribly wrong. But Lando canât seem to get his brain to move fast enough to figure this part out.
But then he comes back down from outer space and the world finally returns to focus. And in that focus is Oscar, looking absolutely wrecked.
Itâs at this moment that Lando registers his monumental mistake. He never ended up in his driverâs room in the first place. The couch is in the wrong spot and the shirt heâs holding is one heâs only ever seen on Oscar. Heâs in Oscarâs room. Jacking himself off into oblivion.
But as he opens his mouth to speak and figure out a way out of this mess without completely ruining their relationship, something else grips hold of him entirely.
He shudders and feels the sweat start to boil over again and suddenly his dick is rock hard once again. Lando groans and his eyes roll back in his skull while he tries not to grope himself further in front of his teammate.
Before he can get anything else out, Oscar chokes out a quiet, âWow.â
Lando blearily looks back at Oscar and feels his hand move on autopilot back towards his crotch. Then he canât help the pathetic whimper that slips out of him.
Lando works up every bit of control heâs got left and barks out a husky, âOscar, please.â
And then everything is moving in fast forward. Oscar is ripping his fireproofs off and then bending down to scoop Lando up from his nest on the floor. Searing hot hands are hauling him up from the floor and crowding him onto the couch.
But then Oscar isnât touching him anymore and to Landoâs disappointment heâs not even naked, just in his black underclothes.
Oscar lightly tilts Landoâs chin towards him, searching his eyes for something. But Lando canât even register any of this as his hand is still moving at a fevered pace along his dick, seeking that momentary release from earlier.
Then the cotton in his head clears enough for him to hear Oscar say, âWhat do you need?â
And Lando whines and pushes his body closer to Oscarâs on the couch. âTouch me, please for the love of god Oscar, touch me.â
Oscar grunts and grabs at his hair, pushing it further back on his forehead. âOkay, okay, yeah. I can do that.â
And Oscar makes good on his promise, finally peeling off his black undershirt and crowding into Landoâs space on the couch. He reaches a hand down between them and when Lando feels Oscarâs hand wrap firmly around his dick he thinks this might be the best thing thatâs ever happened to him.
Oscar starts pumping slowly up and down, giving the head a little twist on the way. But heâs looking into Landoâs eyes still, looking for the answer to whatâs happening, but Lando canât even try to explain this situation. All he can think is touch me touch me touch me.
And thatâs what ends up pouring from his lips as Oscar groans again. âPlease, please, please, Oscar, donât stop.â Lando moans out hoarsely. Heâs shocked he even still has a voice left.
Oscar starts to pull up and down more quickly, pressing his own dick into Landoâs thigh. âWanted it this bad, huh? Needed to sneak into my room and spread yourself out in my clothes?â Oscar breathes out in a voice Landoâs sure heâs never heard before but decides he needs to hear every day for the rest of his life.
âUh huh. Oscar. Oscar, please, gonnaââ Lando shudders, pressing further into Oscarâs grip.
Oscar breathes across Landoâs neck and nuzzles his nose into the sensitive patch behind Landoâs ear. Then heâs gruffly whispering, âCome for me baby.â
And for the third time that day, Lando feels the world blow apart around him. Thankfully this time Oscar is here to catch him.
#lando norris#oscar piastri#landoscar#landoscar fic#pwp#sex pollen#fic#for jaecantwrite<3#formula one#f1
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Gojo Satoru: The Ultimate Fanboy Chaos Headcanons!

Summary: Gojo Satoru, the worldâs strongest sorcerer, has one weaknessâyou, his favorite pop star. And heâs your most chaotic fanboy.
The Ultimate Fanboy
Gojo is your biggest fan, no competition. No one hypes you up like he does.
He knows all your songs by heartâdonât be surprised if heâs loudly singing your lyrics (off-key) in public.
His phone background? A picture of you. His ringtone? Your latest song. His social media? A shrine dedicated to you.
âOh, you like [Your Name]? Thatâs cute. Do you have a custom merch collection? VIP concert tickets? A framed signed poster? No? Thought so.â
Attending Your Concerts Like a Maniac
Gojo always gets front-row seatsâhe either pulls some strings or just buys out the entire VIP section for himself.
He wears your merch from head to toe and waves a glow stick like a madman.
If you so much as glance in his direction during a performance, he screams like a fangirl and brags about it for weeks.
âDID YOU SEE THAT?! SHE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME! WEâRE BASICALLY SOULMATES.â
Gojo Sliding Into Your DMs
If heâs not already casually flirting in your comment section, heâs spamming your DMs with the worst pickup lines known to mankind.
âHey, are you a setlist? Because youâre the only thing on my mind all night.â
âSooo⌠when are you writing a love song about me? Or do you need a little more inspiration?â
If you leave him on read, heâll dramatically post about his heartbreak like a soap opera star.
If You Actually Meet HimâŚ
If you ever acknowledge his existence in person? Oh, heâs gone. Youâve officially melted the brain of the strongest sorcerer alive.
He tries to act cool, but the moment you flirt back? His brain short-circuits.
âH-Haha, youâre even prettier up close. No, waitâthatâs not what Iâuhââ
Expect him to brag to EVERYONE that he met you. Heâs replaying the interaction in his head 24/7.
If You Start Dating?
He will NEVER shut up about it. Ever.
âYeah, my girlfriendâs a world-famous singer. No big deal. I mean, she wrote a song about me, but, you knowââ (he brings this up in every conversation).
Heâs the most dramatic, overprotective boyfriend. If he sees one negative comment about you online? Heâs ready to fight.
You will never hear the end of his pickup lines. Heâs convinced heâs your muse now.
#anime#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo#jujutsu satoru#jjk satoru#gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#jujustu kaisen#jjk
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Hiii!!!! I cant tell you how much I absolutely love your writings! I was wondering if you could do a part two for managerial duties for Inarizaki!! Maybe where the manager has serious bruising and the team finds out... and theyre genuinely worried! Id be cute if Atsumu would apologize too!! But you dont have to! Hehe, thank you for making my day! I appreciate your writings so much!
YES I LOVE THAT IDEA! And you've made my day with your kind words <33 thank you so much for reading!! Here we go :D --
You had expected some bruising.
What you hadn't expected was for your forearms to turn into a full-blown patchwork of dark purple and deep red, an angry mess of tender skin that ached every time you so much as brushed against something. It had started subtly enoughâjust a faint soreness the day after the bet. But by the time midweek rolled around, it was impossible to ignore. Even writing with a pen sent sharp pangs up your arms, and carrying the teamâs water bottles felt like lifting bricks.
Which is why, in a moment of sheer desperation, youâd dug through your old volleyball gear and fished out your compression sleeves. They werenât a fix, but they helped stabilize your arms and dull the constant ache, allowing you to function without wincing every time you existed. The compression kept the swelling down, made the bruises feel less noticeable, and at least provided a thin barrier between your damaged skin and the outside world.
You hadnât really thought much of them beyond that.
Until you pulled off your jacket in the middle of practice and heard the gym fall silent.
The first thing you noticed was that every single pair of eyes had locked onto your arms. It took you a second to realize whyâblack compression sleeves, pulled taut over your forearms, standing out starkly against your skin.
"UhâŚ" you started, blinking as the weight of their attention settled on you.
"Whatâs with the sleeves?" Aran asked first, brows furrowed. "Didnât know you wore those."
Your brain short-circuited. "Oh. Um. Theyâre just⌠comfortable."
"Comfortable?" Osamu repeated skeptically. "Since when do ya need sleeves to be comfortable?"
Suna, who had been lazily leaning against the wall, suddenly pushed off from his spot and started toward you. "They look kinda tight." Without hesitation, he reached out, fingers brushing over the fabric. "Lemme see."
Atsumu, who had been drinking from his water bottle, glanced over and smirked. "Damn, manager, if ya wanted to show off yer arms, ya couldâve justâ"
Before he could finish, Osamu smacked the back of his head hard enough to make him stumble. "Read the damn room, âTsumu."
"Ow! What the hell?!" Atsumu grumbled, rubbing the spot Osamu had hit.
The moment Suna applied even the slightest pressure, a sharp, searing pain shot through your arm, and you yelped, whipping your hand to your chest as if youâd been burned. "Shit!" you hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as the sting radiated up your arm.
The reaction was instant.
"What the hell was that?" Osamu frowned, his teasing dropping immediately.
"Whatâs goinâ on?" Ginjima asked, concern lacing his voice.
Atsumu, still rubbing his head, now had his attention completely on you. "What'd you scream like that for?"
"I-Itâs nothing," you stammered, holding your arm protectively. "JustâSuna caught me off guard."
"Bullshit," Suna drawled, eyes narrowing. "Take âem off."
"No! I mean, really, itâs not a big dealâ"
"Take. Them. Off." Kitaâs voice cut through the chatter, calm but final.
You hesitated. His gaze didnât waver. And you knew, knew, there was no getting out of this. With a resigned sigh, you slowly rolled down the sleeve, flinching slightly as the pressure eased off your skin.
A collective gasp rippled through the team.
"DudeâŚ" Osamu muttered, voice even quieter than usual.
Even Suna, usually unfazed by everything, looked taken aback. "Holy shit."
Ginjima let out a low whistle. "Thatâs gotta hurt."
The bruises looked worse under the gym lights, the deep purples and reds blending into a mess of tender skin, mottled and swollen in some places. It was bad. You could feel how bad it looked, just from their expressions alone.
Atsumu visibly paled. "ThatâŚ" He swallowed thickly. "Thatâs from me?"
Kita exhaled slowly, his posture rigid. "You should have said something earlier."
"Itâs fine," you tried. "I asked for it. I knew what I was doing."
"Thatâs not the point," he said, voice eerily even. "You let it get this bad and didnât bother telling anyone? How exactly is that taking care of yourself?"
You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because, honestly? He had a point.
"Go home," he ordered, folding his arms. "Youâre done for the day. And donât come back until that heals up."
"What? No, Iâm fineâ"
"No, youâre not." Aran frowned. "That looks painful as hell."
"I can still helpâ"
Kita said your name like a father would, the tone alone made it clear there would be no arguing. "Go. Home."
You huffed, crossing your armsâthen immediately regretted it when pain flared up again. Scowling, you turned on your heel, grabbing your things and storming toward the clubroom.
The moment you stepped inside and shut the door, you let out a long breath, flopping against the lockers. Your arms throbbed. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should take it easy.
You had just started gathering your things when the door cracked open.
"Oi."
You turned, only to find Atsumu standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and the floor. He looked⌠unsettled. Which, for him, was weird.
"Uh. Hey?"
His mouth opened, then closed. He shifted his weight. Fidgeted.
You squinted. "Are you⌠okay?"
He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Iâuh. Shit. Look, I didnâtâya knowâmean toâŚ" He gestured vaguely at your arms, as if that explained everything. "I wasnât tryna actually hurt ya."
You blinked. "Atsumu. I asked for this."
"Yeah, butâ" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Ya look like ya got run over."
You let out a short laugh. "Well, your serves do feel like getting hit by a truck."
Atsumu winced. "Shit."
For a moment, he was quiet. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he muttered, "Iâm sorry."
It was quiet. Stiff. A little clumsy.
But genuine.
You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Never thought Iâd hear you apologize."
He scowled. "Donât make it weird."
You smiled, shaking your head. "Itâs fine. Really. Iâll be okay."
Atsumu eyed you, lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah. Just⌠donât be dumb about it next time."
Then, after a brief pause, he exhaled sharply. "You know you could've just told me you played."
You snorted. "Yeah, right. Whereâs the fun in that?"
Atsumu groaned. "Yer impossible."
You grinned. "And yet, you all keep me around."
With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, muttering something about stubborn idiots as he left.
You exhaled, shaking your head fondly.
They were all idiots. Loud, nosy, exasperating idiots. But maybe, just maybe, they were your idiots. --
The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly better, though the soreness in your arms still lingered like a dull throb. The bruises were darkening, but at least the swelling had gone down. You figured that maybeâmaybeâyou could get away with showing up at morning practice. If you just sat on the sidelines, surely Kita wouldnât make a big deal out of it⌠right?
You stretched, rolling your shoulders, before heading to the door to grab your shoes. But the moment you opened it, you froze.
Sitting right outside was a neatly arranged little basket. Ice packs, your favorite snacks, a tube of aloe vera gelâand a folded note resting on top.
Your stomach twisted as you picked it up, already knowing exactly who it was from. Unfolding the paper, your eyes skimmed over Kitaâs neat handwriting.
Rest. I meant it.
Take care of yourself first. Weâll be fine until youâre back.
P.S. Donât make me come over there.
You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face before looking back down at the basket. It was thoughtful. It was so Kita. You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head before stepping back inside and closing the door behind you.
Guess morning practice would have to wait.
#fanfic#writing#haikyuu#drabble#hq x reader#hq#humour#haikyuu!!#inarizaki#hq miya atsumu#miya atsumu#hq atsumu#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya#miya twins#haikyu#kita shinsuke#suna rintarou#miya osamu#osamu miya#suna#atsumu#aran haikyuu#aran ojiro#ginjima hitoshi#suna rintaro haikyuu#suna rintarĹ#kita fluff#send reqs
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Itâs dark out.
Moonlight casts a softness over the server that isnât there during the chaos of the day, creating something uncanny and uncomfortable for a game such as this one; softness. Itâs not something that lasts, not something that comes naturally here. And yet the moon remains with its soft glow, gentle light sitting around them all like a blanket.
Itâs dark out, and itâs hard to see.
Itâs just Skizz and him now, their third no longer tied to this Hell. Grian is stuck between jealousy and relief. There is no break for someone like him, no reprieve or rest. The pain of it all doesnât stop when his lives run out, when he leaves this placeâit only continues. It wraps around him, sinks into his skin, his heart. It digs its claws so deep in him that it leaves a permanent mark on his memory. Heâs unable to forget any of it.
He has to tiptoe around Skizz when leaving, avoiding stepping on the arm the guy has thrown out to the side of his body. His loud snores grate on Grianâs sensitive ears, and the quicker he escapes the better. He tucks his wings in close as he climbs the bridges, Mumboâs ecstatic voice ringing loud in his ears with each creak of wood under his feet. Grian holds onto the railings, but his grip is weak, loose.
He doesnât need to ask himself where heâs going, or even think about it, really.
When he reaches the last of their bridges, he heads up the mountain. It almost feels familiar, like heâs done it one, two, three times before. Cherry blossoms drift to the ground around him, uncaring of the somber air that Grian carries with him. He almost wants to stop and shout at them, canât you read the room? I lost my best friend today! But he doesnât. He ignores the tranquility of the petals, ignores how he squishes some under his feet.
Some chests come into view, right at the center of the mountain. He passes by the three parrots, some bit of him happy to see them untouched. Heâd have to fix them up himself if they were damaged (and knowing looks would be sent his way the following morning).
He knows he shouldnât be surprised that no real infrastructure is up here. No base for safety from the night, a small farm or two. At least heâs learned to put torches down to ward off mobs.
Grian moves closer to the center, finding no one else around. Lizzie probably went off to see Joel, and Jimmy⌠who knows with him, really. That doesnât matter much to Grian, not in this world where his brother is dead to him.
His eyes roam over to a pink bed, and ah.
Scar is awake, as if he were waiting for him.
Grianâs feathers ruffle slightly as he avoids making a big deal out of it, stalking toward him. The scarred man doesnât say anything, simply scoots over some to make some room. Grian is quiet as he pulls the blanket back, sliding into place. In this world, he hates how perfectly he fits with Scar. It makes it hard to hate him, to commit to being enemies with him. How is it that Grian can so easily promise his own flesh and blood that heâll kill him until heâs out of the gameâbut he canât keep to being enemies with Scar for more than a session, if that?
Itâd be⌠so much easier if Grian could just hate Scar. If he could kill him without mercy like he does with everyone else and go back to a world where hating Scar is never a need nor an option.
Itâd be safer, if Scar hated him too.
(It wouldâve been safer for Mumbo, too.)
Rough fingers card through his hair kindly. Grian burns. Something primal and angry and hurt claws at his chest. He lashes out much like a wild animal would, despite having sought Scar out on his own. âI hate you,â he tries to say, tries to keep any emotion out of his voice, tries to mean it.
(He couldnât help Mumbo. But maybe hereâ)
Scarâs gaze softens, lacking any hurt. It only serves to frustrate Grian further. âYou donât.â He sounds so confident, so certain of it, like itâs some kind of universal truth that everyone has accepted except for Grian. âI donât think you could hate me if you tried.â Heâs smug.
âI can, and I do,â Grian argues with him, glaring.
âMhm, and thatâs why weâre best friends, huh?â Scar lifts a brow. âWhy you gave me the mace and only wanted to ally with olâ Scar instead of the Bamboozlers. Or why youâre here in my bed, gripping me like Iâll poof.â
âIt was an underhanded kill.â Stop looking at me. âI wouldâve done that with anyone.â Stop knowing me. âYour bed is the closest.â
Scarâs fingers in his hair donât stop, soothing and gentle. It feels wrong. âBut you didnât. You wouldnât have if it was TJ or Pearl.â His lips curl with amusement, âYou canât fool me with any of that.â
Grian doesnât answer, and Scar doesnât push.
Instead, heâs tentatively pulled closer, an arm sliding over his waist. It feels so familiar, in a different home, in a tower. Grian can almost imagine the sound of a llama bleating nearby. He huffs some frustrated noise, and lets the familiarity tug him in. He selfishly takes the comfort Scar gives him, as if they hadnât been at each otherâs throats just a few days ago. But Grian is selfish, and he takes what he wants. Scar is selfless, and is happy to give whatever Grian needs.
He exhales silently, right against Scarâs buttoned shirt. He doesnât speak, so Scar does it for him, giving him an out. He always gives Grian some kind of door. âI put you back to 100/100 reputation with us.â
Grian canât help but snort. âDid you put the heart back too?â Contradiction after contradiction.
âOh, that was only for your name. No offense to Skizz but he and I arenât like that.â Scarâs hand drifts down to the middle of Grianâs back, right between his wings. âIâll show it to you tomorrow.â
âYou probably shouldnât,â Grian huffs, âmight just explode it again if you kill me.â
âProbably. Iâll show it to you anyway.â
Grian rolls his eyes in return. âBetter not betray me again then.â It wouldnât be Scar who does it.
Scarâs eyes hold understanding. Grian almost wants to reach in and tear it out, replace it with the hatred he wants Scar to feel instead. He only digs his fingers into Scarâs shirt. âIâd be a fool to betray you after getting you back today.â
After getting you back.
Grian should be the one saying that. âWhatever,â he mumbles in return. He clings to Scar, allows himself that small mercy, that small kindness. Lips brush his hair.
âSleep well, G.â
Neither of them say anything more.
#mochi writes#scarian#trafficshipping#wild life smp#wild life spoilers#struggling to cope with losing your bff?#go cuddle your boyfriend who isnât supposed to be your boyfriend in a death game#we love an emotionally constipated king đđ#tbh I donât even know what this is#I just started writing and shut my brain off#I hope this is good LMAO
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What iffff poly hcs with kakucho x reader x izana ifkwim? I don't care if it's nsfw or fluff, just how would it be like? headcanons about it in general! âĄ
Poly Relationship w/ Izana and Kakucho
⥠SFW and NSFW, fem reader, fluff, set in the corrupt Toman timeline, public sex/car sex, double penetration, double head??, oral->fem and male receiving âĄ
note: thanks for requesting anon 𩷠sorry it's so late lol
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
SFW
đ Izana buys you and Kakucho earrings that match his
đ Kakucho tries to keep you out of gang related business, but Izana doesn't really give a fuck because he knows he can protect you regardless
đ They have bodyguards following you everywhere, it's not like they don't trust you, they just don't trust other people
đ Izana teaches you how to walk in heels, he'll literally teach you runway walks and Kakucho will cheer both of you on
đ All three of you ride on a motorcycle together on the weekends, obviously Izana is the one driving (recklessly btw)
đ Kaku cooks dinner and Izana treats him like a 50s housewife đ he rushes him like that'll make the food cook faster
đ Izana plays guitar for you and Kakucho and learns all your favorite songs
NSFW
đ Kakucho is the quiet type during sex, the most you'll hear is a few deep grunts. Izana is a lot more vocal though, he'll moan and whimper depending on what you're doing.
đ Izana is really into public sex, the risk is high but the reward is far greater because he gets to see your fucked out face. Kakucho just goes along with it because why the hell not? That's how you end up in the backseat of Izana's car, lying on your back as Izana fills your pussy and Kakucho fucks your throat.
đ Izana and Kakucho both love giving you head, usually simultaneously. They love seeing you writhe in pleasure and become a whimpering mess underneath them. Their tongues rub together as they glide them on your clit. They don't even have to fuck you for you to be fucked out, and they're obsessed with having that amount of power over you and your body.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Taglist
@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe
#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers fluff#izana x reader#kakucho x reader#izana smut#kakucho smut#first smut of the week đŽâđ¨ I'm back in my bag now lol#Izana is just đŤ and my babygirl Kakucho đŤâ¨#next request is pure fluff#last request is gonna be smut đ#then I might start writing something else... lowkey wanna write for aot now#omgg imagine getting double head from eren and armin đĽ´#I gotta shut my brain off đ I can't stop thinking
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sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone elseâs art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically
well you see itâs like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami
just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and Iâll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)
(people still like kabedons, right?)
anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...
flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.
buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.
there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses đ) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO
for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)
and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...
you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)
that was absolutely because of this
(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)
so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)
anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...
#jitxt#started writing this unsure if i could give many examples and i ended up with more than i expected. nice!#sunny is a very good piece of umineko writing and i should reread it with the author's notes toggled on. and also read redaction#âshouldn't you have read redaction firstâ n-no. shut up! (besides i think renall said it was fine)#nobody remind me of that 20k note post that's just an uncredited screenshot of sunny. it'll piss me off#as cosmic balance i ought to shill sunny as much as possible#anyway uhhhhhh. the everchanging.#i am awful about receiving compliments (i never know how to respond aside from a rehearsed âthank youâ) but i sure am great at giving them!#apologies if i'm laying it on too thick but#1. i am being truthful and#2. i figure it's reparations for all the time i spent as a lurker on the kuwagami ao3 tag#the explosion in my brain when i realised that âthe nice person who leaves lots of tags on my kuwagami artâ#and âthe person who wrote that REALLY FUCKING GOOD FICâ were one and the same. crazy. and now we are mutuals â¤#it is a little funny thinking of when i'd read your and four-white-trees' work before meeting you#real life foreshadowing for me meeting you both....#i still have these discord messages of me telling a friend about both your works#basically: (reading an update to the everchanging) wow that was depressing (reading a joke in four-white-trees' fic) nevermind i'm good now#i ought to reread the everchanging and take detailed notes on all the parts i like#just so you know your impact on my brain lol#kuwana calling yagami a pretty boy and meaning it sincerely oh my GOD. rewired my brain
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sorry prof. couldnt do my essay. brain too full of slenderman. yeah wont happen again i swear (it will)
#shut up virgil#sorry trying to write this essay is so hard when i CANNOT think of anything else#i blame this on the emh analysis video that was in my recommended that i saw just as i was abt to start and completely threw me off#cause i got so excited about it i felt like throwing up#havent watched it bc i think if i did i WOULD have actually thrown up out of excitement and also knew i needed to write#but like. the writing aint happening anyways now. ive got slenderman webseries on the brain every other thought process has halted
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been writing so much that im also doing it in my literal dreams. anyways. hi. guess who just woke up because the scenes "i" wrote started playing out in front of "me" and i just sorta watched. uh. butcher straight up murder mÄrÄŤte in front of me in a nothingless void. how fun <3 yipee
...
Butcher murdering MÄrÄŤte? Oh wow.
The angst that must come after all of that. RIP to MÄrÄŤte.
#aaron's inbox#aaron's asks#aaron answers asks#answering asks#asks#other ocs#oc talk#rusty's ocs#rusty's oc: mÄrÄŤte#rusty's oc: butcher#i just started writing for the red string au but of course my brain decided to shut off just as i started typing#sigh#anyways the angst#rusty anon#:)
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Something that's mildly frustrating about learning anything creative now (for me, obv) is that a lot of the times I'll have a basic understanding of something/lots of knowledge on some things and not others-- so i need beginner help on some things but not others...
but then this leads me to get bored because im watching something I already know, but I can't skip ahead because there's still stuff in there i need help with...
idk, i hope im able to find some kind of solution for this :/
#this mostly goes for art and music#for music i've been writing lyrics to (mostly) ukulele chord progressions for years#and ive started dabbling in improv with fingerstyle#but when it comes to adding anything to the chord progression?#im hopeless. no music theory knowledge. i just know how to read treble clef#but then i watch a tutorial and its like THIS NOTE IS E. THIS ONE IS F. and my brain shuts it off#august rambles
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also full disclosure im not sad or tragic rn im actually sappy & soft rn đ
#no horrors today except for the lack of sleep!!#ive been awake since 9:30pm yesterday if i got to sleep RIGHT NOW i can get approximately 4 hours of sleep before my 8 hour shift#ive been up all day since i got off work at 7am just bouncing back & forth between watching tlou2r directors commentary & writing abt my oc#my brain would just not shut off today but im finally starting to feel sleepy again#so im gonna give it like 10 more minutes then go to sleep#emma rambles
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Dense // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
Summary: A pretty little thing like you isn't flirting with Ghost? Are you?
Based off a prompt that's been a worm in my brain since 8th grade (I'm 25 now) and I'm probably going to write the same exact thing from the other POV.
TW: none, just a little fluffy hopefully funny insight into Simon's thought process.
God, Lieutenant Riley was dense.
That's what most people thought after watching him interact with you for longer than three minutes at a time. You'd been working in communications for two years now, mostly dealing with Captain Price but Ghost was always lurking around somewhere nearby. You'd been warned to avoid him.
He's mean, He's surly, he'll bite your head right off. He's dangerous blah blah blah...
What they didn't consider was that he was a tree of a man- tall, dark, and mysterious with pretty eyes. And you had little to no survival instincts when it came to a man who knew how to shut the fuck up.
It was obvious to anyone who watched you interact with him for any amount of time. How you stood closer to him than need be, how you watched him through your lashes when he spoke his few words to you, the way your voice changed when you spoke to him. Then it was the little touches and little gifts, sitting with him at empty tables when others would turn and walk the other way. You were so sweet on him, maybe even smitten with him.
Ghost never seemed to notice, and if he did he didn't pay it much mind. Just assumed you were just one of those chatty and nice people he seemed to attract every now and then- like Price or Soap. It didn't hurt either that you were sweet & pretty & and smelled good... no, didn't hurt at all and certainly didn't mean anything.
He brushed off Johnny and Gaz's teasings, met Price's knowing looks with icy glares. You definitely weren't flirting with him. There was no way someone like you was pursuing someone like him romantically. That was... ridiculous. Right?
Still. Something about that idea scratched his brain just right. Planted a seed that you unknowingly watered with sweet smiles and bright eyes. So, he started paying more attention.
You never got Price's attention by lingering a small, warm hand on the Captain's bicep- but you did with Ghost. You were chatty with Gaz, but never so much so that you made yourself late to other engagements- Ghost was losing track of the times you'd been chatting at with him only to look at your watch and scurry off with hot cheeks. And Soap could make you laugh, but he never got your cheeks to turn that pretty pink color- Ghost rarely saw you without rosy cheeks. Hmmm... Interesting.
So, he watched and observed (pined and yearned, more accurately). Until one day when he noticed how you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you spoke to him, direct eye contact through fluttering lashes, the dilation of your eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes-" You barely finished your statement before he interjected. He cut you off before you could even giggle, voice stern and hard and quick as those pretty dangerous eyes narrowed in a way that would have chased anyone else off. Not you though.
"Are you flirting with me?"
He asked, taking a looming step closer to you where you were standing by the breakroom coffee machine. He expected you to stutter out an excuse or apologize, or even frantically excuse yourself. He did not expect you to sigh, almost in relief(?) with that bright smile of yours.
"I have been for the last two years." You breathe in admittance, "But thanks for noticing now."
Bloody hell, you were trying to kill him.
----
I wrote this instead of paying attention in lecture
#call of duty modern warfare x reader#codmw x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#lieutenant riley#Simon Riley
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Juno
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word count: 2.2k (lol this was supposed to be a drabble) Rating: Explicit - 18+, MDNI
Summary: Your honeymoon with Joel is off to a bang.
Warnings/tags: honeymoon sex (itâs very feral), unprotected PIV sex (theyâre trying to get pregnant but be smart IRL!), oral sex (m and f receiving), big fat breeding kink, pussy pronouns, creampie, cumplay, mentions of foreplay over the clothes, sort-of/accidental voyeurism, very loud sex, rough sex, mentions of marriage/family planning/birth control use, dom!Joel, feral!Joel, references to pregnancy, no outbreak!AU, cursing (but honestly swear words should be the least of your worries for this story lol), Reader is female, has hair that is long enough to put into a ponytail, and able bodied but otherwise not described (itâs you, boo!), no use of y/n
a/n: This is what happens when a horny invasive thought is allowed to take root in my brain. My darling menace @for-a-longlongtime sent me this Reel and it made me⌠think about things. Combined with the inspiration of the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, this is FILTH. Just⌠filth. But since @mountainsandmayhem and @alltheirdamn literally begged me to write this, here you are, written in a near-fugue state. Not betaâd, weâre doing this thing unprotected, just like Joel lmao. Banners by @saradika-graphics.
MASTERLIST
a/n pt 2: psssssst. Do you like Joel Miller? Do you want *more* Joel Miller? How about a series where not only Joel is your husband, but Frankie is your boyfriend? If so, tap here for SoCal to NorCal, my ongoing series!
I should have closed that damn sliding door.
You knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as you stepped foot into the immaculate, stylish Greek vacation suite youâd booked for your honeymoon with your new husband, Joel Miller. Youâd spent the long flight teasing each other incessantly - the lightest of caresses, lingering kisses, surreptitious groping and heavy petting under the luxe blankets afforded to you by your first class seats. Joel couldnât keep his hands off you most days, but now, fresh from your beautiful wedding as his darling wife? He was absolutely insatiable.
Joel had barely shut the front door on the endlessly kind bellhop before he was on you, ravenous with desire. His large hands began peeling off the soft layers of clothing youâd worn on the airplane, kissing you fervently and moaning into your mouth. You wove your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly when he kissed down your neck.Â
âFuck, Joel,â you whined, and you felt him growl lowly before nipping at your pulse point.
âBeen waiting hours to take you apart, baby,â he murmured. Sucking a hickey onto the column of your throat, he laved the spot with his tongue to soothe the light pain. âTeasing me when you knew I couldnât do shit about it.â
You pulled back on his hair with a yank, making him hiss. âYou asked for it. You were the one rubbing circles against my clit through my sweatpants. My panties are ruined because of it.â
âNot my fault your pussy is so juicy,â Joel chuckled. âEspecially now that she knows sheâs gonna getting dicked down as many times as she can take it in a day.â
A couple months before your wedding, you and Joel discussed your desire to start trying for children. Youâd thrown away your birth control after that conversation, but resolved to use other forms of protection until after the wedding.
You nor Joel had packed a single condom for this trip.
âFuck me, Mr. Miller,â you breathed, moving your hand from his hair down his body to his rock-hard cock. He groaned when you made contact.
âYes, maâam, Mrs. Miller,â Joel hummed, walking your naked body backwards towards the bedroom as you pulled at his clothes.
Now, youâre realizing that the sliding door to the ocean-view balcony is cracked open, allowing a lovely coastal breeze in but also letting your cries of pleasure float into the wind. Joelâs face is buried in your drenched pussy from behind you, his slurps and smacks obscene, not to mention his moans of ecstasy at the taste of your juices. You lay your chest onto the bed and take it - thatâs all you can really do. Youâre trying to stifle your sighs and moans, but your husbandâs expert tongue is making that increasingly difficult.
âOh god, right there,â you whimper, and your first orgasm of the day rolls through your body slowly, unfurling like the fragrant blossoms in the white-washed courtyard of the villa. He continues moaning and lapping up every drop of your essence while your body shakes.
One more hard suck on your clit, and then Joel is pulling you back onto your hands and knees on the plush cream bedding. He crawls towards your body, grabbing your hips with one warm hand while the other loosely grips his shaft, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.Â
You whine. âPlease, Joel.â Youâre not above begging when it comes to Joelâs cock.
Joel growls in arousal and begins to feed you his length, inch by inch. You bite your lip, trying to quiet the involuntary moans that the stretch of his girth seem to rip out of your throat. The villa is private, but you still have neighbors - youâd rather not have to face them at the dinner buffet later after they heard exactly how well your honeymoon was going so far.
âSuch a good girl, taking my cock so well,â Joel praises you, his eyes never leaving how good his length looks sawing in and out of your soft pussy, shiny with your slick. The phrasing makes your cunt clench on him, which nearly shoves him off the proverbial ledge. He throws his head back, attempting to collect himself, and then notices you drawing circles around your aching clit.Â
âDesperate to come again already?â he questions, quirking an eyebrow at you. You nod your head, pressing harder and swirling faster around your nub.Â
âThen fucking come for your husband,â Joel grits out, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. On the last word, you explode yet again, burying your mouth in the crook of your elbow to quiet your cries. Your pussy spasms over his length, nearly sending him over the edge, and youâre absolutely gushing for him, slick and juices running down your thighs.
Joel yanks himself out of your body, not ready to come yet. You cry out in disappointment, but he hauls him and yourself up off the bed.
âKneel,â he commands. You drop to your knees onto the plush sheepskins rug, legs like jelly already. His hard cock bobs in front of your face, coated with the evidence of your orgasm. Your mouth opens and you drop out your tongue like a welcome mat.
Joel nearly comes at the sight before him.
âSuck,â he says simply. Grabbing your hair into a ponytail, Joel guides your blazing hot mouth onto his shaft, controlling the speed of your blowjob with his hands. He tries to avoid thrusting into your throat too hard, but he knows you like it rough. The taste of your own pussy is all over his dick, and it makes you dizzy with need.
You play the good girl, sucking and licking as directed by Joelâs moans and hand, but soon enough heâs hauling you off your feet to put you back onto the bed. His cock is an angry red color at the tip now, precum continuing to bubble out of the slit.Â
âWanna try out something new,â he mutters, laying you down on your back. He pushes your legs to your shoulders, nearly folding you in half, and guides your hands to the back of your thighs to hold them open. You feel so exposed, but it makes a thrill run up your spine. Joel kneels with his knees just under your ass, leaning over you, before taking his hand and running it through your soaked folds, reveling in the filthy wet sounds your center makes for him. You whine, desperate for more. Joel places your calves on his shoulders as he leans forward, caging you with his body. One hand drops to the bed to steady himself, while the other grabs his cock and lines himself up again.
âHave you ever tried this one?â Joel asks you with a smirk.
You smile wickedly back, knowing what you need to say to egg him on. âCanât say I have. Wasnât exactly trying to get bred.â
You see Joelâs eyes flash at the last word, a ferality burning in his irises. A near-snarl erupts from his mouth as he bottoms out in one powerful thrust. A loud moan rips from your throat, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, remembering the balcony door is still open. Joel shoves your hand away, grinding deeper into your cunt, brushing against your cervix. You can barely breathe with the intensity of pleasure racing in your veins.
âOh yeah?â he challenges, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back home, eliciting another loud cry from you. âIf you wanna be bred so bad, Iâm gonna make everyone at this resort know exactly how much you want it.â With that, Joel sets a punishing pace, his hips and balls slapping against your slick skin. The wet sounds of your mutual pleasure ricochet through the room, and probably outdoors. In this position, all you can do is lay there and moan and cry and take it. Your pussy continues seeping slick, wave after wave running down your ass and thighs, dampening the heavenly bedding.
Youâve never been so fucking wet in your entire life, and Joel knows it.
âGod, this pussy is so fucking juicy for me, huh? Just want to get bred that bad, huh?â He mutters to you as he fucks into you so deep that you nearly feel him in your throat. Youâve long since lost your ability to silence your noises, a steady stream of loud gasps and cries emanating from your mouth. Joel just feels so fucking good inside of you, and suddenly you start babbling.
âYes, baby, Iâm so fucking wet for you,â you moan, the pleasure coiling in your bones with every thrust of Joelâs thick girth inside you. âYouâre so deep, you fill me so good, donât stop donât stop donât stooooopppppppp ââ Your words are cut off by a silent scream as you come for a third time. The pleasure shimmers across your limbs and a shaky moan finally snakes its way out of your throat.
He growls, fucking into you even harder. âGood fucking girl, let me hear you,â Joel grits out. He picks up his pace, clearly getting close to his own orgasm. The increase in speed releases a surprised scream from you, your loud cry stuttering from the sheer force of Joelâs thrusts into you. His hips are a blur, and your third orgasm begins to build into your fourth, the intensity ratcheted to new heights.
âThatâs right, scream for me,â he moans, his thrusts getting erratic as his peak approaches. âWant me to fill up this messy pussy, get it even messier? Gonna fuck you so full it has no choice but to take.â
Joelâs words cause a riot of tingles to cascade across your skin. âYes, please, fuck me full, Joel. Give me your cum, make it stick, give me a baby, please,â you cry, and Joel slaps your ass hard, and you scream again. Thereâs no doubt that everyone within a mile radius can hear the two of you, but your head is so full of pleasure that you really couldnât care less. All you can think about is Joel, his cock, and how badly you want to be dripping with his cum.
âOh god, honey, Iâm gonna come,â Joel whimpers, and to send him over the edge, you clench down on his cock as hard as you can. He gasps. âIâm gonna come, Iâm gonna coooooooââ
Joel shoves his cock as deeply into you as possible, bellowing loudly in ecstasy, triggering your own orgasm to crest at the same time. His release is so intense that it feels like his hot cum is jettisoning directly into your uterus, filling you to the brim. He pumps shallowly into you, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.
When the last spurt of his spend lands in your womb, Joel collapses on top of you, rolling you to the side, still buried within your clutch. Your sweat-slick limbs tangle as you both try to catch your breath. The gentle breeze flutters the curtains.
Everything feels hazy and perfect.
Eventually you come to, pressing kisses to Joelâs completely blissed-out face, eliciting a soft smile across his plush lips. You kiss your husband softly, slowly, and sensually. He gives your nose a peck, and then buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent deeply.
âFuck, that wasâŚâ Joel starts, lost for words to describe what just happened.
â... incredible,â you finish his sentence, beaming at him. You intertwine your fingers, so elated that Joel is really yours forever.
Joel nods and kisses you one more time, then moves to untangle your aching limbs, massaging your muscles with his strong hands. He pulls out of your messy center slowly with a groan, watching as his cum begins to seep out of you. You watch as he scoops away the runaway seed, pushing it back into your cunt. A brief flush of arousal pulses in your veins at the sight.
âGotta keep it where it belongs,â Joel croons, winking at you as he walks towards the bathroom to rinse off and grab you a towel. You giggle, moving to prop your legs and hips up on your pillows, allowing his release to pool & settle inside you. The idea of finally having a baby with the love of your life makes your insides flutter with joy.
While you rest, you pull up Snapchat, curious to see what other fellow travelers are up to in the area. You tap around the map, watching strangerâs stories of sailing excursions, lounging on the shore, and eating delicious food. You notice a Snap story in the same vacation complex as your rental, and you tap on it excitedly, hoping to get a sense of some fun things to do in the area.
The video opens up in selfie mode as a blonde, sunglasses-wearing traveler records himself outside on his villaâs patio, laughing quietly and rubbing his arm awkwardly with the caption âSounds like our new neighbors on holiday in Greece are having a whale of a time⌠Only been here 10 minutes!â In the background, a woman can be heard screaming with ecstasy, clearly having sex, her voice stuttering as whoever sheâs fucking is giving it to her hard. You then hear a slap, then another cry of pleasure.
Wait a minute.
Not a slap⌠a spank.
Your nerves frost immediately and heat blazes up your neck as your mouth drops open, realizing that the couple having very loud sex⌠is actually you and Joel.
Oh no.Â
...I REALLY should have closed that damn sliding door.
MASTERLIST
Tagging in case you, too, are horny for Joel (please let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tags!): @mermaidgirl30 @sin-djarin @perotovar @qveerthe0ry @nerdieforpedro
@itwasntimethatdidit40 @yxtkiwiyxt @almostempty @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave
@legendary-pink-dot @arcanefox207 @dancingtotuyo @musings-of-a-rose @milla-frenchy
@yopossum @polaroidpascal @chippedowlmug @magneticecstasy @reggiesfilthylittlesecret
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#user: lotusbxtch#I don't know much but I do know that Joel Miller has a fat breeding kink#I mean look at the man#it's very obvious
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hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesnât give up on him so pls a happy end â¤ď¸
established relationship, not very angsty, short
My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.
Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.
It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.
Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.
It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.
After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.
That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.
#gguk-n#ask request#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x y/n#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula one fic#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 one shot#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#ln4 x you
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velvet lies
pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8564 tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: longer chapter woohoo, was gonna write after break but had so much inspo. wrote on my phone, so if thereâs any typos, please ignore 𼚠series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter
The nights havenât been easy in the past couple of days. Mingled with a growing sense of anxiety added on top of your already heightened stress, your brain just canât seem to shut off. Youâve tried melatonin and no more caffeine, but caffeine is ultimately getting you through the day and keeping you up when needed. In all honesty, youâve already been struggling with sleep, but with the surprise meet with Suguru, dreadâs been pooling in your stomach.
You have no doubt he spilled the beans. Hell, you would too if that was your best friend. You can only hope he somehow didnât, though. A small part of you would be a little annoyed if he did, because again, he has no role in this. At least not a big one.
A sudden banging on your door jolts you upright, checking the clock and itâs not even 7:30 yet. Only one person could be demanding your presence so early. A heavy sigh leaves you, forcing your stiff muscles out of bed, wrapping yourself in a robe before trudging to the front door. When you peek through the peephole, your landlord stands there with an annoyed expression on his old face, foot tapping the ground in impatience.
âBastard,â you mumble to yourself before opening the door. âGood morning, Mr. Sato.â
Seems he doesnât have time for fake pleasantries, âY/N, Iâm assuming you saw the eviction note I left on your door yesterday morning.â
Unfortunately. âYes, sir. I did.â
His arms cross, scratching at his greying mustache, âSo, is it also safe to to assume youâll have the money by next Friday?â
You sigh heavily, hand running through your hair. This is not how you wanted to start your morning. He was already making your life hell by suddenly raising your rent out of nowhere three months ago for so-called ârenovationsâ. But youâve yet to see any actual renovations being done. Not to mention, youâve been bugging about your heater no longer working, and during this time of year, you and Koji are practically freezing to death. You had to buy a portable heater, small, but it gets the job done. Although itâs mainly in Kojiâs room because youâd rather freeze than let him. âLook, Mr. Sato, Iâm really trying here. Iâm working hard to get the money, but please understand thatââ
âUnderstand? Iâve been understanding, Y/N. I even applied last monthâs rent to this month, just âcause of you.â
Of course, heâs gonna throw that in your face. Landlords seem to take their title so literally that if he didnât have this much control over your space of safety, you wouldâve ripped him a new one. Also, how could you forget that to even get him to agree to that plea deal, you were forced through an hour and a half of an uncomfortable, infuriating dinner with the man. Really, heâs not giving you much to work with here, but then again, you shouldnât have had such high hopes. âI know, I know,â you reply, scratching at your roots. âIâll have the money, okay?â
âYou better,â he says gruffly. âOr Iâm renting this unit to someone who can actually afford it. Iâm hurting here too, you know?â
You huff. âYeah, thanks.â
Without another word, you close the door in the manâs face, locking it. Leaning your back up against the hard surface, you close your eyes and will yourself to stay calm and positive. Counting back from ten and then back, a small tip your therapist showed you before your insurance no longer covered it. Itâs okay. Itâs only the start of the day, you have 20 something hours left. Nowâs not the time to throw yourself a pity party and play woe is me. Nowâs the time to just pick yourself up and move on. Youâll find a solution for the money, you always do.
Though this time, you canât help but feel youâre really fucked.
I mean, you honestly have no idea how youâre going to come up with almost four thousand dollars in just a week. That sounds quite literally impossible in every single way. You get paid next week, but with taxes, youâre going home with maybe three thousand, so how will you get that extra thousand?
Unless some miracle decides to hit you, which almost never seems to happen. You used to think someone hoaxed you, or you were just born with the most unluckiest luck ever. Or, the more cynical thought you tend to have, you were fated to live a life in strict financial management, and hardships are constantly thrown at you left and right.
But hey, youâve made it this far, right?
âNo, I havenât.â
âYou what?!â
âI havenât told him.â
âY/N, what the fuââ
âJesus Christ, I know, Hana. You donât have to make me feel even more like shit.â
Your friend stops mid-way, eyeing your very displeased expression. She sighs and relents, slumping back in the small chair in the backroom of the cafe. She doesnât say anything for a few seconds, letting your confession simmer and process. When she does, itâs an honest question. âButâŚwhy?â
Why. You feel like youâre staring to hate that damn word. âA lot of reasons, I know itâs not really justified, but I justâŚneed someone to understand me for once. Not come at me for my dumb decisions.â
Your words feel bare and raw, not completely exposing the extent of the emotions youâve been harboring, but enough to make her stop. Hana regards you with pursed lips, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Finally, she nods. âOkay, I wonât question you anymore. You have your reasons, and your reasons are always valid. So, Iâm behind you on this. We stick together, remember?â
A hint of a smile forms on your lips, quietly thanking her. She comes forward to give you a hug, one you immediately reciprocate. Her auburn hair tickling your nostrils, arms seemingly tightening. âDonât go holding things in anymore, I told you that. Iâm here, to talk, listen, whatever.â
You and Hana met three years ago. She was just your co-worker at the time, now promoted to your manager. Although sheâs two years younger than you, you two relate to a lot of things. Whether that be movies, food, what guys are hot, or alcohol. If anything, Hana might be your only friend in general. Itâs a little sad, maybe, but at least you have someone to come to when you need to talk about adult issues your five-year-old wouldnât be able to comprehend.
âI love you.â You find yourself muttering.
âI love you too, girl. Now, get out there, your breakâs up.â
Jokingly scoffing and nudging her, you stand from the seat and do a quick stretch. Preparing yourself for yet another few hours of dreaded customer service and fake smiles, you walk out of the backroom, pushing the small curtains aside that separate the back from the counter, and clock back in.
âCash or card?â
âHello, how can I help you today?â
âWould that be all?â
âHave a nice day.â
Are all phrases any retail or customer service worker finds a little annoying, if not a lot. Itâs so draining. And when the customers donât greet you back, your pettiness shines through and you wonât even say have a good day to them when theyâre leaving. Although, the job does have some upsides to it. For example, you get to make free coffees, take whatever pastries are left at the end of the day home, and the customers are never really bad. Of course, you have had a couple experiences, but nothing compared to a chain store. Youâre even starting to use your customer service voice throughout the day, even when youâre not at work. Honestly, thatâs not very good.
As youâre wiping up the counter, you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you see a set of numbers, an unsaved contact. You give Hana a quick glance, muttering a âjust a secâ, before going back to the back to answer. âHello?â
âY/N?â
God, itâs gonna take some time getting used to his voice on the regular now. âOh, Suguru. heyâŚuhâwhatâs up?â
Thereâs some shuffle on the other side like heâs adjusting the phone. âAre you busy right now?â
âWell, yes. Iâm on the clock.â
He sighs, phone switching to his car output. âWhere do you work? Iâll come now.â
âWhat?â you splutter out, head shaking. âNo, Suguru, you canât just pop out at my job. Iâm busy, just tell me what you need right now.â
âIâm not sure I should.â
That statement alone scares you a bit. His cynicism always got on your nerves, but it also worried you from time to time. Most of the time, he didnât mean any harm because thatâs just how Suguru was, but it still did its job. Contemplation strikes through you. âIs it bad?â
He hesitates, which only further skyrockets your anticipation. âHonestly, itâs not too bad. But still, I need to talk to you.â
A breath emits from your lips, one you didnât know you were holding. Eyes meeting the ceiling, you ponder over your decisions. Eventually, you come to a conclusion. âFine, but it canât be too long. Iâm at Deja Brew, the cafe onââ
âOn Express, got it. Be there in a bit.â
Heâs hanging up before you even get a chance to question that he knew the cafe you worked at. If he did, surely he would have visited at least once, but youâve never seen him come in. And youâre every day. Unless he usually comes when youâre not clocked in anymore. Anywho, you steel yourself for the inevitable conversation. Anticipating whatever bad or not-so-good news he'll give you.
âSo.â
âMm, this is good.â Suguru nods appreciatively, sipping from his coffee. You made it for him before he arrived, as a weird sort of gift to him. You two have situated yourself in a booth in the corner. Hana was a little confused as to why you were taking a break while you were on the clock, even regarding you with an almost scolding look. But the second she saw Suguru follow, her expression changed.
You practically saw the heart eyes form, smiling in a bashful way. Thatâs one thing you forgot about. The way girls would magnetize themselves towards the man, his best friend too. The two together were an almost deadly duo.
âSuguru,â you say, a hint of exasperation in your tone. âPlease justâŚdonât stall anymore. Why did you want to see me?â
âRight,â he clears his throat, sitting up straighter. Once more, his steely gaze meets yours, you have to hold back the sudden urge to look away. âLike I said, itâs not terrible news, but not very good either.â
You nod, wanting him to just stop with the extraness and get to the point. âOkay, say it.â
âSatoru.â is the first thing he says, gauging your automatic grimace to his name. âHe knows.â
Figures. âAnd you told him?â
He nods in response. You exhale, rubbing your face. âSuguru, why? I didnât say you could.â
âI mean, I didnât think I needed permission to tell my best friend he has a secret love child he hasnât known about for five years, Y/N.â You hate when his voice gets like that, like youâre a school child whoâs just been caught by her teacher for doing something she wasnât supposed to. âAnywho, he knows. He wasnâtâŚvery happy.â
You slowly ask, unsure if youâre ready to hear the answer. âWhat did he say?â
âMore so what he did than said,â he pushes a stray strand of black hair out his eye and behind his ear, arms crossing. âHeâs been quite easy to anger. I mean, I havenât really talked to him because heâs not answering my calls, but Iâve been hearing from people at the office. He also kicked my ass out right after I told him. But thatâs all I know at least, Nanami says heâs like a ticking time bomb.â
Jesus Christ. You donât know what else you were expecting, youâre surprised he hasnât done worse, but like Suguru said, thatâs all he knows. His state is most likely a hundred times worse than whatâs being thrown at you right now. You feel an intense guilt pool, mixing with a slight fear. âDid heâŚdo anything else? Say anything?â
âI donât know, heâs not talking to me right now.â Suguru concedes, leaning closer to you, brows furrowing in a seriousness. âLook, Iâm not telling you this because I want you to feel worse, but I should let you know. Heâs going to try and seek you out now that he knows about his son. You know that, right?â
Of course, you fucking know that. Thatâs what makes you scared, the possibility of somehow running across him in the most unsuspecting of places makes you want to stay holed up in your shitty apartment. âYeah,â you gulp. âI figured.â
âI donât know how heâll react ifâwhenâhe does see you.â he honestly admits. âI just think you should reach out to him first, before he does it. I have his number, you should caââ
âStop.â you hold a hand up, eyes closing. âNo more, I donât want to be told what to do. I justâŚneed some time processing everything right now.â
âY/Nââ
âSuguru,â your eyes open, staring at him dead on. âYou seriously canât expect me to jump from one thing to the next. I need fucking time to figure out what Iâm gonna do. Iâm already stressed as it is, now I have to worry about my sonâs father possibly trying to reach out and that just sets me more on fucking edge. You come to my work, spring this on me, and Iââ youâre rambling. Cutting yourself off in the middle of a sentence, choosing not to finish it. The last thing you need to do is rant to him. Besides, youâre just starting to see him again after five years, that would absolutely put him in a weird place between comforting someone who was once his friend, and backing up his life-long best friend.
You jolt a bit when you feel a warm palm envelope your hand, his thumb gently rubbing across your knuckles. Looking back at him, he gives you an all too familiar look. One that can make you just pour out everything youâre feeling right at that second. Itâs a horrifying technique he has. âIâm sorry. Really, Iâm sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like shit. I shouldâve been more considerate. Iâm sorry.â He apologizes with a soothing intonation. Again, itâs making you feel warm. âItâs a hard situation, I could never know exactly what youâre going through. butâŚI care about you, Y/N. I always have, even without Satoruâs involvement. So, Iâll do better and not overwhelm you.â
Damn it, Suguru. Now youâre making me feel bad! Not trusting yourself with words, you meekly nod, slowly pulling your hand out his grasp. You miss the way his eyes dart down to his now empty grip, a small downward twitch to his lip that he expertly hides. âI should go back to work, Iâm assuming you do too.â You stand on wobbly feet, giving him one last lingering gaze. âOn the house, by the wayâŚ.yeah, bye.â
Suguru watches you disappear behind the curtains, a small pit expanding in his gut. He pushes it away without thought, sighing to himself as he stands and exits the cafe. He walks down the sidewalk to his blacked out 2025 Mustang GT parked on the street. Getting in with a heavy head thatâs full of all kinds of emotions. Some he doesnât try to acknowledge, but the ones he does, itâs all worry and concern. He really doesnât see how this situation can somehow turn around. Maybe you two will have a very mature and calm conversation when you cross paths.
He almost laughs to himself when he begins driving. Calm? Mature? Yeah, right. How do you have a calm conversation about hiding a kid for five years? Not to mention, you and Satoru are equally stubborn; it used to be so infuriating for him.
Suguru had patience, a lot of it actually. But you two tended to test that. Although, he would always forgive one of you the quickest. Cough, cough. You. It was like you had this weird thing about you that made the people around you justâŚlike you.
His grip tightens on the wheel, biting his lip. He gets to a red light, thumb tapping on the material. Damn it all.
Thereâs a ringing that emits from the carâs speakers, looking at his touch screen to see the familiar name. Using this as a distraction, he answers. âHey.â
âHey,â Shokoâs voice sounds out. âWhere are you? Thought you were paying for my lunch.â
He huffs, eyes rolling, and moving the car forward once the light turns green. âI never agreed to that.â
âSure you did,â Shoko replies, exhaling a breath. She must be smoking. âAnyway, hurry up. Iâm already waiting outside. I thought Satoru was coming, is he gonna be late again?â
Yeah, no. âI donât think heâs coming anymore.â
âWhy not?â Shoko asks.
Suguru exhales heavily, turning the street towards the meet-up spot with his friend. âSome shit happened, I donât think heâs doing good.â
Shoko pauses, adjusting her phone in hand. âWhat happened?â
Suguru too stops, completely forgetting how Shoko has no idea about what has transpired in the past couple of days. âIâll tell you when I see you.â
Satoru has never been surprised before, not technically. Heâs a smart man with quick instincts and a good foresight, itâs like he can always tell when something is going to happen, before it happens. Even for birthday parties, his perception and people reading skills are great, he knows when someoneâs lying or not telling the full truth.
In short, he knows a lot of things.
But, what he didnât expect was for 1) even hearing your name ever again after the breakup, and 2) you have a son, his son. A son he had not one goddamn clue about. The only person whoâs ever been able to throw him off his game is you.
Even back when you two dated, there were moments where youâd either say or do things that would make him pause for a second and think how unlikely that was of you. He knew youâd lie sometimes, small white lies werenât foreign to him because he did it too. But, he never thought youâd deliberately keep something like this from him.
And to top it off, if Suguru never saw you by chance that day, would you have ever even told him?
Now that really fucking pisses him off.
When Satoru is mad, everyone elseâs day is ruined. When heâs mad, you can see it in his face, his body, how heâs just barely holding himself back. Itâs even more scary when Satoru is known as the laid-back, playful and unserious type of man. So when heâs mad, almost no one in the office wants to make him even angrier, let alone be around him.
Heâs barely slept a total of ten hours within the past two days, mind keeping him awake. Heâs trying to not imagine the image of you holding a boy who looks like him because heâs already broken one too many pairs of glasses and the thought alone makes him infuriated. He sees a blinding white flash of betrayal, hurt, confusion, and anger.
He doesnât mean to take it out on his employees, but their feelings are not on his list of priorities.
He has a son.
A son whoâs five, apparently.
Five whole years of being kept in the dark, not even being blessed with a smidge of information about his offspring. While he was off fucking women, having fun, dreading about taking over his fatherâs business, you were god knows where, changing fucking diapers and losing sleep. And for what? Were you that fucking scared to tell him?
Oh, heâs so going to rip you a new one when he sees you.
But, heâs still not sure if he wants to do that. Afraid of what might happen, heâd rather not blow up on you, but can you blame him if he does?
He just found out he has a secret love child from a woman he knew years ago and know heâs expected to act like everything is normal in this boring fucking meeting?
Not to mention, if his father finds out, heâs not sure what will happen. If anyone else finds out, for that matter. If anything, he needs to get a reign over this messy situation before heâs allowing anyone to know.
âMr. Gojo? What do you think?â
At the sudden mention of his name, he snaps back into focus. Eyes flickering over to the bald-headed man who currently stands in front of the table of other withering men, the screen projector displaying a multitude of different statistical data. The man falters slightly, his grip tightening on the laser pointer as Gojoâs eyes land on him
Shit. He has no idea what they were even talking about. âAbout?â He clears his throat, appearing nonchalant, though the tight hold on the ballpoint pen says otherwise, the faint click of it opening and closing the only indication of his simmering irritation
The room feels colder, quieter.
The man clears his throat nervously. âThe expansion plan... into the Asia-Pacific region. Whether you think itâs viable in the current climate.â
Gojo leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, though his pen continues its faint, rhythmic clicks. His expression is unreadable, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lets the silence stretch a moment too long. âAnd you need my opinion on this?â he says finally, his tone polite but tinged with condescension.
The bald man shifts on his feet, adjusting his glasses. âW-We... wanted your insight, given your, uh, experience overseeing the European division.â
âRight,â Gojo says, dragging the word out just enough to make the man squirm. He tilts his head, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. âWell, if Iâd been paying attention, Iâd probably say something about how overly cautious you all seem to be. But thatâs just a guess.â
The bald man blanches, stammering, âO-Overly cautious? Weâve taken every factor into accountââ
âI didnât say it was a bad thing,â Gojo cuts in smoothly, his voice softening just enough to disarm the growing panic in the manâs voice. âIâm just wondering if maybe all those âfactorsâ are holding you back. Are we leaders, or are we playing it safe like everyone else?â His eyes flicker briefly over the rest of the table, daring anyone to challenge him.
The bald man hesitates, then nods quickly, his nervous energy palpable. âOf course. Youâre absolutely right, Mr. Gojo. Iâll revisit the projections toââ
âNo need,â Gojo interrupts again, flashing a faint, humorless smile. âI trust youâll figure it out. Unless you think I shouldnât.â
The man practically trips over his words in an effort to assure him. âNo, no, of course not. Iâll make the adjustments immediately.â
âPerfect,â Gojo says, the finality in his tone dismissing the topic entirely. He shifts his attention to the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together as his thoughts drift.
The room eventually moves on, the hum of conversation resuming. But Gojo doesnât miss the quick glances from across the table, the subtle unease lingering in the air.
He taps the pen against the table, his jaw tightening. Itâs taking everything in him not to snap, not to let the weight of the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a filthy fucking person seep through the cracks.
Let them sweat. Itâs the only thing keeping him entertained today.
The minute the awful meeting of ifs and hesitant decisions is over, heâs pushing out his chair, being the first one to leave the haunted room. Itâs a bad mistake on his end, because his secretary, Aiko, is on his ass. âMr. Gojo, your father is waiting for you in your office.â
Great, as if things couldnât get any fucking better. He holds back a remark, gruffing out. âFor?â
âHe didnât say, sir. He just wanted me to tell you to see him as soon as the meeting finished.â
He really, really doesnât want to see his father right now. The two were too alike, constantly butting heads which only ended in a harsh set of insults being tossed around, mingled with occasional threats of ânever passing the company down to someone as idiotic as youâ. His father is bluffing, of course. He has no other person to pass it down to, with Satoru being the oldest and only son of his fatherâs. His long legs easily lead him to the doors of his office, to which he hesitates. Taking in a big breath, before opening the doors and closing them soon after. âWhat is it?â he asks, walking over to sit in his chair, leaning back comfortably.
His father, Yamato Gojo, the current CEO of the Gojo Group, who sits leisurely on the black leather coach stands up to position himself across from his son. Arms crossed and the permanently etched frown on his face. âWhy didnât you come to the dinner yesterday? There were very important people there you needed to meet. I texted and called you.â
Why didnât he go? Can he really just say âsorry dad, I was stressing about this shithole Iâve found myself inâ. No, he canât. Instead, he shrugs and brushes his father off. âI was already busy.â
âBusy with what? Whatâs more important than networking?â
âA lot of things, actually.â
Yamato dislikes that answer quite a lot, frown seemingly deepening, regarding his son with another usual disapproving look. âSatoru, this is serious. They were expecting you and you embarrassed me. I wonât let this happen again, when I say you need to be somewhere, you be there. No if, ands, or buts. Youâre pissing me off.â
How ironic of him to say that considering heâs having the exact same effect of Satoru. He isnât scared of his father, hell no. But he does know to pick and choose his battles. And with the way his mind is completely scrambled right now, he forces himself to intake a huge breath of air. âYeah, yeah. Fine, Iâll be there next time. Happy?â
âOnly after you prove it.â Like father, like son. Satoru hates how his father always seems to want to get the last word in. But his father hates how he does the exact same.
Throughout the entirety of his shift, up until he clocks out of work and walks to his designated parking spot which houses his white 2025 Mercedes-Benz SL-Class. Driving back to his high rise penthouse on autopilot, his thoughts zeroed in on one person only. Or well, two people.
Satoru wasnât ever sure he wanted to be a father. He knew it was expected of him, but so many people had such high expectations of him, it became exhausting. Too exhausting. Does he even have a right to call himself a father to a child he never knew, a child who probably doesnât even know him?
His right hand reaches for his phone, calling a number without taking his eyes off the road. It answers on the first ring, but Satoru doesnât give him the chance to respond. âDo you know where she lives?â
Thereâs a falter, hearing Suguruâs deep breath come out on the other end. âNo, I donât. And nice to hear from you too.â
âI donât have time for your sarcasm right now.â He stops at a red light, using his left hand to rub the crease between his furrowed brows. âDo you know anything? Her number? Where she works? Where did you see her so I can go over?â
âSatoru, Iâm not sure itâs a good idea for you to go meet up with her again. Youâre obviously not in the right mind space and I donât want you two toââ
âIâll argue with her all I want, I have that goddamn right to.â Satoru grits out, interrupting his friend before he has the chance to spew out more shit heâd rather not listen to right now. âAnswer me.â
In Suguruâs mind, he knows if he gives Satoru even the tiniest bit of information regarding your whereabouts, heâll storm over there and probably say things he doesnât mean. Satoru tends to think emotionally in very dire situations, a bad habit of his. Still, although he knows his best friend should be angered by this situation, Suguru doesnât want to involve himself. More than he has. After speaking with you, heâs come to the conclusion that youâll reach out to Satoru soon. Considering the fact that he already knows. âI donât know, I saw her at a grocery store, but she was just shopping.â
âFuck,â Satoru groans, moving his car forward again. âWell how the hell do Iââ
Heâs cut off by a small vibrate to his phone, a message. When he looks down, the screen is overtaken by a new call coming in from Himari. Honestly, sheâs the last person he wants to talk to right now.
âWhatâs wrong?â Suguru asks, after noticing the small beat of silence from the other end of the phone.
What isnât wrong? âGotta go, call you later.â
âSatââ
Satoru ends the call, picking up the new one. âHey.â
âBaby,â Himariâs light voice fills his ears, sighing in relief. âCan you come pick me up? Iâm at the mall but the tires of my driverâs car popped.â
Heâd rather not, but Satoru has found out that itâs been quite difficult to say no to his girlfriend. So, he puts his own internal and external battles to the side, making a right turn and exhaling. âThe mall?â
âYes, baby. Thank you so much.â
He hums back in response. âBe there in ten, wait outside.â Once again, he hangs up and a suffocating silence fills his car. Hands tightening around the wheel, he reels himself in with a big inhale, then exhales. He canât show these sorts of emotions in front of the woman, for sheâll no doubt question and question about whatâs wrong, which will then lead to an argument. He doesnât need arguments.
As Satoru sees the mall in the distance, heâs overrun by the sudden determination. The determination to find you and meet his son.
âJust one more question, Koji. Then letâs eat dinner, how does that sound?â
The young boy groans in annoyance, the math work of simple addition problems laid out in front of him. He hates math, almost as much as you, excelling in other subjects like English and Art. âBut MamaâŚâŚâ he drags the words out in a childish manner.
Plating two plates of tonkatsu chicken with curry, one plate smaller than the other, you turn to your son who now has a pout on his face. You resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. âYou can do it, you did the other ones so well.â
Sitting next to him, you look over at his workbook. Just one more problem. Itâs a problem consisting of three numbers, 5, 23, and 6. Simple in your eyes, but a disastrous monstrosity in the eyes of a five-year-old. âMama will help you, okay?â
âOkay, Mama.â Koji grumbles, reluctantly grabbing his red pencil again.
Times like these you cherish. Sure, itâs mundane and not very exciting. But itâs the little things that matter most to you. Helping your kids with homework, helping them learn to ride a bike, tie their laces, itâs all wonderful experiences from your perspective. Proof of the fact that your chubby little baby isnât very little anymore, growing into his own person. Although, the more he grows, the more heâs starting to resemble his father. Itâs scary at times, when he looks at you and you get random flashbacks.
Eating dinner and washing up is another thing you love. After such a hectic day, you just want to unwind with your son. You had put in your PTO for the convenience store a month in advance; after a particularly hard month. Finishing at 5:00pm, like most people do, is a breath of fresh air.
You let Koji tire himself out in the tub, then the living room, to which he has Cars playing (his favorite movie at the time). He plays with his own small set of matching cars, while you sweep the kitchen. Your eyes flicker over to your phone that lays face up on the island, a bubbling sensation forming in your being, one of contemplation. You wonder to yourself, would you call Satoru? You know his number by heart, he most likely hasnât changed it.
After the breakup, you cut off all contact with him and his friends, even choosing to get a new phone and new number, just to avoid any possibly drives of texting him, or to avoid him texting you. You quite literally wanted to erase every memory about him.
Kinda hard to do that when youâre raising his carbon copy.
After another blind minute, you pause your sweeping and grab your cellular device. Youâre about to grab Suguruâs business card from your purse when a sudden question hits you.
How was he able to call you earlier at work if you had never given your number to him in the first place?
Your brows knit together while you come up with any possible solutions and reasoning to that thought, coming up blank. Seriously, how did he call you? Without thinking, you go to your recent calls, pressing the first one, and raising your phone to your ear.
It rings for about a second, before Suguruâs coaxing voice follows. âHello?â
âHow did you get my number?â
âWhat?â
âHow did you get my number? I didnât give it to you at the store.â
You can practically hear the way heâs trying to formulate an answer. Coming up with a shitty one. âI justâŚguessed.â
You say nothing, your eyes narrowing on a certain spot on the blank white walls of your kitchen.
Another second passes before he gives in, too easily. âOkay, okay. Look, I donât want to sound creepy or anything butââ
âWere you stalking me?â
âWhat?! No! Of course not, Y/N. Iâd never do that.â
âThen tell me how you got my number without me telling you.â
He sighs. ââŚI have a friend. Heâs in the law enforcement and IâŚmay have asked around. But before you get any ideas, I was worried. You just fell off the face of the Earth and I wanted to make sure you were okay.â
You canât stop the huff that leaves you. Should you feel complimented that he went out of his own way to do all this or invaded? Maybe both. Honestly, you did that all for a reason. And he blatantly went behind yours, probably everyoneâs, back to get some information on you in a shady way. Isnât that illegal or something? âSuguru, when people do that, it doesnât mean they want to be found.â
âI know, Y/N. But I was worried, so was Shoko and Satoruââ
âDoes he know my number too?â You ask, already feeling your panic run up your veins, boy straightening into a stiff position.
âNo, no, he doesnât. Just me.â He quickly relieves you.
You guess thatâs somewhat better. Although you still feel mildly annoyed at Suguru for what he did. âIs that all you know?â The way he doesnât respond immediately makes you feel even more frustrated, jaw clenching.
âIâŚ.â He lets out a heavy breath. âNo, itâs not.â
âWhat else do you fucking know?â
He winces at your now harsh tone of voice, though he knows itâs all expected. âIt wasnât on purpose, I just wanted your number, I swear. But when youâre looking for that kind of stuff, other things pop up likeâŚaddress andâŚyeah.â
If only he could see your expression right now. âYou know where I fucking live?â
âYes, Y/NâŚ.â
Okay, now your privacy is very invaded. You have never really gotten angry with Suguru, let alone get into an argument. He always knew when to stop, what not to say to make someone else feel worse, but did he just get fucking dumb after all these years? ââŚare you serious?â You know he is, not even giving him the chance to answer your rhetorical question. âFuck you, Suguru. I canât believe youâyou completelyâI donât even know what to tell you right now.â
You can hear the guilt in his voice, tone softening. âY/N, Iâm sorry. I had the best intentions, I was never going to visit you or call you without your specific permission to.â
âDid I give you permission to call me earlier?â
âNo, you didnât.â
âExactly.â With another scoff, you bite your lip, picking the correct words to voice out. You wouldnât say youâre a word vomit person, usually. But right now, you just feelâŚslightly weirded out. All this time, you thought you had solitude. But Suguru knew where you were this entire time? âGoodbye, Suguru.â
âY/N, waiââ
âDonât. If I need you, Iâll tell you. But right now I donât want to speak to you.â
He pauses, feeling his gut tighten. Nonetheless, he nods and mutters. âOkay, Iâll give you space. Just please know Iâm sorry and I really didnât have bad intentions.â
Seems like this is the second time today heâs apologizing to you. You donât like it. Without another word, you end the call, putting your phone back on the hard surface of the island. Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, seriously?
One minute youâre stressing about getting evicted, then you have to worry about Satoru somehow running into you, and now you find out Suguru has just casually known your address all these years. Why is all of this deciding to be sprung on you all at once? Out of no where? The world must be punishing you for every unholy deed youâve done in your life; it really doesnât seem fair. At all. Canât things just go right for once in your life? You just want to go at least a day without external stressors fucking you over in every way possible.
Of course, youâre unlucky. Thatâs just how things have always been for you. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, and youâre the punchline to every cruel joke. The thought of Suguru knowing your address sends a cold, uncomfortable shiver down your spine. What else does he know? What else has he been hiding?
The questions swirl in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. You sit down heavily on the edge of your worn-out couch, its cushions sagging beneath you as though they, too, are tired of carrying your weight. You bury your face in your hands, the skin of your palms rough against your cheeks, and take a deep, shaky breath.
Satoru (and Suguru). Their names alone bring up a storm of emotions you can barely keep bottled up. Youâve worked so hard to keep them, and everything they represent, in the past. Yet here they are, forcing their way back into your life like unwelcome ghosts.
You glance at the stack of overdue bills on the coffee table, mocking you with their bold red lettering. As if you didnât already know you were drowning. Maybe itâs time to stop fighting the tide.
You watch Koji focus on the bright screen, moving his toy cars in unison with the movie. Willing yourself to worry about the now, to convince yourself that youâre not done, that thereâs still some fight left in you.
However, that seems to be proving harder each and every single day.
Itâs a chilly, but sunny winter day. The sidewalk filled with other people going about their day. Youâre wearing a black trenchcoat, along with a scarf. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as little puffs of white air leave your mouth, a stark piece of evidence of how cold it is today. The heels of your shoes clacking down the concrete, making your way to the familiar cafe of Latte Lounge.
Saturdays are supposed to be happy days, a final breath of fresh air after the business of the weekdays prior. The day where people enjoy Mother Nature and what she has to offer, a day of sleeping in, a day of no responsibilities.
A woman like you has no Saturdays. Itâs like every day is a cold, hard Monday.
You finally spot the cafe, its large, glass windows giving you a sneak peek to the liveliness that resides inside. Of course, most people do choose to go to cafes on Saturdays. Especially this early in the morning. Walking in, the small bell above the door dings. The workers behind the counter greet you; while you give them a half greeting back, your eyes scan the environment. It takes a few seconds, but you see Mr. Ito sitting at a table for two in the corner.
You prepare yourself with a heavy sigh, forcing your feet to maneuver you over to the man who smiles and stands once he sees you approaching. âMs. Y/N, good morning.â
âGood morning.â Youâre a little caught off guard when he takes the empty seat from across from him and pulls it out, a silent move of help. Sitting down, he pushes your chair in then walks back over to his own. He laces his fingers together on top of the table. âGet whatever youâd like, on me, remember?â
âOh, Iâm not very thirsty right now.â
âNo, please. Itâs my pleasure, especially for meeting with me so early this morning.â
A part of you wants to deny his niceness. But, he did cause you to lose money you couldâve still had to spare if you didnât have to call in Sana to watch Koji. And well, coffee always makes you feel better. âJust an iced vanilla latte.â
He nods and stands up. âGreat, Iâll be back.â
Watching him go up to the counter and order, you look back down at your lap. Koji misbehaving sounds odd, heâs always been an obedient kid. Of course he has his moments, but he understands when to listen and when to goof around. A few minutes later, Mr. Ito sits back down with two cups of coffee, sliding yours over to you. You thank him and sip. Hm, not too bad.
Thereâs a small silence that flows over you two as you taste your coffees, but you wait for him to speak first. He did schedule this little meeting, after all. He clears his throat. âSo, Ms. Y/N, again thank you for meeting with me.â
You nod. âOf course, Mr. Ito. Anything for Koji.â
Mr. Ito smiles, his hand waving you off. âOh please, call me Haruto.â
Already trying to get on a first name basis. Simply nodding again, you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.
âAnywho, like I said earlier this week, I have concerns about Kojiâs behavior. You see, heâs had about six instances where he doesnât listen to me when I say itâs time for silent reading time. I understand heâs a talkative child, but he usually does not act out like this. Would you happen to have any idea as to why he is behaving this way so suddenly?â
âNo, I donât. Koji listens well, and he hasnât come to me specifically about getting in trouble.â You respond, lips pursing.
Mr. Ito nods in understanding. âI can assume so, but his behavior has started affecting his peers, as well.â
You sit up straighter in your chair. âIn what way?â
âWell,â Mr. Ito tilts his head, seemingly recounting the times Koji has misbehaved. âThe students who sit around him have started coming to me, complaining about how Koji doesnât leave them alone. They feel as if heâs taking away from their learning.â
What? Not to mention that that sounds quiteâŚinteresting for other five year olds to say, but no way Koji has been that bad. Maybe itâs your bias as his parent, but this is brand new to you, very brand new. Even when heâs home, Koji always insists on doing his homework before playing or eating dinner. So really, youâre not sure how to react to this surge of new information about your own child. âI really donât know, Mr. Ito. I mean, Koji is a great boy, he listens very well to me and the other adults in his life. Iâm just as shocked as you are right now.â
Mr. Ito leans back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. âIâm not doubting your parenting skills. Kojiâs clearly a bright and energetic boy. Maybe too energetic for some of his classmates to handle.â His tone is light, but thereâs an undercurrent there, something you canât quite place. âItâs possible heâs just seeking attention in ways that might not be obvious at home.â
You nod slowly, though his words donât sit right with you. Koji doesnât come across as attention-seeking at all. If anything, heâs a bit reserved until heâs comfortable around someone. âIâll talk to him tonight and see if I can figure out whatâs going on. Maybe thereâs more to this than meets the eye.â
âIâm sure you will,â Mr. Ito says, his smile deepening as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The movement feels deliberate, like heâs closing some invisible gap between the two of you. âYouâve always struck me as a very attentive parent.â
The compliment lands awkwardly, and you find yourself straightening your back again, instinctively pulling away from his lingering gaze. âThank you, Mr. Ito,â you say curtly, steering the conversation back to its purpose. âI just want to make sure Kojiâs doing well and that his behavior isnât affecting his classmates.â
âOf course,â he says smoothly, not missing a beat. âAnd Iâm here to help however I can. We could even set up regular meetings if youâd like, to make sure we stay on the same page about Kojiâs progress.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you say, your polite tone edging into firmness. âBut I do appreciate the offer.â
His smile falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, leaning back in his chair as though he hadnât just been testing the waters. âUnderstood. Please, donât hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. My door is always open.â
You nod, feeling a distinct shift in the atmosphereâone youâre eager to step away from. âWell, are there any other concerns I should know about, Mr. Ito?â
He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. âNo, Ms. Y/N. None at all, thank you for coming out.â
âThank you for the coffee, have a nice day.â You reply, wasting no time in standing up, grabbing your drink in one hand and bag in the other. Though, his voice speaking again causes you to stop.
âMs. Y/N,â Mr. Itoâs voice stops you just as you push your chair back. You glance at him over your shoulder, and thereâs a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. âI really hope I didnât come across as too forward earlier. Iâm just...invested in making sure Koji has everything he needs to thrive.â
You offer a polite smile, settling the strap of your bag on your shoulder. âOf course, Mr. Ito. I appreciate that.â
He smiles, but thereâs a pause before he continues. âItâs rare, you know, to see a parent as involved as you are. Itâs refreshing.â
The compliment makes you pause, and you clutch your coffee cup a little tighter. âWell, Kojiâs my world,â you reply simply, brushing off the remark.
âAs he should be.â Mr. Ito leans back in his seat, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his own drink. âBut I imagine that must get exhausting sometimes, especially since you seem to handle everything on your own.â His tone is casual, but thereâs a softness to it, as if heâs inviting you to confide in him.
You blink, his words catching you off guard. Is he fishing for something? âItâs not always easy,â you admit cautiously, âbut thatâs just part of being a parent.â
âTrue,â he says with a small nod, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. âStill, you shouldnât hesitate to lean on the people around you when you need to. Itâs not a sign of weakness, you know.â
You stiffen slightly, unsure how to interpret his words. They seem innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flickers toward you feels... calculated. âI manage just fine, thank you,â you reply, keeping your tone light but firm.
âOf course,â he says smoothly, raising his hands slightly as if to placate you. âYou strike me as someone who handles things with grace. Itâs admirable.â
You glance at your watch, eager to end the conversation. âWell, I should get going. Iâll talk to Koji about everything we discussed.â
âOf course.â Mr. Ito stands as you do, his smile as steady as ever. âThank you again for meeting me. And...if you ever want to talk more, even just about life in general, Iâd be happy to listen.â
His words hang in the air for a moment, and you force another polite smile. âThank you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.â
âI can walk you to your car, Iâm heading out as well.â He quickly suggests.
You shake your head almost instantly, smile feeling more narrow. âNo need, thank you.â
âAre you sure?â
âQuite sure.â
âBut Iââ
âThank you again, but I really must go.â You cut him off, feeling your patience run thin and the desire to be cordial and polite stretching too much. You nod stiffly and turn around to briskly walk out the cafe. However, just as you do so, you collide into something, or someone.
Your open-lidded coffee fumbles a bit in your hand, quickly steadying it. Though it does manage to stain the white shirt of the person you just bumped into. Just great. You hold back a wince and apologize. âIâm really sorry, I wasnâtââ
Your words leave you, your breath feeling like itâs been stolen straight from your chest. Every hair on your body stands up straight, your heart falling straight to your ass like youâve just hit the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. You know that feeling when you question if something is real or not, pleading with yourself and every deity watching that itâs not? Well, thatâs exactly how you feel right now.
It feels like a spotlight has been shone on you without your consent and you suddenly want to throw up. Because as your eyes have moved up to profusely apologize to the stranger, a bucket of water filled with nostalgia and past memories drowns you.
The bright blue, unmistakable irides stare back down at you. A million memories play on repeat, but one thingâs for certain.
The past has never felt so close, and you suddenly want to erase it all and scream.
a/n: the dreaded reunion is here! thank you for reading and the tremendous support! <3 stay tuned for next chap, sorry if yall thought these two were boring, chapter 3 will be getting more into it
taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts
#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk fanfic#gojo x reader#gojo x reader series#jjk gojo#jjk satoru#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo#satoru angst#satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#x reader#jjk angst#gojo x you#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojou satoru x reader#dividers by @/cafekitsune#dad! gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you
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"best friends who kiss?"
character/s: bakugo katsuki
summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.
genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad đ, tw kind of ooc bakugo
a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 𤊠+ this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year đ so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.
"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"
"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.
you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.
you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."
then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ăźor something more insulting than that.
you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.
"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"
"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"
you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.
"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"
"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."
he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.
"where are you going? we're not done yetăź!"
and he's out of the door.
was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upăź that was something he always struggled with after all.
at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.
after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.
"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.
there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.
he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.
"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"
you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"
"s-sure."
when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?
he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.
"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.
"t's okay."
"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.
"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiăź"
"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.
"son of a bitch."
the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.
you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.
now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.
he's planting feather-light kisses all over youăź your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'
"i'm okayăź" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.
your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.
you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.
bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationăź you don't know.
you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.
you kick him in the shin.
"motherfăź!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"i was going toăź"
"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"
"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.
"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanăź" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"
he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.
"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."
silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.
"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.
you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."
"i'm not confused. i like you."
"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."
"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forăź"
"stop saying that. you don't."
"i do, and you like me tooăź"
"what?!" you laugh incredulously.
'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?
you do what is necessary again.
"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.
"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."
you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.
"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reăź!"
"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."
you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.
"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"
"we're not going to break it off."
"how do you know that?"
"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"
"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."
"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."
"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."
he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."
"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.
"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."
if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.
"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meăź suck it up."
in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.
"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"
he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.
"and everytime i failedăź everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemăź you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."
he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.
"i love youăź fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."
after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.
he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.
when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.
"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."
"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."
"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."
you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.
"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"
he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."
"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."
"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)
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