#It's just a lot of raw emotion because I cared | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soluversworld · 1 month ago

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“𝐁𝐲 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐁𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐁𝐲 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫” - REDACTED X G.N Reader nsfw

14 DAYS WITH YOU is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-

Words: long

Genre: Smut

If you find mistakes I'm sorry I did not proof read

(Reader is G.N)-(This one-shot is nsfw!)

Summary : To distract REDACTED, you suggested looking at his damn sports motorcycle, Who knew- this would end up in..fuck

Trigger Warnings (TWs) and Content Warnings (CWs):

Trigger Warnings (TWs):

Graphic Sexual Content (NSFW, explicit descriptions of sex)

Breeding Kink & Possessiveness (mentions of ownership, possessive language)

Past Childhood Trauma (emotional distress, implied separation trauma)

Body Horror Elements (scarring, burns, detailed injury descriptions)

Overstimulation & Aftercare (exhaustion, body weakness post-sex)

Content Warnings (CWs):

Heavy Dom/Sub Dynamics (praise, possessive language, submission)

Affection & Intimacy Themes (nose kisses, hand-holding, childhood romance)

Food Play/Feeding Kink Lite (feeding partner cake, describing sweetness)

Emotional Vulnerability (crying, reassurance, romantic declarations)

It happened too fast, too slow, exactly as it should’ve. That day—you saw past the lie, past the face, past the teeth bared in something not quite a smile.

And today, they’re yours. Almost. A heartbeat away from fiancé, a lifetime away from certainty. It took time. God, it took time.

You wore the ring that day, but not for love, not for promises, not even for the pleasure of peeling back the layers of REDACTED like rotting wallpaper. That’s a story for another day, sweetheart. For now—

You love REDACTED more than Ren, more than the mask they made to hold the world at arm’s length. You love the rot beneath.

Realistically? A few years. Maybe forever. Maybe never. Ren’s been rewriting himself since before he even knew how to spell his own name, shaving down the edges of REDACTED into something soft, something pliable, something digestible. Someone lovable.

Because Ren, as he is, isn’t enough. Can’t be. He learned that young, learned it deep, learned it so well it’s a reflex now, a gut reaction. A knee-jerk flinch into being whatever you want, whatever keeps you looking at him. But REDACTED—ah. They don’t care. They don’t need to. They know the truth, and the truth is cruel:

You like a lot of things. You like a lot of people. But you’ll never like him enough. Not really. Not the way he wants. And he’s made peace with that.

Ren is Haruko, and Haruko is sweet. Haruko stumbles over words and tries too hard. Haruko is a puppet carved from borrowed smiles and practiced stutters. But REDACTED—RED is sharp, cruel, jagged in a way no one wants to hold. Cold, empty, tired in the bones. If he ever learned love, it was an imitation, an echo—flat, distant, never quite right.

The blushing? Real. The sweating? Also real. The stammering, the nerves, the pathetic little slip-ups? All him, honest and raw, because fuck, he never expected to have this. Angel wasn’t supposed to see him. Ren was supposed to be background noise, an afterthought, a whisper of a person that never solidified. But fate had different plans, and now he’s in too deep.

And this? This is life now. A life built on strings and careful calculations, on the soft lie of Haruko and the hard truth of REDACTED bleeding through the cracks. And you—you don’t know if it’s guilt that keeps you here. If it’s sympathy, or pity, or something worse. You don’t know if he even wants saving.

He’s shit in the saddest way possible. But he doesn’t care. Never has. Never will.

It’s all just—ah.

You’ve accepted REDACTED now, right? Last time, they held you through it—your own personal shield against every jump scare, every flicker of something too fast, too wrong in the dark. You screamed, clung to them like a lifeline, like a fucking lifeblood, fingers digging in, breath caught, and they—cool as ever—just patted your head. Like you were some trembling stray curled up in their lap.

Now? You’re a pro. A veteran. An unshakable force of—no, fuck that, you’re still scared. Still clutching them like a goddamn koala, half-buried in their chest, gripping the fabric of their hoodie like it might save your soul. And they let you. One hand still in your hair, absentminded, rhythmically soothing, the other loose on your thigh like they aren’t watching people get gutted on screen.

Both of your rings—the rings, the childhood ones—sit snug around your fingers. Like wedding bands. Like something binding. Like something permanent. Ah. Cute.

"Scary f’ ya?" REDACTED barely glances at the screen, more interested in the way you’ve tensed up, knuckles white against the blanket. "Want me t’change it?"

"Shut the fuck up." You don’t even look at them, eyes locked on the too-dark hallway stretching across the screen, waiting for something—anything—to lunge. Your fingers tighten in their sleeve like you’re bracing for impact.

They huff a quiet laugh, all amusement, all smug, before shifting. Heavy. Comfortable. Head dropping onto your lap like they belong there. "Suit yourself."

Their warmth sinks into you, grounding. Distracting. You don’t relax, not completely, but you loosen just enough to card your fingers through their hair. They hum, pleased, tapping lazy fingers against your thigh.

You flinch at a sudden jump scare.

They don’t even pretend not to notice.

They hum again, but this time, it’s different—deeper, slower, something deliberate curling at the edges of their voice. The kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, pooling low in your stomach. Their fingers, lazy against your thigh, trace an absentminded pattern, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing skin.

"Y’really that scared?" they murmur, turning their head just enough to glance up at you, half-lidded, half-smirking. "Ain’t even watchin’ the movie no more."

"Maybe ‘cause someone won’t shut up," you fire back, but your voice is softer than you meant it to be, breath catching when they press their face into your stomach—right there—like they know exactly what they’re doing.

"Mm." They exhale slow, warm, lips brushing fabric. "Or maybe y’jus’ need a better distraction."

Their fingers ghost higher. Their grip tightens, just a little. Your heart skips.

Yeah. Fuck the movie.

Their lips are warm—almost searing—the weight of them pressed against yours stealing the air right from your lungs. It’s slow at first, teasing, like they’re testing the waters, but the second you start to lean in, the second your fingers curl in their shirt, they take it as permission to devour.

"Mm—" You barely get a sound out before they tilt their head, deepening it, a slow, deliberate slide of lips and tongue that has heat creeping up your spine. Their hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing just firm enough to make you shudder.

"Y’kiss back real pretty," they murmur, breaking away just enough to speak, their voice dipped in amusement, something smug curling at the edges. "S’good f’me, yeah?"

You barely get the chance to respond before their teeth catch your lower lip—a sharp little nip that sends a jolt right down to your gut. Your grip on them tightens.

Then your heel catches on the floor, and suddenly, you’re tilting back, balance slipping—

But they’re already moving, already got an arm wrapped around you, holding you steady before you can even process the fall.

They click their tongue, half-laughing, half-scolding, pulling you flush against them like you belong there.

"Clumsy," they chide, and you can hear the grin in their voice, the way it stretches, smug and sharp. Their fingers trace slow circles against your lower back, dipping just under the hem of your shirt. "Y’like bein’ held this close, huh? Don’t even gotta ask—jus’ throw y’self at me next time, sweetheart."

Your face feels like it’s on fire. The warmth creeps down your neck, settling deep in your chest, and you hate—hate—how easy it is for them to get you like this.

"I—shut up," you grumble, voice barely above a whisper, but it comes out embarrassingly shaky. You’re still pressed against them, still close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of their breathing, and god, their hand hasn’t moved from your back.

They hum, tilting their head, eyes scanning your face like they’re drinking in every little reaction. "Angel, y’okay?" The nickname comes soft, almost reverent, but there’s something else in their tone, something knowing. They’re enjoying this—your flustered little stammers, the way you can’t meet their gaze for too long without feeling like you’ll combust.

"I—I’m fine." You try to sound steady, but it’s hard when their fingers drag slow, featherlight up your spine. A barely-there touch, but enough to send another shiver rolling through you.

"Mm." They don’t sound convinced. If anything, they sound amused. "S’that so?" A pause, and then—"Y’look real cute like this, y’know."

You whimper. Actually whimper.

And they hear it.

Their grin stretches, slow and lazy, all dimples and sharp teeth. "That a little sound y’jus’ made? Cute."

"Shut up," you try again, swatting at their chest, but they just catch your wrist, bring it up between the two of you. Their fingers curl around it, thumb smoothing along your pulse.

"Y’really nervous, huh?" Their voice drops, honey-smooth, coaxing. Their grip is loose, easy to pull away from, but you don’t. You can’t. Not when they’re looking at you like that.

"...No," you mumble, and it’s a horrible lie.

They chuckle, and before you can think, before you can even breathe, they bring your wrist to their lips, pressing the softest kiss against the inside of it.

"You’re adorable," they murmur against your skin, and it’s unfair, unfair how easily those words send your heart into a frenzy. "Y’don’t gotta be shy with me, angel."

You’re going to combust.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before REDACTED tilts your chin up, their lips grazing yours again—slow, deliberate, teasing. They’re watching you, gauging every little twitch, every sharp inhale, every way your body reacts to them like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“D’you want more?” Their voice is low, a lazy drawl against your mouth. “Y’gotta tell me, angel.”

Your fingers clutch at their sleeves, grounding yourself. The way they speak—it’s like they already know the answer, but they want to hear it. Want to pull it from you.

You swallow, heat curling in your stomach. “Yeah.”

A quiet hum vibrates against your lips before they press another kiss there, just as slow, just as consuming. Their fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your waist in a touch that barely lingers but leaves fire in its wake.

“That feel good?” They murmur between kisses, voice dropping an octave. “Tell me where.”

You almost forget how to breathe, arching just slightly into their touch. Their hands are so big, so warm, and when they drag their teeth along your lower lip, you can’t stop the way your fingers tighten in their clothes.

They chuckle, the sound deep and pleased. “Y’can’t even think straight, huh? S’cute.”

Your face burns hotter, and you bury it against their shoulder for a second, trying to compose yourself. But they’re not having that. Their hand slides up your back, pulling you closer, their lips brushing your ear.

“I don’t think y’can take all of me, angel.” Their voice is velvety, teasing, full of that patient kind of amusement that only makes it worse. “You’re practically stuffed full already.”

A whimper catches in your throat, and their hand tilts your head back, forcing you to look at them.

“Mm. Look at you.” Their thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and their eyes flicker down to where your lips are definitely a little wet from their kisses. Their smirk turns downright sinful. “You’re droolin’. Feels that good, huh?”

You can barely get a word out before their lips are back on yours, deeper this time, and—god—they’re not letting you go anytime soon.

REDACTED's mouth is still warm on yours, their breath mixing with yours in a way that makes your head feel light, like you’re toeing the edge of something sharp. Their hands don’t leave you—not yet, anyway. A thumb tracing lazy circles at your hip, a palm firm against your lower back. Secure. Unmovable. Like if they let go, you’d slip away. Like they don’t want that.

But your brain is drowning, so you do what you do best: open your mouth and let words spill out like you aren’t just trying to distract yourself from the way they have you pinned.

“…You have a motorcycle.”

A beat. Then, a slow blink.

“…Yeah.” Their voice is still low, still rough, like they haven’t quite left the moment behind. But their brow lifts, bemused, like they’re trying to understand how this is what you’re thinking about right now. “What about it?”

“I wanna see it.”

They stare at you. Like you just asked them to pull the moon out of the sky and hand it to you on a silver platter. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them look so…confused.

“It’s just a bike.”

“It’s your bike.”

Another pause. You watch the way their mouth twitches, some unreadable thought flickering behind their eyes. “You’re not thinkin’ of ridin’ it, are ya?”

You scoff, dramatic. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little.”

You gasp. They smirk. The moment is broken—mostly. Their hands are still on you, after all. Their voice still has that drawl, like they’re tasting every word before they let it leave their mouth.

“Fine,” you huff, shoving at their chest (not that it moves them).

“…Alright,” they say finally, giving you one last kiss—slow, lingering—before pulling back. “Let’s go.”

REDACTED takes your hand like it’s second nature, like they don’t even think about it—just interlaces their fingers with yours and leads you through the mess of their garage.

It’s a wasteland. A graveyard for things they once cared about and then didn’t.

You see the car first, buried under dust, the tires slightly deflated. You remember when they bought it—thought they drove one, figured they might need it for you. But you should’ve known. A car was too…normal. Too practical.

The motorcycle, though—that fits them like a second skin.

Sleek black, polished even though they barely take it out. It suits them in a way the car never could. The sharp edges of it match the sharp edges of their jaw. The deep black mirrors the ink on their arms, the piercings that gleam under dim garage lights. And then there’s their eyes—blue, cutting through the dark like high beams. Jesus.

“I knew you’d be into it,” they murmur, watching you take it all in. There’s that teasing lilt in their voice again. The one that says they know what you’re thinking.

You roll your eyes, but your fingers twitch at your sides. You wanna feel it.

So you try to climb it.

And immediately almost fall on your ass.

REDACTED catches you like they knew you’d do that too.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, angel,” they laugh, hands firm at your waist, pulling you up like you weigh nothing.

“I got it!” you insist, except you don’t because this thing is heavy as hell, and you don’t know the first thing about handling a bike like this.

“Uh-huh,” they hum, clearly not believing you at all, but still helping you settle onto the seat anyway. Their hands linger at your hips, warm, grounding. They lean in, just a little, just enough for their breath to brush against your cheek.

“Y’look real sweet up there,” they murmur, lips just barely grazing your ear. “Too sweet.”

You swallow. Your heart does something weird in your chest.

“…Are you gonna show me how to ride it or just stand there flirting?”

They grin, slow and sharp. “Can’t do both?”

REDACTED chuckles, low and warm, like they heard the sound you just made—like they felt it vibrate against their chest.

They climb on behind you, and suddenly, you’re caged in. Their legs bracket yours, their arms reach past your sides, hands covering yours on the handlebars. You feel the weight of them, solid and unshakable, and then—

Their hands slide to your waist. Adjusting. Correcting. But fuck, they don’t have to be this slow about it.

“S’posed to sit like this,” they murmur, pressing you back against them, firm, like they know you feel everything. Their breath is warm at your ear, their lips barely brushing skin as they lean in to reach the ignition.

The bike rumbles to life. You feel it first in your fingertips, then up your arms, then—oh. It sinks into your thighs, a steady hum between your legs, and you swallow down the noise that threatens to escape.

REDACTED notices. Of course they notice.

“You feel that?” they murmur, voice all honeyed amusement. Their grip on your hands tightens just enough to make your breath hitch. “S’nice, huh?”

You nod, maybe too quickly, because their laughter comes slow and smug against

You turn. Maybe too fast, maybe too eager, but REDACTED doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, they welcome it—because the moment you do, their hands are already there, steadying you, holding you like they knew you’d come to them.

And then—

Their lips.

Soft. So much softer than you expected, given everything else about them—the weight of their body, the roughness of their hands, the way they talk, lazy and deep, like they’ve got all the time in the world. But this? This is different. This is gentle.

Like they’re savoring it. Like you’re something to be tasted slow, something they don’t want to rush.

Your back meets the sleek body of the motorcycle, and they follow, leaning in, caging you in, their weight pressing into you in all the right ways. You feel them—all of them—towering over you, surrounding you, drowning you in their warmth.

And then their fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face just right, deepening the kiss, making you feel it, and fuck—

They break away first. Just barely. Just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you go.

“Y’taste sweet,” they murmur, thumb brushing slow over your lower lip. Their eyes are half-lidded, like they’re already thinking about going back in. “Knew you would.”

You’re breathless. Maybe a little dazed. Maybe a little—

Their lips ghost over yours, teasing, like they want to make you beg for it. Like they want to hear you say it, admit how badly you want them. Their hands? Firm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles against your skin, like they’re mapping you out, like they’re memorizing the feel of you under their touch.

“Y’should see yourself,” they murmur, voice like a lazy drawl, all heat and hunger and patience that makes your skin burn. “Spread out on my bike like this. Look so fuckin’ pretty.”

The way they say it—like they own you, like they’re claiming you—it sends something hot curling low in your stomach.

Then their hands slide up, up, teasing under your shirt, knuckles dragging against bare skin, slow enough to make you shiver. “Feel good, angel?” They dip lower, fingers playing at the waistband of your pants, like they’re waiting for permission.

And then—fuck—their teeth. They nip at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You feel the way they smile against your skin, feel the way they hum in satisfaction, like they love marking you up.

“Want my hands on you?” A little squeeze at your hips. “Y’gotta tell me where.”

Their fingers press in slow, teasing, just barely skimming where you need them most. It’s intentional, the way they hold back, the way they make you feel every inch of the wait.

“Fuck,” you breathe, hips twitching, chasing the contact, but they don’t give in. Not yet.

They chuckle, low and dark, a sound that sinks into your skin. “So impatient,” they murmur, dragging their knuckles up your inner thigh, agonizingly slow. “Y’been thinking about this, huh? How long?”

Their words feel like a game—like they already know the answer but want to hear you say it anyway. You swallow hard, your breath uneven as you try to focus, try not to let them see how wrecked you already are.

Their lips return to your throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, while their hand—fuck, their hand—finally moves where you need it, fingers pressing firm and knowing. A sharp gasp leaves you, your head tilting back against the bike, exposing more of your throat to their teeth, their tongue.

“That’s it,” they murmur against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. “Take what y’need, angel.”

And then they press in deeper, their touch turning slow and deliberate, coaxing out every little sound they can pull from you. Their other hand drags up your side, pushing beneath your shirt, fingers spreading wide as if they want to feel every inch of you.

It’s overwhelming—the heat of their body against yours, the steady rhythm of their touch, the way they watch you, like they want to memorize every reaction, every shudder.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” they rasp, pressing their forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “Could keep you like this all day.”

And from the way they’re touching you—like they have no intention of stopping—you’re starting to think they mean it.

You're not sure when you started shaking. Maybe it was the moment they first pressed you down against their bike, the cold metal sharp against the heat pooling in your stomach. Maybe it was when their lips barely grazed yours, teasing, promising, making you desperate. Or maybe—fuck—maybe it was when their hands started to roam, those strong, practiced fingers dragging slow over your skin like they were memorizing every inch of you.

And now? Now you’re undone.

They’ve got you caged in, their body flush against yours, their hands firm but patient as they press against your stomach, fingers spreading wide, palms warm as they pull you closer like they don’t want a single inch of space between you. Their breath is heavy against your lips, teasing, tempting, but they don’t kiss you yet. Not properly. They’re waiting. Watching.

They love watching.

“Y’know how fuckin’ pretty you are?” they murmur, dragging their fingers lower, pressing into the soft dip of your stomach, just enough to make you feel the possessive weight of their hands. “Could spend all night just lookin’ at you like this.”

Their words make something tighten low in your gut, an embarrassing whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it. Their smirk sharpens, dangerous, and their hands move—one sliding down to squeeze your thigh, the other trailing up to your wrist, fingers brushing against your palm before lacing with yours.

Yeah. They love your hands too.

You feel the press of their lips against your knuckles, slow and deliberate, their tongue flicking out just slightly before they sink their teeth into the sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to mark.

“Mine,” they murmur, voice a little rough, a little distracted, as if the word just slipped out without them meaning to say it.

Fuck.

Your breath stutters as they lean in, their teeth dragging over your throat, nipping at the skin before soothing it with their tongue. They don’t stop there. They trail lower, their mouth finding your collarbone, then your chest, their hands still mapping you out, still pressing and teasing, like they want to touch everywhere at once.

Their grip tightens on your thigh as they spread you wider, their other hand still locked with yours, fingers squeezing tight. Their lips move lower, kissing a slow path down your stomach, mouthing at the sensitive skin, sucking, leaving marks, branding you as theirs.

"Y'feel so good," they breathe against your skin, voice thick with something raw, something real. "So soft. So perfect."

Their breath fans over your stomach, and they press another open-mouthed kiss there, their tongue flicking out to taste before their teeth sink in, leaving another mark—deeper this time. You shudder, a helpless moan slipping out, and they groan at the sound, their grip on your thigh tightening.

And then—fuck—then you feel it.

The cool metal of their piercing drags against your skin as they mouth lower, teasing, biting, before pressing their hips flush against yours, letting you feel everything. The sharp contrast of heat and steel makes you gasp, your fingers tightening in theirs, and they smirk, pleased with your reaction.

“You like that?” they ask, voice pure sin, hips rolling just slightly to let you feel the full weight of their arousal against you. “Y’like feelin’ how fuckin’ hard you make me?”

You whimper, head tilting back against the bike, but they don’t let you escape. Their grip on your hand tightens, grounding you, making sure you stay right here with them.

“Tell me,” they murmur against your stomach, lips brushing over each mark they’ve left, soothing, worshiping. “Wanna hear you say it, angel.”

Your breath shudders, your free hand moving to tangle in their hair, tugging just enough to make them groan. “EH- REDACTED? I love it.”

Their reaction is immediate. Their hips press against you again, firmer this time, more deliberate, letting you feel the piercing drag against you as they grind down slow, savoring it. Their mouth trails up, capturing your lips in a deep, heated kiss, their tongue teasing past your lips, taking, tasting, claiming.

“Good,” they breathe between kisses, pressing their forehead to yours, panting against your lips. “Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Just lemme take care of you.”

Got it. Buckle up.

The metal of the bike is cold against your burning skin, but you barely register it over the heat of him. [REDACTED] has you spread over his lap, thighs trembling where they bracket his, hands gripping the handlebars behind you for balance. You can feel him, hot and thick, stretching you open inch by inch—again. Your legs are shaking, overstimulated from how long he’s been toying with you, but he just won’t stop.

“Y’make the most lewd fuckin’ sounds.."

His voice is a slow, honey-thick drawl against your ear, and then—fuck

You try to turn your head away, but his free hand is already gripping your jaw, keeping you locked in place.

“Nuh-uh, angel."

He pulls you down hard against his lap, forcing every inch of him deep inside you, dragging that metal along your walls just like before. The sound you let out is shameless, and he groans at the way you squeeze around him.

“There it is,” he murmurs, smug as sin, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Knew I could make y’sing like that again.”

His hips roll slow, lazy, dragging out every second of your torment. You can feel every piercing along his cock, the cool bite of metal making you jolt, overstimulated and desperate, but he’s barely even paying attention to you—like he’s just using your body for his own pleasure.

“Look at how fuckin’ good y’look on my cock,” he drawls, watching your reflection in the mirror across the garage, watching your lips part and your lashes flutter as he thrusts up again. “You were practically droolin’ before. Y’must love bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You whimper, but that’s not enough for him.

“Go on. Say it.”

He punctuates the command with a sharp snap of his hips, grinding you down so deep you feel him press against that perfect spot inside you, and your head thumps back against his shoulder.

“I—I love it,” you gasp, back arching, thighs squeezing around his waist.

His chuckle is low and dangerous, and then his mouth is on you—kissing, sucking, nipping at the base of your neck as he starts rolling his hips in earnest.

“My angel always does such a good job,” he purrs, barely above a whisper. His hands trail down your thighs, squeezing, teasing, spreading you open just a little wider. “Y’already know that, don’t you?” His fingers dip between your legs, pressing just where you need it most. “’Course y’do. Can feel you squeezin’ around me right now.”

Your fingers dig into his arms, nails leaving little half-moon imprints in his skin as you rock against him, chasing your high, but he tsks, stopping all movement entirely.

“Ah-ah. Not yet.”

You whimper, hips stuttering in desperation, but he just smirks.

“Be patient, angel.” His hands slide back up to your chest, pinching, teasing, making you whine. “Y’can cum when I say so.”

And if you start rutting against him for friction, panting and desperate, he just chuckles, smug and infuriating.

“Look at you. Y’just can’t help yourself, huh?” His breath is hot against your ear, teasing, taunting. “S’alright. S’what I made you for, ain't it?”

And when you finally fall apart—when you finally shudder and break, crying out his name as your whole body trembles—he groans, dragging you down hard against his cock, pushing himself as deep as he can go.

“Fuck,” he rasps, breathless for the first time all night. His hands slide up, one tangling in your hair as the other grips your hip, keeping you locked in place, making sure you feel everything. “Y’took me so fuckin’ well.”

His lips press against the curve of your jaw, almost tender, before he murmurs, “Y’did so good for me, angel. So, I’ll let you pick.”

His fingers trail down your stomach, teasing, possessive.

His words curl around your brain like smoke, thick and intoxicating, clouding out anything but him. Your breath stutters—just enough hesitation for his smirk to sharpen.

“Aw, angel.” His voice is a slow, rolling drawl, lazy and smug. “Y’can’t even pick, huh?”

His fingers drag along your stomach, teasing, possessive. The motion sends a shiver straight down your spine, your overstimulated body twitching in his grip. You’re still stuffed full of him, stretched wide and trembling, but he waits. Like he enjoys watching you struggle to speak, to even think through the haze he’s wrapped you in.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your temple, deceptively soft. “Which d’ya want more?”

Your mouth opens, but all that escapes is a shaky breath. His fingers flex against your hip, gripping, kneading—waiting. And then, slowly, deliberately, he rolls his hips.

The noise that leaves you is barely human.

“Fuck—”

The sound of his chuckle is all teeth.

“There it is.”

His hand slides up your throat, tilting your chin so he can watch you—your dazed eyes, your parted lips, the way your body twitches at every lazy, deliberate grind of his hips. His gaze is half-lidded, burning, drinking in every inch of you.

“Feels good, don’t it?” His voice is syrup-thick, dragging down your spine like a physical thing. “Being stretched open like this, takin’ everything I give you…”

You swallow, barely nodding—too lost in the heat, the weight, the slow, devastating drag of him inside you. And he sees it.

His grip tightens.

“Y’can’t even fuckin’ talk, can you?”

You shake your head, eyes slipping shut, body keening against him. He hums, low and satisfied, kissing just below your ear.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Another slow thrust, dragging against that perfect spot inside you, making your whole body jolt. “I’ll decide for you.”

He shifts, pressing deep, locking you against him—and stays there, buried to the hilt, his breath warm against your neck.

“Be good,” he murmurs. “And take it.”

And then—heat. Possession. His arms tighten, his breath shudders, and you feel him let go—deep, slow, branding you from the inside out.

He groans against your skin, dragging his teeth along your pulse, and fuck—he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull out, just keeps you there, completely filled, his cock still throbbing inside you.

“Guess we gotta keep goin’ till.."

His fingers trail down, smearing sweat across your skin, touching and teasing as he shifts beneath you—still hard, still inside.

And from the way his smirk curls against your jaw, he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

His hands are everywhere—gripping, kneading, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Your whole body shudders as he grinds against you, still buried deep, his cock twitching with every shaky breath you take.

“Fuck, angel,” he groans, voice thick with heat. “Takin’ me so well—so fuckin’ deep—”

His hips roll, pressing just a little further, like he’s testing how much more you can take. The stretch is already too much, your body trembling against him, but the way he stays inside, stuffed to the hilt, makes you feel—

“Bet y’d look so good like this all the time.”

Your breath stutters.

He hums against your skin, slow and teasing. “All full of me. Carryin’ my cum inside that pretty little hole, leakin’ down your thighs…”

His fingers dip lower, just barely brushing over the mess he’s already made of you. A whimper slips out, and his smirk sharpens.

“Mm. Maybe I should make sure it sticks.”

You don’t even have time to process before his hands are gripping your hips tight, tilting you just right—before he thrusts up in one slow, filthy motion, grinding deep, making sure every drop of his cum stays right where he put it.

Your whole body jolts, overstimulated and trembling, but he just grins.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth along your jaw, pressing lazy kisses to your flushed skin. “Think I wanna see you full of me all the fuckin’ time.”

He rolls his hips again, still slow, still teasing, but his breath is coming rougher now, his grip tightening.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low purr against your ear. “Let me fuck you open every night, make sure you’re stuffed full—”

His fingers trail down your stomach, possessive, like he can already see it, like he wants to see it.

“Y’gonna let me breed you, angel?”

Your whole body clenches around him, and his groan is pure sin.

“…Yeah,” he breathes, voice all heat and hunger. “That’s what I thought.”

And then he moves.

Slow, deep, pushing you down to take him as he fucks his cum further inside, groaning at the way you twitch and shake, overstimulated but still so needy. His hands roam, pressing you close, dragging his nails down your sides like he’s marking his claim.

“Gonna fill you up every fuckin’ time,” he murmurs, lips trailing over your pulse, your throat, the corner of your mouth. “Till y’can’t even think of anyone else.”

"But, I- only think of you all the time.."

His grip tightens instantly. The second those shaky little words leave your lips, he stills—buried deep inside you, chest rising and falling against your back, hands locked around your waist like he needs to hold you there.

“…Say that again.”

His voice is lower now, rougher. Almost dangerous in how sweet it sounds—like he’s barely holding himself back.

You swallow, thighs trembling where they bracket his. “I—” Your breath hitches as he grinds against you, slow and deep, like he’s savoring the way you squeeze around him. “I only think of you—only you—all the time.”

That does it.

A sharp, ragged breath escapes him, his fingers digging into your skin. His control—his usual lazy drawl, that smug, taunting dominance—cracks.

“…Fuck.”

And then he moves.

Not slow this time. Not teasing.

This is needy.

Desperate.

Like you just shattered something inside him, and now he needs to prove it—to seal that claim inside you, make sure you never even consider anyone else.

His pace turns messy, all deep, rolling thrusts and ragged groans against your ear. He’s so worked up, so fucking sweetly possessive, whispering between every shaky breath:

“Mine.”

“You’re mine.”

“No one else gets you like this.”

“Fuck—no one else even knows you like this—”

His hands roam, clutching, nails scraping your thighs, your hips, your stomach, like he wants to mark you with every touch. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your shoulder, pressed to the shell of your ear, murmuring between ragged gasps:

“You’re made for me.”

“Fuck—feel that? So deep inside you, fuckin’ claiming you—”

And then he loses it.

He slams into you, grip tightening, burying himself as deep as he can go—and he breaks, moaning into your skin as he spills inside, body shuddering with the force of it.

But even after he’s spent, even when his breath evens out, he doesn’t pull away.

He stays inside you, keeping you full, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles against your neck, still murmuring in that soft, wrecked voice:

“No one else.”

“Only me.”

“You promise, angel?”

And when you nod—when you whisper, "Only you, always,"—he sighs, pressing a kiss against your pulse.

“…That’s my good fuckin’ angel.”

His breath shudders against your skin, lips tracing the curve of your jaw as he stays inside you, keeping you locked against his chest, filled, owned. His hands, still trembling from the aftershocks, roam your body—soft now, reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

And then, in a voice so quiet, so wrecked it barely sounds like him, he murmurs:

“We belong to each other, don’t we…?”

His grip tightens, pulling you closer, like he needs to hear you say it—needs you to confirm what he already knows.

You nod, dazed and pliant against him. “Y-yeah…”

But that’s not enough.

He tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes in the dim light of the garage—dazed, dark, utterly consumed by you.

“Mind,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Body,” another kiss, lower now, lingering against your cheek.

“Soul,” a gentle bite against your pulse, like he’s branding the words into you.

Then, lower—his hands sliding down your stomach, possessive and warm, pressing against the soft swell where he knows he’s still buried deep inside.

“…Everything.”

He groans, grinds against you just to feel it again, to make you squirm in his lap. His voice turns desperate, aching as he breathes against your ear:

“Your hole—fuck—your whole self—”

He kisses you then, messy and hungry, like he wants to swallow you whole, drag you even deeper into him until there’s nothing left between you.

He’s obsessed with watching you. The way your eyes flutter, the way your breath catches, the way your body reacts to every little thing he does. It’s intoxicating. Addictive. He needs to see it—needs to know exactly what makes you shudder, whimper, beg for more.

That’s why his favorite positions always keep you close. Always let him watch.

Missionary, but with your wrists pinned above your head, fingers entwined as he rolls his hips slow, deliberate, drawing out every little noise you make. He’ll whisper filthy things against your lips, drinking in every reaction, every quiver, every desperate squeeze around him.

Lotus, with you straddling his lap, chests pressed together, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He loves the way you tremble in his hold, loves how deep he can go like this, how your body reacts so perfectly to every slow, deliberate thrust. Loves when you bury your face in his neck, whimpering, biting down to muffle the sounds—he always grins when you do, his voice a husky tease in your ear:

"Y'don’t gotta hide from me, angel. Wanna hear every fuckin’ sound y’make."

And when you do let go, when you whimper his name in that breathless, wrecked voice—that’s when he loses it.

It’s never just about the act for him—it’s about you. About making you feel so thoroughly ruined that you never want to be anywhere else but here, tangled up with him, hands clasped, bodies moving as one.

His voice is a breathy, wrecked whisper against your lips:

“Look at me, angel. Wanna see your face when you fall apart for me.”

The second the words left your lips, the moment that trembling, breathless "I love you, [REDACTED]—" spilled from your mouth, everything changed.

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering, chest heaving against yours like you’d just knocked the air from his lungs. For a second, just a second, he didn’t move—just stared, eyes blown wide, lips parted, the slow realization of what you said crashing over him.

Then he broke.

A shuddered breath, a groan, and suddenly his arms were around you, crushing you against him, face buried in your neck. His body trembled—he trembled. His breath came in ragged, uneven pants, and then—fuck—he was whimpering, voice cracking as he choked out,

“Say it again.”

His hands tightened—one gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go, the other threading through your hair, pulling just enough to make you arch against him. His lips pressed to your skin, open-mouthed and desperate, his breath hot as he begged,

“Say it again, angel. Please.”

Your fingers curled against his back, nails digging into his skin, and you gasped as he rolled his hips deep, so deep it sent white-hot pleasure curling through your core. And even though you could barely breathe, barely think, you still gave him what he wanted.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I—I love you, I love you, I love y—ahh—”

He snapped.

A sharp, choked sound spilled from his throat—half-groan, half-sob—and then he was fucking you like he was trying to ruin you, like he wanted to carve your words into his soul. He didn’t care about pace, didn’t care about teasing, didn’t care about anything except chasing that feeling, that overwhelming, all-consuming rush of belonging that had his vision going hazy.

“You—fuck, you love me—” His voice cracked, rough, wrecked, like he couldn’t even believe it. “You—you really—ah—”

You felt something wet against your shoulder, and that’s when you realized—he was crying. His body shuddered with every thrust, every ragged breath, every desperate whimper he tried to swallow down. His fingers laced with yours, squeezing tight, grounding himself in the feeling of you.

“I love you,” he rasped, voice breaking as he slammed himself deeper, dragging you closer, closer, closer. “Love you, love you, fuck—I need you—”

And then he ruined you.

The sheer desperation in his voice, the overwhelming emotion in the way he held you, the way his body trembled with each ragged thrust—it sent you over the edge so hard you screamed. Pleasure crashed over you in an electric wave, body convulsing against his, vision going white, mind shattering as he fucked you through it, chasing his own high.

The moment you tightened around him, he broke completely, moaning your name like a prayer as he buried himself deep, shaking, gasping, tears hot against your skin as he came hard, filling you with everything he had—everything he was.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just tangled bodies, heaving chests, skin slick with sweat, breathless, wrecked.

He held you through the aftershocks, pressing kisses to your damp skin, hands tracing soothing patterns down your back. And when his breathing finally evened out, when his heartbeat slowed, he exhaled shakily, voice hoarse when he mumbled:

“Gonna make you say it every time, y’know that?”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he nuzzled into your neck, voice still thick with tears, still so incredibly soft.

“Need t’hear it. Need t’feel it.”

Then, with a slow, teasing roll of his hips, he hummed,

“Think y’can say it one more time for me, angel?”

He came for the last time...

His cum is thick, dripping slow and warm from between your legs, and [REDACTED] watches with a lazy, satisfied smirk, eyes half-lidded as he traces a slow, possessive hand down your stomach.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb dragging through the mess he made before pushing some of it back inside. “S’like your body don’t wanna let me go.”

His voice is deep, wrecked, still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s barely moved, still pressed against you, still inside you, his cock twitching at the way you whimper from oversensitivity. And even though you can feel him softening, you know he’s not quite done with you yet.

Because when he finally pulls out, slow and deliberate, he groans at the sight of his release leaking out of you, thick and white, dripping down your thighs. His fingers spread you open just a little, just to watch, to admire the way his cum still clings to your hole, and he lets out a quiet, breathy chuckle.

“Bet y’didn’t know that was one of my favorite sights,” he drawls, smug and easy, but there’s a hunger beneath it, something darker and deeper that makes his breath hitch. His fingers tease at your entrance, gathering up what’s spilling out before pushing it back in.

“Gotta keep you nice ‘n full, angel.”

Your body jerks, overstimulated, but he just leans down, kissing your temple with something achingly tender.

“S’my favorite way to mark you,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue across your jaw, pressing another slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Better than hickeys. Better than bruises. ‘Cause even if no one else can see it…” His breath fans warm over your lips.

“You’ll know it’s there.”

His hand lingers for just a second longer before he finally sighs, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before rolling out of bed.

"Stay put," he orders, voice soft, indulgent, like he's speaking to something fragile.

You hear the rustling of fabric, the quiet drip of water, and then—warmth. A damp towel glides over your skin, gentle and slow, as he wipes away the evidence of everything he just did to you. His touch is careful, reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of your body all over again. And when he finally deems you clean enough, he brushes his knuckles along your cheek, tilting your face toward him.

“Y’good?”

His voice is quiet now, searching, scanning your features for any hint of discomfort. And when you nod—when you lean into his touch, pressing a sleepy kiss to his palm—his lips twitch into something almost fond.

“Mm. Good.”

Your whole body feels like it’s floating—boneless, weightless—except for the ache between your legs and the warmth still pooling deep inside you. You're barely clinging to consciousness, vision hazy, skin flushed, legs utterly useless after how hard he wrecked you. The bike’s cold metal bites against your overheated skin, but you barely notice—too busy trembling in his lap, still impaled on his cock, still dripping with him.

[REDACTED] presses a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, voice still thick and breathless as he rasps, “Look at that, angel…” His fingers trace slow, teasing circles over your stomach, dipping lower—just enough to feel the way his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs.

A low, satisfied sound rumbles in his chest.

“Still full of me,” he murmurs, like he can’t fucking believe it. His hand drags lower, gathering some of his release on his fingers, pressing it back in—slow, teasing, possessive. You jolt, over-sensitive and trembling, but he just smirks.

“Y’think you can walk?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, let alone move. Your limbs feel like jelly, muscles twitching in the aftermath of too many orgasms, and your hands are still gripping the handlebars behind you for dear life.

“Tch. ’Course y’can’t,” he murmurs, amusement curling in his voice.

And then, without warning, he lifts you.

A startled gasp tears from your lips as he scoops you up, arms firm and steady beneath your legs, cradling you against his chest like you weigh nothing. His warmth envelops you, his scent thick in your lungs—leather, sweat, sex—and you can feel the rapid thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat where your head rests against him.

He carries you effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful, keeping you close. And fuck—there’s something so intimate about it. The way his fingers flex against your thighs, the way he presses a kiss to your temple without thinking, the way his breath hitches slightly when he adjusts you in his arms—like he just loves holding you like this.

His voice is softer now, a low, affectionate drawl as he hums,

“Think y’need a bath, angel.”

You barely have the strength to respond, just nodding weakly against his chest. He chuckles, shifting you higher in his arms, pressing you even closer.

“Don’t worry. I got you.”

His lips brush against your forehead, tender, lingering.

“I always got you.”

The bath had been too warm, too soothing, and between the exhaustion settling deep in your bones and the way [REDACTED] had kept tracing slow, lazy circles on your thigh under the water, you'd nearly drifted off in his arms. He’d washed you—hands reverent, careful, like he was sculpting something delicate out of soap and steam—before wrapping you in a towel and carrying you back to the bedroom.

And then he’d leaned against the doorway, still damp from the bath, towel slung low on his hips, eyes dark

You'd barely had time to process before his hands were guiding you down, pressing you against the mattress, the cold air prickling against your freshly washed skin.

And fuck—he was so deep, stretching you all over again, hands gripping your hips as he fucked into you with slow, deep thrusts, dragging pleasure out of you until you were shaking beneath him, moaning into the sheets.

He’d taken his time—murmuring soft, possessive praise against your skin, watching the way your body took him, how it clung to him, milking him with every thrust until he finally spilled inside you again, filling you up just like before.

And even then, he hadn’t let you move.

He’d just stayed there for a moment, cock still buried deep, hands stroking down your sides as he hummed, pleased, murmuring something low and smug about "keeping you full for just a little longer."

And only when you whined—utterly wrecked and oversensitive—had he finally pulled out, chuckling at the way you shuddered, at the way his release dripped from you.

Now—

You’re in the kitchen, barely dressed, legs still unsteady as you focus on the dessert you’re making. [REDACTED] is behind you, clinging—all broad chest and heavy warmth, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles lazily into your neck.

“Y’ain’t gonna let me help?” he mumbles, voice still slow and drowsy with leftover satisfaction.

“You never help,” you tease, nudging him lightly. “You just stand there and hug me.”

A lazy smirk curls against your skin. “S’important job, angel. Gotta make sure you’re warm.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move to shake him off. If anything, you lean into him a little more, enjoying the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers flex gently against your stomach.

Then, without warning, you turn and press a kiss to his jaw.

His breath hitches.

Just a second. Just a tiny pause, barely noticeable—but you feel it.

And then he’s tilting your chin up, his gaze dark and unreadable as he leans in, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips. It’s unhurried, indulgent, his tongue teasing against yours as he takes his time tasting you. His arms tighten around you, pressing you closer, like he never wants to let go.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he murmurs.

His fingers drift lower, toying with the hem of your clothes, dangerous in their intent.

"...Y'ever thought about letting me have dessert first?"

[REDACTED]’s breath catches. Their fingers twitch slightly in yours—scarred, burned, rough in all the ways that tell a story they’ve never spoken aloud.

You don’t press. You never do.

Instead, you lift their hand to your lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to each calloused knuckle.

Their face is unreadable—staring down at you, something flickering in their dark eyes, something raw, something fragile. Like they don’t know what to do with the warmth of your touch. Like it hurts.

And then, as you shift closer, your ring glints under the dim kitchen light. The matching band on their finger catches, too—two small, simple things, yet carrying the weight of a lifetime.

Childhood lovers. Meant to be.

Their grip tightens around your hand, just slightly. Just enough to tell you they’re holding on.

“…If you hadn’t taken his hand that day,” [REDACTED] murmurs, voice rough with something unreadable, “…would you have still said yes?”

Your heart aches at the memory.

That day, years ago—small hands reaching, fingers brushing, the quiet promise sealed with a ring—before Leon’s sneer cut through the moment, before cruel hands tore you away, before [REDACTED] had been left alone with nothing but the sting of rejection and the echo of their own heartbeat.

You squeeze their hand tighter. Hold it against your chest, where they can feel the steady rhythm beneath your ribs.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly. “Maybe my childhood self wouldn’t have understood love the way I do now.”

[REDACTED] swallows, jaw tightening.

“But…” You smile—small, warm, certain. “I’m happy that life gave me another chance with you.”

Something in them cracks.

They look at you—really look at you—eyes shining, throat working around words they can’t quite say. Their lips part, but no sound comes out, and then—then they just press forward, pressing their forehead against yours, squeezing your hand against their chest like they’re the one afraid you’ll disappear this time.

“…You love me?”

A whisper. A plea.

You cradle their face, thumb brushing over the dampness clinging to their lashes, and you whisper back—

“I love you, [REDACTED].”

And finally—finally—they let go.

Not of you. Never of you.

But of everything else.

[REDACTED] shudders—a small, barely-there breath that stutters in their throat, like they don’t know how to take in the weight of your words. Like they can’t believe they deserve them.

But you just hold them closer.

“Only you,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to theirs. “The real you.”

Their fingers tighten around yours, almost desperate. You can feel it—the way their body tenses, the way their breath hitches, the way they struggle against something unseen.

“I’ll tell you this for the rest of my life,” you promise, voice steady, unwavering. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes. Just so you know.”

Their eyes flutter shut. Their lips part, like they want to say something, but no words come—just the smallest, strangled sound, like something breaking apart in their chest.

“You,” you whisper again, softer now. “The real you is the one I feel the happiest with.”

And that’s when they fall.

Not physically. Not in any way you can see.

But you feel it—the way their last defenses crumble, the way their breath shudders out of them, the way they just let go and sink into your arms, forehead still pressed to yours, fingers tangled with yours, body trembling as they clutch onto you like you’re the only thing keeping them together.

“…You’re not leaving,” they whisper, barely a sound.

“I’m not leaving.”

Their lips find yours—not desperate, not rough—just deep. Slow. Like they’re memorizing the way you feel.

You giggle at the way [REDACTED]’s eyes soften when you press the small cake piece to their lips. “C’mon, try it,” you coax, voice light, teasing. “I made it just for you.”

They huff, but there’s no real resistance—just a tiny, reluctant smirk as they take the bite from your fingers.

A pause. Then, their expression melts.

“…S’ good,” they murmur, lips still brushing against your fingertips. Their voice is softer than usual, almost boyish in its honesty. “Sweet… tastes like strawberries.”

You beam. “See! I told you you’d like it!”

Their gaze lingers on you—eyes half-lidded, warm, fond. And then, in one slow, deliberate movement, they lean in and press a kiss right to the tip of your nose.

It’s so soft, so unexpectedly sweet, that your breath catches.

And when they pull back, licking the last traces of cake from their lips, they hum lazily, “Mm. You’re sweeter, though.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

"Cheer up, angel," they say, voice dipping into that low, syrupy drawl. "Can’t have you lookin’ cuter than dessert itself.”

You’re definitely not blushing. Not even a little bit.

#14dwy ren #14dwy x reader #ren 14 days with you #14dwy #14 days with you #14 days with you redacted #14 days with you x reader #14 days with you ren x reader #14 days with you ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy redacted x reader #14dwy ren x reader #14 days with you redact

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katsulina · 1 month ago

Text

feel me on your lips - k.bakugou

you and katsuki are both unfamiliar with relationships, and unsure of how to initiate anything romantic, so of course you don't know what you're supposed to do when you wanna kiss someone till you can't breathe wc: 1,462 a/n: i used to write little oneshots like this but its been a while so please be nice! also wrote this in one sitting to hopefully break out of my writers block and i had sm fun doing it! (i actually got a bit carried away) warnings: katsuki bakugou x reader, first kiss, first relationship, katsuki and reader are a bit emotionally constipated, very cute, very sweet, very innocent, wrote with fem!reader in mind but (i think) can be read as gn!reader too (although if you see any gender specific terms lmk)

navigation masterlist smau/text requests open only!

if there was anything katsuki was clueless about, it was relationships. he’s always prided himself on being great at everything, but when it came to his relationship with you, for the first time in his life he didn’t know what he was doing.

at first, you two didn’t do much other than hold hands. and even that was rare. there was an underlying tension in the air whenever you two hung out; you were both scared. scared to make the first move, scared of doing something wrong, scared of fucking everything up.

it was just new. don’t get me wrong, katsuki new you well. he became your boyfriend in the first place because he knew you so well and loved everything about you. even if it took him some time to figure that out, especially with him being unfamiliar with the feeling of a crush mixed with a whole lot of denial and emotional constipation.

but it was a big change and both of your first relationships. neither of you knew how to initiate a touch or a kiss.

it took about a month into your relationship to slowly ease into these things, after a painfully raw and vulnerable conversation about how both of you were clueless when it comes to relationships.

it started with a lean on his shoulder on a certain movie night, to which he tensed up and you were sat with your heart pounding with nerves.

then he started putting an arm around your shoulder when you were sitting in bed together.

eventually you also noticed how he also started ruffling your hair, poking your cheek, and playfully punching your arm. all to tease you, he said. but you knew they were just excuses to touch you.

you guys started to hug more often, his hands on your waist and yours around his shoulders. your legs would touch under the table and neither would awkwardly pull away, but rather leave them where they are, especially when katsuki got comfortable enough to place his hand on your thigh.

it got to where he could hold you when you were both sleeping, and it felt natural. the butterflies were still there, but the fear and hesitation left a long time ago.

but you both craved more. all you both wanted was a kiss.

you both held these feelings, that much was obvious, but neither was brave enough to make a move.

that was until you came to katsuki room one particular friday evening, planning to stay the night. everything went how it always did. you were greeted with a “hey” and a hug, then pulled into his bed for a cozy movie night just like you did every week.

little did you know, it would be different this time.

you had your head resting on katsuki shoulder and a hand on his chest, while one of his hands was on your waist and the other behind his head.

his laptop played a movie you didn’t care much about, not when you had the lullaby of his heartbeat slowly pulling you into a slumber, which katsuki noticed quickly. of course.

“you falling asleep on me??” he whispered, a slight rasp still in his voice, to which you could only hum softly in response.

it didn’t help when his hand moved from your waist to your hair, feeling yourself slip in and out of sleep. but you didn’t want to fall asleep yet. you wanted to spend more time with him.

so, you lifted your heavy head up to meet his gaze with your own tired one. your eyes were half lidded and you wore a shy yet genuine smile on your face. you looked up at him like he was your whole world, and he was just grateful that your head wasn’t on his chest anymore so that you wouldn’t be able to hear how his heart skipped a beat the second you met his eyes.

you still make his nervous, huh.

“go to sleep” it was both a gentle order from him to you as well as an excuse to avert his eyes from yours as he turned you both so you were lying on your sides facing eachother. of course, he was met with a complaint that:

“i don’t want to sleep yet” and “i want to spend more time with you” but all those protests fell deaf on his ears as he closed his laptop and set it aside on his bedside table before turning his lamp off.

now, only to moonlight illuminated the room, and he almost wished it didn’t, because when he lied down and turned to face you, he saw just how beautiful every part of you was.

the look in your eyes displayed only love for him, and the reflection of the glowing moon made it look like there were stars in your eyes. your smile was pure, tired, but pure. like all your energy was pouring into it. it was involuntary. uncontrolled. it wasn’t a forced smile. it wasn’t fake. you were smiling at him because you just couldn’t help it.

you radiated your love for him in this moment. you were beautiful inside and out. and he couldn’t look away.

when you blinked, fighting your slumber, your eyelashes fluttered his way and he couldn’t help but imagine how they’ed feel on his cheek after stealing your lips. and just like that, it was all he could think about.

he found himself in this predicament a little too often. he wanted to kiss you, but he just couldn’t do it. he wasn’t used to this hesitation and self doubt. so he got lost in his thoughts. so much so, that your eyes finally shut, giving in to sleep.

no. he wasn’t going to miss his chance again.

and before he could even think about it, his lips parted and whispered your name with urgency, calling out to you in desperation.

your eyes opened up again, and all of a sudden it hit him just how close the two of you were.

“yes?” you mumbled, your voice sleep laced. when he stared at you with no reply, you only questioned further, slightly worried,

“katsuki..?”

it didn’t take long after that for him to lean closer, eyes focused on your lips, and you knew it was about to happen.

only a moment before your lips touched, he paused, his breath hitching, and looked back into your eyes, searching for confirmation. when his eyes met yours, he was certain he’s never seen less doubt in someone’s gaze than in yours right this moment. so he took this sign you gave him, and closed the gap between the two of you.

it was all that he imagined, no, it exceeded any expectation he had brewed up in his head on those sleepless night when you were all he could think about.

your lips danced a slow harmonious rhythm together, and it was clear you wanted this just as much as he did.

it was soft, but desperate. gentle and non urgent, as if you both had all the time in the world to savour each others lips. and oh how you both wished that was the reality. how you two wished you could relive this moment forever.

the butterflies in your stomachs, the haze clouding your minds, the focus of only each other. you’d both rather suffocate than to break free from the comforting and oh so addictive confines of each others lips.

but the reality was, you both needed air. desperately. and with both of you hating to pull away, you unfortunately had to. and when you did, the both of you were left panting softly, eyes closed, and minds still wrapping around what just happened.

you were the first to break the silence, with none other than a soft, breathless, laugh. pure and exhilarated, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

your laugh pulled him out of his haze, making him look up at you from where his eyes rested on your lips to meet your eyes. again with the way you look at him. like he was everything to you. and he was everything to you. and you were everything to him.

he couldn’t help the gentle smile that decorated his lips, and soon enough he let out a chuckle of his own, one of joy, but there was a hint of relief that could be heard. you were both relieved; the barriers were broken down, and in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

before he knew it you tucked your head into his chest. he didn’t even care that you could definitely hear his pounding heart, he just hoped, no, now he knew that yours was beating just as joyfully.

beating for him.

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rafes-slut · 2 months ago

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Prove It

Summary: She’s convinced that Rafe doesn’t care about her—not really. He never says the right things, never makes her feel secure, and never proves that she means something to him. She’s ready to walk away, tired of the doubts gnawing at her. But Rafe refuses to let that happen.

Warnings: Explicit smut, oral sex (f!receiving), dom/sub dynamics, slight angst, toxic relationship undertones, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, language.

Cw: 18+

----

Prove It

"You don't care about me."

Your voice is quiet, but the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air between you and Rafe. He stands across the room, eyes dark under the dim lighting, his expression unreadable. There’s always something unreadable about him, something just out of reach, and you’re exhausted from trying to grasp it.

His jaw clenches. “That’s bullshit.”

You let out a humorless laugh, arms crossing over your chest. “Is it?” Your throat is tight, voice shaking even though you don’t want it to. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. Not when you treat me like I’m just… there. Like I don’t fucking matter.”

Rafe exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s about to say something, but stops himself. He always does this—always lets silence speak for him, lets his actions say more than his words ever could. But this time, silence isn’t enough.

You shake your head, your heart hammering. “I matter, Rafe,” you whisper, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “And if you can’t show me that, I can’t do this anymore.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but you see it—the slight narrowing of his eyes, the twitch of his fingers like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t. There’s always been something volatile about Rafe, a constant push and pull, and right now, he looks like he’s about to snap.

But then, he does something unexpected.

He drops to his knees.

Your breath catches.

You’ve seen Rafe do a lot of things, but you’ve never seen him like this. Not kneeling before you, not looking up at you with that mix of frustration and something almost… desperate.

His hands reach for you, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, but he pauses, waiting. That alone is enough to make your stomach tighten, because Rafe never waits for anything.

You don’t stop him.

He takes that as permission, tugging your shorts down slowly, the fabric pooling around your ankles. His hands are warm against your thighs, fingertips pressing just enough to ground you.

“Rafe,” you breathe, unsure, unsteady.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. Just something raw.

His lips brush against your inner thigh, soft at first, then firmer as he sucks a mark into your skin. Your fingers twitch at your sides, but the moment his mouth moves higher, your hands instinctively tangle into his hair.

"This what you need?" His voice vibrates against your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. "Need me to show you?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

The first drag of his tongue makes your legs tremble, and Rafe grips your thighs tighter, steadying you. He works you open with slow, deliberate movements, licking, sucking, teasing, his mouth hot and wet and consuming.

You gasp, your head tipping back against the wall, nails scraping against his scalp as he pushes you closer to the edge with every precise flick of his tongue. He groans into you, the sound vibrating through your core, and you whimper, hips jerking against his mouth.

Rafe doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up.

If anything, he doubles down, one hand slipping behind you to grip your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. His nose brushes against you, his tongue moving in deep, devastating strokes that have your body tensing, tightening—

“Fuck, Rafe—” Your voice is barely a breath, your grip in his hair tightening as your stomach coils, heat building.

He groans again, like he loves hearing you fall apart, like he needs this just as much as you do. His other hand slides up, pressing against your lower stomach, holding you there, making sure you take everything he’s giving.

You’re close. Too close.

“Rafe,” you gasp, a warning, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he works harder, faster, his tongue circling, pressing, devouring—

And then you shatter.

Your whole body trembles as pleasure crashes over you, waves of heat pulsing through every nerve ending. Your legs almost give out, but Rafe keeps you steady, his hands firm as he coaxes you through the aftershocks.

It takes you a moment to come back to yourself, your breathing uneven, your fingers still tangled in his hair. When you finally look down, he’s already watching you, lips slick, blue eyes dark and unreadable.

He stands slowly, rising back to his full height, towering over you once again. His hands settle on your waist, thumbs tracing idle circles against your bare skin.

"Still think I don’t care?” His voice is hoarse, his breath warm against your cheek.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re still reeling, still trying to catch up with what just happened.

Rafe smirks, tilting his head slightly, his lips brushing over yours—just barely, just enough to make you ache for more.

"Thought so."

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dreamdragonkadia · 4 months ago

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p. jackson x hades! reader

Fighting with your half-brother sucked. Fighting with Nico when emotions were running high on both sides? Even worse. And when he pulled that card—“you’re not even my real sister”—it felt like he’d yanked the ground out from under you.

Of course, you knew you couldn’t replace Bianca. You never wanted to. But hearing those words, seeing that fire in his eyes as he said them—it was like he’d reached inside your chest and ripped out something vital. It left you raw and hollow, questioning everything. What was the point of trying, if that’s how Nico really saw you? A failed replacement. A stand-in who didn’t quite fit.

That’s how you ended up here—Cabin Three, face buried in one of Percy’s pillows. You practically slammed the door behind you, barely managing a mumbled “Can I borrow your bed?” before collapsing onto it. Percy hadn’t even blinked, just gave a quiet “Sure” and let you go. Now, here you are, screaming into his pillow like it’s the only thing holding you together, your muffled frustration probably sounding like a strangled walrus.

Percy doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just sits down next to you, the bed creaking softly under his weight, and after a moment, his fingers find your hair. Slow, careful, like he’s testing the waters—like he’s afraid he might spook you if he’s not gentle enough. He runs his fingers through the strands, tracing light patterns against your scalp, and somehow, that simple gesture starts to ease the tightness in your chest.

You don’t know how long you lie there, face still buried in his pillow, breathing shaky. Percy doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t fill the silence with empty words or awkward attempts at cheering you up. He just...stays. His hand moves rhythmically, soothing you without trying to fix anything, and it feels like he’s silently saying, I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.

Finally, when you’re too drained to keep crying, you whisper into the pillow, “I’m not trying to replace her, you know.” Your voice cracks around the edges, fragile and barely audible, but you don’t think Percy missed it.

His hand pauses for half a second before he resumes, and he hums softly—a sound that says, Keep talking. I’m listening.

“I just...want him to see me,” you continue. “Not as her shadow. Not as a reminder. Just—me.”

There’s a beat of quiet before Percy answers, “Nico’s a stubborn guy,” he says. “He’s been through a lot. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but...he doesn’t mean it. He’s just lashing out. You know that, right?”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure you do know that. Not yet. Percy doesn’t push, doesn’t demand an answer. He just lets the silence settle, broken only by the faint sound of water lapping outside the cabin walls.

“He’ll get there,” Percy says eventually. “He’s not gonna see you like this forever. He can’t. You’re too...you.”

You snort despite yourself. “Too what? Loud? Annoying?”

“Amazing,” he says without hesitation, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You peek up at him, your face still half-smushed into the pillow, and Percy’s wearing that lopsided smile of his. Like he means every word.

Something inside you loosens, just a little, and you finally let out a shaky breath. Percy might not have all the answers, but he knows exactly how to keep you sane, how to make you feel seen when everything else feels too heavy.

“Thanks, Perce,” you mumble, the corners of your mouth twitching up just slightly.

He grins and leans back on his palms. “Anytime.”

#✨️by yours truly✨️#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x y/n #bookish #percy jackson x you #I just really like writing for percy #even if it's just a random thought of mine

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majinael · 4 months ago

Text

Kaiser, how we know him in the manga, absolutely does not know how to love and would never end up in a relationship or at least, a healthy one, so, I'll write here one of my most important works (that I'll probably refer to in a lot of my future writings), helping you guys understanding what I think is the most realistic way he could love anyone.

★TW : mentions of mental abuse, depression.

★1k words

✾ You absolutely fell in love first and stayed even after seeing him fail and witnessing the worst sides of him with your own eyes.

✾ Kaiser would eventually notice something special in you, something he didn’t see at first. As time passed, he couldn’t help being drawn to you because you saw through his facade—the ego, the arrogance—and treated him with both blunt honesty and quiet compassion.

✾ He desired you, though not in a romantic way at first. To him, you were someone he needed around, someone he didn’t want anyone else to have, almost as if you were an object to be kept.

✾ One day, you found enough courage to confess your feelings to him. To Kaiser, it was an opportunity to keep you tethered to him, to have control over you. He accepted, assuming you were the type to be so stupidly in love that you’d let anything slide—and you did.

✾ Even then, he tried to “love” you, though selfishly. He didn’t want you to leave, even if he didn’t truly know how to put you first or care for you in a way that wasn’t about his own gratification.

✾ You stayed because you saw glimpses of the person he could be, because you believed he deserved to be loved, and because you were far too attached to walk away.

✾ Over the years, however, the emotional weight of loving someone so broken—someone who was unwilling to change no matter how many arguments or breaks you endured—began to take its toll. His jealousy, his possessiveness, and his inability to communicate left you exhausted.

✾ “Why do you always forgive me, even when I don’t deserve it?” he asked one night, his frustration laced with disbelief. He thought you might have finally given up on him. You just smiled sadly and replied, “Because someone has to.”

✾ Eventually, your love alone wasn’t enough to hold you together. You left—not out of anger, but out of self-preservation. You were on the brink of losing yourself entirely.

✾ At first, Kaiser wasn’t overly concerned and was mostly in denial. He convinced himself you’d come back, just as you always had. When hours turned into days, he believed you felt the same need for him as he did for you. But as the days turned into weeks, the silence began to gnaw at him.

✾ He spiraled, masking his pain with his usual bravado—if not more exaggerated than ever. Yet when he was alone, he was consumed by thoughts of you being with someone else. The idea drove him mad, and for the first time, he felt true, raw heartbreak. He realized your leaving wasn’t an act of abandonment but a final act of love—giving him what he thought he wanted most from you towards the end: freedom.

✾ Kaiser wasn’t used to losing or feeling such despair paired with a complete loss of control. Refusing to accept the end, he did everything in his power to win you back—grand gestures, heartfelt confessions, and promises he’d never made to anyone before.

✾ Of course, you were deeply hurt and hesitant. “Words don’t mean much, Kaiser. You need to show me,” you said firmly.

✾ He offered you everything—luxury, security, anything money could buy—but you demanded something far more valuable: his willingness to change.

✾ One of your conditions for reconciliation was therapy, something Kaiser initially scoffed at. “You think talking to some stranger is going to fix me?” he said, incredulous, thinking he knew everything about psychology already.

✾ But he agreed, not just out of desperation but also because when he saw your tearful, pleading eyes filled with hope that this time it could change, he couldn’t refuse. For the first time, he understood that this was something he had to do—not even for you, but for himself.

✾ The sessions were slow and grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he’d buried for years—his insecurities, his fears, and his warped view of love.

✾ Over time, after almost two years, he began to heal. He learned to express his feelings in healthier ways, to apologize without deflecting, and to listen instead of always trying to be right. Winning you back wasn’t a quick process. It took years of effort, of proving he had changed—not just for you, but for himself.

✾ During this time, you were together but not entirely as close as most couples might be. You still needed proof that he had truly changed, even though you frequently told him, “I’m proud of you.”

✾ When you finally accepted him again, it was under the condition that he continued to grow. This time, he was willing to meet you halfway and love you in a way that didn’t destroy you. “You stayed when I didn’t deserve it,” he said one night. “Now it’s my turn to stay, no matter how long it takes to make things right.”

✾ You were the first person—the only person—who cared for him so deeply, who showed him what selfless, innocent, and unconditional love looked like.

✾ And, in turn, Kaiser became someone capable of deep, selfless love himself. He cherished you not as a possession but as an equal partner.

✾ The scars of your past together never fully faded, but they served as reminders of how far you had come. “You taught me how to love,” he told you one day, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it.”

✾ For the first time, he said the words he never thought he could mean, the words he never expected to truly feel: “I love you.”

MK:"Someone beautiful, smart, and full of love."

#michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #gender neutral reader #michael kaiser angst #blue lock angst

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inseobts · 20 days ago

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hiiii!!! i hope you're having a good day 💖 i love your writing sm!! if your requests are open can i ask for a law x reader where reader used to date ace and was there when he died in marineford so she saw Law save luffy, so she joins the heart pirates as a way to thank him for saving Ace little brother. They slowly fall in love but won't admit it and when Law leaves to fight Doffy reader admits her feelings bc she's terrified of losing Law. They get together when they see each other again in zou

please please but it's okay if you can't or don't want to!!! 💖

Tides of Fate

law × reader (+ ace x reader)

a/n: this request was totally my kind of fav plots lmao thank you

words count: 5.9k

tags: slow burn, angst with a happy ending, marineford aftermath, emotional baggage

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Luffy sits on the shore, his face blank. Too blank. The kind of emptiness that only comes after losing everything.

You know that feeling. It’s the same one you're feeling right now, that it's hard to breathe.

Tearing your gaze away, you turn toward the submarine where Law stands with his arms crossed, waiting. If you’re going to do this, you need to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, you step toward Luffy “Luffy.”

He doesn’t look up.

“I’m leaving.”

His fingers tighten around the bracelet, knuckles white “With them?” His voice is hoarse, raw.

You swallow hard “Yeah.”

Finally, he lifts his head, eyes bloodshot but focused on you “Why?”

You hesitate, because the real answer feels too heavy to say out loud. Because if I stay, I’ll break apart. Because the ache in your chest is unbearable, and you don’t know how to exist in this world without Ace in it.

Instead, you say, “I don’t have anywhere else to go... No one to go to.”

Luffy flinches, but you know he understands. He’s feeling it too.

His jaw tightens “You… you have me. You don’t have to go.”

You kneel in front of him, forcing a small smile “You have your crew, Luffy. They’re coming back to you. But me…” Your voice wavers, and you hate it “I need time.”

Luffy stares at you for a long moment before exhaling shakily “Ace really loved you, y’know.”

Your breath catches.

Luffy grips his hat and presses it to his forehead “So that means you’re like my sister-in-law,” he mumbles, voice thick with emotion “And I protect my family.”

Your vision blurs. You clench your fists to stop your hands from shaking.

“Luffy…”

He looks at you, his expression serious in a way you rarely see “You’re always gonna be my family. Don't forget it. You can come to me whenever you want and need to.”

The words nearly break you.

You force yourself to smile, even if it wobbles “Then you better take care of yourself, little brother.”

His lip trembles, but he nods “You too.”

You take a deep breath, memorizing the sight of him, before finally standing.

Law is waiting, watching silently as you step aboard. You don’t look back.

“That was dramatic” he mutters once you’re beside him.

You huff a weak laugh, hiding your tears “Shut up.”

He doesn’t push you for more, just nods toward the submarine’s entrance “Come on, Y/N-ya. We’re leaving.”

And with that, the Heart Pirates set sail, and you leave the past behind.

The Polar Tang is… different. Not in a bad way, just different. It’s quieter than the Moby Dick, smaller, and runs a lot smoother since it’s a submarine. The crew is nice enough, but they watch you carefully, like they’re waiting to see if you’ll actually stick around, and like they're afraid to say the wrong things.

You don’t blame them. You’re still trying to figure all that out yourself.

What you do know is that you’re not wearing that.

“Absolutely not,” you say, holding up the black and yellow jumpsuit like it personally offended you “There is no way I’m wearing this.”

Penguin grins “Aw, c’mon, it’s tradition! We all wear them.”

“Yeah, and you all look dumb.” You toss the uniform back at him.

Shachi snickers “She’s got a point.”

Bepo tilts his head “But it helps with unity!”

“I don’t care.” You cross your arms “I just lost my last family. I’m not replacing them by playing dress-up with you guys.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence. You didn’t mean to let that slip, but it’s too late now.

Penguin and Shachi exchange glances, suddenly looking unsure. Bepo’s ears lower slightly.

Before anyone can say anything, Law’s voice cuts through the air.

“She doesn’t have to wear it.”

You turn to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His gaze flicks to the uniform in Penguin’s hands before settling back on you “As long as she follows orders, it doesn’t matter what she wears.”

You smirk, triumphant but still hiding the regrets of your previous words “See? Captain’s orders.”

Penguin groans “Man, you’re getting special treatment already?”

Law clicks his tongue “Tch. Don’t be stupid. She’s not getting special treatment.” He pushes off the wall and starts walking away “Now get back to work.”

The others grumble but scatter, leaving you standing there, still holding your ground.

Law pauses at the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder “You really will be following orders, though.”

You roll your eyes “Yeah, yeah, Captain. You don't have to repeat it again.”

He watches you for a second longer before walking away.

You exhale, shoulders slumping. You still don’t know if this was the right choice. But for now, you’re here and that’s enough.

Days pass, then weeks. You settle into life on the Polar Tang, though settle might be a strong word. You’re still figuring out your place here, still deciding if this is home or just a temporary stop before the sea pulls you somewhere else.

The Heart Pirates warm up to you quickly, especially Penguin and Shachi, who have made it their mission to pester you at every opportunity. Bepo is a sweetheart, and you swear Ikkaku enjoys giving you extra work just to see if you’ll complain.

And then there’s Law.

Your relationship with him is… strange. He’s your captain now, and he makes sure you don’t forget it. He orders you around, assigns you tasks, and corrects you whenever you mess up. But he also lets you push back more than he probably should.

Like now.

“You’re not getting out of training, Y/N-ya,” Law says, arms crossed as he watches you from across the room “You’re part of this crew, which means you need to be able to hold your own.”

You sigh, sitting cross-legged on the floor, pointedly not moving “I can hold my own.”

“You haven’t fought once since you got here.”

“That’s not true. I threw a wrench at Shachi last week.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It should.”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a second, Law freezes.

You don’t know why your heart starts beating faster. You don’t know why it suddenly feels like the room is too small, too quiet.

Then, he scoffs “Tch. Keep dreaming.”

You smirk, pushing yourself up “Fine, fine. I’ll train. But only because I choose to.”

Law rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

As you walk past him, you can feel his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long, and for some reason, that makes it just a little easier to breathe.

It's another day with them and dinner is as loud as always. Penguin and Shachi are arguing over who gets the last piece of meat, Bepo is calmly eating his food, and Ikkaku is scolding someone about their table manners. It’s chaotic, messy, and full of life.

You should feel comforted by it.

But then, Shachi laughs, almost losing another game “Doesn’t matter what happens, we’ll figure it out! That’s just how we are, right? We don’t let anyone mess with our family.”

It’s innocent. Just a casual statement made as a joke for a game. But your whole body freezes.

We don’t let anyone mess with our family.

The words slam into you like a punch to the gut. You’ve heard them before. Ace used to say them all the time.

“Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it!”

Your breath catches.

You see Ace in your mind so clearly, grinning, full of warmth and unwavering confidence. His arm draped over your shoulders, his voice always so sure.

“You’re stuck with me, you know. You’re family.”

The sound of laughter around you distorts. Your hands tremble against the table. Your chest tightens so hard it hurts.

Ace said those words all the time, and now he’s gone.

Your vision blurs.

You push your chair back so fast it screeches against the floor.

The room falls silent.

“Y/N-ya?” Law’s voice is cautious, but you can’t answer.

You stand abruptly, shoving away from the table as the weight in your chest becomes unbearable.

You hear Bepo call after you, but you’re already moving, already pushing out the door before anyone can stop you.

The hallway is quiet, but it doesn’t help. Your heart is pounding, your breathing uneven. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

You don’t know where you’re going, just away.

But then...

“Y/N-ya.”

Law.

His voice is calmer than it should be, given the fact that you just stormed out in the middle of dinner. You hear his footsteps behind you, steady and deliberate. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand you stop, but you do.

Because you don’t want to be alone.

You lean against the cool metal wall, staring at the ground, swallowing down the sobs threatening to escape.

Law steps beside you, close enough that his presence is solid, grounding. He doesn’t speak right away, just waits.

After a moment, you exhale shakily “Ace used to say that.” Your voice is hoarse “What Shachi said. About family. I know Shachi was joking, it's not his fault. My mind just started thinking too much, again.”

Law is silent, but you know he’s listening.

You blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay “Ace always said it like nothing could ever touch us. Like as long as we had each other, we’d be okay.”

Your voice cracks.

“But we weren’t. We obviously aren’t.”

And then, suddenly, you can’t hold it in anymore.

The sob breaks free before you can stop it, and then another. Your shoulders shake as you clutch your arms, as if holding yourself together.

Then you feel warmth.

A hand on your back. Firm, steady. Not pushing, just there.

Law doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t move away either. He lets you cry, lets you break, without judgment or expectation.

And when your knees nearly give out, he catches you, pulling you close, solid and steady, as if to say, I won’t let you fall. And for the first time since Marineford, you let yourself lean on someone else.

A few months passed…

Of course, things don’t magically get better. That’s not how grief works.

But they shift. Slowly. Subtly.

The crew doesn’t bring up that night you ran out of dinner crying, not directly. But you notice how they’re a little gentler now. Bepo always sits next to you. Penguin and Shachi tease you a bit less (but only a bit), and Ikkaku throws you extra portions without saying a word.

They don’t push. They don’t ask. But they see you.

And Law hasn’t changed. Not exactly. He still gives out orders like commands are oxygen, still gets that narrowed-eye look when you mess up during training, and still acts like emotions are an inconvenience.

But you catch him watching you sometimes. When he thinks you’re not looking.

And when you do catch him, he doesn’t look away.

It’s a calm evening, which is rare. The Polar Tang is surfacing for the night, drifting peacefully on the open sea. You’re up on the deck, sitting cross-legged and staring at the stars, enjoying the breeze on your face.

Law’s voice breaks the silence.

“Not hiding in your room tonight.”

You glance over your shoulder. He’s standing a few feet behind you, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

“I like it up here,” you say, shrugging “it’s quiet. The stars help.”

Law walks over without asking and sits beside you, not close enough to touch, but closer than usual.

You blink “No book tonight?”

He smirks faintly “Even I get tired of reading medical journals.”

You hum and tilt your head back to the sky “Do you ever think about how small we are out here?”

Law doesn’t answer right away “All the time.”

Silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable.

You pick at a loose thread on your pants, then quietly say, “It still hurts.”

“I know.”

You turn to look at him “Do you think it ever goes away?”

Law’s eyes flick to yours, and for a second, his walls drop.

“No,” he says simply “But you get better at carrying it.”

You nod slowly. That makes sense.

You both sit there, the silence stretching, stars spinning above.

Then he speaks again, quiet and careful “You’ve changed.”

You snort “Thanks?”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You glance at him, surprised.

He’s looking out at the ocean now “When you came aboard, I didn’t think you’d last a week.”

You raise an eyebrow “Wow. Inspiring confidence, Captain.”

He smirks again, but it fades fast “But you stayed. Even after everything.”

“Because of you” you say before you can stop yourself.

Law looks at you, startled.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks but hold his gaze “You saved Luffy. You didn’t have to. And then you let me on your ship. You didn’t have to do that either.”

His voice is low “I didn’t do it for thanks.”

“I know. That’s why it mattered.”

There’s a long pause. Something unspoken crackling in the air between you.

You look back at the sea, heart pounding, trying to ignore how much you want him to say something, anything that will explain what’s been growing between you.

He doesn’t. Not yet.

But he doesn’t move away either.

And when his shoulder brushes yours, just slightly, you don’t pull back.

Two years.

That’s how long it’s been since you joined the Heart Pirates.

And somewhere between near-death missions, long nights on the sea, and quiet moments you didn’t ask for. Something changed.

You and Law changed.

It’s not loud or obvious. Not something you could put into words if someone asked. But it’s there.

Like the way his eyes always flick to you when he walks into a room.

Like how you always end up sitting beside him at meals, even without meaning to.

Like how his voice softens slightly when he says your name.

He still scolds you during training. Still sighs like you’re impossible when you ignore protocol.

And when you’re injured? He’s the first one kneeling at your side. Every time. Without fail.

You don’t talk about it. He doesn’t either.

But it’s real. It’s there. And everyone else knows it.

“Okay, seriously,” Shachi whispers one night as he leans over the dining table toward Penguin, “did you see the way they looked at each other earlier? Like... looked. That was something.”

Penguin nods “They’re either in love or telepathically plotting a murder.”

“I’m going with both” Ikkaku mutters, sipping her tea.

Bepo sighs “We’re not supposed to bring it up.”

“Why not?” Shachi hisses “They’re so obvious, it’s painful.”

“Because of Ace” Bepo says softly “She’s been through a lot. We won’t pressure her.”

That shuts everyone up for a beat.

Until Shachi mumbles “Still feels like they’re circling each other in slow motion.”

Ikkaku stabs a dumpling with unnecessary aggression “Just kiss already. I’m begging.”

You catch them watching you sometimes, too many times to pretend it’s subtle.

Whenever you and Law share a look, the whole room seems to pause.

Whenever he lingers a second too long beside you, or his hand brushes yours, the crew’s collective poker face fails miserably.

But Law ignores it all. Just keeps moving forward, like it doesn’t affect him.

Like he doesn’t know that your heart skips every time he calls your name in that low, measured tone.

And you pretend not to notice either. Pretend your stomach doesn’t twist when he leans in too close. Pretend you don’t feel the shift every time your eyes meet.

But in the quiet moments, when it’s just you and him, you feel something hanging there between you. Like something is building.

The unspoken thing between you and Law has only grown heavier by time. Stolen glances, the rare soft tone in his voice when he says your name, the way your hand always finds the spot next to his at the table.

You’ve gotten used to reading him, how to tell when he’s irritated, when he’s tired, when he’s secretly impressed. But now, something’s off.

He’s quiet lately. More than usual. Locked in his quarters for hours at a time. Studying maps, muttering things you can’t hear. And when you ask, he brushes it off with a flat “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Which, of course, only makes you worry more.

One night, dinner is unusually tense.

Shachi and Penguin whisper from across the table, not even trying to hide it anymore.

“She’s gonna find out soon.”

“She already knows. Look at her face.”

“She knows something,” Bepo mutters “But she doesn’t know it’s Dressrosa.”

You set your spoon down “What’s Dressrosa?”

The table falls into silence.

Ikkaku winces “Damn it.”

You stare at them all “What’s happening?”

Nobody speaks.

So you stand, chair scraping behind you, and walk straight out of the mess hall.

You find Law in the control room, his face locked over a table full of charts. Dressrosa is circled in red.

He doesn’t flinch when you walk in.

You close the door behind you “You’re going there.”

He nods once “Yes.”

“You weren’t going to tell me.”

Law straightens up, but doesn’t meet your eyes “It’s not your concern.”

“It is my concern,” you snap “I’m your crew too, just like the rest of them.”

He finally looks at you “That’s exactly why you’re staying with them.”

There’s a long beat of silence. Just you and him, staring, and the space between you suddenly feels like a chasm.

“You’re doing it again” you say softly “Pulling away. Trying to protect everyone by shutting us out.”

Law’s expression flickers with guilt, regret and frustration.

“I’m handling it.”

“No, you’re running. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You're not scared...” You step closer, voice breaking “You’re terrified of letting people care about you. You think if you keep pushing us away, it won’t hurt when something happens.”

You lower your voice “But it will. It always does.”

He stares at you, like he’s waiting for you to stop.

You don’t.

“You think I don’t see what this is between us? You think I haven’t felt it for a long time now?”

He says nothing.

You take a breath “You’ve given me so much, Law. You gave me a second life after Ace. You gave me something to live for again.”

Your throat tightens “And now you’re just gonna disappear into some revenge mission and pretend like none of this matters?”

His eyes darken “It does matter.”

You blink “Then say it.”

Law opens his mouth, then closes it again.

You shake your head, heart cracking open “Forget it.”

You turn to leave.

But before you touch the door...

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says behind you “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

You stop. But you don’t look back.

You don’t sleep that night.

You lie in your bunk, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of that conversation. The look in Law’s eyes. The silence where his answer should’ve been. The ache in your chest that’s only getting worse.

When you hear footsteps above deck a little before dawn, you know it’s him.

You throw on a jacket and follow without thinking.

He’s there, standing at the edge of the deck, the sea wind catching his coat. Alone.

He turns slightly when you approach “You should be asleep.”

“You should be explaining yourself.”

His mouth twitches. A ghost of a smile. Gone in an instant.

You cross your arms “You were really gonna leave without saying goodbye.”

Law looks ahead again, gaze fixed on the horizon “Goodbyes make it harder.”

You take a breath “Harder for who?”

Silence.

You step beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm “I meant what I said yesterday.”

“I know.”

“And?”

He exhales slowly “You shouldn’t love someone like me.”

Your heart lurches “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know who you are,” you snap “I’ve seen you save strangers without blinking. I’ve seen you risk your life for your crew. For Luffy. For me.”

You pause, voice low “I love all of that. And if you leave now, and something happens to you—”

You look at him fully now “Don’t make me lose someone else I love, Law. Not without even getting to hold onto you first.”

His jaw tightens. He says nothing.

So you laugh, bitter and soft “Of course. You don’t say anything you don’t think you deserve to feel.”

You start to turn away, tears building, when he says “I do.”

You freeze.

He’s looking at you now. Fully. No mask.

“I do feel it. All of it.”

He steps forward, slow and certain, until he’s close enough that you can see the storm in his eyes and hear the quiet panic in his breath.

“Every time you laugh. Every time you sit next to me without saying a word. Every time I catch myself looking at you and don’t know how to stop. I feel it.”

Your lips part, but you don’t speak. You can’t.

“I didn’t want to,” he says, voice barely above a whisper “But it happened. And now I don’t know how to leave without feeling like I’m leaving part of myself behind.”

Your throat burns.

“So don’t,” you whisper “Don’t leave like that. Not with nothing.”

He hesitates.

Then, he leans in slowly, unsure, and presses his forehead to yours.

Not a kiss. Not yet. But it says everything.

“I’ll come back,” he promises “And when I do… if you’re still here—”

“I will be.”

A breath passes between you. His hand brushes your cheek like he’s still convincing himself you’re real.

Then he pulls away.

“Stay safe” he says.

“You too, Law.”

And with one last glance, he disappears down the dock, coat billowing, heart heavy, and not just with revenge anymore.

The moment your feet hit the ground of Zou, you’re paralyzed. The chaos of the crew bustling around you, the excitement in the air, everything feels too loud. It’s all too much. You’ve been bracing for this moment for what feels like an eternity, but now that it’s here, you can’t breathe.

You’ve heard the whispers that he’s finally back, felt the crew’s excitement bubbling up like they’re about to burst. But nothing could prepare you for the reality of seeing him alive. You knew they won, you knew he was out there, somewhere, but seeing him in front of you again… it’s different.

Your heart races. The crew is already moving forward, pulling you along because you’re too shocked to even move on your own. They don’t even try to hide it, they want to see this happen.

And then there he is.

The crew appears from the bushes and trees around him.

Law stands tall at the center of the clearing, his eyes scanning the crew as they move toward him, his usual cold demeanor barely cracked by the soft, almost imperceptible smile on his lips as he sees Bepo charging toward him before he could even find you with his eyes. The sight of him makes everything inside you freeze.

It’s not that you didn’t know he was alive, but now, standing here, seeing him with your own eyes, it feels real.

Bepo throws himself at Law, tears in his eyes as he cries out, “Captain!” The hug is tight, emotional, the kind of reunion you would have imagined, one that speaks of the bond between them, of loyalty and friendship. Law’s arms stiffen at first but then soften, holding Bepo close, the smile on his face genuine if not a bit awkward.

You stand there, caught in the wave of emotions that’s rushing through you. Relief, yes, but something else too...fear. Fear of what this means. You haven’t let yourself think about it that much, but now, with him standing there before you, something shifts. It’s the first time in two years you feel your heart thundering like it did when you first met him, when you started noticing those little things about him, the quiet ways he showed his care.

But now… he’s here.

Bepo pulls back, laughing through his tears “I’m so glad you’re alive, Captain!”

Before Law can even respond, someone else, maybe Ikkaku, maybe Shachi, pulls Bepo away gently, guiding him back to the group.

And then Law finally sees you.

There’s a moment, a breath of time where you feel like the whole world is holding its breath. You didn’t expect the distance between you to feel so large. You didn’t expect to feel so small.

You stand still, unsure of what to do, your legs suddenly heavy, like they’re made of stone. You know the crew, everyone, is watching, but none of that matters right now. You’re looking at him, really seeing him for the first time in so long, and it feels like everything inside you is falling apart.

He hasn’t changed. He still has that same unreadable expression, but something about the way he looks at you now is different. His eyes linger, and in them, you see the same thing you’ve always seen, quiet intensity. But there’s a softness now, a faint warmth.

You don’t move.

You can’t move.

It’s not fear. It’s… shock. You thought you were ready. You thought you were prepared. But seeing him here, right in front of you, it’s more than you can process in a single moment. The flood of emotions, the relief, the joy, the terror, all rush through you all at once, and it feels overwhelming. You never realized how much you needed this, how much you’ve missed him, until now.

And then, slowly, Law begins to walk toward you, his movements steady, calculated, like he’s taking his time, giving you space. When he stops in front of you, there’s a long pause. His eyes are searching your face, studying you, like he’s waiting for something. You’re afraid to look into them, to let him see how much you’ve been holding back.

And then, softly, he speaks “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you finally look up into his eyes. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. The relief is too much. The pain of missing him, of not knowing if you’d ever see him again, it all comes crashing down, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek.

Law’s eyes flicker to it, and without a second thought, he reaches out, his hand gently brushing it away “You don’t have to hide it” he says, his voice low and careful.

“I—” You try to speak, but your voice cracks. You can’t say what you need to. It’s too much. Everything is too much.

Law stands there, his hand still lingering near your cheek, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t rush. He just stands there, waiting for you to breathe, for you to find your voice.

And when you finally do, it’s quiet “I thought I lost you. I—I didn’t know if I could—”

“You didn’t lose me.” His words are simple, but they cut through the noise in your head. He steps closer, his hand sliding from your cheek to rest gently on your shoulder, the contact grounding you “I’m here. I told you I would be.”

And in that moment, you let yourself believe it.

You don’t know what’s going to happen from here, but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re not standing alone anymore. Law is here, and he’s not going anywhere.

Zou is loud again.

After the quiet weight of seeing Law alive, after the press of his hand on your shoulder, after the whirlwind that followed, now everything is moving. New plans are forming. Straw Hats talking over each other. Heart Pirates buzzing about what’s next. Minks giving updates. It’s chaos. Familiar chaos. The kind you hadn’t realized you missed.

You find Luffy just outside one of the tree dwellings, scarfing down food like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, which, to be fair, is probably true.

“Luffy” you say, your voice unsure but soft.

He looks up, mouth full “Y/n!” He jumps to his feet and wraps you in the kind of hug only Luffy can give, tight, fast, and a little chaotic “You’re okay! You’re really here!”

You nod against his chest, your throat tight “You too…”

“Of course I am!” he grins like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I knew we’d all meet again. I told you!”

He pulls back and beams at you “We’re gonna get Sanji back. Me, Nami, Chopper and Brook. You should come too! With me!”

You freeze.

Your eyes dart past the Straw Hats, past the Heart Pirates, until they land on him. Law is leaning near a shaded post, arms crossed, watching the scene from a distance. You can feel his eyes on you.

You start to answer Luffy, but someone else cuts in.

“She’s not going.”

It’s Law.

He’s walking toward you both now, slow and steady, like the decision was already made before this conversation even started.

Luffy blinks “Huh?”

Law stops beside you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours “She’s staying with me. With the Heart Pirates.”

You look up at him, startled. You hadn’t even told him you would yet. But he’s not looking at you, he’s looking straight at Luffy.

Nami steps closer, eyebrows raised like she knows exactly what’s going on “Luffy, read the room…”

Luffy blinks again, slowly turning to you “Wait. What? Since when?”

You open your mouth, but the words don’t come.

“I—” You shake your head “I was going to tell you. I just… I didn’t know how.”

“Why not?” Luffy tilts his head, confused as ever “You like Law, right?”

Your eyes widen “Luffy…”

“It’s fine,” he says with a shrug “I mean, I get the way you’re looking at him right now. I just didn’t know it was, you know… like that like that.” He grins.

You stare at him, stunned “You’re not… mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” he says, blinking like the very idea is weird “You think Ace would be mad?”

You swallow hard, throat tightening at the mention of Ace’s name.

“I just...” Your voice cracks “I didn’t want to disappoint him. Or you. He… he loved me. And I loved him. And I didn’t think I’d ever be able to—”

“Y/n.”

Luffy’s voice is soft. Even softer than usual.

He smiles again, big and warm and bright “Ace would be happy. Really happy. Because you’re not alone anymore. He wouldn’t want you to be.”

You blink fast, trying to keep the tears back, but it’s no use “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Luffy says, tapping his chest “Because Ace told me you were the best thing that ever happened to him. He said if anything ever happened to him, I had to take care of you. You found someone who can take care of you even better than me, and I’ll always support you like my sister.”

That breaks something in you. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to cry outright.

Nami steps up beside Luffy, resting a hand on your back “He’s right, you know. We’ve all known for a while now. About you and Law. After we met Law and Luffy asked him about you, it was pretty obvious even if the man here has the most unreadable face. It’s just Luffy that is always too oblivious.”

Law, still at your side, hasn’t said a word. But his presence is steady, anchoring. His eyes stay on you.

Luffy grins and throws his arm over your shoulder, dragging you into another hug “I’m happy for you, Y/n. And Ace would be too.”

You press your face against his chest again, this time not hiding the tears “Thank you.”

Law leans in slightly, his voice low near your ear “You didn’t have to be scared.”

You glance up at him, smiling through your tears “I know. But it still scared me.”

“I get it,” he says “But you don’t have to worry. And you can talk to me about your fears, I won’t leave you alone.”

And somehow, for the first time, you believe it.

The sun is dipping behind the massive trees of Zou, painting everything in golden light. The others are gone now, off to find Sanji. The moment they disappeared over the horizon, the world got quiet again.

Too quiet.

You sit at the edge of the overlook, watching the sky shift from orange to deep indigo. The wind brushes through your hair, soft and cool. You hug your knees to your chest, letting yourself breathe for what feels like the first time in days.

And then you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You’re always out, watching the sky when it gets dark” Law says, voice even.

You don’t look at him, not yet “It’s peaceful. Beautiful. Easier to think.”

He stands beside you for a second, silent, then sits down next to you with a small sigh. The space between you hums. Not touching, but not distant either.

You glance over. His hat’s off. That always does something to you. Makes him look realer. Softer. More… him.

“You really told Luffy I was staying with you” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips “Didn’t even bother ask me.”

“You were going to stay anyway” he replies, tilting his head toward you.

“I might’ve,” you murmur, teasing “Might’ve said no. Might’ve gone off on my own. Who knows.”

He looks at you, dead serious “You wouldn’t.”

You meet his eyes “How do you know?”

“Because you’ve looked at me the same way I look at you. You wouldn’t want to separate again.”

Your breath catches.

The silence after that is thick, like the air itself is holding its breath with you.

“I was scared,” you whisper “Of what it meant. Of what it felt like. After Ace… I didn’t think I was allowed to feel this way again.”

“I know,” Law says, just as quietly “That’s why I never pushed.”

You look down at your hands “But you stayed.”

His voice is steady “I wasn’t going to be another person you lost.”

That’s when your heart cracks, but in a good way. The dam you’ve been holding back breaks just a little. You turn to him, really look at him. The way the fading light touches his face, the faint worry in his brow, the way he’s looking at you like you’re everything.

“Say it,” you breathe “Just once.”

Law doesn’t hesitate “I love you.”

And you’re already leaning in by the time he says the last word.

The kiss is slow and gentle. His hand cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. Yours clutches his coat, grounding yourself.

It’s not desperate. It’s relieved.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, both of you a little breathless.

You whisper “I love you too.”

He smirks “You were worth the wait.”

Your smile widen and just as his small smile/smirk.

“FINALLY!”

You both flinch apart like you were struck by lightning.

Law whips around, eyes narrowing “What the hell—”

From behind a cluster of bushes near the edge of the clearing, three heads pop out in rapid succession: Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku. Bepo follows a second later, way too big to be hiding, but he tries anyway.

“We knew it!” Shachi shouts.

“I said it would happen today!” Penguin crows, fist-pumping like he just won a bet.

“I told you she was gonna make the first move” Ikkaku says smugly.

“You literally did not” Penguin says.

Bepo tries to look innocent “I was just... uh... making sure they were okay…”

You bury your face in your hands, heat flooding your cheeks “Oh my god!”

Law groans, dragging a hand down his face “How long were you there?”

“Long enough” Ikkaku grins.

“To hear everything” Shachi adds.

“I hate all of you” Law mutters.

“Don’t lie to us, Captain,” Penguin says, smug “You’re glowing.”

“I am not glowing.”

“You kind of are” Bepo mumbles.

You let out a breathy laugh, cheeks still flushed, but honestly, it’s kind of perfect. This dumb, messy, ridiculous crew, you didn’t know how badly you needed them until they showed up in your life. Until he showed up in your life.

“Alright,” Law snaps, pushing to his feet and brushing off his coat, “You saw what you wanted. Now go. Before I use Room.”

That gets them moving fast.

Shachi and Penguin scramble like cockroaches, dragging Bepo behind them while Ikkaku throws a wink over her shoulder “You’re cute together! Don’t screw it up!”

They disappear, giggling like kids.

You turn back to Law, trying not to laugh “So… that happened.”

He sighs, but there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips “We’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Nope.”

A pause.

“…Still worth it?” you ask, teasing.

He glances at you. And then, softly “Always.”

353 notes · View notes

galene-gothic · 7 months ago

Text

𝖡𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾 - 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES

“plain beauty quivers in the presence of

charisma for it senses a stronger opponent“

Today we'll take a look at:

- the beauty of being you that solely belongs to you

- how should you go about enhancing your ethereality?

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes from the fact that you have come to value reciprocity. However, despite how much you value reciprocity, at this point you’ve turned more stingy with your time, energy, presence and emotions because you understand that not everyone deserves you in certain ways. You’ve become someone who doesn’t reciprocate much or give anything away until you’ve vetted the other person out properly. It’s funny because you have a very generous spirit and you might not mind buying things for others or giving sweets to little children along the way if you happen to meet any. You have been manipulated in the past and have had felt powerless and it initially led to a lot of confusion, fear and mental health issues. You might have been deluded about certain things and situations but it led to you seeing and facing many different sides of yourself. Initially, it was not enjoyable but this deep dive within your psyche has led to you having a knowledge of yourself including what’s valuable to you. You’ve started putting yourself first no matter what and prioritise self care strongly. You’ve become someone who doesn’t care much about closures as long as the other person’s actions to show for it. You have something very raw about you, sometimes your emotions come out very strongly which is a weak point but it only further adds to your charm because the rawness you possess is striking. However, this is something people usually don’t see coming. You have an image of someone who’s more submissive honestly. People often believe that you’d not have it in you to stand up for yourself which seems to be kind of true, when someone tells you something hurtful, you just sit there and process it without much reaction at all. Even if you do react, you haven’t fully grasped what was told to you so you still react pretty calmly. You are self critical and seem to have a slight bit of an inferiority complex so people think that you’d lack boundaries and you seem to be really theatrical, and overdo it at times in terms of being friendly, laughing, enjoying and expressing yourself because you still have a lot of pride and don’t like to show weakness which gives you a very interesting image, almost like a manic pixie dream girl/boy but with more dimension to your character and your moments of rawness and vulnerability only further add onto it. You seem to always value exciting times and freedom, and I’m not sure if you realise or not but there’s a slight fleeting charm to you due to these qualities. You’re a realistic person and take actions with rationality. You see past illusions, one way to tell that this is true is that you can see the illusions of the past as illusions and accept it. You’ve become someone very demanding in terms of romance and that’s good. You choose from your heart but you don’t forget to rationalise things and reason properly. You don’t give into fantasies and possibilities anymore. You think that if something is worth it, it’s going to be more than fantasy and possibility driven. You’re hopeful about the future and are very inspiring because you are gentle, friendly but still independent and kind of distant. There’s an elusive charm to you as in despite you overdoing it by being too friendly at times, you don’t give yourself away easily and despite your self critical nature, you don’t let it have a hold on you to the point you don’t see the reality of situations and you continue being hopeful.

You also sometimes end up showing really raw emotions but it still doesn’t change how gentle of a nature you possess. There’s something serene about you. You’re pleasing to the senses in more ways than one because you have this natural ability to see and appreciate others’ core essence and their quirks, qualities that they may have been made fun of or excluded for. You treat people who are disabled with a lot of normality too. Supposing, your classmate was a special child, you could have talked to them normally and joked around with them, and never mentioned anything about the way they were. There was once a point when you would have remained loving and empathetic no matter what but you mostly extend that to yourself these days. Emotionally, despite having been hurt and betrayed, and having to heal from it. You have this purity to you that ends up touching the inner child of others. You know how to make people feel that flutter in their stomach and heart, you naturally gain other people’s affection because you show a caring attitude. There’s just this childlike crush that others seem to develop for you. You also have a great capacity to involve yourself deeply and emotionally into your emotions for others, in others emotions and in their lives but you don’t feel like it anymore. You understand that unless there’s a commitment, there’s no need for you to do that. You have incredibly high standards and expectations for yourself, and others. It affects your emotions when you end up giving too much of your energy to someone because at this point, you know that not everyone deserves it. For some of you, there was once a point when you used to get angry at the one you were involved with because there was a lot of love present and you wanted the connection to go well and you wanted to be understood so bad but it was taken the wrong way so you ended up blaming yourself for it for a while (days, weeks, months) but you eventually realised that it was not your fault. Why it adds to your beauty is that they’ll never find love like you again. I’m pretty sure they’re still just trying to fill the void. Enough about them, your soul is one that others are going to heavily rely on in this lifetime, you won’t mind things being one sided in your early life in terms of effort but interestingly, it’s going to be situations where the other party seems to lack gratitude and appreciation for you and all that you offer which is funny because they met an almost angel-like version of you and you added so much contentment to them but they have this weird belief that that contentment is innate and that you’re the one who should be grateful to them and for them, and that’s going to lead to regrets and contemplation for you because you won’t know how to abandon someone you gave so much too but after you do let go, they’ll end up missing you more and more. You’ll pretty much haunt them for the rest of their lives. You have been a missed opportunity, a ‘what if’ in many people’s lives and that is beautiful in some ways because your energy is so beautiful, it is remembered even long after you’re gone but you deserve so much more than to be cherished as a memory and always will, and have the awareness of that. I keep on hearing that song ‘because i miss you’ by Jung Yong Hwa and I haven’t listened to it since like 2022.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in the innocence and kindness that you can spread out into the world. You’re not innocent as in you’re a child but you are innocent in a way where it is so deeply ingrained in you, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of it even if you really wanted to. This is why you crave love that is very pure and almost divine in nature, not just in terms of romance but in every relationship. Don’t look at this difference that you have from the rest of the world as a weakness but instead make it your strength, turn it into your brand. You have this ability to understand people and see parts of them that they themselves cannot see which has led to a lot of disappointment for you in the past because, while they had the potential, the potential was nothing but an illusion unless they would have been able to turn it into a reality. It’s not a bad thing that you look at life in a very psyche oriented manner but use it selectively, when people do want to get better, you can show them their path through this ability of yours. You’re a very deep and intense person, it might be so bad that you might think that no one would be able to understand you or meet you at that level. However, your capacity for depth is so beautiful, you do not even need to see other people’s depth like you may have previously, you just need to explore your own. You’re a total muse just because you are who you are. Make every day of your life a testament of that, be the art, be the artist. Your kindness mixed with your capacity for depth can lead you to spreading love and tangible service to others that will help you understand yourself further, and go to show your own beauty and ethereality, one that actually puts good out into the world and makes a difference. You should set a goal that you want to touch at least a certain number of people’s lives deeply i.e. the ones who are unfortunate in some way and you don’t share any personal connection or desire for that with them. You simply just want to enhance the quality of their lives because you want to do so. We live in a world where physical beauty standards are high but somehow, women are still able to match up to them so there are millions of gorgeous women physically but kindness is a trait that is needed but in lack due to the superficiality of the world. So why don’t you make use of it and become the kindest person you can be for yourself and others? There’s this saying that goes “if you give a man a fish, he will have a meal for that day but if you teach a man how to fish, he will have a meal for the rest of his life.” Try to teach those who are willing to learn and even if they are not willing to, don’t be afraid to drop a few wise and helpful words here, and there for you never know how they’ll be used going forward. For example, you give one friend a few wise words because you think that that could help them, even if they do not learn from it right away.

They might in the future or if they don’t, someone else around you could end up enhancing their life by taking your word. “Even if you’re happy, don’t forget the sorrows of those around you.” Always look out for those less fortunate than you, put yourself first but never be too self occupied and centered to be blind to the suffering of others. Be stubborn minded and keep yourself fixed on wanting to lead a life of integrity, dignity, peace and righteousness even if you’re labeled as selfish, cruel or cold. Have faith in your silent power and don’t try to show it to anyone. When they go low, you go no contact forever. Share your knowledge but don’t give all of your thoughts away for free, there are people who will build a whole new life for themselves, taking the advice that you gave them and act like they’re all that as if they’re not living off your philosophies. Think quietly and live by certain things quietly without expressing them. Be private and stingy with your time, energy, words and presence. Walk and move slowly, and sensually. Also, don’t hesitate to but people off early on or after you receive the first red flag. Don’t be afraid of playing players, just remember not to get attached. I don’t think that most of you have it in you to play games so I think you should just not engage with players at all. Besides the best way to play a player is to not engage in his game at all. Keep your options open but don’t be available to any of them until you’re actively pursued and treated well, and have them try to commit to you. You’re allowed to paint yourself qs a fantasy by tailoring yourself to look, be, smell and feel a certain way. Spend time by yourself and make sure you have certain aspects of you and your life that are solely reserved for you. Always have gratitude for what you have, who you have and who you are but remain self focused and keep most of your emotions to yourself. Learn how to deal with them properly by yourself while still having a healthy approach and perception of relationships. Don’t mind cutting people off and being seen as someone who looks at relationships differently, and has different expectations and standards. You’re extremely powerful, you should harness that to the fullest by becoming someone who sets intentions and actively takes actions in order to become who you are and get what you want. Learn independence and try not to base your happiness upon community, belonging or love of any sort. Live passionately, love intensely, grow intensely, work intensely and go after achieving the recognition that you desire by enhancing certain skills and also yourself as a person. Work hard for social recognition by not craving it but building yourself to the point where even if you didn’t want it, it would naturally find you. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes from the contrast between your ruthless mind, loving heart and kind spirit. You’re someone who holds a lot of self respect and is passionate, also a bit blunt in words and actions. You tend to be so focused on your goals and life that you might come off kind of selfish. I’m not getting it being intentional on your part. You’re someone who values passion but not to the point you give up on rationality. You seem to be well recognised to some extent, in some way. You’ve become someone stingy who doesn’t share themself and what they’ve got that easily. You value stability and there’s this natural knowledge that you possess that the only way you’ll be able to maintain a sense of stability within yourself is by not letting anyone have that sort of power over you. You’re someone a bit standoffish in your energy and mindset but there’s also this calm awareness that you’re not better than anyone, and that you don’t need to be because you’re the best in your own way and the worst in your own way. You’re usually controlled and try to consciously maintain this sense of control but sometimes, you can get cruel, angry, cold and very frightening. Despite this standoffishness, when you interact with others, you’re nice and seem to be passionate, and fun so they are like “maybe I overestimated this person, maybe they’re not all that intimidating after all” but the moment they get this cold and harsh side of you, they realise that they underestimated you and that you can be very scary. In terms of emotions, you seem controlled, focused on building your finances, emotional well being, loving and all but you don’t get obsessive over anything. While, you do have your angry moments, usually you’re smart enough to not react to anything. Even if you hurt, by this point, you’ve learned that if someone wants to leave, they should be allowed to. You’re highly capable of love and very loving. This quality of yours has caused you to receive the shorter end of the stick in the past because people saw that you had a loving heart and they took the love, and decided to leave when convenient without any regard for your emotions, possibly with disrespect or nonchalance but your ability to act like they never even existed in your world is crazy. You’re someone who tries to not even think about these situations and people because you’re wise enough to know that not everything and everyone deserves your energy and reactions. You have a very generous soul and are very passionate, lively and genuinely compassionate. Despite all the instability, shame, hurt and betrayal that you’ve had to deal with, you’ve not lost your true spirit, you’ve become stingier with certain aspects of yourself and what you have to offer but when you see someone in need, you’re willing to try and help. You have managed to build your stability back again by possibly acting like you could never recover or feeling like such, there were those who purposely tried to knock you down to a peg for their own sick and selfish satisfaction, and though they may not admit it, they’re shocked and deeply admire the way you’ve managed to grow out of and from such situations.

You hold yourself back from people, situations and thoughts that don’t serve you. What has led you to this point seems to be how helpless, trapped and ruined you were, and felt. You were fearful and unaware of what to expect or what was going on around you and in your life. You dealt with major life events that were tragic, one after another at that. You’ve dealt with feeling vulnerable and unwanted by a string of people, you’ve had your affection and tenderness misused. You’ve honestly had your innocence used to manipulate you at some point. You could have been obsessed with someone or certain people who made you feel rejected, and you ended up falling into a loop of comparison and envy but the more time that passed by, the more you realised how unfair you were being to yourself. You decided to win in the end no matter what. You decided that you would gain out of every situation that had you down in the dumps and you succeeded in doing so. You learned lessons but also started setting goals and working towards them with consistency and willpower. You decided to take control over yourself and your life again, and the better you got, the more you realised that you had always been powerful, that you still are powerful, even if others tried to make you forget so or didn’t see it. You have become a fairly defensive person due to that, you aren’t paranoid and defensive but if someone tries to make you step out of your power or try to show you down in any way, you decide to stand up for yourself even if it’s just within yourself. You are firm and persistent about your goals, and are grateful about all that you are and have. You are content and value being present in the moment. You understand that there’s nothing more precious than the here and now. You don’t try to shed your light upon anyone anymore, you instead try to keep it hidden or at least inaccessible so that no one can feed off of it just to act like the warmth and light belongs to them or radiating off of them 💀. You decided to leave behind people, situations, habits, mindsets and anything that made you unhappy. You’re a very intense person who loves obsessively and you’ve realised that not everyone deserves it. You’re hot and cold, sweet, sour and spicy, and very unpredictable, that’s what makes you so beautiful. Like, you can be cruel but you’re usually very reasonable and able to maintain your calm, you are so loving and know how to have fun with others to the point they start underestimating you but you know how to assert a cold and cruel aspect of yourself if you’re truly pushed to it, and despite your reasonable and practical nature, you’re very intense in terms of connection but when you’re done, it’s like things never even happened, like you never even knew each and people don’t know, they don’t know what they’ll get from you, no one knows what they’ll get from you. Also, the fact that you’ve not let yourself go, that you’re still the kind and compassionate spirit that you once were, that you were never knocked down to a peg and even if you were, you still built yourself back up, regained stability and reconciled with yourself is the beauty that solely belongs to you.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in your secrecy and inaccessibility. Recently, you’ve been feeling called to gate keep yourself and you genuinely believe that either no one or most people do not deserve you. You should approach life with the knowledge that not everyone has your best interests at heart. Put your healing first and remember those days when you had to cry, felt lonely, were mourning and hurting, make peace with the fact that you never deserved any of it and keep it in your mind that despite having dealt with many obstacles and difficulties in life, you’ve managed to come this far, you can continue doing so no matter what comes your way. Don’t forget how much love you have to offer but understand the value of it by your own. Don’t try to show its value to anyone in order to attract potential lovers or friends, it is of no use, let those who deserve it discover and see it for their own. Trust yourself and put your love in the right places, especially into yourself. You do not need to play the fair game all the time, the world is unfair, the fairest thing you can do is live and let live, don’t try to do anything more or overextend yourself to others. Put yourself first and don’t worry about having a little bit of audacity, just make sure that you have something to back it up, be a kind person who does good things for others in the real world, especially those less fortunate than you or with special ailments. You can’t have an audacity and nothing to back it up, you are not a man. You might be actually but anyway. Be active in the community, treat your family members with love and care, give others love in community settings (by ‘others’ I mean those who deserve it or are less fortunate than you). Be intentional when it comes to emotions, understand where to invest them and where not. Have set standards and don’t change them for anyone under any condition. Don’t mind hurting others if they are trying to hurt you or not being who you need them to be. Don’t even bother saying anything, it’s just a waste of words, just cut them out and move on. Be realistic and live, and love right in the present moment. You won’t be able to help but deal with people passionately but even if you do, don’t think that it’s the end. Keep in mind that everything is temporary and anything could happen at any time. You’re meant to be ride or die and receive a lot of recognition for who you are and what you do in this lifetime. Every action that you decide to take, keep in mind that the only things that can have power over you are things that have your attention. Be selectively attentive and selectively unattentive, and if possible even absent. Absence increases your value. You should not be around those who need you to be all nonchalant and absent in order to be in love with you but make sure to have your own life and live it, not just so you’re not too present but also so that you can make the most out of life. Always accept people and situations for what they are. “Characterise people by their actions and you will never be fooled by their words.” Welcome back, Serena Van Der Woodsen. I’m not sure why I said that either, it just came through. Serena is someone who, if she was in this day and age, one picture, no tags, no reels, no grwms, she’d go viral and everyone would be obsessed with her.

You are probably the same too or you’re at least capable of having that effect of others. “I have to go” that’s what she always says. You’re being told to keep yourself busy enough so that you ‘have go to’ a lot. Your time is precious and it is slipping by every second, don’t waste it and instead make the most out of it by keeping your best interests, desires, passions, growth and stability in mind. You don’t have to feel bad about not giving your time to anyone. Give your time to yourself, that’s the most important. What’s being highlighted here for you is to date and become your own friend, and someone you can look up to before going out there and seeking connections. Keep your time reserved for yourself and your family unless others earn it. Don’t get stuck in the waiting game, EVER. Keep yourself on the move and don’t rest for long periods of time unless you are absolutely certain that it is favourable to do so. Don’t put efforts into the wrong places, don’t act like everyone’s broken heart is for you to fix, let people be, let them deal with their life on their own, you deal with your life on your own too. Don’t forget to extend kindness to those less fortunate than you in practical ways such as donating clothes, food and money or even just simply volunteering in communities made for causes like these but don’t take on other’s emotions and baggage onto yourself, EVER! Don’t engage in competition but don’t feel bad about outshining or hurting others when they have one sided competitions with you and you win. In the past, you’ve had friends who used to accuse you of being selfish and flawed but they couldn’t explain why they thought so because it was just an illusion that their ego battle with you created. Like, you’ve had people call you ugly and selfish out of the blue but talk to you nicely on the other days. Why do you think that is? It’s because they dislike you because they see something great within you. When it comes to connections and emotions, always be grateful and stay content, you’re not lacking anything just because you may not have a partner or friends. Be independent, self sufficient and learn how to enjoy being by yourself. You need to kill the desire for connection while still being open to it and capable of it. Be loving and kind, be practical, down to earth and take care of others but understand that yearning for connections should not rob you of your peace and the joy of the present moment. It’s human and natural to desire connections, I’m not telling you to kill your desire for it as in become all hyper independent but just be content to be by yourself, don’t let your desire for connections ever surpass the contentment and joy of the present moment. Try to be who you are supposed to be i.e. passionate, on the go, ambitious, blissful, loving and someone courageous who will break free from even the tightest of the tightest and the most hurtful, and high quality ropes. Romanticise yourself but do it realistically, romanticise the good things you do and set a goal to do more good things going forward, and become a better and better person by trying your best in the smallest of small and biggest of big ways. To sum it all up - “you do not have to be good, you do not need to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes greatly from your onion like layers. You’re someone who is a bit more contemplative, stable, fair, balanced and like you’re managing different aspects of your life well. You could be a libra ascendant or have libra placements that give you this kind of image? Doesn’t have to be. Most of you are usually booked and busy. You’re an ethical person who treats everyone well regardless of their economic background, appearance, etc. It just comes naturally to you. You do not understand how anyone could be repulsed by certain people to the point of treating them differently from others just because they may not look physically appealing or come from a poor family because you are usually unbothered. Other people’s differences and quirks don’t faze you because you’re just naturally in this state of unbotheredness. Even physically, your reactions are usually slow because you’re often thinking about your own duties, progress, time management and what you need to do or you’re busy doing them. For some of you, your authentic self is very unbothered with a natural poker face but due to social conditioning, you may have or could fake reactions and be more expressive facially. However, trust me, the beauty of authenticity is different, you do not need to be all expressive facially, your indifference is a charm on its own. There’s this certain gentleness to the way you move and despite you having a poker face, you still have something slightly soft about it. There’s still this air of class, respect and nonchalance to the vibes you radiate. You often have any baggage that you’ve dealt with on your mind. There was a point when you were betrayed, hurt and possibly humiliated by multiple people either within the same time or in a string at different times. You’ve dealt with the lowest of lows but you decided to get better by moving away from any hurt that your life and other people may have caused you. You have it in your mind that if you have to abandon anything or anyone for the best, you should and will do it. You’ve become someone who is self respectful and low-key competitive. You’re not competitive as in you try to beat others or get better than them but you’re competitive as in, if someone was to come in your way to the success, achievement and recognition that you seem to be pretty certain that you deserve because you’re very hardworking and you actively strive to be so, you wouldn’t mind completely crushing them to move forward. You often have things like self improvement, routine, achievements, skills and discipline on your mind. You value work ethic and actively try to maintain a strong sense of it.

You’re a thought daughter/son though, you seem to think a lot. One of the reasons that you may try to maintain a strong work ethic and routine might be because it stops your thoughts from overpowering you. Emotionally, you’re changing and someone very warm. You also seem to be self assured. You’re someone fairly logical and reasonable. You are someone who is discovering, exploring and developing yourself instead of seeking these things outside of you i.e. in connection with other people, which is very admirable. Changes are not easy but you’re not falling onto someone else to support you through it but are instead planning on your own growth and emotional well-being without relying on others. You can be very stubborn, cold and cutthroat if hurt though. Usually, you just decide to exit situations that push you out of character. You’re aware of what the lowest of lows feel like but despite it, there’s a chance that some of you feel like that’s all you’ve known in life, you’re able to be optimistic and push forward, you’ve always been this way. You have this natural sense of abundance, warmth and vitality within you that pushes you forward through the toughest of days. You also add a lot of warmth into the life of others. You have the entire world within your soul. You look at life and the world as something that you have grown a lot from and has a lot of beauty within it, and you especially look at yourself like that. Even if there are times when you might question yourself, you know that your natural essence and truth is that you’re full of warmth, vitality and abundance, you know that you’re irreplaceable. In the past, you seem to have dealt with miscommunication, aggression and others misunderstanding you almost on purpose. They probably just didn’t have the capacity to or willingness to understand you. You have been the target of other people’s hatred but it is very interesting because you were a down to earth person with morals and values who tried to look after others and take care of them to the best of your abilities. You shared communities with them like school, universities, friendship groups or possibly romantic connection(s) and you understood them on a very deep level. You are devotional and dived deep into them and their psyche to the point you developed fondness, pity and an understanding of themselves that they themselves might not have had. You had a very unconditional way of loving regardless. However, it led to you depleting your natural sense of abundance, resources, emotions, energy and affection. You were down to earth, tried to take care of others and well meaning but after all that happened, you felt like you had been deceived and you barely recognised yourself. When you were younger, you could have sworn that you’d not let anyone make you question your worth but you were in fact questioning your worth at that time.

‘What was I made for?’ by Billie Eilish is coming through as your energy at that time. “Taking a drive, I was ideal. Looked so alive, turns out I’m not real, just something you paid for. What was I made for? Cause I don’t know how to feel but I want to try. I don’t know how to feel but someday I might.” “Think I forgot how to be happy, something I’m not but something I can be, something I wait for, something I’m made for.” You started a new journey with almost a childlike innocence. You made the decision to be happy, to have fun. You changed your thoughts about commitment and learned that feelings are supposed to be given time to develop at their own time without idealisation involved in the mix. At some point, you wondered if you just weren’t enough, if you just weren’t worthy of commitment and devotion because your affection and purity of heart had been abused, and you entered a phase of your childhood self, one when you were in a similar energy with no one to rely on. You felt trapped like you couldn’t escape. You felt victimised and were isolated. There was anger and hatred that you had to deal with. You came out of this energy with the acceptance that you had been manipulated and you thought you were powerless. You realised that you gave too much when you deserved to receive just as much and barely received anything (if you did anything at all). You could have felt like you were used as an unpaid therapist, purse, arm candy, placeholder, replacement for a romantic partner, etc. (depends on who you are and who you had to deal with). You decided to be cruel if need be there, you started putting yourself first and had zero tolerance for bullshit. You knew that you couldn’t afford it. You embraced changes and moved away from whatever didn’t serve you. You did so having compassion for yourself. You deserved so much better and you knew it. You started seeing past matters of heart i.e. your personal connections as something that you had deluded yourself about and accepted them as illusions. You had a strong sense of pride and didn’t let your heart turn cold. You just started reserving it for the well deserved. You were extending your warmth, compassion and love towards yourself at that time. You got to know yourself deeper on a psyche and soul level, it may have been scary but you realistically faced different aspects, truths and sides of yourself. You also started craving something more real, something that’s not idealised but present right in reality. You matured significantly spiritually, emotionally, mentally and even in terms of your actions. The beauty that solely belongs to you is that despite not idealising yourself, your life and your past, you’re at peace with it and in fact, kind of proud of yourself. You’re able to find the beauty in yourself, your life and actively work on yourself, develop and improve yourself. You desire authenticity and realness within yourself, and the world around you, and you’re not willing to settle for anything less. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in your authenticity that gives you a natural dreaminess. You should work harder in order to be more theatrical and enhance your authentic, and dream like qualities. Much like the previous pile, gate-keep yourself. Don’t try to prove yourself to anyone. Don’t seek approval and praise from anywhere. Be selectively honest about certain flaws and personal struggles that you may have dealt with. You take everything as a duty, a responsibility, including attracting others and connections with others. You take on a lot of burden to please the other person and be something that they may like. Use this quality for better things i.e. enhancing your natural ethereality in a way that suits your personal taste and nobody else’s. One persona that I think you could embody and would fit your personal taste is someone who has fun with others in a way that contrasts your poker face and almost regal aura but is very serious about themself, their personal boundaries and morals, and will not budge, when you are going to have fun with others, they’re inevitably going to start underestimating you, learn how to put them in their place at that time and be serious about not pleasing anyone except yourself. The reason that I suggested this persona for you is because it seems to fit you the best but if you feel like it’s not authentic to you, the point is to simply build more authenticity and not carry the burden of impressing others, building and carrying connections onto yourself. Keep your options open in every connection until you meet someone who is trying to meet you where you need them to meet you, and you consider them to be an equal to you in terms of qualities and won’t feel like you’re settling for them. Don’t forget your values of respect, loyalty, stability and deservingness. Keep in mind that not everyone deserves you so it’s better to be untouchable. Start thinking from a place of “I’m attractive, hardworking, smart, it’s guaranteed for me to attract attention but I need to be careful with the attention that I choose to entertain for not all attention is good attention, and not everyone who I receive attention from deserves my energy.” NEVER tell anyone about your goals, just pop out with the end results. Learn how to not have dreams about people you barely know and don’t try to build passion with undeserving people just for the sake of it. Don’t mind being a fleeting presence in other’s lives but never fall into the trap of being a grounded presence or into the game of waiting unless there’s a solid commitment present. Be true to yourself and make sure to not give your passion to just anyone, don’t try to give everyone the passion that you hold within yourself. Keep it gate-kept until deserving people actually enter your life.

You need to understand the value of what you bring into connections and into the world. You’re sensitive to the emotions of others and are able to heal other’s wounds and inner children. You know how to provide an affection so pure, they’ll always feel like a middle schooler in love, your heart is pure and you have the capacity to get so emotionally involved that them hurting, just the mere thought of it hurts you too. Does everyone deserve you? Of course not. Don’t give this quality out to everyone for free, keep it to yourself. Find ways to enjoy being alone so that you can truly gate-keep yourself. You need to know the value of your presence enough to not be present everywhere. One way to be able to cultivate the quality of selective presence and gatekeeping yourself is by associating your emotions with your self improvement, your dreams, the state of your heart and your goals. You can’t be fair to everyone and you do not need to be, not everyone deserves you that’s the truth of life, not everyone deserves a chance at a connection, don’t be closed off to connections but don’t be too open to them either. Understand that you’re so valuable, you require people who see, appreciate and honour that, they also need to be valuable so you can do the same for them. Understand that you’re so valuable, you require people who see, appreciate and honour that, they also need to be valuable so you can do the same for them. Keep yourself busy and on the go but don’t try to be something that you’re not i.e. don’t try to be like “I’m gatekeeping myself because not everyone deserves me” if you’re a desperate person with no life and allows them in your headspace 24/7. Instead, actually become the person i.e. keep yourself busy and have things that you’re actually doing, not because you’re trying to attract others but because you have one life and there’s so much to try, and do, and you should not waste it. I’m not telling you to be full of yourself and act like someone you’re not but it is important to not be available to everyone in terms of personal connections and even just your presence. All I’m asking from you is high standards, selectivity and boundaries. With those that do deserve you, treat them well, show them appreciation, gratitude and affection. Have a lot of fun with them, go places with them, explore with them and don’t mind diving into the depths of their psyche. Also, don’t gate keep yourself to the point that you have no community. Learn how to not give away your emotions, words and reactions to people within it who do not deserve it because the truth is that you are going to have to and will want to deal with people no matter what. I also recommend joining communities with shared interests and causes. The main point here is to have control over your energy. Be authentic to the point you repulse those who are not authentic to themselves, all while attracting them and also attracting others around you but don’t give yourself away to anyone freely. I’m not sure if you noticed it but when you were open to everyone and giving them unconditionally, they took from you to the point you lost your authenticity and that’s when they left or started acting like they were better than you in some way. You are going to attract those who will try to crush your authenticity, which is why I’m putting an emphasis on gatekeeping of the self. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

#intuitive readings #pac #pac reading #pick a card #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #pick a pile

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garageofshumii · 9 days ago

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saying something nice about every f1 driver on the current grid (because i've gone through a few things recently and we need to spread positivity as much as we can in this chaotic sport):

max verstappen: max has gone through one of, if not, the toughest childhoods out of everyone in the current f1 grid and he hasn't always had the great time in f1 either (his early rookie days) and as such he's always nice and caring to the rookies as he knows what it's like to have no one there for you. he has the natural ability to extract the best out of the worst cars and that's the reason why he's a multiple time world champion.

yuki tsunoda: yuki has dealt with so much bullshit from helm*t marko and the whole redbull team and he's finally getting the chance in a team where he can show the world the talent he has. he also just wants to open a restaurant which is just so wholesome- random thought: gordon ramsay and yuki tsunoda would make an amazing team.

george russell: george performs as a really solid driver even though he's always had to stand in other people's shadow. he's never really seen as a title contender even though he's put it the work and he's improving all the time but he still has a smile on his face and his t-pose is iconic.

kimi antonelli: kimi has an insanely mature mindset considering he's just 18. he's determined to finish high school yet he's dedicating himself so much to mercedes and f1, and pulling off brilliant performances that aren't applauded as much as they should be because it's just what people expect from him given the hype surrounding him. he is a hard worker and talented- the combination needed to be successful.

charles leclerc: charles is the epitome of loyalty and a lot of people forget how much he has lost (his father, jules, anthoine) yet he still keeps going and puts up with all of ferrari's bullshit. charles also works multiple jobs as he has to create a strategy all by himself some races- he deserves a championship so much and i really hope he gets it one day.

lewis hamilton: lewis has defied every single odd to get to where he is today and he is a fighter that inspires everyone around him. i truly believe his move to ferrari will work out because he will bring the team together, even if he has to relive his worst nightmares (2016 spain) to do it.

lance stroll: lance is overhated and he gives really thoughtful gifts- he organised for a tree to be planted for seb, who's always thinking about the environment and saving the planet. he could have bought some other random gift but the tree is truly special! not to mention multiple nice personalised gifts for pierre.

fernando alonso: fernando has raced against three schumachers and two verstappens and a ridiculous number of f1 legends, even beating them in some cases. he is still able to perform well and just truly enjoys what he does- his performances are electric and he's one of f1's greatest drivers.

lando norris: lando advocates for mental health which is really important in a sport where the driver's are expected to fit into a certain "image" of being tough and not showing emotion. he also always tends to make time for young karters/fans and has the ability to put together fast laps.

oscar piastri: oscar is only in his third season in f1 and is a championship contender. he has world championship levels of raw talent and speed and he has the maturity and mindset of a more experienced driver. it's not a matter of if he wins a title, it's a matter of when. he's also sometimes disliked for "not showing emotion" but he's only really like that during races (which is just his personality as a driver) and if you take one look at a social media video like the ones with lando or even the prema videos he has the best smile ever (bunny teeth!! he's perfect).

pierre gasly: pierre is another victim of the redbull team and has dealt with that in his own way (winning a race in an alpha tauri?!). he didn't get the career he deserves and i hope he gets another chance to showcase what he can actually do with a good car.

jack doohan: jack is the subject of so much media scrutiny but he's showing what he's actually capable of and anyone who's career is in the hands of flavio is a person with enough bravery to face anything.

alex albon: despite everything, alex is in my opinion one of (if not) the nicest guys on the grid and he is also a victim of redbull. he's just a really likeable guy and i'm glad he's found a team that appreciates him- he has dedicated himself to williams and i look forward for the day when his hard work pays off.

carlos sainz: carlos has proven that he can perform in multiple different teams regardless of the circumstances. there are only a handful of drivers who have ever done that and that just shows how important he is to the sport. he's also a hardworker for every team he goes to and that's why he can bounce back from setbacks like in australia 2024 and he's the reason why max's records have been stopped where they are (singapore 2023).

ollie bearman: ollie's performances so far have been extremely impressive considering the situation (debut race on one of the harder circuits on the calendar: no preparation except for a one hour practice session, brazil 2024: despite not scoring points he still finished the race which is an achievement in itself, china 2025: pulling off so many brilliant overtakes in a haas, bahrain 2025: going from p20 to p10 in a haas?!). he's also such a positive guy and you cannot possibly hate him.

esteban ocon: estie bestie has gone through so much shit and deserves so much better than what he's had to put up with. he is truly overhated and this year is going to be good for him. i think his move to haas was the best thing he could have done and bearcon is my favourite current teammate pairing. his interactions with laura are also so wholesome and i think in haas, he now has the opportunity to shine in the way he deserves with a team that supports him completely.

nico hulkenberg: nico is a talented and experienced driver who was just unlucky when it came to his career. he truly gives off dad energy and is a great teammate to gabi. he's always been a very good teammate especially to rookies, given the way he supported ollie during his super sub stand ins and the way he shared the wisdom he has as a more experienced driver.

gabriel bortoleto: gabi has the pressures of representing brazil in formula 1 and is expected to live up to drivers like ayrton senna, max verstappen (one of his heros) and fernando alonso (his manager). he has an impressive junior racing career that just shows how well he can do and the potential he has.

liam lawson: liam has not had the easiest path to formula 1 and his journey is still a bit like a rollercoaster ride. new zealand is not a place where there's a lot of racing opportunity but his sheer determination has served him well and it will continue to serve him well throughout his career. he has made mistakes but at the same time he's only 23 and everyone makes mistakes and he's also a victim of redbull. he will eventually show just how well he can perform and his love for cars and lightning mcqueen is unrivalled.

isack hadjar: isack barely missed out on the f2 title and he has shown that he can perform even with the pressure he's been facing and the helm*t marko bullshit he's had to deal with. he has been dragging the racing bulls into places where he's beating top teams and he's good in qualifying and has good race pace. he's also a social media icon.

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imhereforthelesbianstuff · 5 months ago

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I know we already talked about this a lot (like, a lot) but I just have a little more to say about the jail scene. Mostly because of all the "Vi didn't care about Jinx" and all the "in the middle of a war, they're having sex"

Sort way to say it, using Vi's words: just shut the fuck up.

Using my own words, first of all, Vi didn't know what's Jinx gonna do. As far as she knew, Jinx could have been run away without her, being plotting a new attack against Piltover, or reunited with Sevika. All Vi knew was that she went to rescue her little sister, and that sister punched her (in the same spot Cait did, seriusly, people should stop hitting her there), and left her alone in a cell.

She went behind the back of the woman she loves just to save Jinx of being executed or imprisioned for life. And after that (in her own eyes) betrayal to Cait, Jinx left without her.

And then, Caitlyn is there, and Vi thought she's gonna hate her, for choosing Jinx again, even when Jinx didn't want to be chosen. Vi thought she'd lost, not only her sister, also Caitlyn after all. Just look at her.

But no. Cait is there to say, that she knew, she knew Vi would do this, and that's ok. It's just how Vi is. After all, the Vi who freed Jinx, is the same Vi who became an enforcer for Caitlyn. Vi just can't let the people she loves suffer, if she can do something about it. Cait needed that support and Jinx needed to be free. Both time ended with Vi being punched and let behind. But this time, Caitlyn is there to ease that guilt and pain. She knew Vi was gonna do this, and she helped, because she loves and accept Vi, even when she doesn't understand her.

And no, you can't tell that's was just a Cait's plan to fuck Vi. She did that because she loves her, and didn't expect nothing in return. Just look at her face when she's telling Vi she knew, and a few seconds later, when she stops to tell Vi about her rebound (not so predictable after all, right Cait?), totally different expresions.

And of course Vi kissed her, for the fisrt time in her life, somebody is there just for her, somebody came to support her, not in the other way. So it was pure instinct, visceral, raw feeling. Vi fucking loves her, and Cait just did something no one did for her before. Be there, understand her. How could she not kiss her? Not let herself go in the feeling?

And yes, there's a war, they may die, why wait? They been longing this for so long, and now, both need to feel eacht other, to touch eacht other, to love and hold eacht other. Again, raw emotion.

Maybe she chooses wrong everytime, but this time, she didn't lost everyone. Cait is there, for, and with her.

And I also read some people saying Cait is looking at Vi like a womanizer, Am I the only one seeing just tender in her eyes? Love? Like "this is the woman I love and I would never change her again for nothing" She's looking at Vi with such love.

Sorry for rambling, I don't really have anyone to talk to about Arcane 😬

#arcane #lesbians #vi arcane #caitlyn arcane #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #arcane netflix #vi #caitlyn kiramman #arcane season two #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane thoughts

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writesvani · 2 months ago

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coming down | teaser

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): underage use of marijuana and cigars, underage drinking, use of illegal substances, anorexia and obsessive dieting, calorie deficit, mentions of self-destructive behavior, angst, emotional manipulation and trauma, toxic friendship dynamics, self-esteem issues and body image, unresolved romantic tension, past betrayal and unrequited love, sexual harassment (implied in some interactions), foul language and explicit content, derogatory language, including use of "puss" and other insults, toxic romantic relationships and behavior, references to manipulation and control in relationships, most characters are morally gray, flawed, and engage in problematic behavior, complex, imperfect characters who make questionable decisions, characters often act in ways that challenge traditional moral boundaries and ethics.

THESE CHARACTERS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE PERFECT AND IDOLIZED.

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— next chapter

wc: 2,4k // date: 4th of March 2025

TEASER — Wicked Games; proceed with caution...

AN: OKAY OKAY OKAY WOW HERE SHE IS. i don’t know what the hell I’m writing - i mean i do but i don’t if that makes sense - this, this fanfic is literally gonna be my baby. it’s inspired by a lot of people i know, it’s partly inspired by my life as well - not gonna tell you which bits of it tho haha. but i’m so excited. honestly this isn’t even chapter one - i’m thinking more of it as a teaser for what’s about to come and when i tell you a lot is coming you better believe it. but this is going to be a part of me - something raw and something real and i know this won’t be an easy read - as you can see by the triggers but i truly, really hope you guys will like it as much as I enjoy writing it. because i’m obsessed. i just got sucked in by y/n and gojo’s dynamic of hatred and toxicity, they’re on my mind 24/7.

i love them.

i hate them.

i wanna be them and i’d hate it if i ended up becoming them at the same time.

love, vani 🩷

"No, I’m not going."

"Yes, you totally are."

"No, I’m not, Yumi. I’m dead serious."

"Y/n, for the love of Christ, I love you, but if you don’t stop bitching about it right now, there will be consequences. Now, get your ass up and get ready," Yumi huffed, arms crossed.

You narrowed your eyes before rolling them—more dramatically than you intended. Not your most mature moment, but being forced to go to that party, in that house, didn’t exactly put you in a good mood.

"Look, Yu, I don’t care about that stupid party your—what’s his name again?—boyfriend is throwing for us. Truthfully, I’d rather be buried alive in that creepy graveyard we smoke pot in. Alone. No pot. You get my point."

"His name is Nanami," she deadpanned. "And he’s throwing us a party for our birthday, which we share. It’s not like I have the option to skip it, you know. Besides, we always celebrate our birthday together."

Yumi’s voice softened as she tilted her head, giving you that look—the one she knew you couldn’t resist. "Please, please, please. Let’s just go, smoke some weed, listen to those weird-ass tunes you play when you get too baked, wait for midnight, blow out the candles, and leave. Bonus points if Nanami fucks me tonight."

She smirked before adding, "Plus, Gojo’s gonna be there, and everyone knows about your little crush on him."

You scowled. As if that could make this stupid party any better.

But again… she wasn’t wrong.

Somehow, in the middle of a crowded classroom filled with acne-scarred faces and nervous energy, you and Yumi ended up sitting together. two total strangers. two tangled-up disasters shoved into plastic chairs, thrown together by sheer chance or some kind of cosmic joke.

She was tall and slim, chain-smoking weird American cigars in the school’s piss-scented bathroom stalls during five-minute breaks.

You liked her immediately.

She liked cigs.

You liked pot.

She liked Arctic Monkeys or any other type of music that ended up overplayed by overdramatic tumblr girls at midnight.

You listened to Trilogy like it was gospel.

She didn’t give a shit about school. Skipped class constantly to drink cheap coffee at some run-down café that reeked of nargila and regret.

You somehow pulled good grades—yet skipped with her anyway, so she wouldn’t feel lonely.

And then, the kicker.

You shared the same birthday.

Same day. Same year. Two hours apart. What were the odds? Some kind of cruel cosmic irony, maybe. A glitch in the universe where it spat out two unhinged messes at the same time, doomed to find each other.

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that Yumi was fucked up.

She didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just smoked.

Cigs and all.

Pot and all.

You, on the other hand, slept too much. Ate just enough—tracking every bite to make sure it fit inside your carefully calculated calorie deficit, of course.

And yeah, you were fucked up too.

But at least you weren’t alone.

You were fucked up together, and somehow, that made perfect sense.

And now, after years of being two walking disasters—two mistakes of nature (and probably your parents' biggest regrets)—you are finally in college.

What you didn’t expect was Yumi getting a boyfriend. And sticking to him. Yumi didn’t do relationships. they were too much, she once told you.

Too heavy.

You understood. Why let anyone waste their time trying to fix something that wasn’t fixable? Why let anyone peel back the layers when there was nothing to find? no deep-seated trauma, no unspeakable tragedy, no emotional constipation. just plain, old you—coasting through life on gold marlboro touch and iceberg salad.

You assumed Yumi felt the same. you used to get each other.

But now? Yumi had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend—some weirdly handsome senior that got every girl on campus tripping over themselves. A guy who, for some unknown reason, had decided to settle down with the second-year that half the school had definitely jacked off to.

And you?

You were still there, of course.

“You know what? Fine,” you finally huffed, shoving your hands in your pockets. “We’re going. But—” you held up a finger, “The shit he’s getting better be good or i’m out. And—” another finger, “Btw, how is The Weeknd ‘weird girl’ music? The best music to get high is literally from an artist who made it while high. like, really?”

Yumi just raised an eyebrow, already knowing she’d won.

“And—” your third and final finger shot up—“One condition. No Gojo. Np looking at him, no talking about him, and god forbid, talking to him, okay?”

Yumi grinned like the little devil she was. She knew she had you.

And she loved it.

You’re going. and somehow, somehow, you already know Yumi’s going to break the Gojo rule. And you already hate yourself for saying yes.

Gojo, Gojo, Gojo. That foxy, smirking little minx you’ve somehow tucked away in a small, stupid pocket of your heart. Nanami's best friend.

Stupid hot and wicked smart.

One look from Gojo Satoru and half the campus is already on their knees, mouths open, waiting for the tip to slide in. one touch, and you’re pretty sure girls would be cumming fully clothed.

Truthfully? You get it.

Gojo has that whole walking sexual fantasy turned nonchalant icy prince thing going for him. you would’ve hitched your skirt up and let him fuck you senseless too—if he asked.

Would’ve.

But Gojo Satoru did something no other man had ever dared to do.

He bruised your ego.

You’d never admit it, of course. Not out loud. Not even to yourself. But the way his offhanded you’re not my type had clutched at your chest, had sunk deep into the tenderest, most pathetic part of you—yeah. It stung.

Who the hell was he to say you weren’t his type?

Yes, fine, he was hot. really, really hot.

But so were you.

You’ve got that thing going for you—the great student, everyone loves me act, while secretly (well, not so secretly, except to your oblivious teachers) getting high and fucking emotionally unavailable men on the weekends.

Your favorite trope, honestly.

You’ve got those pretty—as guys love to say—puppy eyes and that lethal eyelashes combo that makes people practically eat from the palm of your hand.

So why the hell would he say you weren’t his type?

For fuck’s sake, Gojo Satoru fucks anything with two legs and a vagina.

And the cherry on top? He didn't even say it to your face. No, he just let those humiliating little words slip at some party you weren’t even at.

Thank god for that. You’re pretty sure you would’ve died right then and there if you had to hear those ridiculous words fall from his pretty pink lips in real time.

But of course, Yumi—your second-in-command, your ever-dutiful bringer of bad news—had called you immediately.

Campus sex god gojo satoru, not finding you attractive enough?

The scandal.

To make things even worse, you’re pretty sure everyone knows you’d totally give it to Gojo Satoru.

You may have drunkenly admitted it—once, before the whole “not his type” fiasco—to some random girl in a club bathroom who smelled way too much like puke and way too little like vanilla.

And of course, of fucking course, the gossip spread through campus like wildfire before you could even try to kill it.

So yeah. going to your own birthday party?

Humiliating.

Annoying.

Absolutely a horrible idea.

But still… there’s this slow burn inside of you, this creeping anticipation.

The kind that tells you tonight might just be interesting.

And a little drama never hurt anyone, right?

…Right?

—

Nanami's house is not what you expected.

You don’t even know what you expected, but definitely not this.

Yumi did mention he doesn’t live on campus—he’s one of those guys, apparently. Still lives with his parents or something.

Lame. Booo. Throwing tomatoes.

Because seriously—what twenty-something man still lives with his parents?

But you definitely didn’t expect nanami’s house to be this posh.

Or this proper.

Or this… fucking expensive.

Because, what the actual fuck—nanami is rich.

Like, could-buy-you-off-the-dark-web rich.

Probably in exchange for the mahogany table you’re currently pouring tequila shots on.

Or maybe just for that obnoxiously huge, icy couch stretching across the living room.

or, hell, even for his kitchen alone.

What. The. Fuck.

But then—on that same absurdly expensive couch—something else catches your eye.

Legs sprawled out in the kind of lazy man-spread that screams confidence, scrolling through his phone like he owns the place, is a man.

Dark.

Tall.

And very, very hot.

Something dark and thrilling rushes through you at the thought of dragging him into Nanami’s parents’ bedroom and riding him until he can’t take it anymore.

But before you can act on it—

“Geto Suguru.”

Yumi’s voice is in your ear, a warning.

“He has a girlfriend, so don’t even try.”

Her fingers tug at your elbow. You retaliate immediately, poking her ribs in response.

He looks up.

His shadowy eyes roam over you—slow, deliberate.

A half-smile, half-smirk tugs at his lips.

Ha.

There he is.

Good boy.

He wants it.

He wants you.

"Well, I don’t see her here, do I?"

Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you throw a smirk at Yumi before stepping forward—gracefully, leg before leg, closing the space between you and him.

He’s still sitting.

You don’t even have to look at his face to know he’s already watching you.

Slowly, your eyes travel downward.

The soft material of his white polo stretches taut over the sculpted lines of his stomach, the fabric clinging in all the right places. Your gaze lingers, just a second too long, before moving up—finally settling on his lips.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then, just as the tension starts to settle, he shifts—fumbling with the left pocket of his jeans.

You blink.

…Okay.

Not so hot anymore.

What the hell is he doing?

But then—

but then—

he pulls something out.

A white tissue—crumpled, worn.

You almost scoff, about to ask if this is some weird, half-assed magic trick—until you see it.

Tiny specks of green peek through the folds.

Your breath catches.

Weed.

A lot of weed.

Holy fucking shit.

You swear your mouth waters.

It’s tucked inside that questionably old tissue—and you pray, dear God, that he didn’t blow his nose in it.

Then, in that slow, deep voice—smooth like velvet, laced with a promise—he finally speaks.

"Five grams. Homemade."

He speaks for the first time, and in that moment, you're absolutely sure you're about to get high off his pot—and then, well, he's going to be the one getting high off you.

"Heard you smoke. Thought you’d want to."

Geto’s voice is low, his words soft, but the way his arm brushes your hip bone—effortlessly, casually—sends a spark through your veins.

Some might say it’s a coincidence.

But you know better.

Nothing, nothing, is ever a coincidence when it comes to men like him.

And now, now, you want it even more.

Before you can say anything, someone else interrupts.

“Yo, Suguru, I’ve been watching you all night, man. Why the fuck you sitting in the living room like some NPC loser?”

You scoff, catching the teasing tone of the voice.

"Satoru, you’re stepping on my last nerve again. Let me chill for a bit. I wanna mentally prepare before rolling with all you incompetent losers," Geto responds, his voice still calm, but there's a hidden edge to it that makes you think he doesn't mind the banter.

"There, there, boy. I just missed my best friend so much I had to see why you left the billiard room, you know? Just love spending time with you, bestie."

"You know, licking my ass won’t make me give you some of this before I try it myself. Plus, I’ve got company, as you can see." Geto’s voice drips with annoyance, cutting through the otherwise tense air in Nanami’s living room.

You don’t need to turn around to know exactly who’s standing behind you. His presence is undeniable, his scent suffocating in the best way, and that energy—God, that energy—that pulses in any room he steps into.

And then, of course, there’s the voice. That annoyingly attractive, rough drawl that always gets under your skin.

“I can see that, but I still don’t approve of you ditching your homies for some cheap pussy,” Gojo says, the mockery clear in his voice.

And that’s when you finally, finally, decide to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What the fuck?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Sure, being told you weren’t his type stung—but this? Calling you cheap? Who the hell does this guy think he is? What gives him the audacity to insult you to your face—well, more like to your back, but still, it stings all the same.

A chuckle rumbles through the room. You don’t stop yourself in time. You hear your own voice, but it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

How dare he. After everything—after all the hurt he’s caused you.

Again. And again.

You tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, yet the words slip out before you even realize what’s happening.

As if you could have stopped them. As if you could have ever stopped anything with him.

After all, Gojo Satoru always had a knack for pushing your buttons exactly the way he wanted.

“Cheap, but could make your dick hard by one high school kiss in your mom’s closet. Could make you whimper out my name in your favorite teacher’s classroom. Could make you cum down your uniform just by biting your lip. We’re a little past being cheap, don’t you think Sato?”

Because before all of this—before the "not his type" catastrophe, and your drunken confessions—there was you.

And there was Gojo.

Best friends since birth. A bond that was never supposed to break. But then came senior year—the year everything changed.

You made a mistake. The terrible, stupid, earth-shattering mistake of letting things blur into something more. You slept together. Multiple times. You told yourself it was just a phase. Just a mistake. But deep down, you both knew it was more than that.

But no. There was an even worse mistake than all of this.

Falling in love.

And then, the biggest tragedy of all: letting each other down.

You weren’t supposed to end up here. But somehow, here you are. Caught in the wreckage of a love that never really had a chance.

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nightscythe · 2 months ago

Text

dark sides of the primarchs' relationships

some of these are very dark (esp lorgar, angron, ferrus I guess) but I wanted to represent some of the less enjoyable themes in their relationships. some are kind of obvious, but I wanted to expand a little. again, it's how I write them, so you may not necessarily agree!!

now has a light sides vers ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

18+ below the cut pls, it's sfw but some themes of death, obsession, etc, mostly pre-heresy

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the lion: struggles to interpret his feelings and often mistakes them as needs - namely, sexual need, but really any physical need. the heavy feeling in his heart because he hasn't seen you for weeks? must be because he had become used to your presence and his body must adapt to being without you. the burning in his chest when someone else dares to speak to you with a more suggestive tone? well, its not jealousy, it is his body telling him he needs you. overtime this would start to go, he would learn to interpret feelings in a more emotional way, but realistically he would need to care enough to want to try in the first place. he would always struggle though, turning every single one of his feelings about love into his duty. you're his responsibility, everyone else is a threat.

fulgrim: whilst it is obvious that his desire for perfection may have an impact on you, it has an equal burden on him. he always doubts himself, always taking a pessimistic view of both himself as a lover and to relationships as a whole. and your reassurance may never be enough, even if you do mean it and he seeks it out. he will always make each gift, each speech, each act of love bigger to meet his own desire to be better. and really? it can become more exhausting than anything. especially if he is always trying to prove himself and it sometimes starts to feel artificial. there would be a breaking point though where he finally realises to you, he is perfect, and there is nothing else he needs to do. but there is always that little, teeny doubt.

perty: trust issues will get to him more than anything. he'd need someone who has so much patience that it wears you down, but ultimately it would be worth it. the worst part is that he wouldn't often share how he feels, he keeps it to himself and sits brewing thoughts in his own head that you may just be like everyone else and not truly care. he'd keep it from you, never uttering a word, silently letting it all fester until it gets too much. and breaking down that wall he builds from his own thoughts would take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and a lot of letting him work things out on his own. that's probably the biggest issue - he has a lot of time, something you may not as easily afford.

the khan: his idea of love is different. in a good way, maybe, but different to others. love for him is choice, and he will not restrict you to it. if you want to leave him, then go. if you want to spend a day without him, then do so. he'd really need someone who can deal with his laid back approach (or more so, his promotion of freedom above all other things) to love. that can be tough. his free spirit may just be too free to some people, and that's just what life is like. don't expect reassurance or speeches of his feelings, they are not happening. he's quick to make his decisions, his conclusions, and he's quick to temper. in the right conditions, this can make a storm. if anything ever goes bad.. good luck.

leman: it flips with him, very sudden, very easily. one day he's so enamoured, so utterly floored by everything you do that he's got massive heart eyes and following you around like a puppy. other times he's in his own world, following his own free spirit, that it can make you feel neglected. all of this just ends up causing more and more anxiety, unknowingly to him, and obviously to you. its all unintentional of course, he loves you so deeply. and his love itself? it's raw. he's so set on being stoic and strong but he is fragile too. he fears the worst, his emotions are never waste. everything he feels he shows directly to you. that can be overwhelming; all of this is overwhelming. especially when you could wake up one day and he's gone to do something without any warning, not evening thinking that you notice.

dorn: he's cold. he's so cold that it burns. or... is that the raging fire inside just reaching through the cracks? words mean nothing to him, and it can be difficult to truly know where you stand. he would never say he loves you, he would make you feel like he didn't ever need you, but should you ever leave? he'd tear the imperium down brick by brick until he had you back with him. it's unknowing to him. a duty. an unspoken loyalty. he doesn't believe in anything being temporary, so you're with him for life now. even if he never says it. and its the fact it's just actions, ones which may not mean anything to you, that makes it so hard. the door he gifted you with a heavy duty lock may be strange to you, but you did tell him you were worried about someone breaking in...

curze: does not feel he can be loved. he thinks he deserves it, but he never thinks anyone would dare. he thinks any affection shown to his is out of selfish fear and the second an opportunity presents itself, that love and affection would be gone. so he worries. he worries you are just like everyone else. makes assumptions, accusations, tells you that he thinks you're lying. probably because in the past he felt he should be loved and forced it out of people. he never once stops to think that maybe you lay beside him, you hold his hand, you take care of him, because you want to. it doesn't make sense to him, not without proof, or time, or anything to support your case. he'd get it eventually, he'd stop spending nights awake convinced you'll leave him when you sleep peacefully beside him with no intention of going.

sanguinius: his foresight is a burden, knowing what will happen to him means his guards are up. he would always be devoted, and he would carry the burden of fate to know he had shown you love in a way that mattered. but the sleepless nights would come, knowing the heartbreak would follow. especially at first, he'd try so hard, he'd want to protect others, you, from the fallout of fate. he'd never wanted you to see him in a way as more than a guardian, protector even, but it was inevitable. especially being who he is. and he would keep it to himself, and it would eat him up inside. he'd want to give you an easier way out, a ending where his death was the lesser of two evils, but he could never bring himself to leave. not before fate forced his hand.

ferrus: he has to make you better. you though fulgrim was obsessed with perfection? imagine that, but reversed, and intensified by a thousand. ferrus can make you better. he can make you stronger, he can make you everything you ever wanted. and over time, as he improves you, makes you need to know that he's impressed with you, it changes you. he's unrelenting. and it's not that he doesn't love you. oh, he loves you so so much. but there's a part of him that thinks his encouragement, his desire for your perfection, it helps you. together you can be the perfect couple, but not because of beauty or looks. then it feels like you're a project to him, little more than a toy for him to work on each and every day. and he'd let you go. he'd give you the choice, be free of him, but you'd hesitate. could you ever really be without him again?

angron: he only knows war. pain. death. love is so... small to him. he doesn't understand how to be gentle, how to replicate the love some of his brothers will. but he doesn't want to hurt you, either. and it shows. he will not hurt you, he will not make you feel pain, but he would die for you. and would you die for him? well. if you wouldn't, he would make you. love for him is a reflection of the strongest emotions he feels. the words he associates with it are different. violence. he'd kill anyone who stood between you. desperation. it's a feeling he can't describe as anything other than need. consuming. it grinds on him, wears him down, until he treats it the exact same way as everything else he feels. you're his, and you will become a part of him, whether you want to or not.

rob: it should be easy to him, but its not, and that makes him feel worse. he's not stupid, he can process love and emotion. yet... why does it feel so hard? he always feels like he is doing something wrong, always expression too little in case he reveals too much, whilst always trying to make up for something he fumbled already. its a vicious cycle. the reality of the situation is he's torn in every direction, he's needed by so many people, that he doesn't have time for love. yet he would fight to the very end of time to show it to you. and it exhausts him to no end. he'd just need a little patience, he'd very much enjoy if instead of something require brain or body power, he could just rest with you in his arms, enjoy the peace, but when that's every single evening, it could become a little hard

morty: he carries around a lot of anger and it's not always easy to hide. like a bitter old woman who sneers at kids for stepping on her lawn, but deep down she has a heart bigger than anyone - she just doesn't like it when he things are messed up. probably a bad analogy. the smallest things annoy him and he's got a quick temper. he constantly has to remind himself to check his own feelings, assess if he's reacting appropriately, then actually respond. so sometimes, it can feel artificial, like it's a brave face he puts on, and eventually you'll just want to know the real him. and you can, but it may not be as easily heard or understood. with time he would get better, he'd balance his emotions with your help, but until then it may never feel 100% real.

magnus: the poor guy, he just doesn't think (how obvious, I know). his actions are well intended but the way he comes across is a mixed bag. you're proud of something you've done or learned and in the spirit of sharing your achievement he does it in one try... or he tells you a more advance version of a spell with the intention of helping you but... it just comes across as him belittling you. like you were never good enough for him, that he is so so much better than you and his standard is so far above you. in reality, he's just happy, he's sharing those things because he thinks it will help you. he's worried that he's not good enough for you. he feels like he has to prove himself, to show you just everything he's capable of, elevate the two of you, together. aww :(

horus: he knows about his charisma. like a beacon that sits on his head and forces everyone to like him. and that makes him question the reality of everyone around him. are you nice to him because he's Horus, or because you want to be nice to him? are you kissing him because he's Horus, or because you want to kiss him? it's a guessing game that he is losing. he truly believes that those closest to him do not care, and overtime he has developed trust issues beyond saving. he'd never show it though, but inside everything can feel like a lie. he'd have a way to work it out though - he's not stupid - but his way is long and extended, tests and games which may not be appreciated, and it may feel like you need to prove to him why you care about him. was your love not enough? it was. but he just needed to know it wasn't manufactured by that damn beacon.

lorgar: love... its something different for him. it's not love. it's reverence. you become everything to him, his faith, his truth, his gospel. you become divine to him in every way, perfection incarnate, holy as the gods around him. and for that reason, it is all written in fate for him. you are meant to be with him, you are meant to stand by his side. he would build temples in your name, he would burn planets to the ground if it meant you were happy. he would destroy worlds to bring you what you wanted. but, if you are unhappy with that? if you do not accept his love and devotion? that's heresy. that's denying the truth. and escaping him, it can only come through death. his one is quite dark, i'm very sorry about that. unless you like it, then happy to help.

vulkan: he wouldn't have many faults, aside from obvious primarch things, but I think he's full of worry. not insecurity, but concern, always worried about you, always thinking he may hurt you, worried that the feats he puts himself through may have an unnecessary effect on you. he knows that he puts himself in danger but he can't stop himself, he know your concern that maybe just one time, he won't come back - but he will still test the limits anyway. he'd never show you every part of him, afraid it may just be too much for you, and though he's never hiding anything sinister, he'd always be hiding something. and you know it. and he'd smile, assuring you its nothing. it's literally just something like he's never tried kissing you in a certain way in case he hurts you. or he was wounded fatally again but he's okay. probably better if he just tells you... but secrets in the name of happiness, I guess.

corax: sometimes he goes, for days. for weeks, months even. some may even question whether you've just made it up in your own head. it's not that he doesn't care, or he doesn't love you, but... he got lost in his own head. what he needed to do. and it doesn't help that when you are together, he's cold, he's reserved, and its like you've never even met before sometimes. he can handle all of this, he's secure in his feelings and is loyal to you beyond anyone else, but can you? it's not that he would abandon you, or betray you, but when you've waited for him to come him for months and there's still no sign of him, your thoughts may start to go somewhere less pleasant. you can ask him to stop, but it's never permanent, even when he's fully opened to you emotionally - he'd unintentionally fill you with doubt.

alpharius: oh its a bit of a mindfuck. one loves you, one doesn't. one whispers sweetly in your ear, one just whispers. one touches your shoulder and catches the tips of his fingers on the curve of your neck, the other one just touches your shoulder. it's little things. barely noticeable at first. something the everyday person would have just shrugged off. but after time, you do notice. that's not Alpharius. and it makes you mad. to think he sent someone else in his place? he had to, and you'd never understand, but he hates it as much as you. do you know how badly he wants it to be him that is with you each day? how insulting it is to know that he was sharing you? it drives him to the brink of insanity. it's truly the worst feeling in the world. but there's nothing you can do about it, and you'll have to live with knowing that maybe the man next to you isn't the alpharius you love.

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