#a million sunglasses out of ten
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contender for best fic of the year, in my opinion
The Emperor’s Angel
This is probably the only thing I’ll ever write on this blog since my main focus is writing for Eddie on @eddiemunsonfuxks, so enjoy this one and done fic of our newly beloved Emperor Geta 🥴
Emperor Geta x General Acacius’ Daughter!Reader
warnings: I don’t know jack shit about the Roman Empire, so we’re just going to pretend that I do 💀 Let’s pretend for the sake of this fic that all the children in Rome are on a lovely little field trip for the day 💀 18+ only! Minors DNI! This fic isn’t for you! possessive!Emperor Geta, Geta uses a pet name (Angel) for Reader instead of her real name, death threats, unprotected p in v smut, rough sex, public sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink, creampie, profanity, etc
Anxiety and rage coursed through your veins as you slipped away from the rowdy Colosseum to escape the ordeal that your father, the General of the Roman army, had gotten you into.
He was challenged by Lucius, son of Lucilla, to fight him in the Colosseum to the death, but instead of agreeing and battling him like a real warrior, he offered you up instead. Not to fight in his place, no, but to give you up to marry Lucius as some sort of bullshit peace offering, and much to your dismay, Lucius agreed to the offer.
There was only one problem with that, you belonged to Emperor Geta.
You and the Emperor had been seeing each other behind your father’s back for several months now, quite close to nearing the one year mark, and with how possessive he was of you, you just knew there was no way in Hell he was letting you go to Lucius of all people.
You had seen the rage in your lover’s gaze when he stared at your father in disbelief, Emperor Geta shocked that your father cared more about his own life rather than his precious daughter. Emperor Caracalla had glanced over at you with a weary look in his eyes, knowing this wasn’t going to end well for both Lucius and your dad considering his brother’s short temper and sadistic tendencies.
That’s when you had fled from the Colosseum and headed towards your chambers in the palace, not wanting to stick around and witness what events would unfold after Lucius agreed to marry you, nor wanting to face your father after he handed you over to someone you despised. There was absolutely no way you were marrying that man, especially since your heart wholeheartedly belonged to Emperor Geta in all his sadistic glory.
Little did you know, he was in hot pursuit of you after screaming in your father’s face that you belonged to him and that no one was to take his precious angel away from him. He demanded your father accept Lucius’ original challenge or he would have him put to death either way.
You barely made it to your chambers before a firm grasp on your upper arm was spinning you around in a flash. Your gaze met the fuming orbs of your lover, his pupils completely overtaken by the rage he felt towards your father and his inconsiderate act of defiance.
“And where do you think you’re running off to, Angel? You’re going to miss such an entertaining battle between your disgrace of a father and that useless peasant Lucius.” His grin was sickening and you’d be fibbing if you denied the fact that it had your cunt flooding with arousal.
“I couldn’t stand to look at my father any longer after he pulled that stunt.” You scoffed, your hands resting on the breastplate of Geta’s gold plated armor. “Who the fuck does he think he is? What makes him think I would want to marry Lucius of all people? If only he knew my heart belongs to you, my perfect Emperor.”
“Oh he does now, my love. Everyone does. I had no choice but to reveal our long kept secret because there was absolutely no way I was giving you away to that peasant. You’re mine, Angel, and no one will ever take you away from me.” Geta’s arms wrapped firmly around your waist now, pressing your hips flush against him as he gazed down at you.
“I’m yours, Geta.” You promised, bringing one of your hands up from where it rested on his chest plate and reaching to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing along his cheekbone before you were leaning up to kiss him deeply.
Geta immediately kissed you harder, more possessively, one arm wrapping tighter around you while his other hand moved to grasp at your ass through your royal robe and gown. “How about we show all of Rome who the fuck you belong to.” He rasped into the space between your mouths, pulling a low moan from your throat as he gave your ass a squeeze. “We’ll force your father to watch as I desecrate his poor daughter’s precious little cunt.”
You whimpered at that, knowing that meant Geta was going to ruthlessly fuck you with zero remorse. Not that you minded, you absolutely loved it when he fucked you as though you were nothing but a fuck toy. You knew that he loved you and cared about you, you were truly the only other thing in this world aside from power that meant anything to him, sometimes he just couldn’t help but to take his sadistic tendencies out on you. It’s a good thing you were able to handle it.
“Please,” you whispered against his lips, your tongue tracing along his bottom one. “I want them all to see that I’m yours and yours alone.”
“That’s my good Angel.” Geta gave your ass a smack before he was lifting you up to carry you into his own chambers, making sure the doors were secured before making his way onto his balcony where he set you back down. The balcony overlooked the entire Colosseum, so it was the perfect place to fuck you for all to see without anyone getting a glimpse of your goods. They were for his eyes only. “Take off your fucking garments.”
You moaned at his demand, immediately removing every single article of clothing that adorned your breathtaking body and tossing them to the ground without a care of whether they got dirty or not. Geta removed his white and gold embellished robe before laying it across the edge of the balcony rail, wanting to make sure you had some sort of padding while he bent you over it to fuck you.
Next to go was his gold-plated armor, carelessly tossing it atop your pile of clothes before he was working at freeing his aching cock from beneath his tunic. “Bend over the railing, Angel.” He commanded, giving his thick veiny cock a few strokes while he positioned himself behind where you obediently bent over for him, his cock twitching in his grasp over the fact that you were completely bare naked compared to him.
“EYES UP HERE, ROME!” Geta bellowed out towards the Colosseum crowd, all eyes suddenly shifting towards where the two of you were present on his expansive balcony. “YOU’RE ALL TO WATCH AS I CLAIM MY FUTURE BRIDE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! ANYONE WHO DOESN’T FOLLOW THAT ORDER WILL BE PUT TO DEATH BY MY ROYAL GUARDS!”
Your father’s blood was boiling seeing you in such a vulnerable position, but he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it because Geta wouldn’t hesitate to have him killed. He thought that maybe Geta forced you to be with him and put into this situation, but little did your father know, you wanted this and were in on the whole thing.
“Hold tight, Angel.” Geta murmured in your ear, waiting until your hands were gripping around the stone rail of his balcony before forcing his cock inside you in one hard thrust forward, punching the breath right out of you. “YOU SEE, ROME, THIS WOMAN IS MINE. SHE’S BEEN MINE FOR NEARLY A YEAR AND NO ONE IS GOING TO TAKE HER FROM ME!”
You screamed out as his pace started out with zero remorse just as you anticipated, your head thrown back and eyes rolled towards the back of your skull while you took every harsh nudge of his cock against your sweet spots. Tears sprang from your eyes when he tightly fisted his fingers through your hair and forced your head back so he could gaze upon your features as he fucked you, a twisted grin stretching across his lips.
“OH, IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE HOW BREATHTAKING HER FACE LOOKS WHILE SHE TAKES MY COCK, GENERAL ACACIUS! CAN YOU HEAR HOW SHE SCREAMS FOR ME? ONLY FOR ME?” Geta sneered as his gaze flicked towards your father, staring directly at him while he abused your cunt just the way you liked it. His grip on your hip was bruising while the one in your hair continued pulling tears from your eyes, knowing by your pleasured noises and the occasional clench around his cock that you were enjoying the pain.
“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned lewdly as you gave another clench around him, a guttural moan erupting from Geta’s throat in response.
“Not until I breed you, Angel, until you’re so full of my cum that you’re destined to give me an heir.” Geta rasped into your ear as he continued pounding away inside your soaked cunt, his cock and balls drenched from how much you were dripping for him. He grinned when his mention of breeding you made you clench even tighter around him, his hand releasing your hair so he could clasp it around your throat. “You like the sound of that, huh?”
“Breed me! I’ll give you all the heirs you want! I’ll be your good little Empress!” You squealed as you gazed back at him through heavily lidded eyes, hiking one of your legs up onto the balcony railing so that he had a better angle. You screamed even louder as the new angle had his cock slamming against your cervix with every forward thrust, knowing there was no way you were going to be able to last for much longer. “Breed me! Breed me! Please, my love, breed me!”
“Gods!” Geta roared as he used both hands to get an extra bruising grip on your waist while pounding away inside you, tossing his head back when he felt his knot snap and spilling thick, sticky loads of his cum into your womb.
He didn’t let up on his thrusts, not stopping until he came two more times before finally letting you cum for him, your orgasm so overpowering from how much he’d edged you before his fingers finally gave your touch starved bundle of nerves what they needed, that he had to wrap his arms around you to prevent you from falling when your one knee keeping you upright buckled beneath you.
He held you in his arms after he’d pulled out of you until you finally came down from your high, dropping your leg down from where you had propped it on the railing so you could spin around to grab his face and pull him into a starved kiss, not paying any mind to the thousands of eyes still watching the two of you. “I love you, Geta. You really want to make me your wife?”
“Angel, I wanted to make you my wife the moment I first laid eyes on you. You have no idea how ecstatic I was when I realized you want me just as much as I want you.” His own hands reached to cup your face, his thumbs gentle as they brushed against your cheeks, contrast to how he just fucked you in front of the entirety of Rome. “I love you, my sweet Angel, and I’ll love you until my dying breath.”
You kissed him again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed yourself against him. “Take me inside your chambers to breed me some more? And leave the balcony doors open so everyone can hear as you fuck their future Empress some more.”
“That’s my girl.” Geta groaned, lifting you up to carry you back inside and lay you down onto his bed where he fucked several more loads of his cum inside you, this time letting you cum right along with him.
All of Rome now knew that General Acacius’ daughter was off limits, which you were quite thankful for because you hated the unwanted attention from other men throughout the Roman Empire. None of them compared to Emperor Geta, you preferred his level of sadist over any other personality trait in the world. He may have been one evil man, but he had a soft spot for you and you only and that itself made being with him worth it.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 🩷
Fic tag list: @jasminelafleur @nailbatanddungeon
#certified platinum designer#best fic I've read in a very long time#a million sunglasses out of ten#emperor geta x reader#emperor geta x you#emperor geta x f!reader#emperor geta x general acacius daughter#emperor geta fanfic#emperor geta smut#gladiator 2#joseph quinn#joe quinn#emperor geta
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trying to find inspiration on dressing masc in a stylish and fun way when ur fat can be so dire when ur a person who hates tucking in their shirt
#i also look like a fool in crop tops because they're all cut at the wrong spot for me. plus the big ol floppy booba makes it hang#kind of lame on me unless theres some elastic to pull it back in to the waist.#im fighting for my life out here. at least i can do my old standby of dressing like a slutty version of a movie jock fratboy#(tanktop big track jacket short shorts and long socks)#it doesnt help that i dont accessorize. i cant wear scarves or necklaces i'll suffocate to death somehow#i cant wear bracelets or watchers because they get in my way and i wash my hands too much#same with rings. belts never stay in the right place and i dont wear belted pants enough#and they also get in the way unless theyre made off cloth because i squat and pose like a jojo character#i can wear anklets tho. and the aforementioned fun socks. and i do look good in a hat#not a headband tho. i look like a buffoon in a head band because i have hair that goes directly up LOL#and the short hair does make hair accessories difficult. scrunchies are a no go. clips can work#i dont need glasses outside of sunglasses...i like either tiny round ones or huge square ones#huge round also works. as long as i look like a washed up rock star the sunglasses are good#i gotta figure this out.... i gotta go through my clothes too theres a bunch of busted shirts that i cant wear that i keep because im#too attached LOL i gotta figure out what i got that can fit together and how. and fight against my ten million sensory issues#the 20-something and their fight to look stylish..... the endless fight....
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Heatwave: Day 4
tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry
Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other
childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.
Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.
You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.
In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.
Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.
Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.
You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.
As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.
This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.
Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.
It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.
It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.
“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”
“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.
It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.
“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.
“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”
“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.
You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.
-
You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.
But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.
What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.
Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.
It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.
Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.
Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.
Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.
A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.
However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.
Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.
That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –
And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.
Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.
But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.
And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.
Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.
Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.
Cool, cool, okay, cool.
But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!
It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.
It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.
Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.
But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.
Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.
You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.
Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.
A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.
Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.
His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.
Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.
Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.
You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.
(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)
Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.
Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.
“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”
“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”
“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”
“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”
And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.
That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.
What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.
It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.
Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.
Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.
He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.
He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.
So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.
Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.
Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.
They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.
Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.
But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.
The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.
Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.
He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.
For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.
If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.
Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.
But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...
And you’re just as confused as before.
Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.
There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.
It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.
You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.
Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.
Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.
He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –
No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.
And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.
Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.
Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.
There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.
He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.
Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!
And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.
Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.
But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.
Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.
Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.
Wait. Is he… is Gojo…
You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.
One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.
This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.
What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?
“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.
Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.
…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?
Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.
There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.
“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?
“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.
You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”
“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”
Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?
You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.
It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.
“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”
He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.
Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).
But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.
His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.
It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.
“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.
Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.
What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.
There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.
No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!
Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.
Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that’s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.
This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.
The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?
But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.
From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.
Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.
So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?
Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.
Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.
Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.
But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.
-
After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.
“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”
“Never, Satoru-sensei~”
“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”
“I never admitted that!”
(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)
Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.
-
You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.
It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!
So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.
Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.
And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.
The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.
“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.
“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.
He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.
The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?
Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.
“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”
“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.
“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”
“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.
Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.
It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.
By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).
He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.
It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.
You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.
Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.
Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –
Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!
Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.
The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.
It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.
He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???
It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!
Did he – why would he –
If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???
The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.
You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.
The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.
That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.
“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”
You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!
“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”
He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?
A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”
You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.
Your face is hot. So, so hot.
“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”
Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.
He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.
“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”
“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”
The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.
Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.
“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.
He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”
“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”
“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”
“But you want to – ”
“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”
A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.
But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.
“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”
Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.
You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”
“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.
Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.
“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.
Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.
“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”
God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.
“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.
And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.
He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”
“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”
“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”
“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”
Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.
There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.
Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.
“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”
You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”
Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.
“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”
“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”
You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.
Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.
Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.
“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”
One last time?
God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.
“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.
Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –
“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”
At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.
“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.
“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”
“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”
Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.
Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.
You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –
“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”
The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.
He doesn’t mean…
The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.
His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.
Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.
Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.
A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.
When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.
The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.
He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!
Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.
He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.
The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.
And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.
Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.
Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.
You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.
Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.
He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.
Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.
It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.
“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.
You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.
“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.
Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”
"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "
You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.
And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.
"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."
Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.
God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.
"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.
He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.
"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”
When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?
“Not an omega, Satoru.”
“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”
Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”
“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”
And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!
“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.
He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”
Then you should take care of him, this time.
“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.
And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.
“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”
“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”
There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?
He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.
It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.
But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.
Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.
Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.
You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.
“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”
With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.
It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.
No wonder the toy’s so big.
You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.
(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)
Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.
You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.
When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?
Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.
And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.
You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.
Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.
You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.
He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.
Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.
He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.
Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.
It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.
“Say my name.”
You hear it.
You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.
He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.
It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.
Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.
Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.
His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”
Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.
“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”
When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.
“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”
It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.
He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?
One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.
You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.
When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.
“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.
The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.
He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.
While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.
When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.
His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.
It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.
You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.
“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”
He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.
There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.
He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.
He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.
“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”
Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.
You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.
So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.
Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.
Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.
The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.
“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”
There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”
His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”
Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”
The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.
You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.
Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.
And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.
Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.
“I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”
“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”
Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”
God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.
Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.
Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.
He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”
“What’s yours?”
“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.
That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.
God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?
“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”
“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.
You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”
“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”
“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”
Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”
Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”
His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.
“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”
The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –
It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.
You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.
Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.
A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.
Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.
Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.
It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.
Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.
Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.
“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”
His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.
Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.
“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”
Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.
“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”
-
Hours ago
“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”
Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”
“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”
“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”
“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”
“Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”
Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”
“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."
His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”
It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.
“So… have you told them?”
He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”
"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"
"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"
That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.
Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”
“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.
“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”
The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”
“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”
“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”
“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”
“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”
That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”
“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”
“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”
“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.
He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”
“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”
“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”
Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”
“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”
Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”
“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.
“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”
“Ha! Neither did you.”
“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”
Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”
Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.
“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”
He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”
Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.
He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.
Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.
Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.
That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.
If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.
“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”
“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”
A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”
“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”
“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”
Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”
Satoru looks away.
They both know why he didn’t ask.
“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”
The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.
His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.
“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”
Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”
“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”
Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.
You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.
You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.
Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.
“Good luck, Satoru.”
-
You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.
He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.
The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.
“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”
Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.
Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”
He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.
And then, for a moment, he pauses.
“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”
He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.
“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”
He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.
For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –
“EEEEHHH??”
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#omegaverse#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru x reader#satoru x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#satoru smut#lemon#alpha gojo#beta reader#afab!reader#gn!reader
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semi-live blog
They are immediately the cutest fucking people when together. So soft, so giggly.
I know it’s part of their social culture, but they drink a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t drink, but dang.
“Jungkook is currently doing his skincare.” They add to the screen after panning away for scenery, yet leaving the sounds of *slap slap slap*😭
Jungkook cycling through multiple pairs of sunglasses, and Jimin swanning in and picking the first pair is peak! They’re so similar I yet so different, lol.
Another thing I’m sure is part of their culture, is the way they pay for stuff, but I find it interesting still that we’ve seen Jimin buy almost everything during their trips, since as far as we know they have pretty lax hierarchy rules between the two of them normally.
Jungkook is in the most romantic moment of his life, lmao! “I love it here!!!” said a million times. That man was experiencing a real life Hallmark movie in his head.
I also thought they spoke/understood way more Japanese than they apparently do.
“Come on everybody!” I understood that reference.
The way they chose to animate over everything to avoid having to blur a billion people in the station is HILARIOUS!
Jimin is too funny bro.
This train ride is so peaceful, it’s selling me on visiting Sapporo despite being broke and not speaking a lick of Japanese.
Can we also discuss how “My man, my man, my man.” Jungkook is? Yet Jimin is too, and somehow both is more than the other, lol. They are perpetually on some, “Jimin will like this.” “Where’s Jungkook?” *films food, pans to Jimin* *films the outside world, pans to Jungkook* *cuddle even while walking* type stuff. Just lovesick.
Girl!dad Jimin confirmed🥰 He’ll be such a sweet dad too, I think. He’s so patient and kind, which is heavily required to raise another human.
I loooooooooe Jimin’s jacket dude.
The way Jimin immediately pivoted to making JK laugh when he tried to downplay himself. Like I said, “My man, my man, my man.” Don’t talk bad about his man, even if you are his man.
My most delusional Jikook theory you’ll ever hear from me: “Are You Sure?” actually became the title because they were asking it if each other, because they in looooooooooove.
Also, to answer my own question from my previous list… yes, the bubble is back.
Role play Jikook strikes again!
Jungkook is it slick! He played with that sip of whiskey the entire time, but the minute Jimin left he downed it.
Them forgetting to pay would’ve been me. And JK initially sending Jimin back to do it would have also been me. You got it, extrovert! Take the embarrassment for the both of us!
They’re so cute! This snow fight makes me want to be somewhere cold for the holiday☹️
The food always looks so damn good! Lord I’m jealous.
I need someone to compile all the times JM and JK go out to eat together, and let me know if Jimin is the one with his back always to the door? It’s a thing in America at least, that the “protector” tends to sit where they can see the door, and I don’t know if that’s a thing in SK as well, but it’s cute, because it matches their dynamic either way.
“Your fingers were all over it.” SIR!? You’ve had his sweaty ear in your mouth… he’s had his mouth on your neck… you’ve also had his fingers in your mouth before and vice verse… AND y’all constantly eat and drink off each other… in fact… yesterday he bit the very sausage you were in the middle of eating and then you continued eating it… before that you gladly allowed him to put his TOES next to your face while you were BRUSHING YOUR TEETH. Stop playing with me, Jeon Jungkook!
Jimin legit being ready to beat Tae’s ass over a dumpling is too crazy, lol. And folks be acting like he some docile helpless baby. Meanwhile, JK is a mediator. They definitely made for each other.
End of the episode. It was fun. Felt like the start of a holiday special. And I didn’t mention it up top, because I decided to “live blog” thoughts like ten minutes in or whatever, but Jungkook softly and sweetly saying he wanted to come back to Japan because it reminded him of their first trip together… SOBBING! He’s such a sentimental guy, with an equally as sentimental guy on his arm.
They truly do vibe so well, and I understand with each passing episode why them enlisting together was a non-choice choice. They click. Like they said themselves, they’re one person split into two bodies, and it’s clear as day they thrive off of being around one another.
Not to get too sappy either, but it’s insane they feel that way about their bond and dynamic, on top of all the things that already just so happened to bring them together. Not just born in the same country, but same city. Auditioned for the same music group. Actually made it into the same group… they were destined to meet, and even they feel that way. All that’s missing is them being the same age, and they’d be the same person. That’s an insane thing to say, but really tells you how deeply they value their connection.
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Miguel’s Reaction to You Taking Him to Watch The Barbie Movie
Warnings: Mainly Just Miguel Being Defensive, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miguel Secretly Being a Barbie Girl, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.
Miguel loves you. So, so much. And he would move Heaven and Earth to ensure even an ounce of your happiness.
However, he is 100% convinced that this excursion, this ‘girls’ day out’, will be anything more than a mind-numbing jaunt to the cinema.
At first.
He can’t deny that his heart sank and all enthusiasm he held for your date drained from his body the second you said the words ‘Barbie’ and ‘Movie’ in the same sentence.
But alas, he swallowed his dismay and took you out, plastering on a thin smile while he thought of a million and one things you could both be doing besides watching this masterclass in colour theory.
Sat beside you, packed in on either side by yourself and the many other attendees, waiting for the film to begin, Miguel can feel his patience trying to escape, trying to convince him to run, to get out while you still can!
Because of his heightened senses, he can hear every single word passing between the crowd. And with every mention of “Pink”, “Ryan Gosling,” and “Margot Robbie!” he can feel his mind numb.
The film starts. And for you, sending a watery smile your way, while your eyes sparkle with nostalgic wonder, he endures.
Five minutes in, Miguel is assaulted by pink. The very essence of the colour and all its vibrancy sends hot pink pain through his skull, his senses raw.
Quietly, he slips his sunglasses on.
This is going to be a long movie.
And, for the first quarter of the film, Miguel held that notion. Near and dear as if it were the antidote to the current situation.
Then, halfway in, the story started to intrigue him.
The colour scheme is…tolerable now. Even pleasing to the eye in some scenes.
And, dare he say, Miguel found the music to be catchy.
Two thirds in and he’s sat forward in his seat, hands clasped and his lips resting atop them. Not that you can see, but his eyes are blown wide, his mind arace with possible outcomes.
By the end of the film, Miguel’s holding your hand, forehead pressed to your shoulder, a single, silent tear illustrating his cheek.
“Miggy?” you say, leaning over to try and see his face. You recognised the singular jutting of his shoulders immediately. And, with a smile teetering on the edges of your lips, you try to console him.
“Mig–”
“S’nothing. M’fine,” His cut-off is blunt and non-negotiable. You drop the subject and escort him from the screening by his arm, the music bright as the credits roll. The dimness of the room gives way to light, gradually, slowly. The streak of Miguel’s tear glistens.
Miguel’s visceral reaction to Barbie’s movie doesn’t stop when you get home, by the way.
It actually gets worse.
If you’re lucky, you can catch Miguel reading articles on his phone, an unmistakably pink banner and the title of ‘Top 10 Things You Missed in The Barbie Movie!’ leaving little to the imagination.
Confronting him about it will lead you nowhere. Miguel will sooner shove his phone up his ass and pretend it never existed than admit that he is indeed curious as to what happened to that one background character who fell off a cliff in that one scene. Is she okay? Does anybody know where she is? Does her family know?
The fact that you find his curiosity (empathy) endearing, ‘Aww’ing at him and pinching his cheeks, makes him ever the more secretive.
Just about secretive enough to keep his volume to a minimum when he’s singing; tunes which you know are from the soundtrack.
“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world~”
“Babe, what was th–”
“Nothing.” He’s blunt, but there is haste to his tone. Shame, even.
Occasionally, you’ll see him eyeing up Barbie-themed merch when you’re out shopping. But he never makes a move to purchase any. Not for himself, anyway.
He’ll buy you said merch – anything that catches your eye, your fancy. Even if it is a shirt ten sizes too big.
“Babe,” you say, pinching the shirt up at your shoulders, the fabric in enough excess to cause the neck to expose most of your chest. “I may be wrong here, but I’m fairly certain only you would be able to fit in this shirt.”
“Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to take it off your hands, then,” he says, his elation barely concealed behind his faux-disappointment. As if him doing so is a chore – that he’s doing you the favour by taking the garment whose shoulders could only fit his insane proportions.
Please just buy him the merch. Any shame he may feel upon initially receiving it will fade when he realises – when you reinforce – how his liking of Barbie is “Adorable, yes. But uplifting; it’s so relieving to see that you’ve found something you actually like that isn’t to do with the Spiderverse!”
“It’s actually called the–”
“Yeah, I don’t care, Babe.”
His favourite present you ever got him was a brightly-coloured exercise suit Barbie and Ken wore in the movie. He had to turn away, the fabric neon in his periphery, tears filling his eyes and balling in his throat when he saw that you’d bought a matching one.
“So we can fight crime in style!”
Miguel’s watery smile twitched, faltered. His Brow furrowed.
“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” he said. “You don’t think my suit’s fashionable?”
The way your face drained was enough to spark laughter in Miguel’s chest. His only line of defence against the tears that pricked his throat, played him like an instrument, with you as the orchestra’s master.
While he can’t wear the suit out on superhero duty, he does keep the headband on beneath the suit.
A reminder of you when he’s throwing himself at every threat, every monster, every evil, the band a halo hugged to his skin; a slim substitute for your warm touch, your scent, but a reminder all the same.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Masterpost
Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3
#miguel ohara#barbie#barbie movie#barbie 2023#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o hara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#across the spiderverse#spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman astv#spider verse
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childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader
playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten
thought I’d be nice for once and give y’all something short and sweet
childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader
"thank you." you smiled appreciatively, taking your coffee and bag of food, making your way out of the cafe. you took a seat at a small table outside in the sun, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose and basking in the warm glow of the early morning sun.
normally you'd take the opportunity of a saturday morning to sleep in, especially given the fact you'd hardly slept a wink last night. however this morning your body had been awake and coiled with anxiety far earlier than you intended.
so here you were hoping a coffee and a sweet treat might help to ease the grey cloud of nervous energy which hung over your body, and had done ever since your front door had slammed closed last night and the reality of your actions had sank in.
as much as you wanted to be angry at alessia for leaving you couldn't find it within yourself, knowing just as well that had the situation been reversed and you'd been at her home you'd have done the exact same thing.
the more you were left with your own thoughts to think it over, the more you began to realise you actually weren't angry with her in the slightest. if anything, you found yourself quite missing the feeling of kissing her and the way your head span.
you could still feel her hands as they roamed your body, your lips tingling at the thought of hers pressed against them soft and inviting.
the haunting memory of how it felt to have your skin touching hers and each inch of it feeling alight as if on fire, goosebumps peaking all over your body as your hair stood on end like bolts of electricity had ripped through you.
you missed her, you missed that feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to relive it over and over again. and that, that was much more terrifying a feeling than anything else at all.
finishing your coffee you pushed it aside, swallowing your mouthful of food and tapping on your phone, unlocking it and staring at the thread of messages, a million and one thoughts flitting through your head.
over and over again you typed a message to her, and then immediately deleted it with a shake of your head.
this routine continued until you'd finished your pastry, giving up with a sigh and slipping your phone into your pocket, standing up from the table and disposing of your rubbish, starting to slowly make your way back home.
you stopped by the market on the way deciding that you needed to keep yourself busy today in anyway you could and so without any real errands that needed to be done, and a small mountain of school work you knew you'd need to get to at some point you decided that a morning of baking might help to cease the unease which plagued your mind.
thanking the shopkeeper with a smile you slung the bag of groceries over your shoulder and slipped your sunglasses back down onto your nose, continuing your walk home and soaking in the warmth of a promisingly lovely weekend.
you hummed along to the tune which beat through you, one airpod tucked into your right ear as you rounded the final corner and headed home.
you found your eyes focused more on your feet than what lay ahead, a bad habit as you turned and suddenly looked up knowing you were now home, almost falling over at a sight you should have noticed a lot sooner.
"jesus christ!" you swore in shock, clutching at your chest in surprise as you almost tripped over alessia who was sat waiting on your front steps, pulling your airpod out and exhaling shakily.
"sorry! i thought you'd see me." alessia blushed bright red, scurrying to her feet and darting out of your way. "no sorry i was completely in my own world, that's not on you." you rambled out quickly, your own cheeks warm with embarrassment as you noticed a bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in the strikers hand.
"thought i'd wait around and hand deliver these in person this time." alessia forced an awkward smile at the memory of the last time she'd tried to apologise with flowers and been caught out trying to make a break for it before you'd seen her.
"do you want to...come in?" you offered, unsure really of how to progress as your head began to click into an overdrive of flurried nerves and uncertainty. "yeah okay." alessia nodded, seemingly just as flustered as you stepped around her and made a beeline up to your front door.
you dropped the keys and swore quietly to yourself, bending down to grab them and jamming them in the lock, twisting as the door unlocked with a sudden pop and you stumbled inside.
"seems we've swapped today." alessia joked, grabbing the back of your top to steady you as you forced a nervous laugh, unsure why your body was betraying you in such a way as she closed the door for you.
"do you want anything? tea? coffee? water?" you offered, dropping your bag carefully onto the counter and raising an eyebrow, trying desperately to calm yourself and even out your breathing. "i'm fine, thank you." alessia declined politely.
"for you." she countered quickly, again holding out the flowers as your face softened, now noticing of course she'd gotten your favourites. "they're beautiful less, thank you." you smiled, grabbing a vase from your cupboard.
busying yourself arranging them in the vase you cleared your throat, a thick silence occupying the room as clearly neither of you knew where to start.
"they aren't for anything either, they're well...they're just because." alessia broke first, cheeks flushed rosy pink as you spared her a glance over your shoulder, softening at the shy smile on her face at the confession.
"thank you." you repeated, your own neck warming up as again silence fell.
"about last night-" "we should talk about-"
you both stopped as the other started, sharing an awkward laugh at your shared intentions. "do you want to sit outside? shame to waste the sun." you offered gesturing to the small deck which lead out onto your backyard, alessia agreeing with a nod.
"i'm sorry i left." alessia started not long after the two of you had settled on the deck, a generous enough gap left between the two of you as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. "you don't need to be, i'm not upset with you." you clarified, shooting her a small smile of reassurance before looking away again.
"it was, unexpected." you continued, referring more so to the kiss you both shared rather than her leaving, hoping she would pick up on it without you needing to clarify much more.
"yeah." alessia breathed out, picking up on what you were insinuating, exhaling shakily. an awkward silence fell after that as you both ticked over in your own heads what to say next, but without knowing what the other was feeling you were both too hesitant to lead the conversation.
"i wish i could read your mind sometimes." alessia admitted, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced a little bit, body coiled with a nervous apprehension.
"one minute you're kissing me and then saying you just want to be friends, and i understood why and i tried so hard to respect that because i know you gave me a second chance i didn't deserve and i wanted you in my life selfishly in anyway i could." alessia continued as you looked away, ears burning at the truthful words which fell from her lips.
"getting us back on track well seems to be going well but then we're kissing again and i have no idea what you're thinking about it all." her voice became quieter at that, conversation left open clearly hopeful that you'd pick up where she left off.
"i wish you could read my mind too because even i don't know how to decipher it sometimes." a small smile curled into your features before you sighed heavily and alessia braced herself for the rejection she expected to be thrown her way, having tried her best all morning to prepare for what you'd have to say.
"there's a part of my brain that's terrified from what happened and what it means, and all those feelings of rejection and pain and hurt come flying back. when you were so ready to just leave me behind, i felt like i meant nothing to you and i think the dismissal of everything we went through together." you started, a frown creasing into your eyebrows as alessia's stomach lurched.
"but then i also don't think its a fair second chance if i dwell on that. i know you're not that same teenager anymore alessia and it would be wrong for me to hold that against you or over your head for the rest of your life." your voice softened and you chanced a glance toward her, seeing a frown not too dissimilar to yours etched into her features as she looked at the ground.
"i don't regret the kiss." you stated boldly, your voice seemingly a whole lot more confident than you really felt as the blondes head snapped up in surprise. her eyes catching with yours and suddenly your stomach clenched and all that confidence melted away, tips of your ears burning.
"neither do i."
"can you tell me how you're feeling please?" alessia continued, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. but she was taken off guard as you suddenly let out a groan, laying down on your back and covering your face with your arms.
"that bad huh?" the striker winced, that fear of rejection returning as she looked away. "no its not that at all its just..." you trailed off, words muffled against your arms, unsure how to even put it in words.
"just what?" "i feel like a hypocrite." "and why would you feel that way?"
"well i'm the one who kissed you the first time, and then i freaked out and made a firm point that it wouldn't happen again. that we couldn't be anything more than friends again because of how scared i was to go back to feeling how i had, and i don't ever want to be that hurt again." you started quietly, hands dropping to your sides as you stared up at the sky, feeling alessia's watchful gaze on you.
"but you only kissed me because i ambushed you with that big speech and i turned up to your house an absolute mess and you had every right to set those boundaries between us. it doesn't make you a hypocrite." alessia warned softly, reaching out to touch you but thinking better of it as her hand settled back in her lap.
"and last night...you can't take the full responsibility for that. it just, happened." her voice dropped an octave lower, wrenching her eyes away from you. "yeah." you agreed with a small sigh, still trying to unpack everything.
"okay i'm going to start speaking. but if you want me to stop, please stop me." alessia decided with a heavy exhale as you sat up again and nodded, waiting for her to continue. "okay this is sort of embarrassing but can we do the thing again, like when we were younger." she pleaded, cheeks flushed red with shame.
"you mean when we turn and-" "yeah." "okay."
hiding the small smile which wanted to curl into your features at her request you shuffled around so your backs faced one another, jolting ever so slightly as she pushed back a little, her body pressing lightly into yours.
you waited for her to speak, not wanting to rush her as clearly by your current positions this wasn't something she was finding easy to say, and you tried your best to swallow the nerves that caused to bubble up inside you.
"like i said, you had every right to set those boundaries with us given what happened and the fact we were starting over." alessia started, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. "but i don't think either of us can deny that clearly we aren't doing very well staying within them." she continued, your eyebrows furrowing into a slight frown.
"you can deny it if you want to but that kiss last night, it meant something, and i felt something. something that i tried to lock away when you said you wanted to be just friends because like i said, i'd rather have you in my life one way than not at all." alessia paused, again thinking out her next words as your heart started to beat a little faster.
"and i think you feel something too and thats probably terrifying given how things ended last time but i promise you i wouldn't ever dream of hurting you like that again. it scares me too just how much i care about you after so many years, how when i look at you everything that i thought was gone all just comes rushing back again and it makes my head spin. which is why i ran after the kiss last night, because i'd be lying if i said it didn't hurt to have to pretend i don't feel this way and that i don't want us to be something more." alessia continued confessing, biting her lip nervously.
"when i'm around you things make sense, we make sense. knowing how much i broke you the last time i had a chance to properly love you, it's the one thing in my life that I actually regret. seeing the pain in your eyes as you left, your inability to even look at me as you did. the not speaking to you or seeing you for so long, coming home and seeing you'd given back all my stuff, all the stuff i got for you, everything that symbolized us then symbolized that we were over for good, and of course i take responsibility for it but it hurt."
"you're the person i want to tell everything to, and the first one who comes to mind. when i got my first senior national team call up I just wanted to call you, text you, talk to you about it. but i couldn't, so i didn't. but now, now that feelings back and anytime something even tiny happens i find my mind wanders to what you'd think about it, what you'd say-" alessia paused again to take a breath as your heart hammered even harder in your chest.
"is this too much? god i feel like this is too much." the blonde stressed, doubt creeping in as you shook your head, forgetting momentarily that she couldn't see you. "no, keep going." you managed out once your senses kicked back in.
"okay, here we go.
"i like your eyes, i could look into them for hours and never get bored, they're comforting, they're beautiful and they're safe, just like you are. i like the little sun and moon studs in the corner of your ear, i like how the sound of your laughter can fill a whole room like a wind chime and how you stick your tongue out of that little gap in your teeth when you smile. i like the stupid little concentrating face you make when you think really hard about something, i like how you fall asleep during movie's, how you care more about other people than you do for yourself, you are a good person. a person better than i'll ever deserve another chance with, but you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you over and over again and for it to mean something." alessia's voice was barely a whisper as she finished, body riddled with anxiety as more time passed and you stayed dead silent.
"please say something."
"it is terrifying. when we kissed last night was different than that first time, all these emotions and feelings and memories came rushing back and suddenly i felt like that shy nervous lovesick teenager all over again. i was seventeen again laying in bed with you, both of us giggling like idiots and worrying about someone walking in on us." you started, trying desperately to make sense of how you were feeling despite how overwhelming it all was.
"i thought the kinds of feelings that came up when we kissed were long gone but its scary just how fast they all came racing back up to the surface. i think i really like you too lessi, no i know i do. but i think we still need to take things slowly, i don't want this to be something that crashes and burns out." you admitted, your stomach knotting over and over at the realization, your heartbeat now pounding in your ears.
there were no more words exchanged between you, and alessia jolted a little as she felt your hands inch backwards a little, seeking out her own. her every nerve tingled with a warm sense of calm as they found one another, your fingers intertwining with a gentle but now hopeful squeeze.
"okay, i can do slow. we can do slow."
with that said the two of you turned, again sitting side by side but much closer than before. "i know we just had like a big conversation but i really need to go or i'll be late for training and i don't particularly fancy running laps." alessia realised, giving you a guilty look.
"mmm i don't know, i'd kind of like to see you have to run some laps." you teased, a smile on your face as you tried to ignore the insane wave of emotions washing down on you, selfishly a little pleased she needed to leave which allowed you some time to sit and process them.
"could use them, might help you realise how long your legs are so you stop tripping over them." you continued, the blonde shoving you lightly before the two of you stood and headed back inside.
"so..." alessia trailed off, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet by the door. "so..." you mocked, crossing your arms as you hovered by your front door. "when can i see you again?" alessia asked, trying her best not to sound too eager, well aware you'd just had the conversation about testing the waters again.
"depends." you shrugged. "on?" alessia questioned, a little confused by your response. "you should get going, there's laps waiting for you." you reminded, opening your door and gesturing for her to go, the blonde stepping onto your front porch.
"depends on what?" the girl huffed impatiently, crossing her arms and staring you down. "whenever you ask me on a date. bye lessi!" you smiled, leaning up to softly kiss her cheek, closing the door quickly before she had a chance to respond.
~
you smiled at the good morning message on your phone, simple but sweet enough to have made your day just a little brighter as you texted alessia back.
she was quick to respond, making fun of you for the fact it wasn't technically morning anymore as you rolled your eyes, still still present on your lips as you sent her your own reply, wishing her good luck for the game today.
biting down on your lip your eyes scanned the contents of your fridge, willing some sort of inspiration to strike about what you could possibly cook yourself.
grabbing out some eggs you settled for those and a couple pieces of toast, your motivation low as you glanced over to the untouched pile of marking on your table.
you'd just finished cooking and hadn't even been able to sit down to eat before your phone rang. placing down your forkful of food you sighed and clicked answer.
"you better have a good reason for calling me on a sunday." you warned your brother. "wow its just so lovely to hear from you too." his voice dripped with sarcasm, and you winced at the loud music blaring behind him.
"what can i do for you dear harold?" you questioned, knowing him well enough that there was always an ulterior motive to his calls. "what are you doing today?" he asked, seemingly innocent as your eyes narrowed.
"why?" "always so suspicious! do you really not trust me?" "i could give you one hundred reasons why i don't trust you harry, need i remind of the santa incident? the how babies are made story? the sleeping bag accident?" "all just harmless childhood fun! lighten up. now are you busy today?" "not particularly, just have a small mountain of school work to mark through."
"perfect! we'll pick you up in an hour." harry cheered happily as your frown deepened. "sorry?" you questioned unsure if you'd heard him correctly. "alessia's game is at three and luca's sick so gio and i have a spare ticket, we'll be at yours in an hour. be ready!" and with that he'd hung up before you could even say another word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
twelve
#alessia russo x reader#woso x reader#woso#woso fanfics#alessia russo#woso imagine#woso blurbs#engwnt
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~Sharing is CARING. And Toji Cares About You Very Much~ imagine this is them ok
You and Toji have a great sex life. Scratch that, you have an AMAZING sex life. His stamina is stupid, he's packing bigger than you've ever encountered...he's a FREAK. A hulking, muscled freak who's down for anything and has showed your usually prude ass things you've never even dreamed of. Bondage, wearing vibrators in public, petplay, breathplay, temperature play, hell one time he ate your ass on the balcony while he was dressed as Wolverine. You had no clue where he got all of these ideas, but you certainly weren't complaining.
The current "thing" was watching porn on your VR headset while he went down on you. He'd been shocked to hear that you didn't consume it regularly, I mean, he was beating off to BBW on the Hub every chance he got. He was determined to force you outside your comfort zone.
It started slow, vanilla. Standard B/G, anal. Then it evolved to breeding, cucking, double penetration...
That's when he noticed it.
You took forever, FOREVER to cum on his mouth (to his annoyance) when you were watching dirty movies. But when you stumbled upon a woman getting plowed by her husband and his best friend...you were quick. Too quick. The way you moaned and gripped his hair, pulling him in deeper, it caused his tongue to stop flickering for a moment.
"Hm? What the fuck's gotten you so riled up, ma?"
You instantly freeze and pause the video, cheeks burning red behind that stupid headset, feeling dirty, feeling bad. It was bad this was so hot, right? "Uh, nothing. Just usual stuff," you lied.
You're a terrible liar.
You feel and hear the bed creak as he shifts up and snatches the device off you, raising it up and peering. He's wearing just grey sweatpants, that were tenting the minute he realized what was up. A shit eating grin spread across his face. "Oh fuck. That's what you're into now?"
You groan and throw a pillow at him. "Shu up! I've just never seen it before. You ruined the mood."
Your boyfriend is snickering at your discomfort. "Uh huh. Get on all fours. I wanna see who fucks her better."
You push this morning's events out of your head as you go to work. And it's definitely not when you return home ten hours later, tired, annoyed, and frustrated.
"Hey babes. Welcome home!" Toji, your beautiful trophy boy calls from the living room. "How was work?"
Sighing you kick off your heels and scan your phone. "It was rough. This merger is insane. We have 5 million dollars riding on this and everyone wants to dick around. I thought being Vice President was worth the drama, but it's seriously getting to me," you vent as you scroll through dozens of confidential, high priority emails.
Maybe that's why you loved Toji so much. Whenver you're with him, you don't think about deadlines, trades, layoffs. Just feeling good, happy, and full.
Walking into the living room, you're so engrossed you don't even register there's someone else sitting on the couch with Fushiguro. You only look up in confusion when the stranger whistles, low and deep. It's almost like a purr. "Damn Toji, you weren't lyin'. Complete smokeshow."
Your eyes widen and your head snaps up. There he is, manspreading on your very expensive couch, sleek black boots pressed against your /very/ expensive white rug. He's tall, lanky, built like a beanpole. He's got a shock of white hair, and he's wearing small, circle shaped sunglasses, but the shine of dazzling blue eyes peek through anyways.
Toji's looking at you like it's Christmas morning, his gaze darting between the other man and his jaded wifey. He seems to drink in your confusion.
"Oh...I...I didn't know you had a friend over," you say after an awkward pause. You're trying to address your man, but you can't tear your eyes away from this twink. Who is he? "Hi?"
The stranger beams, shifting to a more professional posture. God he is tall. You feel so small under his gaze, and you glance to Toji for help, understanding. He offers none. "Hey, pretty lady. My name is Jerome. Jerome Washington. The building's maintenance man. I heard..." he leans slightly closer to you, sliding his shades just down an inch. "You need your pipes cleaned."
You blink. "No? The pipes are fine?"
Toji groans in disproval and shoves "Jerome" slightly. "Dude, I told you, you don't gotta do any of that shit. Just be normal, for fuck's sake."
The stranger, who was doing his best to seem mysterious and commanding, broke into a boyish smile. "Oh yeah my bad. Sup? I'm Satoru Gojo. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you tonight!"
"We," Toji corrected, but he's got that same expression.
Have you gone crazy? Has the stress finally made you crack? Are you hallucinating? This was a fever dream. Toji had a knack for wanting to snap the neck of any man who even looked at you...so why was he sitting here, giddy, as this "Satoru" addressed you so vulgar? So hungry?
"...huh?" is the only thing you can say, darting between the pair. You're more than a yard away, but you can practically smell the lust filling the room. "Toji...what is--"
"Remember earlier today?" he interrupts, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "When you were creamin' over that video? The Eiffel Tower?"
"Toji!!"you hiss, flustered he would bring this up in front of a guest.
He cocks his head, throwing Gojo a knowing smirk. "She's all shy. Isn't that cute? But I promise, she was feening."
Satoru licks his lips, still undressing you with his eyes. "I bet. To be honest I haven't either. But I'm not stupid enough to turn it down."
Toji snorts. "Yeah? Don't worry, I'll show your prudes how it's done." He snaps his fingers at you. "C'mere doll. C'mere and kneel."
You're glued to the same spot, trying to reconcile what's happening. You watch as Satoru pats his knee, promising not to bite, unless you're into that.
"Princess,"Toji repeats again, his tone firm and commanding enough to snap you back to reality. You know that voice. It's the "you listen or you're in a lot of trouble" voice.
Sheepishly, you stare at your feet as you shuffle forward. You can't ignore how your heart beats in your chest, how your dress feels too tight, how this is the hottest fucking thing you've ever experienced.
"Kneel."
You don't defy him. You look up at them both with doey eyes, shuddering when he grips your chin, stroking your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb. Gojo hums and repeats the same motion on the other side. His touch is soft and warm, and you can't help the soft sigh that escapes you. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing warmth. Your boyfriend presses your foreheads together, his voice syrupy against your ear. "I love you so much, doll. I'd do anything to make you happy. If this doesn't show it, nothing else will. Now you just relax and I'm gonna make your fantasies all come true," he promise as he nips at your neck. "Now start making our friend feel at home."
You swallowed hard. You feel like you could faint. You want to reply "yes daddy" like the good girl you are, but words fail you. All you can do is nod.
You take a deep breath and scoot over, still on your knees, but nestled between Gojo's skinny legs. He smiles down at you innocently, but the contents of his words are far from it. "You have such pretty lips, sweetie. How about you open them for me?"
You glance at Toji for reassurance, but he's gone from the couch, crouching behind you, fingers weaving into your hair, massaging your scalp. "Go on."
Your hands tremble as you reach for Gojo's belt.
((haven't written anything like this in years LOL im so rusty. stay tuned for part 2 and feel free to share ;D ))
#roleplay#jjk#jjk rp#toji fushiguro#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jjk smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji smut#gojo x reader#writing#smut fic#jujutsu kaisen#tojigo
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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 7
This story is just coming right along. I've decided that it is split into three acts. The Arrangement, The Turn, and The Embrace. The first is about Steve adjusting to his new life. The second is thinking he needs to get out of the situation. And lastly the third is about finding acceptance and love with Eddie.
Yesterday for WIP Wednesday, I finished act 1. I figure if I pace this right, each act will be roughly ten chapters. But we'll see.
In this Eddie is sweet as always, Steve goes clothes shopping, and Chrissy misunderstands what Steve is trying to do.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
~
Steve woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand blearily. It was a little after nine am.
The knocking began again and he got unsteadily to his feet and wandered over to the door. He opened it.
Behind the door was a porter. “My apologies for the rude awakening, sir. But this came for you, marked ‘Urgent’.”
In the porter’s hands was a small box. Steve nodded and took the box. He set it on the side table and grabbed his wallet. He tipped the porter and grunted his thanks before slamming the door.
He trotted back over to the bed and flopped face first back into his pillows.
The next time he awoke it was more naturally, and closer to 10:30am than 9am. He rolled over on his back with a sigh. He’d missed breakfast, but he didn’t mind. He was tired. Just the feeling of nothingness clung to his chest like a heavy blanket.
He sat up and spotted the box. He picked it up and padded over to the desk. He looked around it for a moment and to his delight he found a letter opener.
“Thank god, for fussy hotels,” he murmured as he used the letter opener to open the box. He set the letter opener down and then took the box over to the sofa. He loved comfy it was despite it being black in color.
He pulled at the packaging to reveal a pair of designer sunglasses. Steve smiled as he pulled it out. Eddie must have thought of it when he heard Steve’s message about his day. All the driving around he did.
He picked up the phone and called Eddie.
“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “Did you sleep well?”
“Nearly,” Steve said with a hint of smile in his tone. “I got this urgent package from this hot rich guy that the front desk just had to wake me up for.”
“Whoops!” Eddie said, chagrin. “I didn’t think it would get there until this afternoon, sweetheart.”
Steve laughed. “It’s okay, I was able to go right back to sleep. Even remembered to tip the porter.”
“All’s well that end’s well,” Eddie said softly.
They talked for a bit before Steve said, “Oh, I was meaning to ask you. I have something I wanted to send to you. Is there an address or something I can send it to, to make sure you get it?”
“Aww...little Canary,” Eddie teased back, “you don’t have to send me anything. I like buying you things.”
“Oh I know,” Steve replied. “But I think you’ll really get a kick out this one, though.”
“Sure thing, baby,” Eddie said. “I’ll talk to Chrissy and she’ll give you a call with the information. How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect, Eddie,” Steve murmured.
“What are your plans for today?”
Steve licked his lips as he thought about it. “Probably some clothes shopping now that I have this fancy black card to splash around.”
Eddie laughed. “You do that, baby. Just tell me which stores you’re going to so I can make sure they’re warned ahead of time about the card. Places like that are super weird about new people coming in with that kind of cash.”
“Ooh...” Steve said with a grimace. “Yeah, I saw that happen once. This woman had won the lottery or something and she came into the shop when I was there with my mom. The sales woman was absolute horrid to her and chased her out. My mom threw the newspaper on the counter and walked out. The front page had the picture of the woman and her three million dollar prize check. It was one of the few times I ever saw my mom do something remotely nice like that.”
After they hung up, Steve got up grabbed the box of truffles. He took a couple out to the box to eat while he gather up his things for a shower. He thought about hitting the gym again, but he wasn’t sure if the pink bitch was still here and he wanted to avoid her like the plague. And while he knew he could swim instead, he decided to take the day off.
Yesterday had been rough and he wanted to do a little bit of retail therapy.
Steve got dressed in his most high end clothing he had and made his way out to his car. Which he knew would be another indicator that he had come from money. His new wallet was designer, just like his new sunglasses.
He primped in the mirror a little to make sure every hair was in place and then he gathered all his stuff and made for his car.
He pulled up to the row of boutiques his mother used to frequent before she started getting her clothes from Paris and Milan. Steve personally thought these places had better quality stuff, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
He walked into the first boutique and looked around. He kept his sunglasses on until one of the sales women came up to him. Then he lifted him and set them on top of his head. He smiled at her brightly.
“Welcome to Le Chique!” she said cheerily. “How can I help you today?” She was dressed smartly in a knee length pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. She wore high heeled pumps and had her hair pulled back into a tight bun.
“Hi,” Steve greeted back. “I’m just looking to update my wardrobe. Get a little more of an adult style.”
He could see the fucking dollar signs lit up behind her eyes. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them greedily.
“Right this way,” she said, waving her arm in front of her and Steve stepped forward, further into the store. “I’m Olivia and I’ll be happy to assist you today.”
Steve tried on so many clothes he thought his head was going to spin. But never once did Olivia falter. He finally got an updated look. It was similar to what he usually wore with the jeans and polos. But he also got button down shirts and tailored slacks and pants. Everything that fit went with him and everything else that needed to be tailored would be picked up by a PA of Eddie’s and brought to the hotel.
In fact when he got back to the hotel, the mysterious PA had struck again. On his bed was a large box. As he got closer he could see it was from the shop he was at earlier today.
He didn’t know what it could be. He had everything he wanted from the shop. He had even gotten help carrying all his bags up the hotel room by a couple of porters, both of whom Steve tipped well. He kept an eye on the package the whole time he took off the tags and put away his clothes in the dresser and closet.
Once Steve was done he walked over to the package a tad warily. He knew it had come from Eddie. There was no one else it could have come from. He undid the silk ribbon and pulled it off gently. He lifted the lid and set it to the side. He then moved the tissue paper out of the way.
Inside was the most beautiful cream colored suit he had ever seen. He opened the jacket touched the black silk lining. Sticking out of the pocket of the breast pocket was a note. He pulled it out. In the loopy handwriting of the sales woman were the words, “I wanted to get you something special. I hope you’ll wear this for me when I get back to Hawkins.”
Steve shook his head, smiling fondly. He walked over to the phone and called Eddie. He bounced on the bed as it rang through.
“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “How was your shopping trip?”
“It was marvelous,” Steve giggled. “Though if you want me calling you at times other then when you buy presents, you’re going to have slow up a bit. It’s gorgeous, by the way.”
Eddie laughed. “You got me there, hon. But I’m glad you like the suit. I wanted to surprise you with it. I when I called about the card earlier, I told them that once they got your measurements to set it aside.”
“How did it get here before I did?” Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.
“See, I knew you would have a lot of clothes and couldn’t carry it up yourself, so I just made sure to have my little elf slip in while you were dealing with the porters.”
“Sneaky!” he crowed. “I love it. I even bought the perfect shirt to go with it. It’s black and grey in kind of watercolor like stripes. Add a black pocket square and some nice shoes I bought and I’d be the talk of the town.”
“Well you’re already the talk of my world,” Eddie murmured, causing Steve to blush dark red. “Have you eaten yet, little Canary?”
Damn. Steve knew he had forgotten something.
“No...” he whined. “I just got so excited about shopping that it slipped my mind.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll have dinner sent up to you. I think you’ll really like their hamburgers.”
Steve smiled at that. He had gone out to Benny’s to get a good burger, and they had them here. “Sounds good.”
They talked for a little bit more before Eddie had to go so that he could order Steve dinner, so they said their goodbyes and hung up.
Steve decided to take a shower while he was waiting on his food. He gathered up his things including his new hair products he bought yesterday.
He got undressed and turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at every angle of his face and had to admit that he actually looked happy. And wasn’t that a fucking trip.
He had thought he was happy before all this. Yeah, sure his dad was a jerk and his mom was useless, but he had friends, money, a car. Hell, he even had a boyfriend in this backwater hick town.
And then it all fell apart.
He hated how all his friends scattered the second the chips were down. He hated how Tommy turned tail and didn’t even try to take Steve with him. He had no doubt that soon enough the town would be all a twitter about Tommy and Carol and how cute they were together.
It was all bullshit.
The only people that cared about him were the people that would get hurt the most by all this and Steve was determined to keep them out of it.
Just before he got into the shower, the phone rang.
He let out a sigh and went to go answer it. There were only three people who had his number, Eddie, Dustin, and Eddie’s manager, Chrissy. All people Steve didn’t want to leave hanging.
“Hello?” he greeted.
“Steve?” a cool female voice asked. “This is Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. I understand you wanted to send Eddie something?”
“Oh!” Steve cried. “Yes, thank you for getting back to me so soon. Yeah, it’s not very big, say about the size of a 3x5 picture frame?” He hurried over to the desk, dragging the phone and stretching its cord to the limit to pull out a pen and some hotel stationary.
She hummed. “It’s not, risque is it?”
He laughed. “What? No! It’s nothing like that I promise.”
“Okay,” Chrissy said skeptically. “We have people opening packages before they get sent to the band so don’t send anything you don’t want a total stranger to see.”
“I promise it will mean absolutely nothing to the poor soul that opens their mail,” he informed her, “but he will absolutely get a kick out of it.”
Steve could tell she was still leery about it, but he wasn’t going to ruin the surprise.
She let out a sigh. “Fine. Here’s the address to send it to.” She rattled off an address and Steve dutifully wrote it down. “By the time it gets there, they should be back in LA, so it’ll go to their main mail box.”
He wrote band PO Box over the address and underlined it. “Great, thanks.”
“Now do you need anything else that isn’t their personal information?” she huffed.
Steve winced, he could tell she wasn’t happy being Eddie’s errand girl and by extension, his.
“No,” he said, “Just that. It’s just a small token that I think he’d like.”
“All right,” she said. “Good evening.”
“Good evening!” he chirped back.
Once she had hung up, Steve shook his head. He knew it was her job to to look out for the band. But it wasn’t that big of deal. What she think she was going to do send his dirty panties to the guy?
Not!
He looked down at himself and sighed. He had carried that whole conversation completely naked. He padded back to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
He stepped under the stream of water and let it soothe him. He was still smarting a little from Chrissy’s attitude. She seemed friendly enough at the bar and genuinely wanted to see Eddie and Steve hit it off.
But something between then and now she had completely soured on him. That was a problem for future Steve, though. Right now in this moment he was going to enjoy his shower, watch some TV and enjoy the burger Eddie was having sent up.
~
Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17
Tag List: CLOSED
1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss
2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system
3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog
4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji
5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman
7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth
8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt
9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec
10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts
#my writing#stranger things#steddie#ladykailtiha writes#rockstar eddie munson#age difference#ten years between steve and eddie
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Scandalous (ms47)
✨ join waratah's (over) 100 follower celebration ✨ Made to order for super sweet anon
Liked by yndaily, ynsource and 19,274 others ynstylefiles: When will they finally admit they're dating? They're so cute together!
"You need to leave."
Mick had barely finished tying his shoelaces when you threw him his jacket. "Pushing me out so soon, Hase?"
"No, you idiot, I mean you leave now and I'll follow you out in ten minutes. We'll meet in the car."
"This is getting ridiculous, honestly. I don't know why we can't just say we're dating."
You'd had this conversation a million times before. "You know why."
He groaned, his head falling against the back of the couch. His response was always the same. "It's so stupid."
You and Mick had already been dating for three months when your show's publicist approached you about entering a PR relationship with your co-star, Jacob. You'd flat out refused, but since you hadn't gone public with Mick yet, they'd managed to talk you into a compromise of leaving an 'air of ambiguity' between you and Jacob.
Mick wasn't thrilled, and to be honest neither were you, but it was either publicly ignore your boyfriend and get caught grabbing coffee with your co-star a couple of times a week, or damage your reputation with the biggest studio in Hollywood. That was six months ago, and your season finale was set to air in a week.
"It's just until the season finishes, then we can tell everyone."
"It's been six months, Hase. I'm getting exhausted with all the sneaking around."
You were getting exhausted too. It was tiring staggering your exits from hotels and restaurants, never being able to hold your boyfriend's hand in public. It was also getting annoying wearing sunglasses and a beanie everywhere you went, even in the height of summer. But you'd come this far and the finish line was almost in sight.
It's not like you didn't enjoy hanging out with Jacob. The two of you had become close friends since his character had been introduced as your new love interest at the start of the season. It was also helpful that Jacob was a huge sports fan so him being seen with a formula 1 driver didn't raise any questions. He also loved talking to Mick about cars so he was happy to tag along on your 'dates'.
Like right now, when you and Mick had found yourselves at a group dinner with Jacob, a popstar, two NBA players, and a few more of your co-stars.
"You know I love your friends but I really wish this was just the two of us," Mick took hold of your hand beneath the table, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "We could be home alone right now eating pasta. I would have gotten to have my desert first."
"I've been promising Olivia I'd catch up with her for ages," you whispered. "I couldn't turn her down a third time."
You would have much rather been at home too. You'd been on edge all day. Your manager was going to ring you some time tonight and you'd been over thinking the phone call since you'd woken up.
Olivia knew what day it was, how could she not when you brought it up any chance you got? She'd invited you and Mick out tonight as a distraction. "I can see the wheels turning in your head, babe," she said from across the table. "I know you're thinking about it."
"It's an Oscar nomination, how could she not be thinking about it?" Jacob asked, tossing a chip in his mouth.
It was true, how could it not be on your mind? As soon as your new film had started being shown to the press, the Oscar buzz had begun. It had only intensified when the film was finally released, and now you had an entire studio worth of pressure on your shoulders. Today was the day nominations would be announced and you were just waiting for your phone to start buzzing in your pocket.
"You'll get it, Hase. I know you will. You deserve it."
"I bet you'll feel like shit if she doesn't get it now," someone said quickly followed by a thud and a yelp.
"Of course she'll get it, the movie's incredible."
"She's incredible in everything she's in!"
You drowned out their chatter, a bubbly feeling slowly growing in your stomach. You'd won awards before; hell you'd won an Emmy for the first season of your TV show, but the Oscars were big. Really big.
A tapping on your shoulder snapped you out of your daze and Mick said, "your phone's ringing."
"Everyone shush," Olivia's eyes widened as you answered your phone. Her whole body seemed to vibrate as you spoke to someone on the other end.
"Okay, thank you," you nodded, listening as your manager said something about press and photographs. "Yeah, I'll speak with you in the morning. Okay. Bye."
The table was silent, everyone's eyes were on you, waiting for you to speak.
"I got the nomination. Best Actress."
Cheers and shouts erupted from everyone at the table. Olivia was the loudest, shouting that she never had any doubt, but your eyes were focused solely on your boyfriend.
He grinned, "ich war mir sicher, dass du es kapieren würdest, Hase."
"I don't know what that means but it sounds like you love me."
"I do love you," his hands grabbed your cheeks, pulling your face to his as he kissed you. Just as you deepened the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth he whispered, "ich bin so stolz auf dich"
"Again, no idea," your lips chased after him as he pulled away to look in your eyes.
He went in for another kiss but stopped when Olivia cleared her throat, "as much as I'm loving this moment between you two, there's cameras."
Y/N L/N CAUGHT CHEATING ON JACOB ELORDI
Y/N L/N SEEN KISSING MICK SCHUMACHER AT AN INTIMATE DINNER: CLICK HERE TO SEE HER RUMOURED BOYFRIEND'S REACTION
JACOB ELORDI REPORTEDLY DEVASTED AMIDST Y/N L/N CHEATING RUMOURS
"Oh my god, I'm going to have to post one of those notes app apologies, aren't I?" You'd been pacing the living room for what felt like hours.
Mick had checked his phone and it hadn't been longer than five minutes. He'd tried to pull you in for a hug but you'd shaken him off, continuing your laps around the coffee table. He'd resigned himself to sitting on the couch and letting you rant. "You haven't done anything wrong."
"People think I cheated on Jacob."
"You'd have to be dating him for it to count as cheating."
"Everyone hates me!"
"I think you're overreacting, Hase."
"You don't get it, Mick. You're not a woman. It's always our fault. They're making me out to be some sort of... I don't know... Sex-crazed adulterer!"
"Adulterer? I don't know what that means."
"Cheater, Mick. I'm a cheater," you finally collapsed on the couch next to him, your hands covering your face.
"Hase. Schatz. Love. Come here," he patted his thigh and you sighed, reluctantly moving to sit on his lap. All it took was Mick stroking your hair for you to bury your face in his shoulder and let out a shaky breath.
"You haven't done anything, okay? It's always just been me and you. You can't cheat on me with me, can you? Plus it's not like you've ever kissed Jacob or confirmed you two were dating. The media made it all up in their heads. Sure you never told them they were wrong and I'm not going to say I said it would end badly-"
"Mick," you groaned. "Not helpful."
"It'll blow over, Hase. I promise."
He looked so sure of his words, his blue eyes full of confidence. He always had a way of putting you at ease.
You pressed your forehead against his and kissed his nose. "You still love me, right?"
He went to turn his head away but your palm caught his cheek, keeping his eyes locked on your own. "Do I need to respond to that?"
"Yes."
"Ich liebe dich mehr als alles andere."
Tagged: mickschumacher Liked by yourfriend, taylorswift and 15,392,842 others yourusername: In my lover era 💘
mickschumacher: Mein Schatz 🤍
jacobelordi: Never seen a better matched pair than you and Mick
oliviarodrigo: Cutest couple!
georgerussell63: Thank god. I think Mercedes admin was going to have a heart attack if they had to crop you out of another photo. ↳ mercedesamgf1: It's true, my blood pressure has been shockingly high.
read more of my writing here
゚。 ⋆ mags' radio: Idk how awards nominations work... so pls suspend your disbelief. This was a fun one! I know anon said they wanted a chaotic ending, so I tried my bestest ⋆��� ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。
German translations (idk German so I used a translator) Hase, Schatz = affectionate nicknames (side note: all german nicknames are adorable) Ich war mir sicher, dass du es kapieren würdest = I knew you’d get it Ich bin so stolz auf dich = I’m so proud of you Ich liebe dich mehr als alles andere = I love you more than anything
taglist: @fulla02reads @flowerchild-96 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @azxulaa @booksobsess @formulakay
#waratah-vroom perfumes#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x yn#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x y/n#mick schumacher x you#mick schumacher fanfic#mick schumacher imagine#mick schumacher drabble#mick schumacher instagram#mick schumacher smau#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fanfic
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First and Last With; James Potter
A/N: Hello again! I finally finished that wonderful request, so sorry it took forever. Football (NFL playoffs) and school preparations have kept me preoccupied. Winter break is over and I’m absolutely devastated. For anyone in college, I wish you luck for this Spring Semester. But with that being said, school starting back up means I likely won’t upload as much. So I apologize in advance. Regardless, I hope this makes up for the wait on this request. To the lovely anon and all others, enjoy!
Summary: The one where the Marauders vacation to the Potter’s beach house, and a revealing drinking game ensues...
TW: Descriptions of panic attacks, Sirius is an ass as usual, a lot of mutual pining.
“Marlene, you have packed half of your house and more, it’s just a week’s vacation.”
“Anything could happen, Sirius. Better to be over prepared than under prepared.”
“I’m just happy James is filthy rich.” Dorcas deadpans, straightening when you and Lilly shoot her a disapproving look. “And so, very generous at the same time.”
“I’m not filthy rich.” James laughs, taking your bags from your grasp and loading them into the trunk for you. Amongst all of your friends belongings, piled high enough to reach the top of the van you’ve rented for the adventure. “We’re just...Comfortable.”
“That’s what all rich people say.” You and Remus look to each other, stunned at your simultaneous blunt confessions.
“Shush, the lot of you.” Lilly chides, never sparing commonalities.
“Remind me why we couldn’t just use floo powder? I’m already sweating, and my complexion does not do well in heat.” Sirius fans himself dramatically. James allows you to lift yourself over the mountains of bags with his arm for support in order to reply.
“When have any of you experienced the adventure of a road trip?” You’re beaming at the thought, James takes your distraction as an opportunity to admire your unusually giddy attitude. Though the real reason you’re so eager to be away from home pulls at his mind, his grin faltering. He pokes your side, grabbing your attention.
“Miss sunshine gets shotgun, I’ve called it.”
“Prongs, I thought you’d have wanted me to be your passenger princess?”
“Absolutely not, though I’ll miss those luscious locks of yours. I’m driving, so I select my navigator.”
“You’ve been there a million times.” You note, crossing your arms incredulously. James smirks, placing his burgundy and gold quidditch cap atop your head.
“I’d much rather you keep me company.” He says so only you can hear, unknowing of your flushing when he turns back to Sirius. “Pads, Moons is gonna need a pretty view, it’s fortunate he’ll have you in the middle seat.”
“I’m reading! Reading this entire time, very busy.” Remus teases, pleased with the raven-haired boy’s mock offense.
You round the corner of the van after checking the trunk for the fourth time, positive you haven’t forgotten any supplies for the trip. James is at the passenger side, holding the door open for you. He’s got a pair of prescription sunglasses on, and looks very different. No less handsome, if anything, the shades accentuate the bravado you’ve always envied. His arms are especially toned after another quidditch season, tanned from the summer sun you’ve missed so dearly. You’re staring.
“Systems ready, co-pilot?” He beams down at you, pulling his cap over your eyes in teasing. You stick a tongue out at him, pulling his arms away so you can adjust it right again.
“I feel silly in this.”
“Nonsense, you look adorable. My clothes suit you.” He defends, so casual you don’t let the words resonate until after he’s shut your door and rounded to the drivers side.
“Enjoy the passenger seat, princess.” Sirius sneers, pouting despite not holding any true ill-will.
“Gladly.”
************
“Are we there yet?”
“No, Dorcas. Just like we weren’t there ten minutes ago.” James glances at the girl through the rearview, slightly amused with her childish complaints.
“You know, we could just pull over and-”
“No floo powder!” You and Lilly shout to Sirius, hoping not to have awoken a sleeping Marlene and Remus. Sirius covers their ears, both of them having dropped their heads on each one of his shoulders some time throughout their slumber. You finish fiddling with the radio when a good song comes on, taking a moment to look at the lot of your friends all corralled in the van.
“Where’s the camera, James?”
“On my side door here, I’ll pull over if you want it.”
“Oh, so you’ll pull over for her.”
“Shut it, Pads.”
“No need, I can reach it.” You lean over the seat, careful not to block his view of the road as you quickly grab it. James swallows, clears his throat to act natural whilst all of his insides begin to burn.
“Hot?” Is all you ask, studying his discomposure.
“What?” He starts, voice shaky and strained. Sirius falls into a fit of muffled laughter from the back, leaving you confused. “J-Just a little warm, yeah.” Potter recovers, now well aware you were inquiring about temperature. You turn up the AC, taking the cover off the lens and pointing the camera toward the back. Sirius smiles wide for the camera, handsome features lighted by the early afternoon sun. Marlene and Remus drool along on his shoulders as Lilly beams brightly from the back. Looking positively radiant, as always. Dorcas smiles, but holds up her favorite finger to the lens. You grin,full of adoration for the entire lot of them as you snap a couple photos, ensuring they’re all in the frame.
James admires in increments from the rearview, blowing a raspberry to the camera when you point it at him.
“Eyes on the road, Potter.” He shakes his head, running a hand over the steering wheel in a mindless habit as he hears the camera snap. Looking over quickly to smile at the lens. Effortlessly handsome, as usual.
“We have to take as many pictures as possible this week.” You demand, getting excited all over again for the much needed vacation, spent with all your best friends, no less.
You roll down your window even more, sticking your head to enjoy the warm, salty air. It smells of the beach, grass, all things green and beautiful. You’re so happy your head spins, giggling to yourself as you catch Lilly doing the same behind you. Meeting her eyes in the side mirror and scrunching your nose when she blows a kiss, an embellished hand pretending to capture it in the air and holding it to your heart.
James does a double take from his view of the road and then you. Trying to stay focused and not find any distraction in your adorably delighted mood. His brows furrow when you shuffle forward, aiming to get even more of your body out of window the feel the entirety of what this beautiful view has to offer.
“Absolutely not.” He chastises, a finger hooking onto your belt loop and tightening. His eyes are on the road, one hand on the wheel as he tugs you back inside.
“Lame!” You whine, hitting his arm in distaste.
“I prefer my friends with their pretty heads in tact, thank you.”
You settle in your seat, still full of delight but a little more contemplative as you think about what got you here.
“Summer vacation!” Sirius throws himself between you and Remus during lunch. Gathering an assortment of food on his own plate. You’ve barely eaten, stomach turning at the thought of being home for two months. You’re nudged from under the table, meeting James’ gaze, whose eyes avert to your abandoned plate. A subtle request for you to eat. You offer a weak smile, shrugging before your friends go on.
“Two whole months without exams.” Marlene adds, absolutely pleased with not having to spend another second with her nose in a book.
“We’ll be seventh years, I can hardly believe it.” You’ve considered Lilly’s words the entirety of this last month of classes, absolutely dreading going home. Hogwarts is more home than your house would ever be, and your friends are the only real family you have. You lose your breath at this, biting at the nail of your thumb and wincing when it draws blood.
“I’m gonna head to the library,” You announce, blinking hard to fight the room from blurring. “Forgot to turn in my potions textbook.” It’s believable enough for the group to nod along, chorusing their farewells as you head out of the great hall. Heart racing and hands trembling. James takes only a moment, eyes following you the entire time. It’s not his business, but he knows that demeanor. He’s seen all of this before, in the boy he calls his best friend. Sirius Black, who leans forward and shoots James a look. Instantly, the chaser is on his feet, mumbling a feeble excuse and heading out of the hall in search for you.
“I think he left the curling iron on.”
James searches the corridor wildly, all of the students being in the Great Hall makes the search easy, he can follow the sound of your fleeting footsteps with ease in this sea of silence. He follows your distant frame up a set of stairs, cursing to himself when they shift before he can follow your path. He’s searching for a new route, not wanting to shout to you and scare you even more.
There’s a lot of running, a couple instances of tripping over his own feet, but eventually Potter catches up to you.
You’re sat in a windowsill beneath an overhang of a hallway above, curled in on yourself. James approaches carefully, trying to control his panting breaths.
“Fuck, James!” You startle each other, studying the other instantly.
“You’re” the athlete coughs, winded, “so fast.” You smile, but it does little to calm you down, because as he gets closer, the view around him blurs, and everything sounds cloudy, distant.
“I’m,” you try to form words, too loud because you can’t hear yourself properly. “F-fine.” You try to move, try escaping to prevent embarrassing yourself further. Clutching your chest and swiping at the flood of tears that can’t be ceased.
“You’re not. You’re having a panic attack.”
“Happened b-before,” you wheeze, staring at your hands to make sure they’re real “I’m good.”
“And I’m a humble introvert that loves Slytherin, sit down.” You begin to wheeze, rubbing your hands over your legs to stop them from sweating, ground yourself maybe. “I’m gonna hug you, tight. Is that alright?” You nod, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s just said and it’s easier to comply.
He encloses you in an embrace, loosening for only a second when you fight it. He’s squeezing again, but it’s not unpleasant. You’re shaking, and your breaths are still rapid. James swallows, terrified and unsure. Because all of this usually helps Sirius but he’s still kind of freaking the fuck out.
“Let’s talk about something.” He suggests, wincing when you hiccup for air in reply. “I know you’ll love this. What’s something about me that annoys you?” You’re aware he’s trying to distract you, and you feel like you’re dying, so you give it a go in the off chance it’ll help.
“You’re im-immature.”
“Good. But you’ve done better than that, love.”
“You’re reckless. You play quidditch like,” you lick your lips, trying to control your trembling. “Like you’re indestructible.”
“Attagirl, something else?”
“You’re picky, and...And you’re too stubborn to try new things.” James hums, recalling a time you’d forced him to drink pumpkin juice an he hurled in the lavatory minutes later. He rests his chin on your head, pleased when the added pressure slows your breathing.
“You’d do anything for your friends, no matter the personal expense. It’s self destructive, p-probably exhausting.”
“Ouch. You really know how to flatter a man, love.”
“I don’t want to go home.” You whisper, so quiet he’d miss it had he not been surveying your every move. The confession shocks even you, and James, for likely the first time in his life, is devastated to be right about something.
“I’m not gonna let you. We’re going to figure this out. I’m gonna figure this out, I promise.”
“You’re doing that thing again.” You note, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your robe. Further comforted in the feel of his chest vibrating against you from laughing.
“And you’re forming full sentences.” He loosens, giving you space to decide whether or not you want to separate. You don’t, not right away, not when you can feel the strong, stable beating of his heart.
“What am I gonna do? I can’t stay here over break. Even if Dumbledore allowed it, my family would-” You falter, unable to finish. James holds tight again, nauseated.
“I promised. And I intend on keeping it, love.”
**********
“Land! Sweet, sweet land.” Sirius cries, throwing himself onto the freshly cut grass.
“James, it’s stunning.” Lilly shades her eyes to admire the shore house. Standing taller than the others around it.
“It’s home. Away from home, that is.” James shrugs, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. There’s a faint, deep-rooted envy for the blessings your friends hold. Sirius rolls onto his back to look at you, the only one noticing your hunched shoulders amongst the rest of the group beginning to unload the van.
“Shall we go inside, lovely? Get dibs on the best rooms while these common folk collect our luggage. He extends his arm for you to take, adjusting the sunglasses adorning his face and ignoring the displeased looks of your friends. Stealing a kiss to your temple as he leads you inside.
“Moony, sweetheart, do be careful with my things. I’ll show you what bed to place them on.”
“Fuck off, Pads.”
“That’s Sir Padfoot, to you.”
You and Sirius falter, shocked to see an older woman placing the finishings of a homemade meal on the large kitchen table. The inside is even more impressive than the out, but you don’t have much time to appreciate the decorum. Considering you’re engulfed in an oddly familiar embrace.
“Welcome, welcome!” She beams, holding Sirius’ face and kissing his cheeks with small pinches.
“How’s my Siri?”
“Alright, mum. Thanks. James didn’t mention you’d be here. Though it’s a very happy surprise.” He looks at the wrinkled, stunning woman that smells of lavender and tea like she’s hung every star in the sky. It’s then you make the obvious connection this is Mrs. Potter.
“Oh, he doesn’t know either. I’m only here to make sure you’re all settled in and then I’ll be on my way. We haven’t visited here in a while, I wanted to be sure it looked alright for you all.”
“Hard to imagine it ever looks less than gorgeous,” you say without thinking, “thank you for having us. This is lovely.”
“And so are you, dear. Sirius, tell me this beautiful young girl is with you?” She strokes your hair, and it’s the most comforting touch you’ve likely ever felt.
“Only in my dreams, unfortunately. Unless dear y/n would like to make a wish come true?” You laugh, swatting away his puckered lips.
“Y/n? Oh, I’ve been waiting to meet you! Sweetheart, Jamie talks about you so much in his letters!”
“Let’s get waste-Mum!” James drops the bag in hand, yours. Pulling the handle of liquor behind his back in pure shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d have a warm meal waiting for you kids. You must be starving after that drive. Though I’m so happy you did as opposed to powdering here. Shows some responsibility. And Jamie gets so sick sometimes with the powder and all-”
“Mum!” The taller boy repeats, setting the array of luggage in hand down and hiding the bottle behind it.
“I’m doting, aren’t I? Remmy!” She stops herself, rushing over to envelop the taller boy in her arms. He, just as Sirius, is absolutely pleased to see her. She goes down the line of girls, putting faces to names and genuinely loving every second of it. James sighs, no genuine distaste in his nature as he observes.
Sirius throws an arm over your shoulder, cheeky as ever. “Mum was just telling us about your letters home.”
“You’re just as pretty as he said you were. All you girls are so beautiful!” She goes on, blissfully unaware of her beet-red son.
“She exaggerates.” James scratches his neck, skin burning with embarrassment.
“Does she?” Siris pulls you closer, basking in your shared humiliation.
“This food looks wonderful Mrs. Potter. Thank you so much for thinking of us.” Lilly clasps her hands together, rolling her eyes fondly at James’ indebted glance.
“Call me Euphemia, please. And yes, you all must be starving. Come, fill those bellies with something warm.” You’re in a state of shock as you sit, unaccustomed to such hospitality and genuine kindness. It’s evident where James gets his big heart, undying selflessness.
The food is amazing, you all go for seconds with a chorus of shared appreciation and compliments. Euphemia beams as she collects her things, pleased to meet the lot of friends her son cares for so deeply.
“All the beds have fresh sheets, and there’s extra throw blankets in the linen closet. Jamie, your father says go easy on the fire whisky. He’d ask for no drinking, but we all know that’s a long shot. Don’t break anything, and Remmy, keep everyone in check.” The taller boy nods swiftly, no doubt having heard the orders before. James gets up from his seat, kissing his mothers cheek and enveloping her in a hug.
“Thank you mum, seriously.” She fixes his hair, wiping invisible smudges from his face in a fit of doting.
“No problem, I’m glad you were all able to make it here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. All of you.” Theres a quick moment where she meets both you and Sirius’ eyes, the two of you nodding with feigned smiles. Quickly, she kisses both Moony and Padfoot’s heads, stopping for only a moment to caress your cheek with her thumb, a faint sadness in her gaze. Everyone else is enveloped in conversation, passing servings across the table as they would at the Great Hall.
“You’ll keep an eye on my Jamie, won’t you?” She whispers, touch soothing you with an unknown ease.
“Of course, though I’m not sure he needs it.” You hold her wrist, somehow not minding the affection whatsoever.
“So he likes to think. He does, really, speak so fondly of you in his letters. You’re even more lovely than he described.” You want to cry, so overwhelmed with her generosity and love, a maternal energy so strong it’s wiped your mind of any anxieties.
“Alright, mum. Let the poor girl eat.” James guides her toward the fireplace, while his mother pats his arm and says something to him you don’t quite catch. James’ ears burn bright red, and he nudges her gently so she’ll stop looking over at you. The rest of the group turns toward the fireplace, echoing their farewells and gratuity as she waves. Floo powder enveloping the space around her and sending her off.
“Does that turn your stomach just looking at it, Jamie?” Marlene mocks, the rest of your laughing through bites of food as he flips her off.
“Fuck off, the lot of you.”
“We should start cleaning up.” You suggest, taking your own plate and bringing it to the sink. “This way we can unpack before the sun sets.” Lilly follows, taking her and Dorcas’ plate to you as you begin washing. Sirius groans, grabbing a dish towel from one of the drawers and drying the dishes you hand him.
“Can’t we just charm the sponges to clean these?”
“Dad had them countered so they can’t be charmed. Said it was supposed to teach me some ‘household responsibility.’” Sirius howls, thoroughly amused.
“I’m just curious about these detailed letters back home.” Remus mutters as he carries his plate past James, dodging his swings and rushing toward the group at the sink for safety.
*****************
After everyone’s settled in, and you’ve all recovered from the ‘who called what room first’ arguments, there’s an obligatory round of shots. A bin begins to pile high with cans, and you’re all sat around a bonfire atop the Potter’s outdoor furniture. Even the furniture for the backyard looks expensive, so you clutch your drink in hopes not to make any spills.
You’re buzzed now, skin tingling with an uncommon ease as you lean against the arm of the couch. Sea breeze easing the warm air as the fire pops in front of you.
“Alright, none of you are drunk enough.” Sirius chastises, shifting in his seat and tossing Lilly another beer. “Never have I ever,” you all groan in half-assed annoyance as the name of the game sounds, “been snitched on by Peeves.”
You and the rest of the girls take slow, ashamed, sips. The boys all looking over in amazement.
“We snuck out one time! All I wanted was a bloody butter beer.” Marlene confesses, flushed. James stretches as he approaches, still sore from driving. He passes you his cup, grinning when you cringe at whatever concoction he’s come up with. You move your legs so he can sit beside you, the rest of the couches having been taken.
“It was a terrible craving, but nonetheless worth the loss of points for Gryffindor.”
“Is that why we were tied with Ravenclaw mid semester?” Remus laughs over his cup.
“We still won the cup!” You and Lilly defend, James taking hold of your legs to place them on top of his. He isn’t even thinking about it, too enthralled with the teasing conversation before him as he slides a hand under the cuff of your jeans. Warm hands calloused from quidditch running over your shin. You’ve always found affection with him comes easier than with others, and the touch comforts you, electricity lingering on your skin.
“Never have I ever, had my first kiss.” Because Dorcas also aims to have the rest of you drinking more, she says what she thinks is the most common proposition. Your stomach turns, and you debate on taking a sip just because it’ll spare you the embarrassment. You must consider it too long, because Sirius’ brows shoot up in shock.
“Merlin, how?” Is all Sirius manages, the girls’ jaws dropping because you’ve never told them.
“I volunteer!” Marlene shoots a hand up while you curl into the cushions, wishing you’d just had the drink.
“It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities.” You struggle through the explanation, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt to fight the cold. “I just, I guess, want the first one to matter. If it’s been this long I may as well make it special.” They all coo in mocking, laughing when you flip them off.
“I get it.” James pats your leg, taking generous sips of his own drink.
“You don’t.” Theres an amusement in your tone, no real meanness to any of it.
“Well what about that Hufflepuff third semester, he was totally into you.” Dorcas inquires.
“Are we seriously this interested in my love life, or lack thereof?” You roll your eyes when they all agree, giddy from the topic and the alcohol. “I thought he was into me, but I don’t know. We stopped talking after a while.”
“Wait,” Remus narrows his brows, too contemplative to see James’ signals. “That curly haired guy, beater for Huffle?” You nod, giggling because he’s not usually this slow to understanding, clearly inebriated.
“Wasn’t that the kid that came up to us at Hogsmeade, Prongs?” Potter vehemently shakes his head, chugging his drink again.
“Nope, I don’t think so.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was. You two didn’t get on that well, I think.” Sirius covers his mouth to muffle his laughing, basking in Moony’s drunken confession.
“You sabotaged me!” You frown, James grabbing your leg so you can’t kick his side.
“Listen, I overheard him boasting in the locker room. He’s not the type you should be around. Trust me.” He’s sincere, enough to make you relax.
“He was a bit of an ass, sweetheart. Prongs isn’t entirely wrong.”
“You two are still snog-blocks.” Dorcas is quick at your defense, crossing her arms in solidarity.
“If I wasn’t banished to solitude, I’d kiss you, Dorcas.”
“Time and place, lovely.” You clutch your heart, feigning a blush in your antics.
*********
“Alright, I need my beauty rest. Someone needs to remain the prettiest of the friend group.” Sirius stretches, tapping a dazed Remus on the cheek to get him up. His actions initiate the turning in of the rest of the group. To which you and James groan.
“It’s only 2, you’re all lame!” Potter sneers, looking to you for consolation. You nod along, displeased with their departure.
“You night owls can stay up as long as you want, but we have all week to be sleep deprived.” Marlene ruffles James’ hair and kisses your temple as she stupors inside, giggling all the way with the other girls.
“And then there were two.” You stretch, moving over when James shifts, moving into a laying position. In order to fit comfortably, you still have to keep your legs over his. “You know, now theres three other open couches.”
“I like it here.” He decides, enclosing his hands over his chest and settling in. You chuckle, letting him tangle his legs in yours.
It’s confusing, because he chooses you as his passenger, his seat-mate, scares other guys away. Fuck, he planned an entire trip just because you and Sirius have such shitty home lives. Guilt twinges in your chest, and the alcohol allows you to finally say what you’ve been holding in since you first got in the car. “James?” He hums, hazel eyes looking up at the array of stars in the night sky. “Why did you do all this?” Potter sits up, looking over to you in disbelief.
“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it here?”
“Like it? It’s a shore house filled with all of my closest friends and alcohol. I love it here.” He laughs, nudging your legs with his own in teasing.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he starts, answering your question with one of his own. “Would you be willing to spend the whole summer here?”
This time, you sit up, brows raised in shock. “Sorry?”
“Instead of having to go home, you could stay here.”
“James, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that-”
“It wouldn’t just be us two.” He unnecessarily reassures. “I’ve already spoke with Pads, and he’s staying. My mum doesn’t want him going home either.”
“You already talked to your parents about it?”
“In the chance either of you said yes. They both are more than happy to have us stay here. There’s internship positions at my dad’s company, and he said if we looked after the house and helped him out, we’d be more than welcome to stay.”
“Are you starting a shelter for the broken homes club or something?” You jest, not in poor taste, but because it’s the only defense mechanism you know. James frowns anyway, upset at the thought.
“I care about the both of you. And...I’d never want either of you going home to- Well, anything other than a place you feel safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. Knowing I could have stopped it. Understand?”
You nod, warm tears brimming in your eyes. Because in a world full of people that don’t, James Potter cares. You tackle him in a hug, overcome with the foreign feeling of being cared about, protected. He falters, wrapping an arm around your waist with a small laugh.
“That’s a yes, then?” You nod, smile pulling at your lips when he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears.
“James?”
“Yeah?” He’s soft-spoken now, eyes studying yours as you press your hands to his chest.
“Is there...Any other reason you told that guy to stay away from me?” He swallows, licking his lips with an unusual anxiety to him. He meets your eyes again, pleading for another hint.
“Would you want there to be?”
“I’d like to have my first kiss.” You play with a pull in his sweater, fighting a smile at his nervous demeanor. “Would you want it to be you?” He nods, slow, and honestly unsure if you’re fucking with him. Considering how embarrassed he’d be if this is some joke, or a dream, maybe. “James?” You move closer, and he snaps out of his daze.
“I would.” He averts his eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again to ensure you’re sincere. “Like to kiss you, I mean.”
You remove the space between you, putting your lips to his and hoping it comes natural like everyone says. It must, because he’s pulling you into his lap, a hint of a whine escaping his throat. You grin, flushing at his eagerness. He squeezes your sides harder, a warning.
“Stop it.” He continues past your jaw, down your neck, hearts thrumming with excitement and uncertainty. He tilts your head with his thumb, grinning when he nips at your skin and you gasp. Pulling back, he surveys his work, kissing you two more times before letting you breath.
Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” You pant, energy coursing through you and accentuating your buzz tenfold.
“Up to expectations?”
“Exceeded, I’m pretty sure.” You blink hard, taking hold of his wrists and moving them so they can slide under the hem of your shirt. You hold them at your waist, a silent sign to keep them there. Though you’re sure he would have anyway. He kisses you again, more intense this time, finally allowing all the pent up tension between the two of you release.
James, against every fiber of being in his body, pulls you away from him. Both breathing hard to collect yourselves. “While I’d really, really like to keep this up.” He starts, trying not to reconsider when your perfume envelopes his senses. “I’d like to take you out for dinner first. If you’ll let me.”
“Are you asking me on a date, Potter?” You whisper, teasing him as if it’s the hottest gossip to reach Hogwarts.
“Are you gonna say yes, pretty girl? Or leave me hanging?” You nod, and James throws his head back against the cushions, absolutely relieved.
*************
You blink awake, fire still burning brightly after being charmed by Lilly earlier in the evening. In the midst of you and James conversation, filled with recalling old times, plans for the rest of the summer, and a lot more alcohol, you both fell asleep. James’ jumper covers your frame, while the boy lays on the other side with only a sweater to keep warm.
“Prongs.” You nudge him, wincing when he groans. “It’s too cold, let’s go in.”
“Too tired,” he croaks, voice riddled with sleep, “too drunk. Come over on this side.” He rolls on his back, groaning again when the world spins with him.
“What, like...Next to you?”
“No, curled up on the floor like a cat.” Your brows furrow at his sassiness, fighting a smile as you crawl over. Muttering a half-assed apology when you nearly knee his groin.
Hesitantly, you place a head on his chest, letting him grab you under one knee and pulling it up so you leg rests over his abdomen. Immediately, he releases a deep breath, fully relaxed. Your body, though, tingles with that same electricity from before, keeping you awake.
“Sleep.” He orders, nudging the back of your head with his shoulder, eyes closed but somehow aware.
“Can’t.”
“Is this alright?” He blinks awake, afraid he’s made you uncomfortable.
“Good, this is good.” You reassure, pulling on his jumper so it covers both of you. He pushes your arm away, tugging on the fabric and covering only you again, stern in his actions.
“Close your eyes. I need us both to sleep this alcohol off so I can kiss you again.”
“Who says I’ll let you, Potter?”
“I may have been your first kiss, but I’m also aiming to be your last. So please, Dove, shut up and sleep” You’re speechless, he’s stunned you with his confession and simultaneous attitude.
“I hate you.”
“I seriously doubt that.” There’s a smile on his face, you can hear it in his grumbling voice. Wordlessly, he moves the arm that’s under you so he can stroke your cheek, eyebrows, and jaw with the hook of his finger. Knowing the gentle touch will send you off to sleep. And it does, because you don’t wake again until morning.
********
“Rise and shine, love birds. If you want to hoot with the owls, you’ve got to fly with the eagles.” Sirius chimes, a click of a camera sounding out after he speaks.
“Any louder, Pads, and I’ll break your jaw.” James covers your ears, shielding you from your friends shrill laughter with an intense glare. His head pounds something awful, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been this hungover in his entire life. He remembers every second, though, memories of last night bringing a dopey smile to his face. Despite the alcohols consequences.
“Hey.” He nudges your arm, ignoring the gawking of his friends through the glass sliding door as he wakes you. You yawn, stretching atop him and regaining sense of your surroundings.
“Are we supposed to be spinning?” James rolls his eyes, much too fond of you for his own good.
“We have to get up, theres breakfast.”
“I can’t eat a single thing right now.”
“Yes you can,” he pushes you again, sighing in feigned annoyance when you rub your face into his shirt. Shielding the morning light from your eyes. In one swift movement, he sits you both up and hurls you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirms of protest with an obnoxious yawn. He sets you down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, grumbling a hello to your astonished group of friends. You’re too hungover to feel embarrassed, smiling a thank you to Remus when he slides his glass of orange juice toward you, Sirius’ sunglasses over his eyes.
“Gimme those,” you plead, extending an arm that’s quickly swatted away.
“Get your own,” he whines, “I let you have my juice.” You accept this, nursing the glass as though it’ll save your life.
“Late night?” Lilly teases, putting a plate of food in front of you and James. You both groan, but offer your gratitude for breakfast anyway.
“Figured you would have at least made it inside.” Marlene chastises, amused with your zombie-like states. You frown when James finishes what’s left in your glass, watching as he leans across the counter to grab the carton and refills it. Sirius places a steaming cup of tea in front of you and Potter, avoiding your distrusting gaze as he clears his throat to speak.
He’s awfully cheeky all the sudden, hoisting himself onto the counter with his signature mischievous grin. “Never have I ever…Had my first kiss?” His voice tilts in questioning at the end, and you’re momentarily displeased with the realization you’ll be spending the rest of the summer with the shit-starting bastard you consider a friend.
You’re absolutely flushed, curling in on yourself when a chorus of cheers erupts after taking a swift sip from your mug.
#james potter x reader#james potter#aaron taylor johnson#Marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders fanfiction#marauders imagine#james potter imagine#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff#marauders fancasts#hogwarts#harry potter#sirus black#Remus Lupin#lilly potter#lilly evans#dorcas meadowes#marlene marauders#fluff#angst#sirius black x reader
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week of january 7th, 2024
these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)
aries: it is a great week to be you. but it may not feel like it. the reason is that the sun is squaring the nodes and that's a lot of clashing cardinal energy, like maybe you have ten million things to do at once. but really - mars is doing so much good stuff behind the scenes. trust the process.
taurus: the aspects this week are invigorating and strengthening. your sign is known for kind of languishing in relaxation and it's actually good for you nearly always but this week? please go outside, please get up and accomplish things. it is so auspicious for you to be in movement and flow right now. crash on the weekend if you must.
gemini: you may feel quite antsy about staying at home, like you can't bear to see your own walls a moment longer. alternatively, or even simultaneously, there may be a feeling that you can't handle the public eye. maybe it helps to go wander around in disguise, or at least with big giant sunglasses and a floppy hat on.
cancerians: the new moon in capricorn is fresh relationship vibes. a new romance, a breakup, an engagement are all possibilities. no, probably not all at once. set an intention around how you want your commitments to actually look in real life, regardless of what happens to you at this time.
leo: this time of year can be hard for solar creatures like you, especially north of the equator. but this week is bookended by two lunar ingresses that are quite supportive to you, especially if you are out there looking for love. create something new. it can be just for yourself. it should probably involve glitter.
virgo: you have a lot of supportive astrology all week in taurus and capricorn. go out of your way to create, learn, and grow. granted, commitment is not really your thing right now. dabble and have fun and if you need to shed a few things, people, or situations, do so.
libra: even though lots of great things are likely to happen this week, the quality of the period can be quite frazzling to your typically very delicate constitution. watch for omens but make what changes you can if you don't like what you see. you don't have to resign yourself to a bad lot.
scorpio: this is a great week for your relationships. ALL kinds of relationships. it's okay, and indeed quite good, to nurture romantic ones! but do NOT forget all the manifold other ways to love. go out of your way to spread love in your community locally, online, to children, to animals, to the vulnerable, to your friends, to your family... what else can you think of?
sagittarius: be cautious with mercury-things, yes even though it's direct now, because it is right at the end of your sign preparing to move. it's still in the shadow zone, and especially at the so-called critical degrees it can feel like you just went back in time a week or two for a moment. probably not in a good way. just be careful.
capricorn: you're in a good, steady, stable place and picking up momentum. mercury re-enters your sign and mars gives you a major boost. you're getting things done and probably not feeling too depleted by the effort. one caveat; mercury is still retracing its retrograde path, so you're not done with the themes of the last few weeks yet, you're just wrapping them up. probably in really nice littel satin bows.
aquarius: beneath all the jolly jupiter vibes lies the constant hum of electric current due to your ruling planet uranus. rebellions in the name of justice do well at this time, but on a smaller scale too you might want to revolutionize your own life.
pisces: expect a little agitation early in the week. but keep in mind that agitation can serve as a boost to improve things. so it's not a time to be lazy, but it is a time to scry for omens, at least figuratively. scry and then act.
#weekly horoscopes#weekly horoscope#horoscopes#horoscope#astrology#signs#zodiac#aries#taurus#gemini#cancer#leo#virgo#libra#scorpio#sagittarius#capricorn#aquarius#pisces
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One in Eleven Million (ch. 6)
damian wayne x reader x jon kent
(A/N): So I think this ends up being ten chapters? I'll try to post more frequently; I've tortured you all long enough haha. Though I'm hoping to get a couple different things out in the next couple of weeks, so you'll get more from me, just not always of this.
As always, masterlist linked here.
warnings: air travel, turbulence
wc: ~1300
~~
Damian turned from where he was watching you continue your project to face Jon. He pulled off his zip up sweater, tugging down the sleeve of his long sleeved shirt to hide the bandages Jon did at the hotel earlier in the morning, before passing it over to Jon.
“Here.” Damian nudged him. “For the sunglasses.”
Though he could feel your eyes on the back of his neck, Damian ignored you for now, taking his sunglasses back from Jon’s outstretched hand. In the corner, Jon curled into a ball, head tilted against the wall and face buried in Damian’s sweatshirt. Damian watched him for a moment, chest tight. No matter how many times he’d been through this with Jon, it didn’t get easier seeing him in pain. Jon flicked him a thumbs up and Damian relaxed, turning back to you. Overhead, the safety announcement came to a close.
“He’s okay?” You asked, eyes fixed on Jon. Your arms, already wrapped around yourself, tightened. Damian nodded, eyes straying back to his left for just a moment before returning to you.
“He will be, once we get up in the air and away from the chaos of the airport.” He tipped his chin at the project left abandoned in your lap. “How long have you been doing that?”
“Oh a couple of years maybe? I’m not sure exactly. Do you,” you hesitated. “Do you do some kind of art? And you read Arabic, right? I saw the book you were reading last night.” Damian’s eyes scanned your face. You looked nervous, though genuine, and he found himself not minding the questions. It felt more like curiosity than idle small talk. He hated small talk.
“I do. And speak it.” Your eyes lit up.
“Cool,” you breathed, smiling. “I’m not great at languages but I would like to be fluent in a few one day. And art?”
“I draw,” Damian revealed. “And paint.” He fought to keep from mirroring your smile.
“That’s awesome. I write a little bit, but only as a hobby.”
“Really? About what?” He asked genuinely.
“Whatever I get motivation for I guess? I wish I had a better answer but I just like it.”
“Doing things for liking them is an answer.” Damian could almost see you mulling the words around in your head. He took the moment to observe your features up close: beautiful eyes and an unexpectedly striking smile.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I know.”
Your startled laugh tore the last of his self restraint down. Damian’s face split into a grin.
The two of you spent the next while talking about everything and anything. You shared your reasons for being on the plane at all, your favorite color, your other hobbies. In turn, he showed you pictures of his art, his cat and dog, and gorgeous shots of Gotham at sunrise. He had a lot of pictures of him and a brown man with shaggy dark hair and bright blue eyes. In the recent pictures, Damian began to overtake him in height. “My oldest brother,” Damian offered when you asked.
“You’re the youngest?” He nodded.
“Of several. I am one of the tallest, though.”
“Oh boy,” you laughed. “I bet your older siblings hate that.”
“They do.”
And then there were the pictures of Jon. Jon by himself or with Damian’s pets, Jon captured in Damian’s art, and Damian and Jon together.
“Where was this?” You asked. In the picture, Damian was standing on a pathway covered in a dusting of snow, bundled up and on crutches. Jon, in a blue zip-up and jeans, was making a snow angel on the ground in much deeper snow beside him.
“A few winters ago. In Gotham.”
“I remember that snowfall” You thought back to the remnants of a Mr. Freeze plot. Following Batman’s intervention, all that was left was a snowy cold front. “But mostly I stayed inside and caught up on work during the snow day. And watched too much TV.” Damian huffed a laugh.
On his other side, small snores emanated from the pile of denim and red fabric. Jon didn’t wake when the flight attendant came around with snacks. Damian accepted Jon’s pretzels for him.
“How long have you two known each other?” You asked, some time in. Damian looked over at Jon. The lights in the cabin were dim, and both boys were bathed in shadow.
“A decade or so, now,” he said. Then, a little quieter. “He’s my best friend.”
“You’re a good friend Damian.” Your eyes followed his over to Jon. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him, all 6ft something curled up in an economy airplane seat. “He’s lucky to have you.“And I know I don’t know you guys that well but I can tell he’s a good person. And that you’re lucky to have him too.”
Damian didn’t argue.
“I am.”
Two hours in, Jon stirred, pushing the hood off his head and blinking slowly.
“Hey,” he mumbled. Your breath caught unwittingly in your throat. Jon’s voice was rough and his hair was mussed from where it had been smushed underneath his hoodie. You curled your fingers into your palms, resisting the urge to push back a curl that had dropped onto his forehead. Jon rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes, dislodging his glasses. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Morning,” you managed. Some part of you was surprised you managed to get out any words at all, much less in a tone that wouldn’t pass for a squeal.
Damian took his sweatshirt back from Jon’s offering hand. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” he said, attempting to stretch while crammed in a seat with no legroom. You just watched, chest squeezing pleasantly. Damian was watching similarly. What am I doing? You wondered to yourself. He’s not yours, neither of them are.
“You needed the sleep,” Damian said beside you. Jon snorted out a laugh.
“Thanks Dames,” he said dryly.
“Always.”
You wrenched your attention away from the boys, turning your phone over in between your hands. It was too late, you knew. You were already attached. But this was a plane, a vehicle to get you from place to place. There was no reason they would be any different, just a passing point in your life. Selfishly, you hoped they might be more.
A tap on your shoulder from Damian brought you back into the conversation.
“Huh?” Two sets of concerned eyes were watching you carefully. Your eyes met green then blue for only a moment. “What’s up? I zoned out for a moment, sorry. Tired.”
Damian looked like he wanted to argue with you. You hoped he wouldn’t; you might have only met him the day before, but you had a feeling he’d figure it out anyway.
“Do you know how far we are?” Jon asked instead.
“Oh sure I can check that one sec.” You opened the airline map on your phone. “About an hour and a half away.” The little airplane icon on your phone screen placed the plane somewhere above the Chicago area. “See?”
“Oh that’s cool!” Jon said to Damian, taking the device from you. “Kinda looks like the thing your dad has for my dad.” There was context you were missing, you assumed. Damian huffed a laugh.
“It’s a similar technology.”
“What do your dads do?” You asked them.
“He’s a journalist,” Jon offered.
“Businessman.” Damian’s lips quirked up. “Family business.”
That did not clear it up for you whatsoever. You snapped your mouth shut on any follow-up questions at the jump of turbulence. Your shoulders stiffened instinctively for a moment before you relaxed back into your seat. This wasn’t your first batch of turbulence and it probably wouldn’t be your last. Damian didn’t seem shaken. Jon, though, looked terrified, one hand gripping Damian’s wrist and the other tapping furiously against his thigh.
“Is this normal? On commercial planes?”
“Sometimes,” Damian assured. “The pilot warned of turbulence earlier.”
“They usually come over the loudspeaker when it happens, just to reassure people.”
Your prediction came true with a crackle of the intercom.
“Just an average bit of turbulence folks. All numbers are still in the green, so no need to worry. As a precaution, the seatbelt signs are going back on so please stay seated if possible.”
The pilot’s voice seemed to reassure Jon. You, for one, were tired of hearing it.
#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent#damian wayne x reader x jon kent#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x gender neutral reader#jon kent imagine#jon kent x gender neutral reader#jon kent x reader#OIEM series#emerson writes sometimes
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or: 5 times Ludwig wanted to tell you he loves you + the 1 time he finally did.
tw: cursing, mention of anxiety, one mention of
"my girl", dick joke
one
"if you like this you should be tried for crimes and i'm not fucking kidding. like, this is-"
You've long since learned to tune Slime out.
ludwig would kid, when he's wrapped in sheets with you at night in a too small bed, when it's hard to tell who's limbs belong to who's, that Slime likes to hear himself talk-could argue with a wall and someone come out of the conversation still thinking he won-
you turn the cup over in your hand, weighing options, moving the liquid around waiting for it to become familiar.
"hey."
ludwig's voice is so quiet you'd almost miss it. his face is red and his head is down, like he's talking to his lap, his hands folded on his lap. you can tell he's been chewing on his nails again, the bloody stumps stare back at you-
“hm?”
a gentle nudge, would look more like a shoulder bump to an unsuspecting viewer.
"y'okay?"
it's gentle, shared. this isn't your scene-would rather be alone with him or a max three people at any given moment, definitely not in front of a shitty web camera to a few thousand people judging your every move, watching you carefully.
"'m fine."
it comes back strangled and you wonder if he knows the invisible hand around your throat, choking you.
"proud of you."
your head whips to him, afraid you imagined this-instead he's back to the camera, his online persona is on:
"Slime," he says, "if you think that you're truly fucked and beyond saving-*
two
"You can't possibly think a straw is two holes. No one i date it thinking I-"
"Ludwig," you huff, "Use your fucking brain. there's one at the top and-believe it or not-the bottom. that’s two!-“
"you're so fucking dumb" it sounds a lot like "i love you" on his lips as it lingers and buzzes. He blinks and hopes you read morse code, the i love you that he's throwing his life preserver to you.
As if checking on you again, his shoulder bumps with yours, a shared wink.
three
"it's late," you'll say gently to ludwig, his glasses pushed up his face and his hair disheveled, obviously fucking with it as an anxious habit, "you should get some rest."
your chin rests on his shoulder and you both act like you don't feel how he deflates, relaxes around you.
"This video-" he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"can wait until tomorrow."
you finish for him, hands hard on his shoulder, a gentle kiss to the top of his head: "come on," no movement, "the beds too big without you."
he snorts, his eyes slanted before he lets you take him by the hand, gently walk backwards as you pull him towards the bed. he flops in after you, his head on your chest as you draw constellations on his back, waiting for sleep to find him.
four
"give me a hug, please."
it comes out more like a demand than a question, his hands snake around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.
"that wasn't an ask."
you're teasing, obliviously, your hand wraps around to ruffle his hair affectionately,
ludwig carries this invisible weight on his shoulders, some invisible boulder he won't dare let you know, how his shoulders slowly are giving in and coming into this pressure
"you okay?"
his voice is muffled into your neck, "never better."
"lud-"
"shh," he says, "you're ruining the moment."
his voice is muffled in your collarbone.
five
ludwig comes out of a crowded gas station with his hair dishelved, a million different directions obviously anxiously messing with it in a crowd of people.
"chips?"
"yeah?" it's a question, like he's afraid it's a trap.
he's quiet for a second before his voice comes back quieter:
"¡ got these because they're your favorite," he pauses for a second, like that's too familiar too sweet has to add, "duh."
"hardly a road trip."
you're eyeing the bag carefully. it's a ten minute ride at best, picking something up at the store for him before a stream.
he shrugs, brings his sunglasses over his face, trying to hide the red across his face
"want one?"
you pop the bag open gently, going through the bag before picking the best out, gently feeding him one as both of your faces are red.
+ one
ludwig's eyes are heavy next to you. you can tell even with his eyes on the road, slanted and narrowed, glaring at the yellow lines on the road.
"hey," you nudge him, the familiar movement between you two, the same song and dance that you two always do, narrowingly missing feet, "pull over, let me drive."
his voice borders on slurring: "what kind of boyfriend would i be if i made my girl drive home?"
it's obvious he's trying to smirk, to come off as this confident version of ludwig, but instead it comes off as a grimace, an uncomfortable look.
"you'd be a boyfriend who wants to get me home safely. seriously-let me drive, cmon."
he groans but obeys, the click of the turn signal as he flicks it on, eases to the side of the road.
puts the car into park, rests the side of his face against the too rough seat: "i owe you. i'm sorry i'm a shitty boyfriend-"
"cmon ludwig," you say gently, "you don't mean it. move over, let me drive. i'll get you home safe."
"US."
"hm?"
you're in the drivers seat, clicking into the seatbelt as he fumbles with the seatbelt, his hand outstretched over the gear shift, he wiggles his fingers, an obvious invitation.
you roll your eyes but link fingers with him gently. his eyes are already closed when he speaks
"¡ love you."
for a second you're afraid he's sleeping, talking in his sleep-wouldn't be the first time.
"don't leave me hanging like that."
your eyes snap to him, his eyes half shut but a lazy smile on his face as he rubs the pad of his thumb over your hand.
"¡ don't know what you're talking about."
he groans, shuts his eyes:
"¡ love you, i love you, i love you." he lets out a sigh like he's been holding it for a long time, "i've been too big of a pussy to say it."
you hum, turn the volume in the radio up, let him sit for a second, the pink in your face rising, can hear your heart in your ears, how you've been waiting for this
it rolls of your lips as easily as you'd hope:
"¡ love you too."
#caroline writes#ludwig#ludwig ahgren fanfiction#ludwig ahgren x you#ludwig ahgren x reader#ludwig ahgren x y/n#ludwig ahgren fanfic#ludwig ahgren fic#ludwig ahgren#ludwig x you#ludwig x y/n#ludwig x reader
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Devil on my back; prologue
Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller
Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, implied smut & ✨actual✨ smut further down the line, age gap (Joel's in his 50s & Reader's in her late 20s), cheating, delicious catholic guilt, afab!reader, pet names (no use of Y/N), no outbreak!AU
Summary: Joel Miller vividly remembers the day you moved next door, a captivating vision of religious boundaries he can't wait to break
Word count: 1.6k
Author's Note: not sure yet what this series will look like, but this heathen needs to get it out before her innards explode 👁️👄👁️🌸✨
Joel remembers the day you moved in years ago, though the exact date escapes him. By this age, memories in his mind were more like a gallery of images and sensations brought forth by triggers of varying intensities, rather than words and numbers. He remembers the sweltering heat of the day, the smell of scorching sun and dry earth, the gritty feeling of dust settling on his sweat-soaked skin, all etched into his consciousness. That and Tommy’s complaining about how everything was just sticking together too much. It was downright miserable.
The lemonade Sarah had brought out ten minutes ago already reached body temperature, ice inside succumbing too easily to the heat. Joel took a sip, pulled a face, and almost dropped the glass back down on the table. Mouth dry and eyes wandering, he watched mildly curious as a white “Jackson’s Moving and Delivering” van pulled into the driveway right across the street, shiny blue Toyota Corolla in tow. Joel looked at his own truck, red colour darkened by time and dust, wheels muddied after a particularly inconvenient thunderstorm last week. He hadn’t bothered giving it a wash - hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time it had an intentional wash. He furrowed his eyebrows and stared ahead waiting for people to pour out of the cars, vaguely aware of Tommy doing the same and Sarah coming out to have a look herself, eyes straining against the sun. Great, now everyone was curious, everyone's looking directly at them, and Joel knew they all looked like a gaggle of gossiping housewives.
And there you were, first one out, hair pulled back in a high ponytail – a practical choice battling the Texas heat – dark sunglasses shielding your eyes, and a bright, dazzling million-dollar smile that had Joel squinting a little harder, as if to capture every little detail from afar. The others had yet to emerge from their cars, but you were already talking and waving your hands with enthusiasm, looking surprisingly thrilled to be in that little shithole of a suburb he’d moved into all those years ago. His ex-wife had insisted on the great schools in the area before fucking off to who-knows-where.
Everyone kept watching as you gracefully maneuvered around the cars, captivated by your confident movement. You stopped in front of the door, no doubt searching for the keys to your new little home through that cute little jute bag. Joel couldn’t help but notice how delicate you seemed underneath the confident strides, entranced by your womanly curves, round ass, and the three-inch yellow heels you were prancing around in. He inhaled a sharp breath when he became awfully aware of his age.. and yours. ‘Just what I needed,’ he thought half amused.
Joel watched as you threw the blue Corolla a triumphant smile, wiggling a pair of house keys around with one hand and making a playful come-hither motion the other, sending a thrilling shiver down his spine, followed by a hard swallow. ‘Must be getting a heatstroke,’ he joked to himself and turned his attention to the cars, trying his best to get distracted. Jackson’s movers were already out of the van and hard at work distributing furniture, plants, and boxes across the lawn with practiced efficiency. The scene unfolded like a well-choreographed dance, Tommy and Sarah watched curiously, trying to make sense of the wrapped furniture and house goods. As they cranked their necks looking for questionable couch prints or weird-looking family heirlooms, like the creepy dead-eyed cat statuettes grandma used to have around the house, Sarah thought with a shudder, Joel’s focus kept drifting back to you. He watched discreetly as you chattered away with the movers, your charm and warmth unmistakable even from a distance.
The driver seat door of the Corolla opened to reveal a man your age, hair neatly cropped and face cleanly shaven, clothes looking soft and stiff at the same time, worn but with a like-new quality. He smiled a tight smile at you, clearly not feeling as comfortable as you looked. Hand on his hip, looking a little queasy, he surveyed the house behind dark sunglasses and made a lazy hand gesture for the keys. You walked to him with the keys, throwing a knees-weakening smile that seemed to have no effect on him, much to Joel’s surprise.
That’s when you turned around and noticed the Millers watching you from a few yards away. A hint of surprise flitted across your face, quickly fading into a bashful smile, Joel noticed, when Sarah gave you an enthusiastic wave. He tried to ignore the way his pants grew slightly tighter and his mouth a little dryer when he saw you bite into your bottom lip as you returned the wave. Even more so, he could swear he felt your burning stare on him behind your sunglasses, making his skin prickle in ways it hadn’t for a long time. Get it out of your head old man, he thought. Goddamn Texas heat.
“Hi, welcome, I’m Sarah!” Sarah greeted a little louder than she meant to, making you jump slightly and clasp your hands together in front of you as your smile grew wider. Joel easily noticed the way your cheek flushed to match a stunning set of pink rosy lips that will have him thinking pure filthy things later that evening. You’re jus’ a shy little thing, aren’t ya, he thinks to himself as you approach, keeping a respectful distance. Behind the dark sunglasses and that bright smile, behind the confident strides you take in those cute yellow heels, you’re just a little bundle of nerves, writhing in place with every bit of foreign attention. Realising this, Joel went to sit up a little straighter in his chair, remembering where he left his confidence. He's suddenly feeling a lot more at peace with his age than he did a second ago. He’s a fifty-year-old man, there’s literally no reason for him to feel intimidated by you. In fact, he wonders crossing his arms in front of his chest, maybe you should feel a little intimidated by him.
And you do; from this close, he feels like you do. Despite the sunglasses framing your face and hiding your eyes from view, Joel found himself keenly attuned to your nuances just by watching you across the road. Your mouth was a complete canvas of emotion, revealing your thoughts and feelings more than you probably realised. It was as if your lips were a window into your mind, just begging Joel to decipher their sweet, subtle cues, and right now, from this distance, they were telling him everything he needed to know.
Without the luxury of sunglasses to hide his eyes behind, Joel thought it wise to just make a point of meeting your gaze whenever he felt your eyes on him, allowing his own to wander down your form, looking at you up and down, taking in every detail, appreciating the way your body responded to his presence. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face. That’s it babygirl, he thought to himself as he watched you swallow, subtly wet your lips and nibble into the side of your lower lip, all within the span of 3 seconds. It all made him shift slightly in his seat, electric charge of desire coursing through the air.
In that fleeting instant, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you trapped in a bubble of heat and unspoken yearning, skin prickling and electricity buzzing in your ears. Or maybe it’s just heatstroke.
A mixture of nerves and desire washed over you as you tried to maintain your composure. For a moment, your mind went blank, unsure of what to say or why you even approached them, when you should've just - freakin' - waved. It felt as though you’d cave in from the intensity of his gaze. You struggled to keep your focus on Sarah and ignore the way his eyes on you made you feel so deliciously exposed and vulnerable. As you spoke, your voice naturally a little deeper, raspier than he expected, sent an icy-hot thrill down his spine and a satisfied groan only he could hear escaped his chest.
“Hiya,” you managed to greet with a smile and wave, one leg going behind the other, clasped hands moving to your back, your body instinctively shifting into a slightly more timid posture. You didn't seem like you went out much, or even talked to that many people, despite your big mouth. Joel could see you more clearly now and found these nervous gestures all too endearing. Taking all of you in, Joel’s eyes roamed over your body, over the sky-blue sundress hugging your figure, your sun kissed shoulders bared in the warm breeze, and he almost lets out another groan when he notices the outline of your white, good girl panties underneath, sight only intensifying the swirling desire he feels pooling low in his body.
Joel had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts of you writhing underneath him, skirt of your dress hiked up past your hips, mouth slack and eyes rolling back into your head with pleasure, when he noticed Corolla guy coming over, looking slightly more at ease than earlier. From the gold wedding bands on your ring fingers, Joel immediately clocks Corolla guy as your husband. He felt confusing mixture of unwarranted jealousy painting his vision green and a stupid, childish thrill stirring inside him, both at the same time.
“This is Dax, my husband,” you introduced him with a radiant smile, clasping your husband’s hand in yours and looking at him like the Sun shined out of his ass. Seeing your obvious affection for your husband and that dainty little goddamn cross around your neck should’ve made Joel back down. And usually it would’ve, but this time it only somehow intensified the complexity of his emotions, made Joel really wonder what you're made of. His stupid desire for you was a little too consuming, tempting him, pushing him into territories that would've usually felt very un-Joel-like. “We just came down from Dallas,” you continue, and Joel can’t tell if you’re talking to all of them, or only to him. "Dax gets a little car sick and you won't catch me drivin'," What kinda name is "Dax" anyway??
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Back and Forth - Chapter 3
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Danny Wagner
Word Count: 3.6k
Slight trigger warning for this chapter! Jake gets nauseous and there are slight mentions of throwing up (not in a sexual way!), so do with that what you will. This one is a bit longer, but the next one will probably be longer (and definitely smuttier). It might take me a couple days to write, but I'll do it!
Warnings: Language, eventual smut, drinking, nausea/throwing up, awkward flirting, talking in a bar, just guys being dudes
______________________________________________________________
Jake stepped out of the white four-door onto the bustling sidewalk. Though the sun set hours ago, he still donned his sunglasses to shield his eyes from the bright lights emanating from the neon signs in the dive bar. He also wanted to cover his face somewhat, just in case some fans were here after the show. He doubted it, though. This bar, Rusty No. 4, was located about fifteen minutes away from the venue by car.
Jake turned on his heels and thanked the Uber driver as they drove off through the nighttime urban traffic. Jake’s eyes glanced upward at the moonlit sky. Even through his sunglasses, he could see stars peeking through the inky, almost-twilight sky. The moon, almost a sliver in the sky, was peeking over the skyscrapers in the distant bustling city. Jake has always had an affinity towards the moon: her silver rays reflecting those of the sun, always paired together but different in their celestial details.
Jake realized where he was again and leveled his head back to look at the street in front of him. His infatuation with the sky regularly became a cause for distraction: when they were younger, Josh would have to coax his twin back to the bunk beds they shared to get him away from the window some nights. He would stare for hours at the everchanging night sky, the moon, stars, meteors burning up in the atmosphere just miles away. He still watched, but checked himself every now and then so he would actually go to sleep a reasonable amount.
He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned his back against the jagged bricks of Rusty No. 4, being sure to tuck his hair over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get snagged. His phone’s clock read 12:09 am, but the city was still alive and awake like it was 5 o’clock. Cars, trucks, and taxis sped past, occasionally stopping to pick up or drop off myriads of people. Jesus, where do all these people come from? Jake thought to himself. These crowds made Jake want to sink into the brick and mortar and disappear.
Though he loved performing on stage in front of thousands or on video for millions, Jake still felt self-conscious about interacting with others outside the band, even fans. He didn’t mind all the eyes on him; he just couldn’t stand having to talk to others without one of his brothers there. Or Danny. Shit, where is he?
Jake realized he had been waiting for about ten minutes now. Danny should be here soon, since they did Uber from the same place, after all. Maybe he took a little longer getting ready. Maybe he took a longer shower than Jake. Jake rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying not to imagine that visual. He didn’t want another incident like what happened on stage, with no guitar to hide behind.
After Jake walked to his dressing room, he took another shower, but this one was quicker than the first. After a quick rinse and lather later, Jake stepped out of the shower and picked a casual outfit fitting for a dive bar: a denim button-down shirt, halfway buttoned to expose some of his chest; black jeans; the pair of black shoes he wore earlier; and his numerous Atocha necklaces he accumulated over the years. Jake looked down at his shoes and wiped off the remnants of gray ash Danny left and felt a blush creep over his face.
As Jake was looking down at his shoes and wiping it on his opposite pant leg, another set of shoes came into view directly in front of his. Those same dirty Converse. Jake looked up over his sunglasses and looked directly at Danny’s face. He noticed the corner of Danny’s mouth slightly hitch upwards as he caught Jake by surprise. “Hey, again.”
“Hey. Funny we keep running into each other like this.” Jake gave a small smile and looked at the car Danny presumably stepped out of. “How was the ride here?”
“Good, I guess. I tried to ask the guy where the nearest bar was with ‘Rusty’ in the name and it took him forever to find it. But I’m here.” Danny gave a toothy grin and looked at the sign above the bar. “Rusty No. 4. I wonder where the other three are.”
Jake gave a chuckle through his nose. “C’mon. Let’s go in before all the seats are taken.” Jake stepped up off the wall and walked through the doors, Danny following close behind.
Danny shuffled through the sea of people, trying to follow Jake on his heels. His heart was beating out of his fucking chest like a jackhammer, adrenaline coursing through his entire body like an electric current. His mind was racing with what was to come of this meeting. What kind of… relationship they would have. Would it still be brotherly? Of course it wouldn’t, how could they still be brothers after what happened? Danny was getting dizzy with his thoughts, but he kept trying to catch up to the guitarist.
They eventually found a booth in the far corner of the bar. Jake slid in first, taking a seat to the left of the table. Danny followed after and took a seat opposite of Jake. He noticed how sticky the table was and how ripped the seats were in some places. The lighting in the bar was dim, but the various neon signs above the actual bar accommodated just fine. Danny looked around at the various people in the building: women holding various drinks and dancing to the music resounding off the walls, men seated at the bar drowning themselves in drink, couples seated at booths and tables chatting away about some monotonous, mindless topic. Why did he have to pick a booth? This is not subtle at all.
Jake noticed this as well and lifted his sunglasses onto his head. “We can leave if you want. I didn’t know it would be this crowded,” Jake suggested.
“No, it’s alright! All this noise will drown out whatever we say, anyways.” Danny looked back at Jake, guilty for making him second-guess his choice of location. He nervously started to pick at a string coming loose on his thin sweater. “So…what’s up?”
Jake’s face froze, not expecting to just dive right in. “Why don’t we get some drinks first? What’re you having tonight?” Jake started to get out of his seat to walk over to the bar.
“Oh. Um, just a Modelo is fine.”
“Alright.” Jake walked away, fishing some money from his pocket.
Danny felt awkward just sitting by himself at the booth, feeling the seconds tick by agonizingly. After his shower, which included a thorough wash of his hair and sweaty skin, Danny tried to take special care of how he looked. He put on his dark-green sweater, adorned with white striped and diamond patterns, along with a pair of black jeans and his worn sneakers. Though casual, he looked put together, unlike how he felt inside: confused, nervous, and somewhere deep inside himself…expectant.
Jake walked back to the booth with drinks in both hands. He handed Danny a bottle of Modelo, wet with condensation, and sat back down with his drink of choice: a tall glass of some sort of ale, an IPA as far as Danny could tell by the smell. Jake tipped the glass back and took a long, smooth sip, sighing as the liquid traveled through his throat.
Danny, in turn, took a sip of his sweet drink and wiped the condensation from his hand onto his jeans. “So, now what’s up?”
Jake cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. “Well…what happened back there, is what’s up.”
Danny fiddled with his hands and cracked his knuckles, trying to find an outlet to let some of his jitters out. “Yeah.”
A long pause. Agonizing for both parties.
“You didn’t push me away, though. Not at first,” Jake broke the silence. “You seemed to…I don’t know, like it?”
“I mean…it definitely wasn’t expected. I didn’t even really know what I was doing. It was probably the smoke.” Danny was trying to grab at something, anything, to explain this away, just in case Jake was trying to disengage his own actions.
“Yeah, totally,” Jake trailed off, wiping his mouth in the same way he always does when he’s nervous. Danny seems to notice this little tic of his all the time during interviews and videos they do for promotion, but he never did this while talking to Danny. He’s probably never felt the need to be nervous when talking to him, but here they were. Two beings wracked with anxiety, wondering who would make the next move. Like a game of chess, they were pondering what to do next.
“It was nice, though.”
Danny’s heart stuttered at this. Jake was taking another sip of his IPA and looking towards the jukebox in the other corner, currently blaring “Black Velvet” by Alannah Myles on high volume. His sunglasses were still pushed up, keeping his hair from falling over his face, though he should probably keep them on, just in case. Danny figured that’s why he wore those things so late in the night, but he was probably too nervous and forgot about them entirely.
It was nice, though. That sentence rang through his head. Danny also found it nice, more than nice, even. Intoxicating. Leaving him wanting more. He let out a shaky breath through his mouth and took another swig of Modelo to clear his throat.
“Yeah, it was,” Danny replied, looking toward Jake again to see what his face would give away that his mouth wouldn’t.
Jake started at this and looked back at Danny. He set his drink back down on the table and just…stared. Stared at his clean-shaven, eyeshadow-free face. Stared at his perfect curls, still damp from shower water and leave-in conditioner. Stared at his bare throat, that perfect expanse of skin that Jake could bury his face in, wanted to bury his face in. Jake bit the inside of his cheek to snap himself back into reality. Surely, Danny didn’t just say that. He might’ve been ogling Jake from behind when on stage, but that could have definitely been his imagination tricking him into actually thinking he was looking at him, not the audience.
“What?”
“I said it was. It was nice.” Danny leaned forward and spoke a little quieter as people were passing the table.
Jake ran his fingers through his hair again but accidentally knocked the sunglasses on the table. The song playing on the jukebox ended, leaving the chattering of people and the clatter of Jake’s sunglasses to be the only sounds in the bar. Feeling embarrassed, Jake snatched the sunglasses off the table and put them back over his eyes to hide. “You really liked it?”
“Yeah. I did. I didn’t wanna admit it but…yeah.” Danny was at a loss for words at his own revelation, and so was Jake. The tension was thick in the air, as thick as that cigar smoke between them earlier.
“Sorry, I’m not sure what to say now.” Jake chuckled at himself now, feeling a slight bit of pressure lift off his chest at that. He liked it.
“Me neither, you’re good.” Danny smiled at Jake again. A glowing smile, with flashing teeth and red cheeks, presumably from the alcohol already hitting his system. Danny could hold his drink, sure, but the effects of it were probably heightened by this conversation. Jake could already feel another buzz forming between his ears, but he didn’t want to be detached from this moment too much. He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and pushed his drink slightly away from him.
“What now?” Jake put the question in the air between them.
“When do we get on the road again?”
Jake thought for a second. “The 16th. So…tomorrow now, I guess.” He let out a small laugh and peered at Danny over his glasses again. He noticed Danny’s breath hitch from the eye contact, not by much, but just enough to hear.
“Okay…okay. You wanna leave soon? Go back to the hotel? It’s getting a little crowded here.” Danny looked around as more and more people kept filing into the doors than they were filing out. “And I’m almost out of–”
“Oh my god, you’re Jake, right? And Danny?” A voice, presumably female, blurted from the crowd that just walked in. Her outfit screamed “Starcatcher” with its rhinestone embellishments and white layered fabrics shined and dazzled in the faces of the two band members.
Shit. Jake knew this would happen. Of course someone would notice them. Internally he was dying softly at the girl’s expectant face. She would most likely ask for a picture, a signature, some sort of token of this chance meeting. Jake cleared his throat and tried to find some words but couldn’t find any.
“Yeah! How’re you? What’s your name?” Danny chimed in in the wake of Jake’s silence. Thank god for Danny; Jake was absolutely mortified about being recognized here, but Danny saved him from total embarrassment.
Her name was Sarah, apparently, and she came to the show with her boyfriend, who was hanging on her arm. Her outfit and makeup were inspired by Josh’s stage outfits, as far as Jake could tell. She talked with Danny for a couple minutes, all the while the boyfriend kept glancing over at the bar, eager for a drink. No doubt she dragged him here, Jake thought bemusingly. She asked for a picture from the two men, and Danny looked over at Jake for approval. He nodded over his glass, emptying it in his mouth before standing up for a picture.
Danny followed suit and posed on one side of her, with Jake on the other. Feeling a bit loose, Jake shifted his stance and held his hand out to the camera in his signature pose. The other hand located behind Sarah, however, found its way to Danny’s hand and was placed strategically over it.
The light of the camera flash blinded Jake for a second, leaving a purple-green splotch in his vision for a couple minutes after the encounter. They said their goodbyes and wished the drummer and guitarist luck on their next shows in the tour before making their way to the bar. Danny looked to Jake, and Jake looked to Danny.
A tether pulled taut between them. They both could feel it. Jake’s chest tightened, and he felt instantly sober at that moment. Danny felt his heart beat louder in his ears as he met Jake’s dark brown eyes with his own hazel ones. The synapses were firing in his brain, and Danny instantly knew that Jake wanted out of here. His demeanor completely changed once that couple walked up; Danny was privy to Jake’s antisocial nature and knew when his social battery ran dry, and this time was no different.
Danny picked up his drink and chugged down the rest of it, which consisted of half the bottle left. A small stream of beer trickled down his chin and left a couple droplets on the floor. He placed the bottle down on the table again, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and took Jake’s hand in his. Jake wasn’t even thinking straight at this point; he just let Danny take his hand.
Danny pulled Jake through the crowd to get to the door. His heart was still pounding through his ears, a loud badump badump keeping time with the internal music of his entire being. He needed Jake. Alone. He needed him like water.
“Danny.” Jake called to no avail.
Danny just kept pushing through the crowd. The door was almost there. He pushed on the handle, feeling the cool air pouring in through the crack.
“Danny, wait!”
They stumbled their way out onto the sidewalk before Jake doubled over and retched, emptying the contents of his stomach in the dirt next to the building. Danny’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Jake! Are you okay?”
“I think.” Jake’s voice sounded shaky, and his face had gone pale behind his glasses. “Drinking on an empty stomach. Not good.” He coughed again, prepping for another retch.
“Fuck, dude.” Danny guided him to the side of the building away from prying eyes and held Jake’s hair away from his face as another wave of nausea passed over. Jake spat on the ground and groaned, but Danny also heard a sniffle.
“Hey, hey.” He pulled Jake upright again, slowly, to see Jake’s face. His eyes were filled with tears not yet shed, and his mouth broke into a grimace.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This just…” Jake sniffed again. “This just isn’t how I thought it was gonna go.”
“What do you mean, Jake?”
“I didn’t want anyone to see. I didn’t wanna just…spill my guts like that. In conversation and… literally.” Jake’s voice shook like a leaf and was strained, letting Danny know he might burst into tears at any moment.
Danny sighed and pulled his phone out. “Let me call an Uber for us, okay?”
“Okay.”
Jake sat on the side of the building, waiting for Danny to come back with bottled water from the bar as promised. His head was in one of his hands, propped up on his forehead to alleviate the headache forming behind his right eye.
This can’t be fucking real. Jake was horrified. One minute, he was feeling like he was walking on clouds. The next, he’s upchucking right near Danny’s shoes. Looking back, he probably should have ordered some food with their drinks, but Jake didn’t think he would’ve eaten anyways with how nervous he was. He could feel his heart beating in his fingertips now, an indication of just how shaken up he was.
Danny turned the corner with two bottles of water in his hands. He held one out to Jake, which he gratefully took. He tested a sip to see if his nausea fully surpassed, and when he didn’t gag on the liquid, he gingerly drank more until half the bottle was gone down his throat.
Danny, still standing, looked at Jake with visible worry painted on his face. Their positions against the wall reminded Jake of earlier that day: Danny standing next to Jake seated near the window. Now, instead of sharing a cigar, they’re sharing their thoughts.
“Did she see you walk back in?” Jake asked.
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seemed like she was gawking at you or something.”
“Really? I didn’t notice,” Danny confessed. He truthfully didn’t realize that, it seemed.
“Yeah. And her boyfriend didn’t look too thrilled to be there either.”
“Gotta make her happy somehow, I guess.” Danny snickered before taking a sip of his water. “You alright now? The Uber should be here in about five minutes.”
“Yeah, I’m good now. I hadn’t eaten since lunch.”
“Lunch?! Dude, I would’ve taken you out to dinner or something if I knew that.” Danny turned to face Jake, looking him straight in the face again.
“I know, I know. I was just stressed from earlier today.”
“That seems like so long ago now,” Danny said as he sorted through his mind about the day before today’s show. He couldn’t put the memories together quite right, but everything after walking through Jake’s dressing room door was crystal clear.
“Yeah.” Jake drank the rest of his water and set the bottle on the ground. “I felt you, you know.”
Danny started and coughed the water he had in his mouth out, creating a spray that drifted onto the ground like a sprinkler. “Huh?”
“I said I…felt you. When we kissed. I felt your, um…against mine.” Jake felt heat against his face and neck at this confession. He had to say it. He couldn’t keep it in, it seems. He had to know that he knows.
“...oh.” That was all Danny said as he wiped his mouth, again, with his sleeve.
“‘Oh’?”
Danny just sat there staring at the sky above them. The stars were shining brighter, now that the city lights were farther away from them. Jake followed his lead and looked up.
Jake’s eyes filled with wonder as he saw the moon directly positioned above them, her rays barely peeking through the night sky as the sliver of white light had grown smaller. A new moon soon, maybe even later tonight. A phase representing new beginnings, cleansing, dark magic, and unlimited potential. Jake sighed as he stared up at her and smiled slightly. It was like a sign from some god, telling him that this new phase was a good one. To let it happen. To take this opportunity. Don’t let this go to waste, the moon said to him. Don’t let him go.
“Uber’s here. C’mon.” Danny blurted into the silence. Jake snapped out of his moon-induced trance and looked up at Danny’s hand held out, offering to help him stand to his feet.
Jake took it and hoisted himself up and brushed the dirt off his jeans. “Hold on, gotta wipe this off my ass.” He brushed the dirt off of the butt of his jeans with a laugh.
Danny laughed, too. A genuine belly laugh. Jake smiled at himself, too, feeling silly but not caring. He felt lighter, now that they have gotten past this barrier. Words could not describe how Jake felt. He felt like he could kiss Danny right now, but would wait until he washed his mouth at least.
Danny, still chuckling, held his hand out again for Jake to take. He grasped his hand, and they made their way to the car idling outside the bar.
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Coldplay’s Self-Help Pop
Chris Martin, the band’s front man, discusses reading Rumi, making music like an apple tree grows apples, and the band’s new album, “Moon Music.”
An interview by Amanda Petrusich (September 30, 2024)
On a recent afternoon in Malibu, Chris Martin, the front man of Coldplay, was enjoying a brief pause between tour dates. “We have breaks, but only in the way that Serena Williams has a banana between sets,” he said, pulling his bare feet up under him. Martin, who is forty-seven, was wearing an emerald-green sweater featuring a picture of the earth, affixed with a tiny white button that said “LOVE.” Later on, when he took the sweater off, he revealed a blue T-shirt with the same button. I wondered, but did not ask, how many of them he owned. It felt indicative of Martin’s quintessence at this particular moment: LOVE, layered ad infinitum.
Martin was in the midst of converting an old property into a studio and the de-facto Coldplay HQ. The complex was beset by scrubby clay slopes dotted with sagebrush, California aster, evergreen oaks. Martin likes to send visitors home with unlabelled jars of fresh honey from an apiary nearby. We sat at a picnic table overlooking a meadow. In conversation, Martin is engaging, magnetic. When I apologized for putting my sunglasses on—the light had suddenly shifted—he grinned: “No, I love it. It sort of flips the script. We’ll talk about your album in a minute.” We’d been discussing the gurgling anxiety inherent to any romantic entanglement—the fear of starting to need someone. It’s an idea that arises in “feelslikeimfallinginlove,” the swooning first single from “Moon Music,” the band’s tenth record, which comes out in October. “I know that this could feel like that / But I just can’t stop / Let my defenses drop,” Martin sings in the opening verse.
“There are two methods that humans use to survive,” Martin said. “One is calcification and sequestering and separating: my stuff, my tribe, my this, my that. And then the other half is so open to everything. Those people fall in love a lot more, but they also have a lot more heartbreak.” I guessed that he was in the latter camp. “I’m so open it’s ridiculous,” he said. “But, if you’re not afraid of rejection, it’s the most liberating thing in the world.” Well, sure—but who’s not afraid of rejection? “Of course,” Martin said, laughing. “To tell someone you love them, or to release an album, or to write a book, or to make a cake, or to cook your wife a meal—it’s terrifying. But if I tell this person I love them and they don’t love me back, I still gave them the gift of knowing someone loves them.” Martin noticed a slightly stricken look on my face. “I’m giving this advice to myself, too,” he added. “Don’t think I’ve got it mastered.”
Coldplay, which formed in 1997, in London, has sold more than a hundred million records. (Besides Martin, the band includes the guitarist Jonny Buckland, the bassist Guy Berryman, and the drummer Will Champion.) The ongoing tour for “Music of the Spheres,” the band’s prior release, has sold ten million tickets and made close to a billion dollars, becoming the highest-grossing rock tour of the past forty years. It has broken attendance records in countries including Romania, Singapore, Brazil, Colombia, the Netherlands, Chile, Portugal, Sweden, France, Indonesia, Italy, and Greece. (When I brought this up, Martin was quick to note how colonialism has enabled his success: “We’re only able to play in so many countries because people who spoke English did such terrible things all around the world.”)
“Moon Music” was produced by Max Martin, the Swedish hitmaker behind twenty-seven No. 1 singles. Martin described Max Martin’s technique as “a mix of mathematics and fluidity, of real structure and being totally open,” adding, with a kind of proud certainty, “He’s our producer now.” Martin also confirmed that Coldplay will make two more albums and then stop recording, though the band will continue to tour. “Yesterday, I went to see the L.A. Philharmonic. All those songs were released two hundred years ago,” he said. “It still felt extremely vibrant. So perhaps there’s a point where new material is not essential to make an amazing show.”
Martin, like many successful songwriters, explains the work as a kind of divine channelling: a song appears and he receives it. “If you’re lucky enough to have the space to let the music talk to you, and through you, then you can relax a bit,” he told me. “I’m just sort of doing what I’m told, the way an apple tree grows apples.” He said that establishing the Coldplay catalogue as finite has been liberating for the band: “By knowing there’s an end point, nobody is phoning it in. We only have two more chances. And most of the songs already exist, in a skeletal form.” I asked if that last day in the studio might be sad for him—a final take, the feeling of knowing that something is over. I find ending things so excruciating, I told him, I’d often rather just go down with the ship. He gave me a sympathetic look. “I think it will feel amazing,” he said.
At some point, Coldplay became—how else do I say it?—motivational. In recent years, it has felt less like a band than like an engine of unrelenting positivity, a high-grade confetti cannon straight to the face. The shift started around 2014, with the release of “Ghost Stories,” which contained little rancor or moodiness, fewer nods to Echo and the Bunnymen, less audible guitar. Coldplay, once skewered by critics for being too plaintive and self-pitying, was now broadcasting the opposite message: everything is magic. It reminded me, in some circuitous way, of “Attitude,” the punk band Bad Brains’ one-minute opus from 1982, in which the vocalist H.R. barks, “Hey, we got that P.M.A.!”—a reference to “positive mental attitude,” a phrase coined in 1937 by the author and probable con man Napoleon Hill. He was peddling a notion that we today refer to as manifestation: “Anything the human mind can believe, the human mind can achieve.” But Bad Brains still had fury, bite, edge. For whatever reason, Coldplay had willfully neutralized itself.
In Malibu, when I needled Martin about that change—what happened, exactly, to the yearning and discord of “Parachutes” or “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” the band’s first two releases?—he attributed it both to a burgeoning interest in Rumi, the thirteenth-century Sufi mystic, and to his experience working with the visionary electronic musician Brian Eno, who produced “Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends,” Coldplay’s fourth album. Martin said that Eno’s purity and sense of wonder had helped him “completely abandon the concept of trying to be cool. He came in with the enthusiasm of a nine-year-old for everything.” Mostly, though, Martin sees the change as incremental, organic. “It’s not like it was black-and-white, and then became color,” he said. “The first song on the first album is called ‘Don’t Panic.’ There’s also a song called ‘Everything’s Not Lost,’ which is exactly the same message that we’re singing now. Just sung by a slightly less experienced, more insecure, younger person.”
Though he likely wouldn’t frame it this way, Martin appears motivated by a kind of vocational mandate. He occupies a rarefied position, insofar as it’s actually possible for him to make the world a little less fractured, for a couple of hours, seventy-five thousand people at a time. This requires obliterating his ego, and accepting that a lot of people will find what he’s doing—bouncing around a stage covered with rainbows, singing lines such as “In the end it’s just love,” as he does on “One World,” which closes “Moon Music”—unbearably corny. In a way, the messaging has to be flat to translate so widely. On “Clocks,” a lush and tumbling track from “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” Martin sings about grappling with his own fallibility and bafflement, of trying his best to be of service in the world: “Am I part of the cure, or am I part of the disease?” His voice swoons, flutters, dissipates. “You are,” he answers. It’s a strange lyric, but I’ve always appreciated its strangeness: cure, disease, good, bad, hurtful, benevolent. You are.
These days, Martin describes the band’s message as “No one is more or less special than anyone else.” He went on, “The reason I’m able to say that is because we’re one of the few groups of people who get to actually see it. We travel everywhere. What Ryszard Kapuściński would call ‘the Other’ is not real.” I asked him what it felt like to stand onstage in, say, Kuala Lumpur, or Helsinki, or Tokyo, and hear the crowd bellowing his lyrics back to him, to one another, to themselves, to the air. “It feels like the answer,” he said. “It feels like: This is where humans actually work. It has nothing to do with us as a band. There are points where, hopefully, nothing exists except ‘We’re all just singing this together.’ ”
Ultimately, Martin hopes that by providing solace, and a place to unify, Coldplay can actualize some change in the world. I thought this sounded idealistic, even quixotic, until I considered all the ways in which I had been made better by songs. “If you’re able to live as yourself and understand who you are, whatever that might mean in terms of your gender or sexuality or what you like to eat or where you like to live or whether you like table tennis or riding donkeys . . . if you’re allowed to be yourself, would the world be as aggressive as it is?” Martin asked. “My feeling is no, I don’t think it would. I think much of the violence and conflict comes from repression, suppression, unreleased damage.”
Eventually, the air started to cool. Martin brought me a sweatshirt. Our conversation wound toward more existential matters: people we’d lost, what it meant, what it didn’t mean. “Death is in our songs a lot,” Martin said. “Maybe as a way of encouraging living. And also faith—the idea that, well, it’s O.K. It’s all O.K., isn’t it? I’m sure that’s crossed your mind.” The sun was beginning to ease into the Pacific. We sat for a moment in the hazy yellow pre-dusk. The air was parched, salty, soft. “Everything is perfect, of course,” Martin said. “Everything’s as it’s supposed to be.”
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