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kurokawaia · 8 months ago

Text

❛ I'LL TEACH YOU ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC;2k k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem reader, reader is implied a virgin but isnt specified, fingering, oral -> male recieving, smut, nsfw, pwp?, pw/op? praise, fluffy at the end, + more

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Can you do giyuu x fem!reader where reader is new to sex😅- ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Now, you weren't experienced in sex, not at all. But, one could say the same about Giyuu. He was stoic and quiet so one would expect him to be not experienced either, although that wasn't the case. Yes, he was inexperienced but in his head, he knew exactly what a woman would want and crave.

Giyuu and you have been together for quite a few months now and the most anything sexual had ever grown between you was the heavy and heated makeout sessions the two of you had, where Giyuu's hands would wonder lower, his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy before you pull away.

You were just a tad bit scared because you knew that you were inexperienced and think that might deter your boyfriend, but that was far from the case. At this point, Giyuu was wondering if you even love him like that, in a sexual way.

To Giyuu's surprise, you had the guts today to take some subtle control. Your hands cup his face gently, as you sink further beneath him while your tongues slowly intertwine with each other before one of your hands slithers into Giyuu's hair, softly tugging on the black strands. Giyuu lets out a soft moan into your mouth at your action

You tremble due to the simple sound, it makes you feel so weak to the point where you whimper into his mouth. Cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, your cheeks were beet red. Pulling away from the heated kiss, your arms wrap tightly around his shoulder and around his neck while you bury your face into his neck.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Giyuu lets out a sigh before kissing your hair and wrapping his arms to reciprocate around your figure, pulling you inevitably closer to him. "You don't need to apologise for something like that," Giyuu replies, his breath tickling your neck causing shivers to spill from every nerve of your body.

"Still..." you say slowly. "You make me feel things I don't know how to deal with."

"You can let me help," Giyuu replies reassuringly. "You know I'd never hurt you."

You lift your head from his shoulder with stars in your eyes. You love him so much it is overwhelming.

You smash your lips against him and he grunts shocked in response. Giyuu's tongue is in your mouth once more and you gasp as your body falls back against the futon. Electricity was coursing through your veins at his touch.

"Giyuu," you moan against his mouth, your eyes shut closed in ecstasy. "Can you please....?"

"I'll do anything you want me to," he replies instantly, his lips breaking away from yours.

In reply, you began to kiss him again, you couldn't get enough of him. "Could you take my nemaki off..." you asked, unsure.

"Of course," he replies almost instantly.

A breathless sigh leaves your mouth when his hot hand trailed up your lower stomach to experimentally squeeze the mounds of flesh. you let out a moan when Giyuu's lips began to press and suck gently on the top of your breast. You covered your mouth embarrassed while you looked away from Giyuu. "Sorry," You mumbled.

"You sound so pretty," he whispers in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up. Giyuu's free hand pulled the hand away from your mouth.

He leaned up a bit, pulling you gently with him and slipped the black nemaki off your shoulders, placing the material somewhere near us before he lay you down on the futon again.

Giyuu's lips pressed against mine once more while a hand skimmed slowly down your body. You felt the tip of his finger tug only slightly at your underwear and you grasped his wrist, the kiss breaking.

"Do you want to stop? You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Giyuu reassures but you shake your head, signalling that you weren't implying that.

"It's not that, I really want to," You replied breathlessly before an embarrassed flush rose onto your cheeks. "Could you take off your..."

"Huh? Oh, of course," Giyuu hummed, his lips pressing the side of your jaw. You watched him slip himself out of his nemaki, You see the imprint of his dick press painfully against his underwear and you swallowed deeply before he straddled you once you. Giyuu did that without any complaint, he must really love you all that much.

Giyuu pressed a reassuring kiss on your jaw before the tips of his fingers pulled the cotton down your legs, the cool air of the room causing chills to tingle down your pale skin. "You're so pretty," Giyuu says breathlessly causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Giyuu mumbles before looking back up to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," You replied quietly, opening your eyes down to Giyuu. "Please, can you... touch me more."

"I'll do whatever you want me do to," Giyuu replied and You let a small smile grace your lips.

At your reply, Giyuu's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Giyuu to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. You felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Giyuu asked and You nodded frantically.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. "Making me feel so good, Giyuu."

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Yeah, so so good," You whimper.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Giyuu's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Please, Giyuu," you sob. "I need to... So good, Giyuu."

"I've got you," Giyuu reassured, intertwining our mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release your from Giyuu's neck and move away from his hold.

"How are you feeling?" Giyuu asks cupping your cheeks.

"Good," you breath out slowly while looking into his eyes. "But, I want to make you feel good too."

"You don't need-"

"Please," you beg and you watch him swallow deeply, tension showing on his body.

Giyuu asked once more. "Are you sure?"

you nod. "Please."

"Alright," He smiles gently moving off you to get himself out of his underwear and your eyes widen as you see the size of his length. Giyuu moves over you, you place your hands on his chest.

"W-wait," you say, voice cracking.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you want to stop-?"

You shake your head. "No! I just want to make you feel good too."

Giyuu's eyes widened when he realised what you were implying, you wanted to give him head, that's what he was thinking. And by the glint in your eye, he could tell that his thoughts were right.

Giyuu cups your face reassuringly. "You don't need to, I'm here to please you-"

"P-Please," you breathed, your doe eyes staring deeply into his own.

He lets out a hopeless sigh before straddling your hips. "Alright, let me know at any time if it's too much."

"I will," you replied sitting up and Giyuu lays down onto the futon, allowing you to settle in between his thighs.

You grasp the base of his cock with nervousness in your eyes, not really knowing what to do. Accidentally, you squeezed the base of his length and a deep groan strained itself from Giyuu's mouth, his head thrown back against the pillow while his hand shot down to grip yours.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Giyuu lets out a pleasured sigh. "No... that felt good, keep... keep going."

You nibble on your bottom lip unsure. "Well... what do I..."

"You can do it... you have to put your mouth-"

"Okay," you replied, a little bit too eagerly and Giyuu smiled at your cute reaction.

As your head descended and you gave his tip an experimenting lick, Giyuu snarled at the sensation. His abs and thighs stiffened. You were trying to take him as far as you could without gagging on his cock, so you were using your hand to jack off the part that wouldn't go in your mouth.

Giyuu's groans grew louder, and he struggled to maintain his stance. Giyuu began to navigate your head through the tangles of your hair without your assistance as you relaxed your grip and let him to take over.

"See, you're doing so well," he groaned.

The whimpers escaping his mouth made it even more likely that your cunt would soak your pants—he was getting drier by the second.

Giyuu began to move faster, which caused you to cry even harder. He gave a muffled moan when you hollowed down your cheeks, which made him hesitant to get any closer. His seed spills into your mouth as he pulls away from you.

Giyuu's eyes widened in realisation of what he had just done. "Spit it out," he demands.

You were too conflicted to know whether to spit or to swallow so you simply followed Giyuu's order and let the cum spill from your mouth, the salty liquid getting spit out from your mouth beside the futon.

"Are you okay?" he asked hastily, sitting up and cradling your head.

You nodded, a smile coming onto your lips, "I am, Giyuu."

Giyuu pulled you in close to him, arms wrapped tightly around your figure with one hand on the back of your head, burying your face into his shoulder. He lets out a sigh of contentment. "I actually liked it," you add.

"You did...?" he replied confused, he thought that women wouldn't be fond of being the one to give oral.

"Yeah," you mumbled into his neck. "But I wanna bathe and shower now."

"We can do that," he replies, pressing soft kisses to the side of your head.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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#giyu x reader #giyu smut #giyuu fluff #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x you #giyuu x you #giyuu x fem!reader

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months ago

Note

Star gazing with Eddie and venom, it be like a cute date that was totally venom idea but won't admit it and reader enjoying her time with them

.⋆｡Stars and Us｡⋆.

Eddie Brock x plus size reader

With no other options left, Eddie is forced to listen to his parasitic friend who’s secretly a massive romantic.

Warnings: fluff, Venom doesn’t have feelings (it totally does), brief mentions of smut WC: 1k

6k Follower Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Eddie wasn’t quite panicking, but he was close. He could at least convince himself that he had everything under control despite the end of the week looming ever closer. It was your three month anniversary. Three blissful months with the most incredible human he had ever met and even if you insisted that you didn’t need any big celebration, Eddie knew better. You deserved to be celebrated and worshiped, the only problem was, he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

The man was five articles deep on the best anniversary ideas but none of them would be perfect (or cheap enough). “Maybe she’d appreciate half a dozen orgasms and some shitty take out.” Eddie grunted as his forehead hit the desk, abandoning his quest with a whimper.

“That’s what you do every week.” Venom curled itself around Eddie’s broad shoulders, its white eyes skimming over the section on a Parisian getaway before looking down at its pouting host.

“It’s worked this far hasn’t it?”

“Pathetic.” Eddie’s head spun around so quickly his neck clicked. Venom sighed heavily and slunk back towards the kitchen. “You claim to love this human yet you do not put in any effort into seducing her. You just throw her around and expect her to enjoy it.” It plucked up a chocolate bar with a thin tendril, waving it in the air before it threw the sweet into its wide maw.

“Why are you suddenly an expert on dating? Last I checked, you barely even tolerated having her around if she wasn’t feeding you.” Venom scowled, releasing a soft growl as he licked his teeth clean.

“You chose her as a mate, do not judge how I deal with it.” Eddie sighed and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. You would be home soon and he was running out of free time until it was your anniversary.

“Well, do you have any bright ideas on what I should do if you’re so smart.” Venom hummed, seeping back into Eddie just as your heels clicked up the hall.

“I may have an idea.”

——————

“I told you that we didn’t have to do anything today.” You giggled as Eddie helped you off his bike, his large hands deliberately lingering on your hips even after you found your footing. He just smirked and pressed a quick kiss to your full cheek as he reached behind you for the bag propped up behind your seat.

“And miss this chance to spoil you? Absolutely not.” You clung to his free arm, squeezing the hard muscle of his biceps as Eddie led you towards the empty field sprawled out in front of you.

“You aren’t gonna kill me are you? Cause I didn’t tell my roommate where I was going tonight and I need someone to feed my fish for me.” Even though it was just shy of pitch black, you knew Eddie was rolling his eyes. His arm slipped from your hold for just a second and before you could reach around again for it, he grabbed your ass and gave it a generous squeeze.

Your surprised yelp carried across the field, as did Eddie’s accompanying laughter. “Hands off the goods, handsome.” You scolded but took his hand back in yours anyway, your fingers intertwining.

“Sorry princess.” Soon enough, you both slowed, coming to a patch where the grass wasn’t as long and the sound of crickets seemed to dull slightly. With another kiss to your cheek, Eddie pulled a blanket from his bag, laying it out perfectly with a flick of his wrists.

“Shit Brock, you practise that just for me?”

“I was single for a long time, baby, these wrists have put in some real work.” You scrunched your nose and shoved him off you as Eddie went for another kiss.

“You’re disgusting.” But it came out as more of a giggle than anything else.

“And yet, you love the things these wrists can do.” He purred against your lips.

Your arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer. “Oh you bet I do.” Just like always, you melted into his kiss, eagerly lapping up his affection as he held your waist to him. Just as his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, Eddie flinched and pulled away.

“Yeah, I hear you, there’s no need to threaten my liver.”

“What’s Venom saying?” You asked with a voice full of fondness.

“Just reminding me why we brought you here in the first place.” He helped you down onto the blanket before joining you. Eddie guided your head to his chest as you wrapped yourself around him and finally looked up.

Millions of stars stretched across the night sky, each one shimmering brilliantly from their place in the universe. They clumped together like strokes of a paintbrush reaching all the way down to the horizon. “Wow.” You breathed. “I never knew you could see so many stars so close to the city. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s fingers gently ran up and down your back as he hummed. “Yeah you are.”

You tore your gaze away to look at your boyfriend, who was already looking at you. Heat crawled up your cheeks and you turned away. “Fucking sap.” You muttered as his chest rumbled with soft laughter.

He kissed the top of your head and finally joined you in watching the galaxy go by.

“This is perfect Eds. Where did you come up with this?”

“Had some help from Venom. I was just gonna eat you out till you passed out.” You jammed your finger into his ribs just as Venom did the same thing from inside him. “Hey! I can’t have you both teaming up against me! I’m fragile.”

“Yeah right.” You said as Venom echoed the same sentiment, making Eddie smirk. “Will you thank it for me then, I don’t think I’ve ever had a man be this romantic for me before.”

Venom remained silent but Eddie could tell just how pleased it was. “I will. Happy 3 months princess.”

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graci3sb0w · 2 months ago

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Maroon

Gracie Abrams x Female Reader

Summary : could you be the one? Or could it be just a mistake, an accident?

Warnings : sad ending, angst, crying

You never meant to stay this long.

It was supposed to be a quick stop—an innocent visit to Gracie’s apartment, maybe an hour or two of talking, some music playing in the background, and then you’d leave before the night swallowed the city whole. But time slipped through your fingers the way incense smoke curled toward the ceiling, hazy and ungraspable, until you were both sprawled out on the floor, giggling over something neither of you would remember in the morning.

Gracie’s record player hummed softly from the corner of the room, the vinyl spinning endlessly as if it, too, had lost track of time. Your feet rested in her lap, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your ankle as she laughed at something you said. The wine bottle—Audrey’s cheap-ass screw-top rosé—was nearly empty, and the evidence of your carelessness stained the front of her T-shirt in a deep burgundy. You had knocked the glass right out of her hand while telling a story, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the spreading color before the two of you dissolved into breathless laughter.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Gracie asked, voice light with amusement.

You shrugged, barely able to contain your grin. “I think your terrible wine might have something to do with it.”

She nudged your leg in mock offense, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Rude.”

You didn’t leave that night. Nor the next.

Somewhere along the way, your presence in Gracie’s world became less of a guest appearance and more of a permanent fixture. You saw her every day, your lives overlapping in ways you never anticipated. Mornings blurred into afternoons spent wandering through the city, stealing moments in coffee shops, whispering secrets in bookstores. Nights were filled with music and laughter, your voice blending with hers in quiet harmonies only the two of you understood.

One evening, you found yourselves barefoot in the middle of an empty street, the New York skyline stretching above you. The night air was crisp, electric, and the city lights reflected in her eyes as she pulled you closer.

“I chose you,” she whispered, her fingers tangled in yours.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just squeezed her hand, hoping she could feel the way your heart was threatening to escape your chest. The world faded away as you danced, feet skimming the pavement, the stars above bearing witness to something too big for words.

Lazy Sunday mornings were your favorite. Waking up to the scent of coffee, Gracie curled into your side, her hair a mess against your pillow. She would murmur sleepy protests whenever you tried to move, her arms tightening around you. The two of you would stay like that for hours, wrapped in warmth and quiet laughter, music playing softly in the background.

But not all nights were kind.

There were moments when silence crept between you, heavy and suffocating. When words failed, when distance grew—not in miles, but in the space between two hearts that once beat in sync. You would find her standing in the hallway, eyes hollow, fingers gripping a bouquet of carnations she had mistaken for roses. A metaphor too painful to ignore.

“How did we lose sight of us again?” you asked one night, voice barely above a whisper.

Gracie didn’t answer. Instead, she crumbled, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. You wanted to fix it. To fix her. But some things weren’t meant to be repaired, no matter how much love was poured into them.

The fights were never explosive, never loud. They were quiet, simmering, unraveling you both in ways neither of you knew how to stop. Nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart, your hands twitching with the desire to reach for her but your pride keeping you still.

Then one day, she was gone.

You lost her.

The city felt different after that—colder, emptier. You still woke up with the ghost of her touch lingering on your skin, her memory woven into the fabric of your days. The rust between telephones grew, the space between you becoming insurmountable. She had been your home, your safe place, and now all you had were echoes of a love that once burned so vividly.

You would see reminders of her everywhere. The bookstore where she once ran her fingers over the spines of novels, the café where she used to order the same iced coffee, the street corner where she first grabbed your hand. And every time, your chest would tighten, grief pressing into you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

But even in her absence, she remained. The burgundy stain on your old T-shirt, the bite-mark she left on your collarbone, the laughter you could still hear when the city grew quiet.

A legacy, real and undeniable.

It was maroon.

#fanfic #gracie abrams #gracie abrams x reader #gracie abrams x female reader #fluff #marsie speaks #cute #gracie x y/n #light angst #maroon #taylor swift #angst #sad ending #Spotify

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mononijikayu · 1 year ago

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for us — gojo satoru.

From childhood, everyone knew that he was bringing the world on a rollercoaster of emotions. From all his action films to his most popular TV show, Jujutsu Kaisen—he had found himself adored, applauded. Satoru can admit to himself that he enjoyed what he did. Satoru knows he’s very good at what he does. He had all the accolades that the world needed to prove it. But now, he has been burned out.

GENRE: cursed womb arc, 2018;

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, friends, friends to lovers, domesticity, fluff, romance, young love, humor, first love, first love, flirting, slice of life;

LISTEN: for us by v of bts

NOTE: so, this was a copium of mine for a while. i keep seeing people's art for jjk actor au and i just, this has got to be something that has to happen. give me top star actor gojo satoru starring in a shojo slice of live adult romance next please </3

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

HE NEVER REALLY EXPECTED IT. In the whirlwind of bright lights and red carpets, actor Gojo Satoru found himself embarking on an unexpected journey, one unlike any he had experienced before. As he navigated the frenetic pace of the entertainment industry, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was uncharted territory, a path diverging from the familiar roads he had traveled in the past.

For years, Satoru had honed his craft, gracing screens both big and small with his undeniable talent. He had become accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the industry, the endless cycle of auditions, rehearsals, and premieres. But amidst the glitz and glamor, there was a newfound sense of uncertainty, a whisper of possibility lingering in the air.

As he stood beneath the glare of flashing cameras and the roar of adoring fans, Satoru couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement mingled with apprehension. This journey, unlike any other, was filled with unforeseen twists and turns, leading him down paths he had never dared to tread.

But amidst the uncertainty, there was also a sense of liberation, a freedom to explore new horizons and embrace the unknown. With each step forward, Satoru felt the weight of expectation lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of exhilaration at the endless possibilities that lay ahead.

As he gazed out at the sea of faces before him, Satoru knew that this journey was just beginning. And though he couldn't predict where the road would lead, one thing was certain: he was ready to embrace the adventure with open arms, eager to discover what lay beyond the bright lights and red carpets of his past.

And now on a break from filming Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo Satoru wanted a change of pace. He craved a new challenge, something that would reignite his passion for acting. He wanted to see what emotions he could evoke in others and what surprises he could find within himself.

Sitting in his study, scripts piled high around him, he sighed in frustration. One after another, he skimmed through them, barely finishing some. Nothing was sparking anything within him.

Then, he saw it—a script bound in beautiful purple. Intrigued, he picked it up and opened it. His cerulean eyes went wide as he began reading. The characters leapt off the page, their emotions vivid and real. The dialogue was sharp, the plot both heartwarming and complex. For the first time in weeks, he felt a thrill of excitement.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone and dialed his manager. "Hey, Sho, can you get me information about this rom-com role?" he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.

There was a pause on the other end before Shoko replied, "Which one are you talking about, Satoru?"

"The one with the purple cover. It's called 'Love in Full Bloom.' I want to know everything about it—who's directing, the production company, and especially who's playing the female lead." he explained, flipping through the pages eagerly.

Shoko chuckled. "I'll get right on it. You sound pretty excited about this one, Satoru. Never seen it before.”

"I am." Satoru admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. "There's something special about this script. I can feel it."

As he waited for more information, Satoru continued reading, already envisioning himself in the role. The male lead, a charming yet flawed character, was unlike any he had played before.

And the female lead—her character was layered and complex, someone he could see himself having great on-screen chemistry with. His mind raced with possibilities, the scenes playing out vividly in his imagination.

When his phone rang again, he answered it immediately. "What did you find out?"

"Well, the director is a rising star in the industry, known for their fresh take on romance films. The production company is solid, and they're putting a lot of resources into this project. As for the female lead, it’s still up in the air. They’re auditioning some big names, but nothing's finalized yet," Shoko informed him.

"Great!" Satoru said, his excitement building. "Let's set up a meeting. I want to discuss this role in detail and see if I can get an audition."

"Will do. I'll arrange it and get back to you with the details," his manager confirmed.

As he hung up, Satoru felt a renewed sense of purpose. This was the spark he had been looking for, the change of pace he needed. With 'Love in Full Bloom,' he could explore new facets of his craft and bring a fresh perspective to his acting. The thought of delving into this character and the story filled him with a sense of exhilaration he hadn't felt in a long time.

The meeting was scheduled for the following week, and Satoru spent the days leading up to it immersing himself in the script. By the time the day arrived, he was more than prepared. He walked into the room with confidence, his cerulean eyes alight with determination.

As the director and producers listened to his thoughts on the character and the story, they nodded in agreement, clearly impressed by his passion and insight. When the meeting concluded, Satoru felt a surge of hope.

Weeks later, he received the call he had been waiting for. "Congratulations, Satoru. The role is yours, ’toru." Shoko announced.

A wide grin spread across his face as he absorbed the news. "Thank you, Sho. I’m excited for this one.”

“Oh, by the way, they announced who the female lead is.”

“Hm? Who is it?”

It was you. The world’s darling. You have always been on the screen since your childhood too. Pretty quickly, the world fell for how sweet you were, and how beautiful you were. You started at the same time as Satoru, he was pretty sure. But somehow, your worlds didn’t cross until now. You were after all focused on your own body of work—where of course, you were always the lead.

Little did he know that this role would not only reignite his love for acting but also lead him to someone who would change his life forever. As he prepared for the first day of filming, he couldn't shake the feeling that 'Love in Full Bloom' was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey.

He had signed on to film a romantic comedy, a genre he had yet to explore fully in his whole career and met you, his co-star. During the first table read, it was somehow inevitable that Gojo Satoru's eyes met yours. And he felt an instant connection, you waved at him enthusiastically. He felt his face turn bright red, he cleared his throat and greeted you and went back to his script.

It was too much somehow, the way you looked at him. Your radiant smile and the sparkle in your eyes were captivating. As you read your lines, your natural charisma and wit shone through, making him feel as though the two of you had known each other for years. Satoru could feel the intensity of it.

"Wow, you’re amazing there." Satoru said, unable to hide his admiration as he looked at you. “I haven’t seen someone do that before, cry on cue? Not even Yuuji could do it!”

You grinned at him, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. "Likewise, Mr. Leading Man. You’re so cool with how you can just go line for line. It’s why you’re so perfect in Jujutsu Kaisen!”

He could feel himself being bashful, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Ah, you think so?”

“No, I know so, Gojo. You’re so cool like that.”

“Thank you so much. You’re just as cool to me.”

“Oh, I doubt that!” You giggle at his words. He thinks your giggles are cute. “You’re always going to be cooler.”

“Hey, uh….I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Your eyes were tender when they gazed at him. You smiled. “I’m looking forward to working with you too, Gojo.”

“You can call me Satoru.”

“Oh well, call me by my name too.”

When you looked at him and told him your name, he just felt lost. You were so beautiful at that moment. It’s like time slowed, it's like god had given him some time to marvel at the wonder of you. He could feel how his heart was thumping. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this before. You grinned at him, raising a thumb up at him.

“Let’s make some movie magic, okay?"

He chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "Absolutely."

As filming began, the on-screen chemistry translated seamlessly into your off-screen interactions. This was the most relaxed he’d ever been on a set. He’d love Jujutsu Kaisen’s set because he’d become good friends with everyone — that had made everything easier. But it just felt different with you together.

Between takes, the two of you would exchange jokes, share stories, and find yourselves lost in conversations that lasted long after the director called cut. Sometimes you eat on your trailers together, you even go out to drink some times and explore the sets together, talking about the mundane.

But lately he would catch you watching him from afar on set. Sometimes, you would often catch him stealing glances at you, his cerulean eyes filled with genuine affection.

One day, during a particularly challenging scene, Gojo Satoru found himself struggling to stay in character. He was not feeling it today, and he doesn’t know why.

He’s trying so hard, but he keeps making mistakes. The lines felt forced, and he couldn't seem to connect with the emotions. You noticed his frustration and pulled him aside.

"Hey, what's going on?" you asked, your tone gentle but concerned.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I just can't seem to get into it today."

You smiled, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Let's take a break and come back to it. Sometimes all we need is a moment to reset."

Your understanding and support meant the world to him. He’d worked with people who were horrible at being understanding about off days. But you were different. You were kind and perceptive, noticing his struggle before he even said a word.

"Hey, let's take five," you suggested softly, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Satoru nodded, grateful for your intervention. You walked over to the director together, and you spoke up before he could. "We need a break. Satoru's having a tough time today, and I think a little rest will help us get back on track."

The director looked from you to Satoru and then sighed, nodding. "Alright, everyone, take a ten-minute break."

As the crew dispersed, you led Satoru outside to a quiet spot. The cool breeze was refreshing, and the tension in his shoulders began to ease. He looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and admiration.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "I’ve worked with people who wouldn’t have given a damn about how I was feeling. But you…you’re different."

You smiled, a gentle warmth in your eyes. "We’re a team, Satoru. If one of us is off, it affects the whole production. Besides, I care about you. I want to see you at your best, and sometimes that means taking a step back."

He felt a swell of emotion in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

You laughed softly, a sound that felt like a balm to his frazzled nerves. "I will try. Now, let's take a deep breath and reset. We’ll get through this scene together."

Satoru took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs and clear his mind. Standing there with you, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You were right. This was a team effort, and he wasn’t alone in it.

When the break ended and you both returned to the set, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Satoru felt more relaxed, more connected to the scene, and it showed in his performance. The lines flowed naturally, and the chemistry between you two was palpable.

The director called cut, a satisfied smile on his face. "That was perfect! Great job, both of you."

Satoru turned to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. "You really are my good luck charm." he said, his voice filled with affection.

You shrugged playfully. "Just doing my part. Now, let’s wrap this up and go celebrate finishing the scene!"

As the day came to a close and the crew packed up, Satoru felt a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. That night, as you both walked out of the studio together, he realized just how much he had come to care for you.

The lines between on-screen romance and real-life feelings had blurred, and he found himself hoping that this connection you shared would continue to grow, both on and off the screen.

As the weeks passed, he realized he was falling for you. The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him, and the way you brought out the best in him—it was all becoming impossible to ignore.

One evening, after a long day of filming, you both found yourselves alone on the set. The crew had packed up, and the stars were twinkling above, casting a magical glow over the scene. Gojo Satoru decided it was time to tell you how he felt.

"Hey," he called softly, walking over to where you stood, gazing up at the night sky.

You turned to him, a curious smile on your lips. "Hey yourself. What's up?"

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've been wanting to tell you something. Working with you has been incredible. More than that, it's made me realize how much I care about you."

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Satoru…"

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "I know we have a job to do, but I can't pretend that I don't feel this way. I think…no, I know that I'm falling for you."

Your eyes softened, and you reached out to take his hand. "I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what do we do about it?"

"We take it one day at a time," he replied, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "We keep it between us for now, and we see where it goes. What matters is that we're honest with each other."

You nodded, a smile breaking across your face. "I'd like that."

From that moment on, your relationship blossomed in secret. The stolen glances, the shared whispers, and the quiet moments away from prying eyes made your connection even stronger. Every day on set became a delicate dance of professional focus and personal longing. The chemistry that had sparked between you on screen spilled into real life, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

During lunch breaks, you'd steal away to a secluded spot on the studio lot, sharing sandwiches and laughter. In the evenings, you’d slip into each other’s trailers, finding solace in each other’s company. The more time you spent together, the more you realized how deeply you had fallen for each other.

Despite the mounting affection, you both decided to keep your relationship a secret. The media's scrutiny and the inevitable gossip seemed like obstacles you could do without. So, you reveled in your private moments, finding solace in the fact that your love was your own, untainted by public opinion.

"Hey, do you think anyone suspects?" Satoru asked one evening, his hand entwined with yours as you lay on the couch in his trailer.

You chuckled softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "Maybe. But they won’t say anything. We’ve been careful."

He kissed the top of your head, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter. "I don’t want this to end."

"Neither do I," you admitted, looking up at him. "But we both know what happens once filming wraps up."

Satoru's expression softened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of longing and resignation. "I know," he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "But that doesn't mean we can't cherish the time we have left."

You nodded in agreement, the weight of impending separation settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. "I just wish things could be different," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru tightened his grip on your hand, his touch a silent reassurance in the face of uncertainty. "Me too," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "But for now, let's make the most of every moment we have together."

The trailer, once a sanctuary of laughter and shared secrets, now seemed tinged with a melancholy air, the walls echoing with the soft whispers of unspoken fears and unshed tears. Outside, the world carried on its bustling pace, oblivious to the quiet turmoil that gripped your hearts.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you and Satoru sought solace in the familiar warmth of your embrace, clinging to the fleeting moments of closeness as if they were the only lifeline in a sea of uncertainty. The soft glow of lamplight cast gentle shadows across the room, illuminating the contours of your faces as you gazed into each other's eyes, silently communicating the depth of your shared longing.

The silence between you was palpable, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams. Every breath felt like a sigh, every touch a bittersweet reminder of the inevitable parting that loomed on the horizon. And yet, in the midst of the impending farewell, there was a quiet strength that bound you together, an unspoken promise to hold onto each other for as long as you could.

In those precious moments, time seemed to stand still, frozen in the embrace of your love. The world outside faded into obscurity, its chaotic rhythms muted by the gentle cadence of your heartbeat as it echoed in sync with Satoru's own. And for a fleeting instant, you dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, love could conquer all, even the relentless march of time itself.

Satoru's hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes of his affection and devotion. His words echoed the sentiments swirling in your mind, a shared desire to prolong the fleeting moments of happiness you found in each other's arms.

Your heart ached at the thought of bidding farewell to the warmth of his embrace, the familiarity of his touch. Yet, even as the specter of separation loomed on the horizon, you found solace in the depth of your connection, a bond that transcended the confines of time and circumstance.

As you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself echoing his sentiment, a whisper of vulnerability in your voice betraying the depth of your emotions. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of your shared space, you were acutely aware of the ephemeral nature of your love, a fleeting flame that burned bright against the backdrop of uncertainty.

As the final scenes were shot and the film neared completion, the reality of your situation began to set in. You were due to return to California, while Satoru would stay behind, continuing his work in Japan. He had a commitment to Jujutsu Kaisen, a series that had skyrocketed in popularity and demanded his attention. You didn’t want to cause him issues. And you knew he was thinking it too. But he just doesn’t want to say it.

You had other projects lined up, your career flourishing in the vibrant and competitive world of Hollywood. The thought of being apart filled you with a sense of dread, but neither of you wanted to bring it up, fearing it would shatter the fragile happiness you had built.

During the last days on set, there was a palpable tension between you two. Your conversations were still filled with laughter and teasing, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of sadness and uncertainty. Satoru's cerulean eyes often held a distant look, as if he was already missing you before you had even left.

One evening, as the crew was packing up for the day, you found yourselves alone in the dressing room. Satoru was seated on the couch, staring at the script in his hands, though you could tell his mind was elsewhere. You walked over and sat beside him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Satoru," you began softly, "We need to talk about what's next."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. "I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to avoid it, but we can't ignore it any longer."

"I don't know if I can do long distance," you confessed one night, your voice filled with sadness. "I care about you so much, but our lives are so different."

He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "We can make it work. We have to try."

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "I don't want to hold you back, Satoru. You have your career here, and I have mine in California. Maybe…maybe it's best if we end things now, before it gets even harder."

His heart ached at your words, but he understood. "If that's what you want, darling." he said softly, his voice breaking.

"It's not what I want." you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "But it's what we need."

With one last kiss, you said your goodbyes. Satoru watched as you walked away, his heart heavy with the loss. He knew he would never forget you, the one who had shown him what true connection felt like. And as he returned to his life, he carried the hope that, one day, fate would bring you back together.

He turned to you, his cerulean eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and understanding. "I get it." he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "But it doesn't make this any easier."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I care about you so much. This has been incredible, but we both know how tough it will be."

Gojo nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "I don't want to lose you." he admitted, "But I also don't want to make this harder on you."

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. It would be too hard, with our schedules and the time difference. But that doesn't make this any easier."

"I know," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "But we have to be practical. We can't hold each other back."

He reached out and took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I'll never forget what we had. These past few months have been some of the best of my life."

You leaned in and kissed him gently, savoring the moment. "Me too, Satoru. I'll always cherish our time together."

As days were settling down to your departure, each moment seemed to carry the weight of inevitability, mingling joy and sorrow in equal measure. The wrap party, intended to be a celebration of the film's completion, became a poignant reminder of the impending separation.

Laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the lively beat of music, yet beneath the surface, there lingered an undeniable sense of melancholy.

Amidst the swirl of activity, you found solace in the presence of Satoru, seeking refuge in the comfort of his familiar company. Together, you navigated the crowded room, your gazes often meeting in silent understanding.

In those stolen moments between conversations and laughter, there was a depth of emotion that transcended words, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves drawn to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of shared affection. Amidst the flickering lights and the gentle sway of bodies on the dance floor, you found a fleeting respite from the weight of impending farewell. In those stolen moments, amidst the backdrop of celebration and camaraderie, you clung to each other, unwilling to let go of the fleeting moments of happiness that remained.

That night, you found yourselves back in his trailer, the air heavy with unspoken words. As you lay in his arms, you felt a sense of finality, knowing that this would be your last night together.

"I wish things were different," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Me too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But we'll always have these memories."

He held you tighter, as if trying to imprint the feel of you into his memory. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I promise," you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You too, Satoru. Take care of yourself."

At the terminal, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "No matter where you are, I'll always be thinking of you."

You blinked back tears, kissing him one last time. "And I'll always cherish our time together," you replied, your voice breaking.

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin as you settled into your seat, the familiar sensation of takeoff sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As Japan fell away beneath you, the city lights gradually dwindling into tiny specks against the vast expanse of darkness, a sense of melancholy settled over you like a heavy blanket.

With each passing minute, the distance between you and Tokyo grew, stretching across the horizon like an unbridgeable chasm. The memories of your time together with Satoru lingered in your mind, haunting you like echoes of a dream long past. The laughter, the tears, the whispered promises exchanged in the quiet moments of intimacy—they all seemed like distant echoes of a reality that now felt impossibly far away.

Outside the airplane window, the world rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the landscape below shifting and changing with every passing mile. And yet, despite the constant motion, a part of you felt rooted in place, anchored to the memories of your time in Japan and the bittersweet ache of saying goodbye.

Meanwhile, back in Tokyo, Satoru stood at the terminal window, his gaze fixed on the dwindling speck of your departing plane as it disappeared into the night sky. A sense of longing gripped his heart, a yearning for the warmth of your presence and the comfort of your touch.

As the final traces of your plane vanished from sight, Satoru made a silent vow to hold onto the memories of your time together, to cherish them like precious treasures tucked away in the deepest recesses of his heart. For even though the miles now stretched between you, he knew that your bond transcended distance and time, a love that would endure even the greatest of challenges.

Now you're in California

And he’s still waitin' for ya

Will you change your mind?

Satoru thinks would give it all up

As long as you both become an ‘us’

IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE A YEAR’S PASSED. As the final scenes of Jujutsu Kaisen wrapped up for Satoru Gojo's character, he anticipated a much-needed break to unwind and rejuvenate. After all, the relentless filming schedule had left him yearning for some solitude and relaxation.

So, when he found himself concluding another exhausting day on set, he didn't expect any interruptions. However, the sound of a knock on his door piqued his curiosity, stirring a faint sense of intrigue within him.

Approaching the door with a mixture of surprise and anticipation, Satoru swung it open, revealing the unexpected yet delightful sight of you standing on his doorstep. A small, enigmatic smile played upon your lips, instantly lifting the weight of fatigue from his shoulders. In that moment, he felt a rush of warmth flood his being, a welcome reprieve from the demands of his hectic schedule.

Despite the weariness lingering in his bones, Satoru couldn't suppress the spark of curiosity that ignited within him. What could have brought you here, he wondered, in this moment of respite? As he gazed upon your familiar face, he found himself drawn to your presence, eager to unravel the mystery behind your unexpected visit.

With a gentle smile and a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes, Satoru welcomed you into his home, ready to embrace the unexpected turn of events and the company of a cherished friend.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Satoru replied, stepping aside to let you enter. He watched as you made your way into his apartment, taking in the familiar surroundings with a sense of nostalgia.

As you settled onto the couch, Satoru couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions wash over him. It had been so long since he had last seen you, and yet the sight of you sitting there felt oddly comforting.

"I've missed you, Satoru." you said, breaking the silence that hung between you. “I really did.”

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at your words, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of longing and regret. "I've missed you too, darling." he admitted quietly.

As the hours passed in the comfortable embrace of conversation, the atmosphere between you and Satoru grew increasingly intimate. Words flowed effortlessly, weaving tales of shared memories and dreams for the future. Laughter mingled with moments of quiet reflection, creating a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations.

However, as the conversation delved into more serious territory, a solemn undertone settled over the room. In the gentle glow of subdued lighting, you found yourself unable to suppress the weight of regret that had long been weighing upon your heart. With a hesitant breath, you voiced the thoughts that had been gnawing at your conscience, allowing vulnerability to seep into the space between you.

Each word carried the weight of unspoken emotions as you bare your soul, laying bare the regrets that had lingered in the recesses of your mind. Memories of past mistakes and missed opportunities surfaced, casting shadows upon the present moment. Yet, in the quiet stillness of the night, you found solace in the act of confession, seeking redemption in the honesty of your words.

As you spoke, Satoru listened with unwavering attention, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. There was no judgment in his eyes, only a profound sense of compassion that enveloped you like a comforting embrace. In that moment of vulnerability, you found solace in the shared intimacy of confession, unburdening your heart of the regrets that had held you captive for so long.

"I wish I had been willing to try being with you," you confessed, your voice tinged with sorrow. "I was so scared of getting hurt that I pushed you away."

Satoru reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I've never changed my mind," he said earnestly. "I've always wanted to be with you."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching for any sign of doubt. "Would you like it if I came to stay with you?" you asked hesitantly. "To try and fix what we broke?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Satoru's lips as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I'd like that," he replied softly. "More than anything."

You pulled you close and let his lips press on yours.

You smiled against his lips as you returned the favor.

You were the happiest you were in a very long time.

Because now you could truly be together, an ‘us’.

epilogue

The press tour was supposed to be a straightforward affair, a chance to promote your film together and engage with fans. But little did you know, it would turn into a hilariously chaotic adventure thanks to Satoru Gojo's inability to keep his feelings for you under wraps.

As you and Satoru made your way to the first stop on the tour, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Remember, Satoru," you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, "We agreed to keep our relationship on the down-low during the interviews."

Satoru flashed you a grin, his signature smirk bordering on outright mischief. "Of course, darling," he replied, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "I'm the epitome of discretion. Don’t you worry about me.”

But as soon as the interviews began, it became abundantly clear that discretion was the last thing on Satoru's mind. He couldn't resist sneaking affectionate glances your way, his gaze lingering a beat too long and his smiles a tad too fond.

At first, you tried to play it cool, offering subtle nudges and warning glances whenever Satoru's antics threatened to give away your secret. But as the day wore on, it became increasingly evident that Satoru was a lost cause when it came to hiding his feelings.

As the interviewer leaned in, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, she posed the question that had been lingering in the air like a tantalizing secret. "So, tell us about the incredible on-screen chemistry between you two. What's the secret?"

Satoru's eyes lit up with an almost mischievous sparkle as he leaned forward, ready to deliver his response with all the dramatic flair he could muster. "Ah, the chemistry," he began, his voice dripping with theatricality. "It's like the universe conspired to bring us together, like two celestial bodies destined to collide in a glorious explosion of... of... chemistry!"

You couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his over-the-top theatrics, trying to maintain a facade of professionalism as you exchanged a knowing glance with the interviewer. But Satoru was on a roll, his enthusiasm impossible to contain.

"It's like when you mix sodium with water," he continued, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "Boom! Instant chemistry! Except, you know, without the explosions and potential loss of eyebrows."

The interviewer chuckled nervously, unsure whether to be amused or concerned by Satoru's increasingly elaborate metaphors. "Um, right," she said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "So, how do you two prepare for those emotionally intense scenes?"

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, you know," he replied, his voice laden with innuendo. "Lots of... uh... method acting exercises. And plenty of off-screen... rehearsals."

You nearly choked on your water, desperately trying to suppress a snort of laughter as Satoru winked at you with a devilish grin. It was clear that keeping a straight face during this interview was going to be a lost cause, but hey, at least it made for great entertainment.

The interviewer leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief. "Oh, there's a story to tell between you two, Gojo-san. I can feel it!"

Satoru threw his head back with a hearty laugh, his infectious chuckle filling the room. "Oh, you have no idea!" he teased, shooting you a playful wink. "But I'm keeping it hush, hush, okay? Only I get to enjoy what my precious darling here, hm? None for any of you!"

You could practically feel the collective eyebrow raises from the rest of the cast and crew, their knowing glances leaving no doubt that they knew it all too well. Some were even trying to hide their laughter, some were just plain stunned.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his theatrical declaration, trying to stifle a giggle as you shook your head in mock exasperation. "You're impossible, Satoru." you teased, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

But Satoru simply grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer. "Ah, but that's why you love me, darling," he quipped, his tone filled with playful arrogance. "Now, let's keep the focus on the show, shall we? We wouldn't want to give away all our secrets just yet."

The interviewer nodded eagerly, though it was clear that she was already mentally drafting headlines about the mysterious off-screen romance between the two of you. But as the interview continued, punctuated by Satoru's irreverent humor and your shared laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chaos he brought into your life. After all, who else could turn a simple press tour into a riotous adventure filled with laughter and love?

By the end of the day, it was clear that your attempts at discretion had failed spectacularly. But as you and Satoru collapsed into fits of giggles backstage, you realized that maybe, just maybe, keeping your relationship under wraps was overrated. After all, who could resist the charm of a man so hopelessly in love?

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melancholicstation · 7 months ago

Text

Take Me Out To The Ball Game — john f. kennedy

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

authors note: i use jfk's nickname "jack" in this if you're confused!

summary: you’re self-imposed pity party after your failed romance with a left-end jack kennedy is interrupted when you dragged along by your girlfriends to a football game held at the harvard crimson. you were comfortable going as you were assured that jack had gotten sick with strep days prior. what you didn’t know, however, was that as you’re eyes glaze over the field a certain insufferable blue-eyed boy would be quick to meet your gaze…

warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, sleazy man, public sex at a baseball field, bit of degradation but not too much.

words: 2808

Now you wouldn't regard yourself as the kind of woman to lose herself in mindless rumination over a failed collegiate love, but looking down at yourself from a birds-eye perspective: you just may have been kidding yourself.

To put it plainly you're a wreck. Emotionally strictly. One disposition you count your lucky stars for is the ardent dedication that you carry within yourself to the performance of femininity. And by god was it a performance, entirely unnatural to you.

This love stupor you've been in for 8 to 9 business days simply needed to end, and your new attitude started with you discarding the days-old clothes you donned while rotting away in your poster board twin-size bed. Deny as you have many times to yourself, you didn't wear these clothes out of a slobbish penchant for convenience or pure happenstance, you wore them because they smelled of him: feeling that if you wore something that had once touched his skin that you too could still inhabit the body of the boy who you had lost. Still touch what had so cruelly been ripped away from you from the very boy himself. What a cruel boy he'd morphed into these past few days.

You rummaged through the large chest of drawers that your mother just insisted you keep for "functionality" knowing full well her hatred of the object: a dreadful eyesore of a gift from your grandmother on your father's side. You decided upon a poplin sleeveless dress tastefully skimming the fleshy part of your upper thigh. You move ghostly, in a pathetic slump-like state towards your vanity: a treasure in dorm-living, and start to unpack your beauty packing cubes: one labelled "hair", one labelled "skin", and one labelled "make-up" in thick bolded typewriter font. Some time passed and before you knew it you were applying your last coat of sérum teinté N°1 when you were rudely interrupted by a barrage of knocking and girlish condescending shouts from the other side of your dorm door.

You roll your eyes, despite being unconsciously excited to experience the delightful distraction of girlhood in the form of your girlfriends. As soon as you unlock the door, each of your girlfriends bound through the door every one of pawing at you with a look of pity in their eyes. "Oh come on don't look at me like that I'm not dead yet: I can smell the sympathy on all of you"

Betty, a friend who had eagerly sought you out during orientation, and attached herself to you, not unlike a succubus escapertaly exclaimed "Well you don't look far from death sweetheart why do you think we made the trouble to come up five flights of stairs looking for you? You are a case of upmost urgency!"

"Well I--" you're excuses are cut short when Betty's partner in crime: Alana pipes up, a brown-haired girl who stood at maximum 5 foot 4, "Oh come on y/n!, you think we'd show up if you weren't in dire straights. Take a look at my shoes--" She physically moves your hand to feel the leather glide over your fingertips "--do you really think I'd risk dirtying the soles of brand new Dior slingbacks on dormitory stairwells if we weren't really concerned about you?"

"I suppose you may be right. It's downright dreadful what's he's done to me. Before him I felt I was made for great, I had hopes for the future. But now all I sincerely believe that my being, my flesh and blood was created to love him, to tend to him. And I know it isn't right or near darn healthy to feel or think this way but dammit I do--and it's proving damn near impossible to shake."

By the end of your monologue your hands had begun to shake and your face to become an odd shade of green, nearly immediately the hands of your two friends came to encompass you whole. You knew they didn't understand, couldn't comprehend the stupor he had placed on you, but they cared enough to listen and that was even for now.

After a well-needed clean up job by your friends, who more closely resembled catholic saints at this point, of your dormitory littered with stained coffee mugs, pomegranates seeds on the windowsill, and a plate of un-touched steak fries from the cafeteria.

It was during this time that you'd been asked--no informed that you and them would attend the four o'clock baseball game at the Harvard crimson. A grim place for even people in the highest of spirits: a setting marked by the unmistakable musk of fake grass, cheap mulled beer, and an overflow of appalling showcases of testosterone.

"And you're sure he's not going to be there. Not even in a twenty foot radius?"

"Who Jack? God no he told coach that he had strep throat. Probably rotting away in bed as we speak. Serves him right for what he's done to such an innocent like you." Betty says. You quietly scoff at "innocent girl" if only they knew what perverted, sickening acts you had done with jack, simply in the last fews months: on desks, on lampposts, in the backs of cars, simply anywhere and everywhere that had no present inhabitants that you two could surmise.

"Now that that silly thought is out of your head you need to get into that bedroom and find an nice looking dress, just because you feel awful doesn't give you the right to look it" Alana says in a tone so backhanded it could only come from a motherly kind of love.

You reluctantly do what she says, with a slight pep in your step, despite the pitfalls of the crimson sport arenas you were always a fan of anywhere you could smoke and drink at 2:00 pm and not look like a total degenerate slob.

You take a quick admiring glance at the 18th century armoire, the one prized possession you had forcibly removed from your childhood bedroom in New Hampshire along with you for the move much to your mother's dismay, and survey your options of dress. You zero in on a particular pair of field shorts which are clearly not yours but Jacks.

*flashback*

"When are you gonna change for the date?" You say to jack with applying your about tenth coat of rouge onto your lips, checks, and eyelids. "Whadda you mean sweetheart? I am dressed" Jack teases kissing his way up your neck making eye contact with his reflection. How vain.

You survey him from top to bottom, the top half of him is lacklustre but workable: a cream pullover with the collar of his white collared shirt peeping out every so slightly. But the bottom half is down-right offensive: tennis socks paired with field shorts so tight that there's a pronounced bulge noticeable to the naked eye. "Oh Jack you've gotta change. Don't you know we're going out with my friends--who trust me will not find it as comical as your friends would. I feel like it's staring right at me."

"Do you wanna' kneel down and take them right off, then they can really stare right at you honey?" Jack chuckles, always ready for a sexual escape even on an uneventful Wednesday evening. His sexual drive was concerning at best and rotted to the core at worst. But despite this, you too seemed to be afflicted by the same kind of constant desire around the presence of Jack. So you did as you were told, kneeled and started slipping of his boxers with little complaint and complete submission.

*end of flashback*

You're released from your temporary haze, as a knock comes at your bedroom door: it's Betty "Y/n we'll be waiting outside for you in the courtyard. Don't be more than 10 minutes I really don't want to wait in those retched lines with those retched Harvard boys."

You reply to her with an affirmation signally that you'll be out in a minute and turn quickly back to your armoire. As undergarments you went for the staples: a silk georgette camisole, and slip skirt. Quickly you find a wool dress cut above the knee in a pattern reminiscent of a kaleidoscope, detailed with mother of pearl buttons trading from your neck all the way down to your mid-behind (authors note: for imaginative purposes imagine those iconic Alexander McQueen dresses but make it 1930s era). You slip on a pair of slightly beaten up heeled oxfords and grab your favourite nappa leather bag. You glide out of your dormitory, drift down the stairwell with the temperament of a girl who desperately needs to spend some time with her beloved friends.

As your trio enters the stadium you tell Alana and Betty to go up and gather the greasy yet delightful treats and drinks while you go find each of your seats in the bustling chaos. You finally find the seating number after bumbling around for longer than you would've liked to admit. And before you know it Alana and Betty have come back mulled bear in hand an dried peanuts in the other, seemingly without delay the home team takes their defensive positions and the game gets well and truly under way.

But just as your mind is finally taken away from the blonde-haired equivalent of a sea barnacle on your brain that simply won't get off the interior of your mind: you spot him in the flesh.

A tanned face and beaming pair of blue-grey eyes meet yours from across the field. Definitely not the face of a person suffering from strep throat and is most definitely the face of the man who'd shattered your heart with a simple note stating that he couldn't "do this anymore" left on the windowsill: John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

Your friends hadn't caught on, clearly as they continued business as usual for the rest of the game, trying and failing in engaging you in conversation about what was transpiring on the field. But you couldn't pay attention, no you were paying particular attention to one man on the field.

The game ends unceremoniously, with Alana drenched from the amount of times Betty had thrown her hands in anger spilling mulled bear across the seats, and her friend.

But just as you three gather yourselves to get going, a familiar touch caress the clothed skin of your shoulder. Jack. "Funny seeing you here, I'd hoped you were withering away in that dorm of yours from Strep. Clearly not."

"You know I hate to disappoint you but I seem to have made a miraculously quick recovery. Dr. Schuab says it was the fastest he's ever seen!" Jack chuckles in an effort to diffuse the present tension that one could only cut with a butcher's knife.

"Well now that's not the truth, our last encounter disappointed me greatly"

"I know that Honey--" you physically recoiled at the term of endearment, a mix of revulsion at the man he caused you and the desire that the very presence of him inspired in you.

"--and that's why I came to talk to you. Look you stay here and I'm going to clean up and come right back to explain it all to you. Promise you'll wait for me, it'll be worth your while."

You quietly nod in shock immediately defaulting to agreeing to whatever he says, he has that certain effect on you it would seem. And before you know it Jack's scrambling to keep up with his teammates before entering the locker rooms.

Jack keeps you waiting for about 15 minutes, a minute longer and you would've walked out until you saw that beaming face barrelling towards you. Without a word he took your hand, leading you down a flight on stairs and directly onto the field. "Isn't this like totally, one-hundred percent illegal?"

"I wouldn't worry about it. See those floodlights up there? Dad funded them." Jack says in a tone trying to portray humbleness but failing in an adorable manner.

Your still stood fully upright as jack plops his body onto the fake turf, rolling around like a labrador in the summer heat. But just as quickly, his eyes zero in on you and he crawls his way, ever so slowly to your feet.

You squint your eyes in confusion as he goes to rest his head upon the fleshy part of your stomach, placidly placing suggestive kisses around the area. You quickly take the base of his head within his hands--"Now what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just resting. Is it bothering you?" He says innocently "No what's bothering me is that you're acting like nothing happened, like you didn't completely cut me off."

"Baby I was being stupid, you gotta forgive me. I get like that sometimes, a compulsion of sorts to run. It had nothing to do with you." Jack says, and you don't know if youyourre stupid or smart for believing his words. You become puddy in his hands, slowly dropping to the grass as he starts to suck on your stomach with his lips, desperate to leave a mark. A monument.

Jack slowly taps on your face, waking you out of the passionate haze, and delicately slips his digits into your mouth. Encouraging and praising you to keep sucking them, telling you "what a good girl you're being for him" "the best in the god damn world". His moves are as smooth as a ballet dancers as he enters them into your warm, engorged mound. His fingers are an inviting stretch that leaves you whimpering to an empty stadium. As you moans start to increase in brevity and volume Jack places you on your back and starts to climb on top of you overing words of encourgament

"--Oh it's a big stretch isn't it. I haven't been taking care of you have I? I need to remedy that for my best girl don't I Huh? Don't I?" he says in a tone so patronising it's deeply arousing. Suddenly he stops his motions "Come on Y/n I wanna hear you say it. You need my help."

Your pleas come out quick and breathy "I do I do-Jack you have no idea". Once you reach your climax you feel as though you've been possessed, a good all-encompassing possession that you pray to never be broken free of. In the struggle the valley of your breasts are now fully exposed to Jack and in typical Jack fashion he uses this to his advantage.

Consistently sucking on your nipples while unbuttoning the fly of his pants and boxers all at the same time. It's then when you release a sticky substance coating his boxers. It's only then that you realise that in the haze of your personal euphoria, you had missed that Jack had came in his pants simply from pleasuring you. What a sight that was.

In recognising this you unconsciously giggle to yourself, to which Jack notices quickly throwing his soiled underwear and pants to the side "Hey now, what's got you giggling?"

"Nothing" you breath out, turning your head to the side feeling it be slightly irritated by the artificial turf. "Oh nothing really? We'll i'll give you something to giggle about, c'mere" quickly he grabs dominant possession of your hips and plunges his cock into your warm mound, already sensitive. Plunging in and out, in and out. And in such quick succession that you're sure to have grass burn the next morning.

He continues until for a while until he completely removes himself, and rests his member on your stomach slapping it around the flesh just to tease your already desperate frame, before quickly inserting it back where it belongs. "Best girl, pretty please hold on just for a minute, want to cum with you around me."

"Can't--Jack I-i"

"Yes you can and you will" Jack says in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal. Finally you know you can finally let go when the tell-tale signs of Jack's impending climax appears: the relaxed eyebrows, shut eyelids, and rapid movements.

Jack holds you tight to your chest, his hot spurts filling you up wholeheartedly. Minutes later you stay like this, held together by each other's limbs.

"You think you can walk--never mind" Jack changes his mind mid-sentence after taking a look at you, completely blissed out, and adopts a bridal-carry despite his poor back, transporting you from one end of the field to the other.

You start to drift off as he carries you out of the stadium and back onto campus grounds, lullabied by the sound of his breaths and the faint kisses he litters across the crown of your head. The most delightful jewels any girl in Massachusetts could even dream of having.

the end.

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brokentranstar · 3 months ago

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why do people dislike tigerheartstar..? /genq

Ough... I feel like there's a lot of things to dislike him for, IF YOU'RE WRONG AND CLOSE-MINDED!!!

Most of all, people reallyy don't like Omen of the Stars Tigerheartstar, even some of my fellow Tigerheart fans don't like him in there, and you know what? I'm not gonna argue but. I genuinely don't think he's that bad, he's just shown to be young and kind of silly. I don't blame him for things he did, because pobody's nerfect. He made some mistakes, but he wasn't being Malicious. I feel like people either misremember stuff, or just headcanon things that did not happen.

A lot of people say he "groomed Dovepaw" or whatever and thats WRONG. and a horrible thing to say. People are literally just throwing words around without knowing how serious what they say is and that makes my blood boil ngl.

Second: People get all pissy over the Flametail/Jayfeather situation with him. and Dawnpelt, of course, gets more hate because She's a Woman, but Tigerheart has his share of haters for that situation too, saying he "betrayed Dovewing" and he's a "bad boyfriend" (They were not dating at the time) and yes, maybe his reasoning is somewhat flawed, but I think it just makes him more inchresting, personally... Anyway, you can not agree with, or actively dislike friends of your friends, it's great.

And then there is the "literally making stuff up" allegations where, for example, some people say Tigerheart "stalked Dovepaw" and that makes me feel like they didn't read or skim through a single romance book, or anything romance related Ever. What you'll discover, is that in Romance Books/Movies there are 10 people in New York, and the two love interests will always find each other, no matter how unlikely it is for them to suddenly meet again, and again. Tigerheart "stalking" Dovepaw is NOT CANON, it is never said, it is never implied, it is a fabrication. They randomly stumble onto each other because The Plot.

There is also the Ivypaw + catmint situation, where people claim he specifically started talking to Dove to manipulate her, and that is Untrue, Dovepaw accidentally talks about the catmint when he's Genuinely venting, he did not ask. She literally SAYS to him she's gonna steal it for him, and he says NO because he doesn't want to get her in trouble. Ultimately, he does tell ShadowClan about trading Ivy for Catmint, but the point is; He never wanted to get Dovepaw in trouble, or hurt her in Any of this. Ultimately, he still did, but my point is; He's way more nuanced than people give him credit for.

And all of that was just OotS. In AVoS, people mainly hate the Tigerheart Super Edition, could not tell you why. Probably the big reason being, that people don't like Tigerheart from OotS. Tigerheart's Shadow is a very pleasant read to me, and very cute. He's not perfect, but he is trying his best, and I love him for that.

in The Broken Code, it's mostly just nitpicking. He's the best he's ever been in this arc, and people will Still find a way to hate on him for the smallest things like "coddling Shadowsight" or whatever... bro get out of here... Oh man, I sure do wish fathers in warrior cats went back to not ever thinking about their kids, that was PEAK writing!! /sarcasm

and then... There's ASC... My heart dropped when the arc started, not because I was proven wrong in any way, but because I KNEW the haters would use the RiverClan conflict to their advantage. Those were the super dark days, with people speaking before thinking, and possibly the time when I blocked the most amount of people. Again, I'm gonna say Tigerheartstar makes mistakes, he's not perfect, but he's not EVIL either. And while I understand RiverClan... sort of. I'm glad the arc ended with Tigerheartstar being praised, not demonised

Now, Changing Skies barely started but I already see hate on my boy... Whether it's because of Tawnypelt having to be the biggest victim this arc, so everyone is Super Mean to her suddenly, OR the Birchfeather situation. And while the writing decisions perplex me, he's not being evil or anything, people acting like he is, is odd.

Most of the dislike/hate on him comes from OotS. That's what I can say. People don't remember the arc well, and don't go into detail on it, because Who Cares, and then that hatred goes on forever. But, like some of my mutuals pointed out before, Some, if not Most Tigerheart hate stems from early fandom Dovewing hate. Some people want to pretend they care soooo much about Dovewing, and Tigerheart is sooo evil and manipulative, but they do not actually care about her as a character and think she's just being Unreasonable for 'leaving her family' (Ivypool) and joining the enemy (ShadowClan).

Overall, I am aware he's not a perfect good boy character, but some people really overdo it on mischaracterising him, or hating him. And thus I do not accept anyone hating on him, the only person able to hate on him is Me, and even I don't wanna do that, because StarClan forbid someone might actually think I'm being serious.

Generally, I do not care if you like or dislike Tigerheart, just don't make it your personality trait how much you hate him. Or else, as much as it pains me, we cannot be friends. Peace and Love on Planet Earth. Tigerheart isn't a real person but if you can't accept him, you clearly cannot accept me.

Whoops, you activated my Tigerheart Talk button, oh no... I'm sorry for rambling about Tigerheart, it might happen againnn :( Have a Tigerheart doodle if you survived.

#wc #tigerheart #grooming mention #ask answered #Wisest Leaf Talk #me art

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xbellaxcarolinax · 2 years ago

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Congrats! Can I ask for Jake lockley and “use your words” pls and thanks, I feel like he would be so dirtyyyy

Love You, More

Jake Lockley x f!reader

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: smut, p in v, lots of cum I guess, fluff too, Jake likes to fuck in his car (what's new), sappy Jake, I hope he's not too ooc.

Also, I'm trying out different ways in including Spanish translations. Do you guys prefer translations at the end of the fic or within the fic? Let me know!

Also, also, it's my first time writing Jake. Enjoy <3

MDNI

"Jesus, Jake," you flung his car door open, immediately greeted by his cherry-scented air freshener and spiced cologne, "I called you seven minutes ago! It's rush hour! Did you bulldoze through traffic, you loon?"

Jake broke into a grin. He was calm and collected as ever, his left arm resting over the steering wheel as if he’d been waiting an eternity for you. He unbuckled his seatbelt as you shuffled into the passenger seat, letting you slam the door shut and toss your things in the back seat before snaking a gloved hand over the nape of your neck and tugging you toward him, giving you a searing kiss.

"No pasa nada," he muttered over your lips, his fingers gently sneaking into the roots of your hair, "fuck traffic. My girl needed me." (It's no problem)

Jake was dramatic, that much had been clear when you first met him. If you asked him for an inch he’d give you a mile. If he could, he'd fight for a way to give you the moon and stars if you asked.

But you hadn’t asked him for the moon and stars. You were a simple woman. You just wanted a ride home from work, too exhausted to take the tube. Either way, you were grateful.

He rested his brow on yours with his eyes closed, letting his knuckles skim your cheekbone down to your jawline.

“Missed you, princesa.” Jake hadn’t seen you in about a week, mostly fronting to drive around overnight (and deal with…Moon Knight-related activities) for some extra cash while simultaneously letting Marc and Steven rest.

“Missed you, too, baby.” You melted into his touch immediately, letting him work his tongue into your mouth. One thing about Jake was that he was a filthy kisser. He was all tongue and teeth and spit, and Goddamn was he good at it. But he took his time with you now, savoring your taste of mint mixed with the sweetness of the orange slices you had with your lunch.

“You didn’t kill anyone on the way here, did you?” You asked between kisses.

“Mm, don’t think so.”

You giggled, giving him a few well-deserved kisses. Your lip gloss left shiny smudges over his lips, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t mind, growing fond of your little smooches to the point where it became an expectation.

"Thank you for picking me up."

"Claro, amor." (of course, love.)

"Alright, fast and furious, take me home."

The drive was comfortable. Jake watched his speed this time, taking the local streets just to have you in his car longer. He had the radio playing low, a hand gripping your thigh while the other steered. You weaved your fingers through his before giving his hand a light squeeze. Every once in a while he'd release your hand, trailing his fingers higher up your thigh and settling into the crease between your legs, skimming your warm core, before moving back down to claim your hand in his.

You knew what he was doing. He was teasing you, warming you up for the inevitable. It's been a week after all. You indulged him, spreading your thighs just a little bit wider while watching the city pass by in a blur.

He drove into the private parking lot two blocks away from Steven’s flat, parking into his designated spot and cutting off the engine. The abrupt stop of the radio left you both in silence, Jake looking over at you with a look in his dark eyes that meant he was up to something. You smiled, unbuckling your seatbelt to plant a kiss on his waiting lips before attempting to open the car door.

“Uh, uh.” Jake reprimanded, stopping you. He quickly shuffled out of the car, slammed the door closed, and swiftly walked to your side, opening the door for you.

“Ahh, what a gentleman.” You teased, grasping the hand he offered you before slamming the car door. Before you could make any other moves, he opened the door to the backseat.

“Get in, mami.” You brows furrowed in confusion.

“What—why?”

“I won’t be answering questions at this time,” he said, playfully swatting your bum, “be good and listen.” You bit your lip with a nod, shuffling into the back seat and tossing your belongings toward the front of the car.

Jake was on you as soon as he got in, slamming the car door and pressing his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking on your delicate skin.

“Is this a good idea?” You breathed, your fingers sinking into his curls just beneath his hat. “Won’t we get caught?”

“Mmm, windows are tinted for a reason.” He hummed into your neck, his hand messing with the buttons of your dress shirt.

“But people are gonna be parking—”

“Let them park, don’t worry about it. Ven acá.” (come here) You yelped when his hands found your waist, his fingers digging into the meat of your hips as he helped you straddle his lap. “That’s better.” he grinned, tugging your shirt from inside your pants to let the soft leather of his gloves caress your sides.

You looked past him through the back windshield when a car drove into the lot, a panicked look in your eyes as your hands settled on Jake’s shoulders.

“Mirame,” (look at me) He forced you to look at him with his fingers pressed to your chin, “focus on me.” You looked back at him, blinking owlishly. He brings you down for a kiss, a slow one that makes a noise when you separate. “I want you.” He whispered over your plump lips, licking them gently as he fiddled with the button of your trousers, dipping his hands inside to tug at the waistband of your panties.

You let out a shaky breath, your skin burning from his gentle touches as he pushed your pants down as far as he could, hands slipping under your panties to grab the globes of your ass. He squeezed them, capturing your lips again in a filthy kiss that was all tongue and spit.

You moaned, falling into his trap with little objection. You could feel his cock through his trousers, his large bulge twitching right under your sex. You moved your hips over his, grinding down against his growing erection. He groaned over your lips, his hands shifting to grasp your hips, moving you over him at the pace he wanted.

You could feel yourself getting moist, panties probably wrecked from the continual stimulation. Your fingers reached between your bodies, desperately fighting to loosen Jake’s tie.

“Esperate, mami, you’re gonna choke me.” (wait) He chuckled breathlessly, slapping your hands away to loosen his tie and removing it, tossing it to the floor. You knocked his hat off, taking his face in your hands and kissing him fervently. He moaned letting you lead him for a moment before he tapped your thigh. “Up, baby, up, want these off you.”

You wasted no time, kicking off your shoes ans standing up as best you could while being cramped up in the back of his car, letting him slide your trousers down, revealing your damp panties.

“Mm, look at that,” he grinned, shoving your pants down to your ankles, “already wet for me.”

“Shut up, Lockely.” You muttered with no bite, clumsily kicking off your pants completely before taking a seat on his lap again. Jake groaned at the pressure, bucking up into your warm heat.

He carefully peeled his gloves off, placing them in the cup holder of the door, his fingers immediately tracing down your abdomen and then further down, pushing your panties aside to dip into your moist heat.

“Damn,” he hissed, “you’re fucking soaked.” You moaned when he pulled his fingers out, separating them to watch how your juices clung to his fingers. Your hands flew to his belt, fighting to release him from his shackles. You sucked your teeth in frustration, your fingers fumbling against the leather and metal that clung to his hips.

Jake chuckled, “What is it?” You whined pawing at his crotch. “No, mami, use your words, I wanna hear you.”

“Want your cock,” you breathed, “please, baby?” You fluttered you lashes, though that wasn’t necessary. He was easily convinced.

Jake assisted you by lifting his hips, watching you yank the offending fabrics—boxers and all—down till they pooled around his ankles. His cock bobbed out, poking through his white dress shirt.

“You want this cock, baby? Come get it.” He pushed his dress shirt out of the way, gripping his cock firmly in his hand. The swollen tip was bright red and leaking precum down the length. “Sit on it.”

Your arousal flared at his words, and you wasted no time in pushing the soaked fabric of your panties aside, lining yourself up, and sinking down. You both moaned in unison, your hands flying to his shoulders to stabilize you while he held your hips in his warm hands, his mouth hanging open as he watched you move with lust-filled eyes.

You bounced on his cock, delicately at first, testing the stretch and the thickness of him, your cunt fluttering at the sudden intrusion.

“Estas mojada, mami,” (you're wet) Jake groaned, tossing his head back against the cushioned seat, “fuck your tight, always so tight. Missed this pussy.” He was submerged in your juices as you rocked your hips above him, moaning like you never had before. Maybe it was the location, something about having Jake fuck you in his car while potentially being caught had your dial turned up to a thousand.

“Y-you feel so good,” you mewled, back arching when Jake thrust his hips up, his cock reaching impossibly deep, “you fuck me so good.”

Jake suddenly brought you flushed against him, his arms circling your waist as he thrusts into you every time you slammed down on him. He was sweating, you felt the moisture when he buried his face in your neck, breathing heavily over your skin.

“Need you to come,” he groaned, the sound of your slick pussy the loudest thing in the car, probably in the entire parking lot, “need you to come first.” He snuck a hand down toward where you both were joined, taking his thumb and circling your clit in the way he knew you loved.

“Fuck, Jake,” you squealed, your pussy tightening from the added stimulation, “I think I’m gonna—” You threw your head back as your body convulsed, your cunt gushing over his cock and thighs. You cried, tears leaking from your eyes as he kept thrusting sloppily into you, you’re overstimulated sex squeezing tight as you came. “J-Jake.” You barely got his name out, your body trembling in his arms.

“I know, baby, I know, you did so well for me,” he cooed, his voice strained as he chased his own pleasure, “gonna fill you up so good—” he groaned, rocking his hips a final time as he held you close, filling you to the brim with his cum. He squeezed you tightly in his arms, his fingers digging into your back as he bit your neck, riding his high. You felt his cock twitching inside your wet walls as he kept coming, his spend leaking out of you.

You were both panting against one another, chests heaving as you searched each others mouths, kissing with more tongue than anything else. He cradled your face in his hands as he kissed you stupid, his lashes tickling your skin as he licked, and licked and licked.

Every shift of your hips had his spend leaking out, running down his balls and onto the seat in a warm stream.

Jake’s heavy eyes blinked up at you, a smile curling on his lips.

“Love you, mami.” He muttered, bringing you in for a tight hug as if it was the last time he’d be seeing you. You made him sappy, at least, that’s what he always told you. He didn’t know he had a sappy bone in his body until you came along.

Now, he made sure to remind you how loved you are.

You stayed nestled comfortably on his lap, his cock still lodge snuggly in your hole. You held him, your fingers threading in his sweaty dark curls. You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent.

“Love you, more.” You made sure to remind him, too.

#caro's 2k #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fanfiction

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takeariskao3 · 9 months ago

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Hannah, can you do a mini POV of what it was like for Harry to kiss Ginny after so long on AG?

YES I CAN

"No--"

Harry resisted the urge to bang his head repeatedly into the table top and instead shoved back in his chair.

“See? I’m getting this all wrong.”

He strode across the room. Only for Ginny to retreat a half step at his approach, and for her face to tense into something apprehensive. The gaping wound in his gut, if possible, pounded even more. And it was that feeling, more than general good sense, that directed his words as they tumbled out of him.

“I want to fix it,” he croaked. “I want to get it right. But I see the way you look at me, it’s like you don’t even know me. I see the way you flinch when I touch you, and it’s like I can’t think straight.”

Ginny blinked several times in quick succession, her face contorting into something utterly perplexed.

She gaped at him for several quick breaths before stammering, “That–That’s not–”

Harry braced himself for some false consolation, only for Ginny's sputter to turn cataclysmic.

"It's all right here!" she roared, fisting her fingers into the jumper at her midsection. "I know it is because I can feel it! But I-- I don't know what to do with it."

He didn't need to ask what she felt. Harry knew in an instant what she meant. Because it was a mirror to his own response to her proximity. Like a damn reflex. Too deep-rooted to be impulse, too violent to be survival.

Even though he recognized her plight in an instant, that still didn't make it easy to believe.

How could she possible be articulating this... this connection. She had no context for it. She had nothing. She didn't--she couldn't--remember. It had been stolen away from her. From both of them.

So there was no way she could be feeling anything close to what she should.

Right?

Ginny visibly swallowed. Then, so slowly Harry almost ached with the inevitability of it, she drew closer. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly before her palm came to rest over the center of his chest.

Harry's nerve endings crackled to life at her touch. They'd gone involuntarily dormant with the absence of her no longer pervading his every sense every moment of every day. But now they practically sang with the end of their stagnation.

Ginny stared up at him with wide eyes, the freckles dusting her cheeks taunting him. He'd memorized every single one, peppered them with kisses under the cover of starlight, mapped them with his fingers in the early glow of dawn.

Before he even knew what he was doing, his hand reached for her of its own accord, brushing his knuckles across the constellations in her skin.

Her breath hitched on her inhale, but she didn't pull away.

Harry couldn't believe she didn't pull away.

If anything she was leaning closer--her hand skimming up his shoulder to the back of his neck. With one gentle tug, Ginny tilted his face downwards.

And right before the ghost of her lips touched his, she breathed, “I don't know how to do any of this either."

Harry reared back, if only to let his brain catch up to the rest of reality. He should really, genuinely, honestly, take a step back. Talk this through rationally and pragmatically. Figure out a way forward that wouldn't leave room for some breakdown later...

But as Ginny looked at him with those amber-golden eyes, the last thread of his self-control was shredded to bits. Giving in to every urge of longing inside him, he surged forward and caught Ginny around the middle.

Months of deprivation left him less than gentle, and hardly graceful. He kissed her with abandon, like a dying man gulping down the cure to his ailment. Several moments passed where he could comprehend nothing but the frisson exploding in his bloodstream and the rightness of having Ginny in his arms. Then he settled into the feeling of kissing her and realized she was just as emphatically kissing him back.

Their tongues rolled against each other and, if anything, the stars behind his vision grew even brighter.

Right before it all came crashing down.

#already gone #anon #answered

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gingerjunhan · 2 years ago

Text

the night is young - oh seungmin

synopsis: after a night out with friends doesn’t go as planned, seungmin swoops in to save the day

word count: 971 | pronouns used: none, but reader has a “girls night” | genre: slight angst?, fluff, friend to lovers 🫶🏻 | cws: shitty friends, crying, swearing, mentions of eating, lmk if I missed any!

It’s finally Friday, and your long awaited “girls night” has arrived. You and your friends have been planning to go out tonight for about a week and a half, and you were so excited. You took the time to do your hair and put on some makeup, and you had even planned your outfit days in advance; making your friend, Seungmin, help you pick it out. Like always, you were the first of your friends to arrive at the restaurant you agreed to meet at. You pulled out your phone to check the time, and you saw that you got a text from Seungmin.

have fun with your girlfriends tn. let me know if you need anything. stay safe <3

You smiled at his text, sending him back a quick, “Thanks, I will:)” before turning your phone off. It was 7:30- your friends should be arriving soon. You were waiting on a bench outside the restaurant, skimming your eyes through the crowd as you waited for your group to show up. You sent a text to your group chat, letting them know where you were when they got there. You waited a couple of minutes and got no response.

Maybe they’re driving? You thought to yourself. I’ll give them some more time.

It was now almost 8:00. You had gotten no responses to your text, and you didn’t recognize anyone walking the sidewalk in front of you. Your heart started to sink as you finally decided that there was no point in waiting anymore. You pulled out your phone again, deciding to call Seungmin. It rang a few times before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey…”

He instantly knew by your tone that something was up. “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“Um,” you were trying to keep yourself together. “Nobody showed up. They all bailed on me, Min.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting for like, half an hour. I haven’t heard from anybody.” Seungmin was torn between feeling bad for you or being mad at your friends. He knew how much you were looking forward to tonight. “Do you mind if I come up to your dorm?” You asked him. “I’m probably only a block or two away.”

Seungmin knew what restaurant you were at- he made you send him your location in case he needed to pick you up. He thought about how excited you were, and he thought about the outfit he helped you plan.

“No, stay where you are. Let me get dressed and I’ll come meet you there.”

“No, Minnie, it's okay. You don’t have to-“

“Nope, I’ll be there,” He stated. “You don’t deserve to have them pull this type of shit on you. You were too excited and you look too good to have this night go to waste. Give me ten minutes. I’ll see you soon.” With that, he ended the call.

☆

A little less than ten minutes passed, and you finally spotted Seungmin walking your way. He wore a smile on his face as he approached you, and you couldn’t help but to smile back.

“So,” he began. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes please! I’m starving.”

“Alright then,” Seungmin offered you his hand to take, and you couldn’t help but to blush. “Let's go.”

You looked at him in confusion. “Are we not eating here?”

“Oh c’mon, (Y/N), the night is young! I have something special planned.” You felt like your heart was doing flips. This can’t be happening. You had had a crush on Seungmin for a while now, but you were never brave enough to say anything. But now, here you were, taking his hand without a second thought- allowing him to take you wherever he had planned.

You ended up a few blocks down the street, finding yourselves stopped in the middle of a walking bridge that divided a small river. Seungmin let go of your hand to lean on the railing, looking up into the night sky.

“I come here on my night time walks a lot,” he told you without looking away from the sky. “You can see so many stars from this bridge.”

You took a spot beside him, mimicking his stance against the railing. As you joined him in looking up, he let out a small gasp.

“I think that star is actually a planet,” he informed you.

“Which one?”

He pointed up into the sky, “That one. Look.”

“Min,” you chuckled. “You pointing to a sky full of stars and saying ‘that one’ doesn’t help me.” Seungmin turned to you, and took one of your hands again, pointing it to the star he was looking at. His other hand found its way around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Do you see it now?” He asked, still pointing with your hand.

“Y-Yeah. I think I see it.”

Seungmin turned to look at you with a soft smile, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

You turned to look back at him, finally meeting his gaze. You hoped it was dark enough that he wouldn’t notice the blush that now crept its way to your ears. You caught yourself looking nervously between his eyes and his lips, and then noticed him confidently doing the same. Seungmin leaned in, starting to close the gap between you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, just before your lips touched. “It is.”

With that, your lips finally met. All of the negativity from the evening seemed to wash away in that very moment. The hand that Seungmin was pointing with let go of yours, coming to cup your cheek as yours rested on his shoulder. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but you knew it would be something you remembered forever. You both pulled away, smiling like fools.

“Alright,” Seungmin said, slightly stepping away and taking your hand again. “Who’s hungry?”

#xdinary heroes imagine #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #xdh imagines #o.de x reader #xdh fluff

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darkhighness · 2 years ago

Text

Good Omentober Day 2 - Stars

Prompts by @disaster-dog

Crowley is frustrated that the humans don't know the stars as well as he does. Aziraphale remembers an angel he'd come across a long time ago.

“So what’s your fixation on stars anyway?” Aziraphale asked absently.

He watched as his dark-clothed friend was skimming through some of the books in the bookshop. It was hard to get through to him when he was like this but the angel wanted to help if he could.

“They’re simple.” He muttered under his breath, pulling out another book, “They’re so simple but the humans just don’t get it. Did you know they get life advice from constellations?”

Aziraphale hummed slightly. He recalled seeing something similar in a newspaper he perused in the coffee shop.

“I think it’s lovely. They can see signs in anything. I think if it makes them happy then that’s the most important thing.”

“How angelic of you.” Crowley huffed before putting the book away and collapsing onto the sofa, a general disregard as to where his limbs ended up.

“What bought this on anyway? Usually, you don’t worry this much about what the humans are up to?” Aziraphale moved closer to the demon sprawled on his lounge and sat beside him, cradling a warm cup of tea.

“They’re wrong.” He muttered, staring absently toward the back of the bookshop where the angel had come from.

Aziraphale sighed softly and reached over with his free hand to brush his frustrated friend’s hair away from his face. “I’m sure they don’t mean anything by it. And there’s really no way to know what it all means. It’s all a bit in-”

“You’re not going to say ineffable.” Crowley cut him off.

Aziraphale made a motion to indicate he zipped his mouth shut and he delicately placed his cup of tea on his desk. He just pulled Crowley closer and mindlessly toyed with the man’s hair as he huffed and puffed under his grasp.

He only wished he knew what caused this reaction from Crowley. He knew that his friend had always loved the cosmos but usually he would just ignore anything the humans would say. He’d hardly ever seek out books on the matter.

Crowley eased into Aziraphale’s touch and let out a sigh himself. “There’s so many stars they’ll never see. They’re not even fixated on the right ones. I-, I mean, she made so many gorgeous things they’ll never see.”

“Did you know her?” The angel asked softly, “Did you know the starmaker?”

There were many stories in Heaven about an angel who spent all her time spinning the stars. Supposedly she was the best at her craft and at some point, she was God’s favourite. There were even rumours about her being the first choice to be the guardian of the eastern gate. Aziraphale had pushed these stories away a long time ago, brushing it away as little stories angels would tell to help them understand things they didn’t.

It didn’t help that no one seemed to remember the same thing. Aziraphale, for example, had a vague memory of talking to a starmaker a long long time ago but he was always worried his memories were influenced by the story. He remembered a gorgeous angel with the most amazing journal and unforgettable fiery red hair. In some ways, looking at Crowley reminded him of this angel and his passion for the stars didn’t help matters.

Crowley hummed slightly. “Maybe, feels familiar. She was brilliant, wasn’t she?”

Aziraphale absentmindedly braided his friend's hair, still thinking about that angel. “I have heard as such, yes.”

Crowley shut his eyes and began to hum a song softly. Not one Aziraphale had heard before, but it was nice nonetheless. He missed this, just the two of them in the bookshop, enjoying each other’s company, but Crowley’s head was still focused on the stars.

“You know, I heard that Alpha Centauri was one of hers. It’s why I originally suggested it. Hoped you’d want to see what all the hype was for yourself.”

Aziraphale felt a pang in his heart. Part of him felt guilty for all the times he’d rejected all of the demon’s offers to run away. Sure, he knew better now, but he couldn’t help but think of all the heartbreak they could’ve avoided. He stopped fussing with Crowley’s hair for a moment to gently rub his cheek. By this point, Crowley had settled into Aziraphale’s lap and looked quite content to stay there for a while.

“Oh, I’m sorry I let you hurt for so long Crowley.” Aziraphale stammered softly.

Crowley opened his amber eyes to look up at his angel. He shifted a bit to hold Aziraphale in his arms. “You don’t have to keep apologising, angel. Turns out that even after 6000 years there’s still a lot for us to learn together.”

Aziraphale nodded and smiled at his lover, marvelling at the golden eyes that looked back at him. He melted into the other man’s embrace before continuing on his point of hyperfocus.

“Surprised I remember that much, honestly. I don’t really remember many angel stories. I remember you used to tell the human kids them when they couldn’t sleep. Maybe it’s your fault.” He teased.

“Maybe it is.” Aziraphale breathed before the smile returned to his face. “How about we go stargazing tonight, and you can tell me everything you remember.”

Crowley looked absolutely over the moon at the request. The stars were one thing that Crowley could talk about endlessly. On those nights alone after Aziraphale left, the stars were the only company he had. They felt familiar like there was someone looking over him. Maybe it was that starmaker after all.

Later, as they sat under the stars on a clear hill, Crowley was holding Aziraphale close, providing a modicum of warmth on the cool night. “Oh, over there, that’s Orion.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley reach for his hand but he barely noticed, stunned by the beauty laid out in front of him.

“Oh Caphriel, it’s gorgeous.” He stammered breathlessly.

Once he realised his mistake his hand flew to cover his mouth. “I’m so sorry Crowley I don’t know what came over me.”

Crowley’s lips were pressed firmly together, forming a straight line, but he didn’t seem to be mad at Aziraphale. Instead, he brought the angel closer, rubbing his back softly before simply saying, “She did a good job, didn’t she?”

#good omens #good omentober #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

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baddybaddyadardaddy · 6 months ago

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For the commentary thing -

He is not running any longer, yet his heart still races as though he is.

She lifts her hand slowly, bringing it close to his face but not allowing it to touch. Green eyes beckon, and he senses that she is waiting for him. Understanding, he mirrors her movement with his opposite hand, and it trembles in anticipation, suspended. . . waiting.

Her hand begins to caress the skin of his temple, gliding along the edge of his face, tracing down his cheek and back again, and he does the same: delighting in this first experience of touch, this first moment of connection. Her fingers glide through his hair, skimming over the sharp peak of his ear and a tremor runs through his body at this new sensation; it floods him with warmth as his eyes close in bliss.

Finally, he feels her hand come to rest gently on his chest, right above his heart, where dwells the secret fire of his being, and she smiles contentedly when he touches her in the same place.

As they stand still together, there by the Waters of Awakening, in the place known in afterdays as Cuiviénen, he can almost hear the song that his fëa sings out in joy for having found her.

He knows then—in the same way he knew the word by which to call the stars—that they have names, given to them by a great creator: that he is Eren, and she, Erenyë.

for this little DVD commentary track thing

tysm for sending this, @mylovelylittleobsessions!!

*SQUEAL* I'm so excited to talk about this bit from Awake, Arise or Be For Ever Fall'n! I am going to absolutely RAMBLE about my babies.

So as soon as I decided that Adar would be one of the elves to awaken at Cuivienen, I was bombarded by these really strong images of his first encounter with Erenyë, his partner and my beloved OC. I can honestly say, I saw this entire scene in my head like a full-color movie before I wrote it, and I think it's one of my favorite moments in the entire story.

If you've read the fic, you know that they were a rare exception to Tolkien's idea that all the male elves awakened before their partners, and that Adar (Eren, at this time in his life) spent his first moments searching for Erenyë, because she couldn't resist going off to explore. I loved how that established their dynamic right off the bat: that she was the bolder of the two of them, and that his instinct would always be to follow her.

When he does find her, she ends up leading him on this playful little chase through the woods, and I knew I wanted it to culminate in a deeply romantic moment, but also encapsulate that sense of them being so new to life.

So i just saw this image of them in a glade (borrowing a little from the Thingol/Melian meetcute, I suppose), and them having that experience of touching one another and connecting physically for the first time. I knew I really wanted it to be both sensual, but also innocent. So the mirroring of touch just felt right for two people who were essentially newborns, and of course I had to throw in a nod to the secret fire, since Adar brought that up in Season 1.

I have to say that those last two sentences are some of my absolute favorites, and to me, feel like some of the most Tolkienian sentences in the fic. I loved being able to give a hat tip to the idea of singing, as kind of an allusion to the music of the ainur that made the world.

And I like the idea that the elves awoke with a certain degree of intrinsic knowledge, like their names.

Which actually brings me to how I came up with Adar's original name in this fic! So Tolkien clearly had a naming convention for the very first elves if you look at the three "fathers" and their wives (Tata and Tatië, Imin and Iminyë and Enel and Enelyë). So I knew I wanted to follow that convention. And believe me when I tell you I had about a full page of potential male/female elf name combos.

I really considered using Oren, since that was allegedly the character's codename on set and it fit the pattern of a four-letter male name. But I just didn't love Orenyë as a female derivative. So I switched one letter and BAM, I had it.

And THEN I recently discovered (and I swear I did not do this on purpose, but what an insane coincidence) that "er" is a primitive Quenya root meaning "one, single, alone."

So considering that Eren and Erenyë were sundered from one another so early, and Adar's life was so solitary, that was just such a TRAGIC little easter egg.

ANYWAY, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME GO ON ABOUT THIS FIC AND MY BABIES <3

#adar #oc: erenyë #adar fic #rings of power fic #awake arise #ficverse adar #directors commentary

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kkoct-ik · 8 months ago

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kottik i think ive already said it before but i SO so appreciate your perspective and attention to detail with dissociative stuff. trying to wade through scattered info on the internet for reliable resources feels like an impossible task sometimes lol so having the DID writing guide + your alter worksheet definitely helps a lot!

feedback on the guide itself: i loved it!!! the only parts i didn’t personally find relatable were the parts discussing later stages of healing/recovery (since im not quite there yet) and some of the functional neurological symptoms, but everything else felt like it was describing my own journey and experiences with DID perfectly. i also really appreciated the section on amnesia and different types of dissociation, plus the lesser known symptoms, since a lot of the time i see conflicting and confusing info on that + i feel like a lot of writers who try to write DID and describe how amnesia feels miss out on that stuff and just skim webmd or something for their info. and honestly even in online And offline discussions of DID ive seen other people try to describe how it really works and feels and its… not always described well lmao . but that’s a whole other can of worms etc

i think, though it’s just a writing resource, it was also very affirming to see it all laid out like that. like Oh shit yeah i do all of that. that’s my life on the page!!! the whole time i read it i was like ‘i knew this stuff already, but i never knew how to explain it properly.’ and it’s definitely the kind of thing i wish id been able to see when i first started noticing my symptoms. many years of misinfo and confusion have messed w my perception of myself n my disorder for a long time so it feels like a breath of fresh air to see someone else pushing against that and actually doing their research to try and clear things up. not to mention how clear your descriptions are + how easy it is to comprehend your explanations, while still being concise and to the point. so great work!!! 5 star rating, will definitely be recommending it to others :3 hope to see more from you + hope that it helps others write cool stuff!

i missed this ask!!!! sorry for missing this yesterday

thank you!!!!!! mwa mwa mwa. im so glad. so happy yaaaay

yeah, i definitely relate with the struggling to articulate experiences, being muddled by things online, and feeling like other people really dont quite get it when trying to represent whats going on. it makes me happy i can help with that!!

i feel like i'm in a good place that i've read a Lot of DID & CPTSD lit and i've been stabilising in treatment (processing some stuff, working on myself, getting a better understanding of therapy practice). i think it's given me a lot of perspective on my disorder that i wouldn't really have otherwise, and that a lot of people might not have either.

(rambling...)

cuz yeah. i think trying to understand DID on the internet is a monumentously difficult task. on one hand, you have personal accounts from people with DID, and on the other, you have doctors and generic websites. both don't quite give a full or reliable picture.

if you try to understand DID by listening to individuals, you're vulnerable to being incredibly confused and misled. and most of the time it's not intentional - it's hard to communicate what your symptoms are when you think half of it is normal and the other half is conflicted and fragmented - but it can give others very strange ideas about what the condition operates like at large.

it might also seem respectful to take everything we say at face value, but that ends up meaning that our flawed / misguided perceptions of ourselves and our symptoms become solidified as fact. we are mentally ill, we are not necessarily educated, and are a patient base prone to daydreaming and suggestion. we can get things wrong, and we can emphasise the wrong things.

when people take our unreliable accounts as fact (vivid recounts of psuedomemories, venting about feeling like seperate people, or expressing any number of mistaken symptoms), our experiences can start to sound like fantasy. suddenly DID sounds like a disorder you could not fathom having or ever truly understand, rather than a disorder that is simply inherently confusing to live with.

that said, if you try to avoid that by learning about DID soley through medical accounts and websites, you will only ever hear about reported symptoms, the most extreme & notable case studies, patient observations, and generic criteria, leaving a Lot to fill in the gaps (when you try to deduce what it feels like to live with it / be in our brains), that leads to other kinds of inaccuracies.

(for my health i'm not even going to try to touch on hollywood and online influencers that sensationalise the condition for clicks and thus dominate the algorithm. but obviously they are a factor too. pop culture is a powerful thing.)

the internet is a mess! and while not everything that is misleading is untrue, it can be very easy to just, not quite get it, or misunderstand things fundamentally, in any number of ways.

so yeah, it makes me happy that between my life experience, therapy, and obnoxious amount of pages read, i can actually make what goes on somewhat digestible. i want to help contextualise medical criteria, pull out relevant snippets, and point people to some really good resources.

it's not to say i'm a spokesperson or expert. i am very much just a huge nerd who happens to suffer from a disorder and is very invested in understanding myself. but the positive feedback does reassure me that i haven't gotten anything heinously wrong.

ty again :)) yaayy

#thanks for mentioning my worksheet too! im proud of it #obvs geared more towards systems than outsiders #but its really a culmination of what ive found useful to interrogate about myself #its a good baseline to establish. good thing to keep track of. and good thing to keep in mind as you work on yourself and see what emerges #ask #i do have functional symptoms... shoutout to my dissociative seizures :(#but yay. im so happy people like my work #does a dancey dance #did tag

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letitrainathousandflames · 2 years ago

Text

Death Scars Pt 1 [Waxer]

inspired by this request for Waxer alive with the scars of what killed him in canon

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: After waking up from the medical care that had saved his life, Waxer meets Kix and they both discuss the tragedy of Umbara

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, umbara arc, survivor's guilt, pong krell mentioned, canon-typical death in flashbacks, ask to tag

“It’s gonna scar.”

“Which one?”

Waxer stared at the uneven circular burns on his stomach, the scabs within their core fresh and deep red rimmed by a sickening orangish-yellow shade that would lighten to a shade a couple hues lighter than his own skin closer to the very edge of the wounds. Jagged lines of protruding scar tissue crossed horizontally by narrow stitches stretched from the burns, some shorter enough not to need the stitches but just as stark as the larger ones.

He then ghosted a finger over the linear path embedded in his lower right stomach, feeling the rows of stitches keeping the incision shut. It didn’t look nearly as bad as the blaster bolts, but it was drawn in the same blemished tone as them, becoming darker close to the very center of the sunken line.

Kix blew out a sigh, looking up at him. The medic looked like shit, and if you told him that he would most likely take it as a compliment, his vanity gone after the first forty-eight hours of this damned mission and forgotten for good at this point. His eyes were red-rimmed and weary, the bags under them paired with the unshaven facial hair of the past days darkening his features making him look much older than his ten years – a nat-born’s twenty.

“All of them.” Kix said wearily with a shrug. “We ran out of bacta in the field as soon as I was done fixing you up enough for an op, so by the time we got access to these bacta tanks, the wounds had been open for too long. At least is healed enough that we don’t have to worry about avoiding infection. You should still keep it clean and avoid any friction on the area – trust me when I say you do not want to end up ripping these scabs off by accident.”

Waxer nodded, fingers still skimming the partially healed wounds. When Rex had spoken to him in the battlefield, he thought he was a goner. The pain of being shot at near point-blank range had been so intense his own blaster had fallen off his grip.

He had thought of little Numa, the kid he’d grown so attached to and would most likely never see again. He thought of his plans for after the war – because the only way to keep pushing through the nightmare of their lives was to keep your head up and believe in an after, believe in a future that would make it all worth it. He thought of Boil, and realized that if he had to die, he’d rather die not knowing whether he, too – his brother, his best friend – had perished in there with so many others, another victim of their own fellow clone’s blaster fire.

Even now, he didn’t dare ask. He couldn’t find in himself the strength to ask Kix whether his second-in-command had survived the massacre.

Kix patted him lightly on the knee, bringing him back to the present. To the bright white walls and the smell of disinfectant and cleanliness that would always end up reminding any clone of Kamino.

“This is the Umbaran base’s medical facility.” Kix supplied him, the medic’s eyes darting around the place before settling back on his while Waxer’s feet dangled awkwardly from where he sat at the edge of his gourney. “The equipment here is good. I was lucky to be able to continue your care here. Stars know the first aid out there in the dirt is as far from what I call ‘ideal conditions’ as possible.”

Waxer huffed a sound through his nose that he hoped would sound like a laugh. He knew the routine too well – a medic making light of a situation that most likely had been horrifying and burdensome to him in order to make his patient feel better about the whole ordeal. Hopefully to make himself feel better, too.

Which reminds him…

“Did you… did you save me?”

Kix’s eyes shift away from him, his feet shuffling a half-step back from Waxer’s personal space, the medic reaching for a datapad resting on a small table by his bedside.

“Your unity’s medics were busy patching up the other men.”

“Shouldn’t you be patching up your own?”

Kix shrugged, seemingly too interested in the charts on his datapad’s screen, wetting his lips and setting his jaw. His entire frame had shifted from a relatively relaxed posture to a tense, almost awkward one.

“You know how basic medic protocol goes. The ones screaming have enough strength in them to scream, they can wait. The quiet ones – the unresponsive ones, those are the ones in need of urgent care.”

“Or abandonment.”

The word sat heavily between the two of them, and Kix continued to stubbornly pretend to read a chart that didn’t have more than a dozen words in it. Waxer was having none of it, pressing on:

“I had at least two fatal wounds the moment I dropped, from what I could gather in that mess. I heard about you, Kix. You’re a kriffing good medic from the five-oh-first, which is led by one of the most reckless generals in the army – General Kenobi’s words, not mine. You are experienced enough to know when a man is worth saving and when he’s nothing but a waste of stim and bacta that will bleed out to death before you can do anything to save him. And you must’ve known, from your first glance at the holes in my armor, that I wasn’t gonna make it.”

Kix traces the words on his datapad’s screen with a fingernail as if he’s a cadet still learning to read basic. Waxer watches the lump in his throat bob up and down as the other man swallows thickly.

“Like you said, I’m a kriffing good medic. I knew I could fix you.”

Waxer took a moment to draw in a deep breath and keep his temper in check. He’d started having less and less patience for people trying to banthashit him the more he’d hung around with Boil.

“Fine.” He snapped, stepping down from the gurney and taking a moment to assess his balance; He was still a tad woozy from the bacta, and he blinked a couple of times to clear his head “Can you give me a sitrep? I need to get back to my troops.”

That got Kix to look up from the datapad and finally look at him in the eye.

“You are in no shape for combat, lieutenant.”

“That’s up for me to judge. Where’s my gear?”

Kix grabbed Waxer by his elbow, stopping him in his tracks.

“We’ve taken over the capital city! Everything is under control! Our biggest problem now is patching up the wounded and keeping shinies from shooting themselves after having this shitshow as their first incursion! Our- The general they sent to lead us in Skywalker’s stead is in a kriffing containment cell because he is a traitor!”

Waxer turned to face Kix, watching the medic’s shoulders rise and fall with his breathing, his jaw tensed and his teeth bared as he continued:

“He is the one who sent your men the intel that the Umbarans were wearing our armor, and he told us that your men were Umbarans wearing their armor! He wanted us to kill each other, he was kriffing laughing about it when we confronted him-”

Waxer’s eyes widened in horror as he remembered that last glimpse he had before being shot – a man he’d just killed, wearing 501st blue, their helmet being partially knocked off his head as he fell, exposing brown skin and an all-too-familiar jawline.

In the chaos, one of his men had nearly tripped over the corpse, shoving the helmet further away and revealing a clone’s face underneath it, painfully young, open-eyed and dead. Killed by a brother’s hand. By Waxer's.

The moment his gaze locked with the clone’s glassy stare, two blaster shots burned through his armor, sending a vivid spark of molten heat to his lower stomach. His legs had crumpled underneath it, and he thought he’d heard a clone’s voice screaming somewhere in the distance.

They’re clones! We’re all clones! Hold your fire! They’re clones!

The armored man closest to him had lowered his smoking blaster, nearly tripping in his haste to kneel by his side. His helmet clattered to the muddy ground before his hands quickly shot down to pry Waxer’s own helmet off, the cold atmosphere of the Umbaran permanent night meeting his sweat-dampened face as he looked up to the clone medic of the 501st, Kix.

Kix had reached for his medpack, retrieving a stim from it and unceremoniously stabbing it into Waxer’s neck as he yelled out his Captain’s name.

“Rex! Rex, lieutenant Waxer is still alive!”

Waxer’s eyes had stung with tears as he kept hearing clone voices all around him, some screaming, others crying. He had ordered his men to gun down every creature dressed in 501st blue clone armor, as an act of revenge for their brothers... and it had been his very brothers that they had shot instead.

And now Waxer knew how that had come to happen.

Waxer looked at Kix in utter bewilderment, eyes wide and mouth dropping open as he tried and failed to understand it. A traitor general. A clone-killing jedi. How could this be?

Kix stared back at him, something deeply wounded in his gaze. Waxer shook his head, running a hand over his shaven scalp, a scalding fury climbing its way from his chest and up his throat.

“Where is he? We have to kill that kriffing-”

“He’s in a containment cell.” Kix held his hands up placatingly “One of our youngest troopers – Tup, he managed to lure him into a trap, and we stunned him. Rex is on his way to interrogate him now.”

Waxer nodded slowly, and Kix went over to a desk close to the gurney Waxer had been resting on, returning with a bundle of black cloth in his hand, offering it to the lieutenant. Waxer took his blacks wordlessly, shoving his head and arms in it and carefully pulling it over his scarred torso. His eyes must’ve been blazing with the same rage that scorched his insides, and he noticed the way Kix lowered his gaze at it.

His demeanor softened some, as did his voice as he spoke reassuringly to the medic:

“It’s not you I’m mad at, Kix.”

Kix scoffed, flashing his tongue over his lips, brows knitting together.

“You should be. I was the one who shot you.”

Waxer shut his eyes for a small moment, bringing his hand to his stomach. Even the slightest friction from the synthweave fabric as he breathed was making him wince.

“I know. I saw it. And I saw your face, after, when you- Yeah.”

Kix gritted his teeth, looking back at him. His eyes had a sheen of moisture, and Kix kept stubbornly blinking at it.

“I was so fucking proud. When I saw your armor, with that- that little green twi’lek kid painted on it, I thought, ‘this bastard killed 212th’s Waxer. Probably left his body for one of those kriffin’ reavers to gnaw at like the men we lost before’. And I wanted to make it hurt. I wanted that Umbaran incapacitated, but I wanted him to die slowly, so I aimed-”

Waxer let him speak. He knew the medic needed it, and he, too, needed to hear it. Needed to know the other man’s pain. Kix’s following words came in a frighteningly cold tone:

“Two blasts to the stomach, where the armor plates are thinner for mobility. At the right height, to make sure at least one major organ was permanently unsalvageable, and to hopefully cut clean through their spine on the blast’s way out. I took aim, I fired. But he- you-”

“I moved.” Waxer supplied quietly, and Kix nodded a couple of times

“Yeah. So the aim- it got compromised, and I hit your spleen and kidney instead. The second bolt grazed your intestines too, and… And when Rex screamed that you were clones, all that adrenaline, all that excitement, that victorious feeling, I just-” a sharp pant hissed through Kix’s teeth “I’ve seen so much shit, Waxer, had so many brothers die under my hands and I just push through because this is the job, this is how it goes, and I’m used to seeing them die but…”

“But never from your own blasts.”

Waxer finished it for him, and Kix let out a pained gasp, the tears finally spilling down the rim of his lashes before he screamed out, throwing the datapad across the room like a trooper would do a grenade. The thing banged loudly against the wall, letting a dented chip in the stark material, clattering to the floor with its cracked screen blinking some, its images glitching.

“I- we did everything right!” Kix gritted out, more tears running down his cheeks “We were outnumbered, their tech’s better, they have kriffing bioweapons, but we pushed through and we did the job, and that- that demagolka was toying with us all along!”

Waxer walked up to Kix, one hand grabbing at his nape, the other yanking him by the arm until he had the medic held tightly in a hug. Kix’s entire body was stiff with tension and trembling with rage, and Waxer held him in a durasteel grip.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered quietly.

“He… he made us shoot you!” Kix’s screaming subsided to breathless sobbing, the words being punched out of him with each shallow breath “He sent us in small squads to die, a-and then he sent us off to shoot you! Our own brothers, our-”

“I know.” Waxer rubbed his thumb at the back of Kix’s head where he held him by the nape “I know now. And I’m so kriffing sorry, vod.”

Kix’s entire body was shaking with the strength of his sobs, his cheek wet against Waxer’s own.

“I sh- I shot so many of ‘em, Waxer. So many before I got to you, and they are dead now and I… I…”

“Wasn’t your fault.” Waxer said firmly, shaking Kix some for good measure “None of yours. It wasn’t. You hear me? It wasn’t your fault, vod.”

Waxer could no longer understand Kix’s words at that point, mumbled apologies and pleas for forgiveness, for none of it to have ever happened, for this nightmare to end already. Once Kix’s frantic panting had slowed down some, Waxer pulled back enough to press his forehead to Kix in a keldabe.

“You did all you could. And you saved my life. I will forever be grateful for it, Kix.” He pulled back, letting go of Kix and forcing his own face into a smile as much as he could manage “Now, let me go round up my medics so that they can cover for your while you take a breather, okay?”

Kix shook his head, wiping at his eyes and swallowing down thickly, clearing his throat.

“No, I have to get back to work. Need to do some checkups on the survivors, have to see if there was progress with the-”

Waxer placed a hand on Kix’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“Five minutes. Take at least five minutes, and then you get back to it. I got this.”

After a long moment, Kix nodded.

“Five. Not one minute more.”

“Medics.” Waxer grinned, walking towards the medbay’s door. “You’re all the same, aren’t you?”

“That’s four and fifty-three seconds now.”

They both laughed, because they had to pretend they still could. And they both took a breath and told themselves they could still get back on their feet after this, because they had to pretend they could.

#umbara arc #clone medic kix #lieutenant waxer #tcw #the clone wars #my fics #ooohhh look at that! a fic that is neither E (18+) or reader-centric!#i didn't know I could still make those!

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arcaneauthor · 2 years ago

Text

Tattoos Tell A Story part 2

Part 1 here, Part 3 here

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You decide to give Ghost a taste of his own medicine

Warnings: None?, Some kissing??, FLUFF, Ghost being bby gurl

A/n: This was requested by @v1naco . I hope I did your wonderful idea justice! Also how the heck did this end up so long??

You would like to make one thing clear.

You love watching Simon get tattoos.

Not only is his deliciously huge arm on full display, but the way his muscles flex when the needle hit a particularly sensitive part of his arm?

Oh you were down bad.

Yes you know he’s technically in pain but come onnn-

He had wanted to get the date of one of his most recent victorious mission tattooed on the inside of his bicep.

What kind of mission was it? You weren’t sure, you know, with it being “classified” and all.

He told you in secret at home

Once told of his plans, you had immediately accepted to tag along and boy are you glad you did. Originally it was for the purpose of just spending as much time with your boyfriend as possible, but you didn’t realize it’d be such a sight.

“Enjoying the view there sweetheart?”

You startle slightly, flicking your eyes away from his arm to Ghost’s masked face. You know there’s a smirk hiding under there somewhere.

Cocky bastard

You clear your throat, repositioning in your seat slightly ,”Uh, no I-I was just….. admiring Jackson’s handiwork.” You claim.

Simon looks you up and down,“Mhm, whatever you say love.”

Jackson, the tattoo artist, just chuckles at the couples antics, eyes never leaving his work.

Ghost knew Jackson pretty well due to him having worked on most of his arm sleeve. He was the only artist in the area that would agree to the service of a scarily large man in a sketchy skull mask and hood, the others immediately declined as soon as he stepped through the door, some even reaching for their phone in a concealed panic. Not that they could really be blamed for their hesitance. He is pretty intimidating if you didn’t know him.

Your eyes now purposefully wander anywhere around the parlor except Simon. You would not be giving him the pleasure of catching you gawking again.

Your gaze skims over a variety of stencils hung on the walls. You never minded the idea of getting a tattoo yourself, you were just too indecisive to ever settle on one.

But maybe one of Jackson’s will stick out to me, you think as you exam the references pinned to the wall

Maybe a bird?

Or a moon?

Possibly a flower?

Oo, that bunny’s pretty cute.

Maybe a-

Wait

Is that-

You squint your eyes to see it clearer, before they quickly widen again

It is

You can’t help the slight maniacal smirk that overtakes your face

That one’s perfect

-+-

It had been about a week since the tattoo parlor and honestly? You had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Simon had still yet to notice your skins new…..addition. You’d think a military man would be more observant.

Although, in your boyfriends defense, it was so small and in such a hidden place that even you yourself had a hard time seeing it.

You and Ghost were in the kitchen together, him in charge of the noodles while you made the sauce. Normally y’all would just order some take-out, but you both decided to try something new. Neither you or him were five star chefs by any means, only able to follow along to a recipe. A very detailed recipe.

You were leaning over the stove just trying to stir the ingredients though your hair obviously did not get the memo. No matter what you did, tucking it behind your ear, blowing it back with your mouth, it just would not get out of your face.

You pull a strand in front of you, eyes almost crossing from it being so close, and glared at it as if it had personally offended you.

I swear to gosh, one day I’m just gonna freaking shave all of it off-

“Here,” comes a distinctly deep, British voice from behind. When had he gotten over here?,”Let me.”

You feel the strands of hair get pulled gently from your grasp as he gradually gathers it all into one extremely large hand. He gingerly rakes his fingers through your locks, eliminating any knots or lumps. Using the hair band from his wrist, where did he get that from?, he joins all of it into a ponytail.

You’re kinda sad to feel his fingers retreat from your scalp.

You run a hand over your head, examining his work. You’re fairly surprised to feel that there’s only a small hump or two.

“Hm, not bad for a man with sandpaper hands.” You jest with a smile.

You don’t get a response

The sound of breathing coming from behind tells you he hasn’t moved either.

“Simon?” You question, turning to look over your shoulder.

The man in question was standing stock still, you’d think he was a mannequin if not for his chest moving up and down. His gaze zeroed in on your ear.

You instinctively raise a hand to the spot in question, and that’s when it finally dawns on you.

He’s not looking at your ear.

No, he’s looking behind it.

You smile

So your little game of spot the difference was finally over.

“You like it?” You ask smugly

Simon doesn’t know what to say, just eye’s the nape of your neck in bewilderment. This was absolutely not here before. Where your skin was previously unblemished, now contains a tattoo about the size of his thumb.

A skull tattoo.

“When did you get this?” He asks instead, finger coming up to rub over it, almost as if he thinks it’s fake, thinks that the ink will smudge under his thumb.

“‘Bout a week ago.” You admit with a shrug, trying to be nonchalant about it.

His eyes finally shift to your face,”And you didn’t tell me?”

You shoot him an unimpressed look, grabbing his arm that contains the tattoo of your name and pushing it in his face,”Hypocritical much?”

He looks from his arm, to your tattoo, then to your face, as if he was putting together a puzzle.

“Is the tattoo an expression of love or a ploy of revenge?” He asks with suspicion.

You shrug, a smile gracing the corner of your mouth,”Can’t it be both?”

He eyes you for a moment, shaking his head in exasperation, but you could of swore his eyes lit in amusement.

Oh!

You about forgot something!

“Did you notice any details about it, a letter perhaps?” You question coyly.

No he hadn’t

He gently grips your chin to turn it to the side, dipping his head a little to get a closer look.

Oh.

He can see it now.

There’s a few cracks on the side of the skull and , if he looks close enough, he can see that they join to make a letter.

“Does tha-does that stand for-“

“Simon? Yeah, yeah it does.”

He stands there, just silently rubbing your tattoo again for a moment. You’re not complaining though, you’re just soaking in his touch. His fingers feel good.

You clear your throat, gently taking a hold of the hand rubbing your neck,”So? You like i-“

You’re cut off by him surging forward, capturing you in a kiss.

Definitely worth the pain of the needle.

-*-

You were both laying in bed after supper, your stomachs full. Full of take-out, not home cooked pasta because you may or may not have gotten distracted and singed the noodles and turned the toast to basically charcoal.

You were in a spooning position, his large arms wrapped around your waist, mask finally taken off in the darkness of your room.

“You know,” He breaks the silence,”I really do appreciate it, the tattoo.”

“Thought it was only fair. You know, with you getting one for me and all.” Your voices are soft, just whispers in the night.

“You know you didn’t have to do it, right? Not just cause I did.” Anyone that didn’t know Simon would judge from his gruff voice that he was bored or uninterested, maybe even irritated. But you did know him, which means you easily pick up on even the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.

Your brows furrow,”That’s not the only reason I got it.”

When you receive only silence you look over your shoulder at him, “You know that, right?” You ask as if it was obvious. You thought it was.

Once again, you receive only silence. You really wish it wasn’t so dark so you could read his expressions.

You shift your body so that you’re fully facing him.

“Hey,” you reach for the hand around you’re waist and hold it to your chest,”You know I love you right?”

“Yeah?” You don’t like that he sounds so hesitant.

“Simon,” you make sure he knows you’re serious,”I love you. You’re the only person I ever want to love, and I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, and I sure as heck ain’t planning going anywhere anytime soon. So why wouldn’t I want evidence of you on my body?” You use your other hand to cup his cheek.

The breath he lets out sounds shaky, letting you know your little speech hit him right in the way you wanted it to. You can’t see anything but the outline of his figure, though you swear you can feel his gaze piercing you.

He brings the hand you’re not holding to rub the spot behind your ear where you know his initial lies.

“I love you too,” He confesses on a quivering exhale.

You slowly lean in for a kiss, not quite sure where his lips are in the dark but somehow hitting them almost perfectly the first try, almost as if it was second nature to you now. That’s something you never really felt before Simon. Sure you had locked lips with other guys but you never knew there could be such emotion in just a kiss. With him, it’s almost like your minds, as well as your lips, are closely connected for that moment. You can feel the love, the passion, the joy, all of it with just a touch of mouths.

Ghost is the one to break it first, breath fanning over your face as he speaks,”I just have one question.”

“Hm?” Your mind is still frazzled by that short intense make out session.

“Was it when I went to the bar with Johnny that Friday?”

Your mind slowly catches on to what he’s saying, letting out a small giggle. That’s confirmation enough for him.

“And you said you were just gonna have a lazy night in?” His fake anger makes your giggles worse.

“You went to the stinking parlor instead didn’t you?”

You don’t even know why this has tickled you so badly, but soon Simon’s own deep chuckles join yours.

He pulls you into his chest, “Sneaky girl.”

You two just laugh harder

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