#and she lashes out because it's the first group she's been a part of

[a-murmur-of-a-prayer]

The Good Place is hitting so hard tonight I had to fully stop watching

I can watch The Boys, The Handmaid's Tale and disturbing 80s war films without breaking much of a sweat (kind of), but a conversation about the fragility of the first group you're a part of is what breaks me I guess

[dragonfyre-creations]

I don't think I've ever poured so many of my physical attributes and so much of my heart and soul into a character design before in such a personal way before so fuck it whenever I finish the final design for Faeng and whatever I come up with I'm making her into my sona (dragonsona? Persona? Idk how this works lmfao)

(long dump in the tags and under the cut)

The last time I was even remotely connected this much to a character was when I designed Jaxsu, but honestly never truly made her my sona/main character, she was just the one I used most often in art pieces. I never really actually liked her lore and backstory enough because she was what I wanted to be instead of what I am/was. Jax isnt perfect either, but her parents love her and otherwise has friends and is loved unconditionally. She has a healthy relationship with everyone and everything. This is where the disconnect happened and where I actually started to dislike her despite her being my otherwise favorite character for awhile. Both Faeng and Jaxsu have ADHD and Autism but Jaxsu was able to put that towards a job and becoming a ship captain and winning a colosseum tournament. She's done all of these great things so even if she didn't have a healthy relationship with her parents they'd still love her because she's done something impressive and useful.

Faeng on the other hand, has to fight for everything. Her parents are important and have important jobs, and place all of these unreachable and unrealistic expectations on her and expect her to reach them with minimal effort and be perfect, but she can't no matter how hard she tries. She needs someone to explain it and break it down for her in steps so she understands what do to and how to do it so she doesn't mess it up. She's both strong and smart but it's not in practical "normal" ways or subjects. It's convoluted, It's not in the ways everyone wants her to be, she has no teachers to help her understand how to channel that strength and intelligence into something "useful" so she puts it towards the things she likes and wants to do, and thus struggles in a world that would otherwise be easy to navigate and conquer if she were "normal". Those that do understand her and try to help her are alienated by other people in an attempt to either punish both of them or force her to adapt to be somewhat passing as normal, if not then at least listen to what she's told to do. She does eventually make acquaintances but find that her twisted speech and weird explanations aren't worth trying to decipher and understand so they leave, they don't put in the effort to meet her halfway even though she's struggling and doing her best to speak in a way they'll understand.

Her parents acknowledge her differences but in a way that frames it as flawed and wrong, something that needs to be corrected, and push her to figure out her problems by herself, tearing down any support network she tries to build. She tries her damned hardest but it's not enough, it never is and never will be for them because she's not the perfect child they wanted. She showed promise in her younger years being a "gifted child" so she knows what love and acceptance lies in wait and what could be if she could just be normal and perfect. Her achievements and promise come and show in waves. She burns and fizzles out in one of the most virulent, painful ways possible after getting hurt trying to prove her worth yet again. She holds nothing but criticism, vitriol and contempt for herself because she can't claw her way back to where she was before, this time something happened and something is terribly, horribly wrong this time but she doesn't know that it is and can't figure it out, nor will anyone tell her. Whatever it is, left a mental and several physical injuries and it does nothing but deepen her self hatred and her parent's waning belief in her. She listens to false promises and praise of other people who do nothing but wish to manipulate and harm her but she stays because any form of praise is deemed good, she hungers for more and does worsening things.

She ignores the people who tell her that what she's doing is dangerous and will only end in disaster, because she doesn't believe them. If the people who are saying they're her friends are telling her that the people she hurts deserve it and that what she's doing is good, then surely she needs to believe them over strangers, right? Everything comes to a breaking point and shatters around her leaving her with quite literally nothing but her own self hatred, newfound rage and overbearing mental issues she needs to navigate once again to find out what hell it is and what's wrong with her now. She's scared of everyone and everything with the added bonus of now being hyper-aware and perceptive of people's mannerisms and behaviors, especially those who want to manipulate or harm her again. She wraps every vulnerable part of herself in metaphorical thorns and teeth to bite and maim whoever pries and digs into what she truly is, even people who want to understand her. She suffers at more than her own hand, forcing herself to deal with everything alone, until she finally meets someone that could be considered a true friend. She slowly opens up and helps them as much as they help her before everything comes crashing back down once again upon the reveal that they've been lying to her the entire time about very serious issues, and she's been used as nothing more than an attack dog once again. She burns every bridge and everyone around her in one final breakdown of rage before shutting down completely. One of the groups of friends she's shoved stay comes back and asks if she's ok. She doesn't understand why they're being kind, why they're concerned it why they care and tries to shove them away again. Every single day they still ask, talking even if there's no response from her, until she finally relents and breaks.

She's finally loved and accepted despite every fault and every flaw she has, and every time she tries to pull away out of fear of being an inconvenience they pull back twice as hard and remind her that she's able to just exist, she doesn't need to constantly be useful and that they care. She finally, finally is comfortable enough to let herself be accepted and then becomes the most clingy little shit, just as they do with her. But yeah, my own life has been very much of the same, especially the last part. Every time I go on another self-hatred spiral and drop off the face of the earth my MonHun bros give me a metaphorical slap to the face and remind me that I don't need to constantly prove my worth to everyone and prove that I'm useful, and that existing every once in awhile is more than enough. If that doesn't work then it's "you need to get your ass back over here because we're failing the Safi siege without the absolutely ridiculous amount of DPS your build Switchaxe does". I was not intending for her to be so much like me but goddamnit she's wormed her way into being my favorite now and I guess Mirage is no longer my impromptu sona

[madamechrissy]

I Wanna Be Yours

Pairing- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Word count- 5.3k

Contents/summary -Cute, fluffy, sweet, some plot, college AU, SMUT lol, friends to lovers- Rating- Explicit- fingering, oral (fem receiving) explicit sex

This was a request for friends to lovers (where you fell first) Satoru is a dummy lol and not much plot, hope you all enjoy!! - Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 💖💖💖

Songs for this : Just Friends - Better - Love on the Brain

Satoru Gojo has been your best friend since middle school, he has his big, beefy arm around you now, grinning so pretty, as you both hide under his umbrella. It's raining so hard, pattering along it as you both walk to your dorm together.

"I miss you! You never hang out with me anymore!" He says with a pretty pout, his bright blue eyes wide, in that sad puppy look that always did you in, behind his dark blue shades.

"Well, you're always um... with your girlfriend." You say softly, and Satoru frowns then, his thin white brows together.

"So we can't still be friends?" He says, hurt in his voice, and you sigh, looking away. "I'm friends with Shoko, Mei, even Hime, why can't I be friends with you anymore! She's cool, you know."

"Um, because it's just different, I'm sorry, Satoru. I miss you too, though." He contemplates you then, stopping you in the middle of the road, where cars are driving by and the rain is pattering all over the ground around you.

"Look at me, please." He asks in that husky voice.

You tilt your chin up, looking at the tall, white haired best friend that you'd been in love with for so long. You suck in a breath then, as you realize how close you two are, so close your nipples are brushed against his chest, embarrassingly perked up from the cold air and from... Well, him, Satoru.

"Do you not like her?" He asks, and you shake your head. "It's not that serious, if my best friend thinks she's not a good person-"

"She seems great, Satoru. She's so pretty and sweet and you both look great together." You blink back tears, as he looks even more confused, lips parted as he touches your cheek.

"You're crying? Why what's wrong?" He asks, so fucking clueless, but it's not like you ever confessed to your goofy bestie. You swipe your tears, looking down.

"Not crying, it's the rain."

"We're under an-"

"It's the rain!" You choke on a sob then, and he brushes away a tear, you push his hand down. "You shouldn't do that. You have a girlfriend, Satoru."

"I don't understand, you avoid me all the time, you don't even hang out with the friend group. We all miss you!"

"It hurts too much."

His snowy lashes blink in confusion. "What hurts? I'm so confused, could you please just talk to me? Like we used to tell each other anything, remember that big crush you had on Geto?” He is trying to lighten the mood, smiling at you, and you take a shaky breath.

“I didn’t say I had a crush on Geto.”

“Sure ya did! You said your best friend, that’s either me or Geto silly! And I kept your secret and everything.” He says, and you laugh then, at the absurdity of it.

“Satoru, you're so dense.” You grumble now.

“Ya callin me fat I’m so skinny!?” He asks, his hand on his chest, gasping, as you roll your eyes.

“Oh my God. Let’s just get home.”

“No, we’re standing here until you talk to me again. You’re being a mean little brat, just like in sixth grade!” He yanks on one of your braids now, and earns your scowl, as you cross your arms, still getting pelted by rain, safe under the umbrella.

“You were mean then, always throwing paper balls at me, little shit!”

“Yeah and you would trip me!”

“And you would yank on my hair!”

“Because it’s cute, duh.” He yanks it again, sticking his tongue out, and you stick yours out right back, until he bursts into laughter, shaking his head and bending down as he doubles over.

“What’s so funny?” You demand, and he has to take several breaths, rubbing his eyes at how funny he thinks this is.

“You’re just so adorable when you’re mad.”

You scoff, stomping your foot, your boot splashing in the puddling water below you. “Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Whatever, I’m not going to be close like I was when you’re with a girl, there’s nothing else I’m going to say.”

“So you were never my friend at all.” You turn as you all walk again, and his lip is trembling, making your heart falter.

“I am always your friend, just I can’t be anymore. I’ll always be here if you need me, always care about you, but I can’t.”

“I just don’t understand, would you just-” Satoru grabs your wrist as you run to the awning in front of your dorm, and you can barely hear him as the weather gets insane, the rain pounding now. His big hand, his long fingers around your delicate wrist makes you heat up, exhaling, thighs shifting at how good it feels. “Just stay my friend, I love you, you know.”

Love means something different to Satoru than to you.

You don’t love Satoru Gojo like a ‘friend’ no you’re just in love with him.

“Satoru I am jealous, okay?”

He blinks in confusion. “But I’ll still spend time with you!”

“Not that, I’m jealous of her okay? She’s pretty and popular, and she has you as a boyfriend, you’re popular and handsome. You both work so well. Prom queen and Prom King. And what am I?” He frowns again, his brow furrowing as you try to turn away, and he yanks a braid, making you scowl, shoving at him. “Stop that.”

“You’re pretty, and you have friends, what is this? Why would you be jealous of a girl, you’re not like that, you don’t compare yourself. It’s one of my favorite things about you, that you’re just like one of the guys-”

“I’m not though. I am a girl, I do compare.”

“Why her?” Satoru asks softly, you sigh, eyes shut as you feel yourself falling more and more, hopeless.

“You should ask yourself why. I have to go, Satoru. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Please, just talk to me?” He asks, and you feel those tears return as you have to stay away, you can’t stand to watch the boy you’ve loved for so long so happy, and realize it’s because he sees you as ‘one of the guys’ his ‘bro’ it just hurts too much.

“I do love you, Satoru.” You say softly, looking at him as he’s choked up and emotional, fucking confused surely, and you walk into your dorm, hiding as your back rests on the door.

Shit, you really fucked that up, but you just can’t look at him, his beautiful smile as he’s holding her, as they kiss and she runs her hand through his silky white hair. You’ve had it bad since you met him, since he yanked on your pigtails and you two picked on each other, even then.

Now it’s so much worse.

You hop on Instagram, the first picture is her kissing Satoru’s cheek, and him cheesing and throwing a peace sign, with so many likes it’s unreal, Satoru was crazy popular on Insta, and so was his lovely girlfriend. You couldn’t even hate her because she was so nice, to you as well, she was cool, she was perfect for him, and he seemed so happy.

So you would never ruin it, but you can’t stomach it anymore. Now you get a message, from Suguru, asking you out, and you flush, typing back curiously, he was Satoru’s best friend, so you never would consider it. But then his next message makes you realize his intent, and you call him.

“Suguru! What you’re crazy!” He chuckles over the phone, as you lay on your bed in a huff.

“We all know you got it bad, why not see if he feels the same? Oh and I’ll put on a show too.” You snort at that, rolling over on your tummy, your ankles crossing as you hold the sleek black phone to your ear.

“What you’re gonna kiss me, Suguru? In front of him!”

“I sure will. You’ll love it so much, you’ll want me instead.”

“Pshh. But what if he doesn’t…”

Suguru sighs. “He’s so dense he doesn’t realize he actually has feelings, just trust me, worse comes to worse you get a free meal and a kiss from me.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, fine, I’m in!”

“Perfect, tomorrow night, we’ll head to the same restaurant they are going to, the details are already on IG. Dress sexy.” He purrs those words.

*****

“What… what are you two… Suguru… I…” Satoru is sputtering as you’re cozied up next to Suguru at the fancy sushi bar the next night, and you’re dressed in a sexy little black dress you got just for this. Satoru’s enamored as he takes you in, hair straight and silky, makeup decorating your cheeks, just a bit, and bright red lipstick. “And what are you wearing young lady!?”

“She looks hot.” Satoru’s girlfriend says, winking at you, and fuck she’s just SO NICE ugh. You smile back, standing then and waving at her.

“You look hot too!” You say, she laughs then, clinging to Satoru.

“She’s a grown up, silly. Hey Geto!”

“Hey there.” Geto waves at her too, putting an arm around you, watching Satoru’s face turn dark as he eyes his hand on your bare arm. “It’s good to see you all, but we did want some alone time. First date.”

Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow, his lips pursing. “A date!?”

“Yeah, Suguru asked me last night, I figured why not? You know, we’re not kids anymore.” Suguru’s hand goes to your waist, as he turns you to him, smiling, all handsome with his chocolate eyes and long silky hair pulled back. If you weren’t so in love with Satoru, you would crush on Suguru, but no you love this white haired idiot glaring at you both.

“She’s certainly not a kid anymore.” He whistles, eyes raking over your body, and you can feel Satoru’s anger, as his girlfriend giggles at you both.

“You all look so cute together! C’mon Satoru.” She yanks him then, away, and you and Suguru barely hold it together, you’re squealing.

“You think he really likes me!?”

“Course he does, look at our boy, all pouty.” Satoru is pouting over the menu, as his girlfriend is taking selfies next to him, in several poses.

“She’s so pretty…”

“You’re gorgeous, you know.” You melt at that, sighing and hugging Suguru tightly. “Oooh, this is even better, he’s so mad.” Suguru whispers, and you can’t stop your little smirk.

You all go about the evening, as Satoru’s eyes dart between you both, and soon Suguru’s phone is blinging, and he’s smirking as he leans back and reads them. “What is it!” You whisper.

“Oh he’s so mad at me. He’s furious. Lemme tell him to pay attention to his girlfriend. Ah- look.” You look over at Satoru, rolling his eyes and slouching back in his booth now, as his girlfriend pokes away on her phone, showing him various things. “All right, finale, love.”

“Finale?” You ask curiously, and Suguru grins, devious. “Oh shit, the kiss!”

“Hush, you’re bad at this. It’s a secret mission!” You giggle again, nodding.

“You probably just wanna kiss me.” You tease, and he brushes his hair back, winking as he leans in.

“Probably that and I wanna piss off Satoru. C’mon now, make it look real.” You sigh and nervously scooch forward, pressing your lips to Suguru’s. His lips are firm and warm, and his arms wrap around you, as you feel Satoru’s gaze burning a hole. You pull back, as he looks to his side. “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah? Let’s…” You yank him down again, kissing him fully, and Suguru is laughing against your lips, as your tongues awkwardly play together, and he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you closer.

Suddenly Satoru has walked past you all, and ‘accidentally’ has spilled a drink on your table. He grins, but he looks psychotic, his bright blue eyes so vivid they’re hard to look at. “Oops, sorry guys, just wanted to say bye! Did I interrupt?”

You grab a bunch of napkins, and Suguru is just laughing, as you rub your dress down, standing. “Shit, this is brand new!”

“Well you should be more careful. Plus, that’s not enough fabric to cover anything, gonna get a cold.” Satoru says, bending down and glaring at your exposed shoulders and chest. You glare back.

“I look pretty, thank you!”

“Yeah you do, you always do though. But…” He pauses then, blinking a bit, and then he just… walks away.

What a mess, you think, as Suguru is helping you clean your dress, and Satoru doesn’t even come back.

*****

You wake up that night to a knock on your door, you yawn, as it keeps getting louder and louder. “Oh god, hold on I’m coming.”

Satoru is there, and he’s so serious, you wipe your eyes, so bleary, as you stand there in your pajamas, his eyes rove over them, you’re in a little black crop and kitty shorts, barely covered. But Satoru had seen you like this plenty, you all had stayed nights at each other’s houses and everything, but something feels… different? His eyes rake over your body, and you tense up nervously, as you feel his energy radiating in your little dorm room.

"Toru, what is it? It's like what time?" You say softly, and he shuts the door behind him, pressing you too close, you take a step back.

Satoru says nothing, and you yawn, stretching and gesturing for him to come sit on your little gray couch.

"You always come here when you can't sleep. You need some cocoa, don't you?" You tease, heading to your kitchen and putting a pod of cocoa in your keurig you keep for Satoru. "Your girlfriend should have cocoa for you-"

Satoru is not saying a word, but now he's brushing your messy hair back off your neck, standing beside you in the kitchen, as the machine presses out the hot cocoa, you gasp, hands gripping the kitchen counter. You bite your lower lip, as he's bending low, his hands on either side of yours, hard body pressed against your back, and you can  feel the heat of his body, his breath tickling your neck.

"What are you up to, are you drunk?" You ask, your voice breathy as you take his cup, the pretty blue one you've kept here. Before Satoru's girlfriend you'd spent endless nights watching movies and talking, even falling asleep on the couch together. You always wondered if he'd make a move, do something... he never did.

Satoru's hand trails down a bare shoulder, and his touch makes you ache with longing, goosebumps running down your arm, a trail of them in his wake. You bite your lower lip, shifting your thighs, feeling such pressure between them, as your eyelashes flutter shut, it feels so good to have him touch you like this. It's almost as if you can picture...

"What'd you have, one fruity drink and you're all touchy? Stop that." You smack at his hand, turning and holding out the cocoa, and he sets it down on the counter, jaw clenched. "Satoru, what-"

His lips descend on yours before you can finish your sentence, kissing you for the first time, and you melt against him, melt in his arms, as you taste his sweet breath, as he cups your face with his big hands. You're whimpering softly, and he uses that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, swirling against your own, and then you really taste him. And fuck he tastes good.

You're tiptoeing as he's pressing you against the counter, kissing you more and more passionately, finally pulling away and leaving you breathless, leaving you stupid. You exhale, shaky hands clinging to his dress shirt and looking up at him with wide eyes, as his own get lidded, snowy lashes low over his brilliant irises, studying you carefully.

This wasn't goofy, silly Gojo.

This wasn't Gojo who didn't ever shut up.

This wasn't your best 'buddy' Gojo right now.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, as he finally says a word for the first time since walking in here. "Fuck."

Eloquent.

You shove at him then, scowling, but you feel his hard body under your fingers. "What is this, some joke? You're dating, we can't kiss or do anything!"

"I broke up with her." You blink rapidly now in confusion, mouth ajar, as he sighs, running his hand through your hair. "When I saw you with Suguru, I hated it, so much. I hated seeing you kiss someone, and then I realized... that I have had feelings for you. It's why I have scared every guy off."

"You what now!?"

"None of them were good enough, I told myself, that I was just being a good friend for you. But Suguru... he is good enough for you, so why did it irk me? Why did it make me sick to my stomach?"

You feel tears well up as he speaks, as he's so serious, and not a dense little idiot. No, he's opening up, and he's saying words you dreamed of. Your lips tremble so badly you bite them, and he sighs, thumb releasing your lower lip from your teeth's grip gently.

"I hated seeing you with her. It made me so sick I couldn't hang out with you anymore." You say softly, and he sighs, pressing even closer, bending down low, looming over you, taking over you.

"That's what you meant yesterday, yeah? I'm stupid."

"You are."

"Hey!" You laugh then, even as he's swiping your tears gently away. "I always had a crush on you but I never wanted to ruin our friendship, fuck you're as close to me as Suguru. I can't imagine not sharing my day, not hearing about yours. I never wanted to fuck that up. And what if I do, if you are my girlfriend, what if I fuck up, make you mad, make you upset-"

"Satoru, stop. Look at me." He does then, as you finally get to cup his beautiful face in your hands, and he nuzzles one so sweetly, making you melt. "If you fuck something up we can fix it. If I fuck something up, we can fix it. Just like as friends sometimes you pissed me off, or I did, we didn't just give up. But are you sure you want to date, take this step?"

"I want to do a lot more than date." He whispers, running a hand down your tummy where it's bare, and your back arches when his hand dances to your hip. "I wanna touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere, places I've dreamed of."

"Dreamed of me?" You whisper back, and he nods, kissing down your jaw, peppering it with little popping sounds from his lips, as your nipples harden in your tank, and his other hand slides down one of your breasts, brushing against it.

"Can you forgive me for being an idiot? Would you date me?" He asks then, and you can't stop your tears.

"Toru you're the biggest idiot, because I've been in love with you since I met you, since you threw a damn spitball at me, little shit." Now he has emotion in his eyes, gulping before he smiles so brightly.

"I had such good aim!"

"Shut up!" He laughs then, and he picks you up in his arms with such ease, making out with you again, as his cocoa goes cold, carrying you to your bedroom, shoving all your plushies to the floor. "Hey now, rule number one, plushies stay."

"You've had sex already!? I'm so angry." He says with a pout and you giggle, rolling your eyes.

"Well, was I supposed to wait for you to get the hint? It's been years."

"Yes!"

"And you waited?"

"Well no. But... fine then, I'll just have to make you forget anyone else." He says softly, fingers brushing your shorts to the side, feeling you so wet, and he moans at that, licking an already glossy lip as you gasp, clinging to him.

"And will I make you forget anyone? Including your pretty Insta baddie?" You tease softly, and he smirks then, sliding a thumb up to circle your clit, eyes never leaving your face, watching every expression. You can't stop the soft moan from leaving your mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're so pretty like this." He says, and you're pulling his face down, kissing him as he does slide his fingers in, to the hilt, and you're crying out at how good it feels. He moans softly into your lips, biting your lower one. "You gonna make me forget huh?"

"Sure will- ah!" Satoru's pressing his fingers up now, on that little spot that has you seeing stars, and you’re dripping wetness down his fingers, down his hands, you hear it so squishy in your quiet room. He’s exhaling as he's sliding your top up, whistling when your tits bounce out.

"Holy fuck you're perfect." He whispers, bending down to suck a nipple into his hot eager mouth, and you're clinging to his snowy white hair. "Think I forgot any tits I've ever seen."

"Liar." You tease, reaching down his hard abdomen, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. "We're gonna fuck on the first date? That's against my rules, Toru."

"You'll make an exception for me, won't ya pretty?" He bats his lashes as you slide the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the beautiful hard planes of his body, chiseled to perfection. You exhale, hands shaking as you touch him, slipping down the white hair under his belly button, your eyes locking with him. "Ah- ah, I'll eat you out first, I'm a gentleman you know."

"And I'm a lady, I'll suck you first." You tease back, as he grabs your wrist, turning you and slipping your shorts off, pressing you down against the bed, your thighs spread, ass up in the air, and he can see you, he can see you wide open. He sighs, bending low to bite on your ass cheek playfully. “Toru!”

“Your pussy is so pretty, I knew it would be.” He’s kissing your lips now, covered in your slick already, and you’re shaking, thighs barely able to hold yourself up as he parts your folds with his thumbs, opening you up and then burying his face against you, making you scream out.

“Oh my… fuck!” You’re a mess when he laps his tongue along your slit, god it feels better than anything you can imagine, and he’s moaning, popping a little kiss on the hood of your clit.

“You taste s’good, sweetheart, s’fucking good.” He murmurs, smacking your ass now, and you jump and twitch, head falling back, he leans up, pulling your hair and your head is tilted back to him, and he’s kissing you. “Taste yourself?”

You just nod, whining, and he smiles, letting you go, pressing your head down into your soft bed, pushing your hips up and spreading you even wider. “What’re you d-doing?”

“Need to see every fucking bit of you, best friend, been hiding perfect pussy, perfect body from me? Terrible friend.” He licks up your pussy again, from your clit to your little ass hole as you cling to the blankets, whining at how good it feels, then he’s fucking you with that long tongue, and you’re gushing out wetness, pussy pulsing around it.

“And you were… holding that tongue back? How dare you. Ah!” He’s chuckling, vibrating against you, but then he is devouring you, there’s no other word for it, he’s pressing your waist down with one hand as his other grabs your thigh, and he’s scooping out all that wetness with his stupidly talented tongue. You’re close so quick it’s fucking embarrassing.

No guy had eaten you out like this, you had a few guys do it, and of course it felt good, but Satoru was on some other level, so good you’re mad anyone else has gotten to feel this before you. So good you can’t imagine not having it again, can’t imagine anything could feel so fucking intense, as he brings you higher and higher, his moans just urging you on.

“M’close, Toru…” You whine, so nervous, so much pressure in your tummy, he pulls away for a moment, biting your inner thigh, nipping the skin between his sharp teeth.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, let me drink you please?” He whispers, and you can see his damn pout, his big puppy eyes even as your face is buried in the blanket. “Can you do it, be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Cumming!” You scream out now, and Satoru Gojo, your best friend, is drinking it up, as it rocks your entire body, leaving you weak. He’s leaned up now, shoving two fingers in, and you hiss at the stretch, crying out at how good it feels, especially when he’s yanking you up by your hair, on your knees. “Toru!”

“Mmm, forget anyone else already?” He whispers against your ear, and you nod weakly. “Gonna need you to say it, bestie.”

“F-forgot anyone ever. S’much better. You’re s’much better.” You’re mumbling as you speak, head leaning back against him, rocking on his fingers, and he chuckles against your ear, tickling it.

“Cumming again just from this?” His husky voice does more and more, as his cocky nature mixed with his talented fingers are wrecking you. “You’re so weak here, aren’t you?”

“Mnh, cocky little- shit!” You’re cumming all over his hand, shaking violently, and Satoru’s groaning, easing his fingers out, sliding them in your mouth now, shoving so deep you feel tears start to fall, gagging you as you suck them eagerly. He looks at you, desire making his eyes so dilated all you see is a ring of blue, his pouty lips parted.

“Oh fuck you’re so pretty like this, in tears.” Satoru whispers, and you’re trying to turn then, to kiss down his body, to suck him, but he’s got an arm around your waist and you’re hearing his belt buckle. “Can’t wait, need to feel ya around me, baby.”

“Lemme suck you, meanie.” You glare back at him, and he chuckles, white teeth glinting in the evening, in your dark room with just the hint of moonlight streaming in. Satoru shocks you then, flipping you over on your back, and you see his beautiful length, thick and long with a pink tip, weeping with pearly precum. You try to stroke him but he grabs your wrist, putting it over your head.

“I’ll bust quick if you touch it, I’m too excited.” He says then, glaring down at you, and you let out a breathy laugh, but it’s cut off when he lifts a thigh, and presses into your entrance. You gasp, clinging to him as he fills you so full, just the tip at first and Satoru is moaning over you, eyes locking on yours. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” You whisper at the same time, then he pushes in further, every motion you make does not escape him, his eyes are all over you, and his own eyes flutter shut for a moment as he sinks in, further and further. Finally he’s so deep his tip is hitting your cervix, and you feel so intensely it’s as if you can’t breathe. “Satoru! Satoru… Satoru…”

“Fuck you feel s’good, sweetheart. S’fuckin… ah!” He’s crying out too when you tentatively roll your hips, then he’s gripping your hips tightly, thumbs pressing into your hip bones, shoving them down into the mattress. “Don’t do that!”

You laugh, breathless, reaching up and cupping his perfect face, the face you’ve loved so long. “Don’t move?”

“Don’t yet. Ah- ah- ah.” He’s stroking in and out of you now, groaning, his thickness stretching you, and you’re clinging to his back, nails digging in, and Satoru is whimpering, he’s fucking whimpering again, and it’s so sexy, it’s so hot. How into you he is, how he’s so vulnerable, as he rests his forehead on yours, exhaling. “You’re made for me.”

“Am I, Satoru?” You whisper, and he nods then, making you choke up. “When you say that… ah! It means… more than-”

“I want it… fuck… to mean more.” He answers, pumping inside, as you hear the squelching wetness of your slutty little cunt sucking him in, even though he’s stretching you so much you can’t take it. She wants him, you want him, as he’s rolling his hips, muscles flexing with every thrust. “This means so much. It does, it does.”

“It does for me too. It does, it does.” You are crying now, as he kisses your lips, swiping his thumbs across your cheeks, his lashes so long they tickle your own cheeks, his tongue moving in the same rhythm his cock is.

Now Satoru raises one of your thighs, looking at you carefully. “Can you take it harder baby? Can’t hold back.” You nod then he moans, and now he’s fucking harder, faster, slapping of skin so loud with every thrust that shakes your bed, and your head falls back as you start to build up again. He’s got a hand under your chin, pressing on your pulse points, moaning. “That’s it, lemme feel you pretty girl.”

At his urging, at him squeezing your throat, you’re cumming all over Satoru Gojo’s thick, veiny cock, and he’s moaning, his blue eyes so vivid, the pupils just pinpoints, as he kisses you everywhere he can reach. He slides your hand then, putting your fingertip on your clit, and you whine at the overstimulation, still weak from cumming so much.

“Play with it, please, let me feel you cum again.” He asks breathlessly, and you weakly rub your clit, soaking wet and twitching as Satoru pumps in and out of your cunt over and over, making you feel like you can’t focus on this realm anymore, you’re floating somewhere, heady and dazed. “You’re so beautiful, my god.”

“Love you, sorry, love you.” You can’t hold it in anymore, and he shakes his head, as he’s pumping more and more, and you feel him thickening, pulsing.

“I love you.” You cry then, even as you feel so much pleasure, so overwhelmed as he’s got your thighs pressed up, as he’s cupping your face. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

“Satoru… love you so much. Always.” You whisper back, eagerly kissing him as your hands clutch the blankets below you, and Satoru is emotional above you, his tears and sweat dripping down your face.

“Wanna cum in you. Please.” He begs then, and you nod, as he fucks you even harder, slamming his lips against yours, chasing his own release. “Oh my fucking… oh my god, you feel… oh my…”

Satoru’s pumping cum inside you so deep, and you’re crying out as it makes you cum, just his thick white ribbons streaming through your pussy, coating your walls that are fluttering around him. He exhales, as you’re a twitching mess under him, pumping his cum deeper as he caresses your face, grinning at you, a sweaty, sexy mess above you now.

“I love your pussy oh my god.” He says, and you giggle, struggling to come to as you realize with a blush that his cum is dripping down you.

“I love everything about you, Satoru, I always have.” He kisses you over and over, your face, your cheeks, your lips.

“I was so stupid, I’ll make it all up to you.” He’s leaning up on his elbows, shoving two fingers in your pussy again, and you cry out, back arching, for him to suck on your nipples, moaning.

“Satoru, it’s too much…”

“I have so much making up to do. Aw, are you cryin again? Fuck you’re pretty doing that.” He smirks down at your tear streaked face, then you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into with Satoru Gojo.

Gojo Drabbles/ one shots - Masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny has been mostly straight his whole 15 years of life. No his first kiss being Tucker doesn’t count, he will deny that to the end of the world. But he’s never really tried to explore his sexuality because it’s just never been tested.

Meanwhile DAN knows better, he did however not realize Danny wasn’t at the age he figured it out yet.

So Pride rolls around and Dan pops out of Clockwork’s tower and grabs Danny like “hey it’s time for pride.” And Danny is very confused because wtf Dan goes to pride???? He ended the world and despises humans but no, Pride is where he draws the line. Where are they even going for pride???

Gotham. Dan takes them to Gotham for Pride.

-Sincerely, Bisexual Son Dan anon

Danny glances comprehensively at the crowd of colorfully dressed people just as a woman on roller skates wearing nothing but a rainbow skirt and heart pasties flies by. At once, his whole face grows warm, and he drags his eyes down to the concrete before he makes the mistake of lingering on her too much.

He doesn't want her to think he is a creep. Or a pervert. Gosh, what if she thinks he's the reason women can't wear what they like in public because of men like him?

Danny can practically feel Sam stomping on the back of his knees with her metal boots at the mere idea.

The concrete becomes ten times more interesting as he listens to the woman zip away, dodging and weaving through the crowd with a cheer. Danny chances a glance up, only to make direct eye contact with her as she twirls in an impressive circle.

Her skirt fans out, displaying colorful shorts underneath, and she offers him a wink that makes the saliva in his mouth go down the wrong tub.

Half choking Danny, he flings his head away, staring at a different part of the group. He wants to die.

Dan snorts from where he is carefully painting a heart on the entire left side of his face. The older man had yanked him into the portal with barely an explanation and then opened a handheld mirror to paint himself with.

The heart is large, dramatic, and in three colors. Danny thinks they represent something, but he has yet to learn what. "Relax, kid. She won't bite- you don't have the bits she's into."

"What? Where are we? Why did you bring me here? Whats' going on!" Danny demands, clinging to Dan's arm as the man places the final white dots on his heart.

"We are in the best place to be in all of the Realms," Dan answers, gesturing to their surroundings. "Pride in Gotham! I brought you here to enjoy the festivities before I kick your ass in a re-match. Think of this as a second Truce Day."

"Pride?" Danny repeats, confused. Why would a person responsible for the world's end care about a minor holiday like that? Then, his mind caught up to the rest of what he said, making Danny even more confused. "Why would this count as a Truce day?"

Dan hums, pulling his long hair into a braid with careful but quick movements. "In the Realms, romance is regarded as a scarred topic and will be treated with the utmost respect. Ghosts rarely get married, so worrying about what gender people date is none existing. Unless you're stuck in a punishment island, but being in an endless era means ghosts never leave them. In this world, Gotham suffers an insane amount of crime, and on holidays, it's twice as bad, except for Valentine's Day and Pride. It's the only time the Rouges work together to ensure the city can enjoy themselves. You see? It alines in the dead and living worlds!"

Danny blinks slowly, "I don't understand any of that or why we are here."

Dan finishes his hair, by adding a little rainbow bow to the end. He truns a critical eye on Danny, looking him up and down then pulling out a pack of fake eyelashes. "I have rainbow heart lashes if you want to try them on."

"Answer my questions!"

The older man sighs as if Danny is in colossal pain, which is rude, considering he was the one who had dragged Danny from the street on his way home. "We're just here to enjoy the Pride Street Market. Maybe partake in a few contests if we're feeling brave. Look at booths. Watch the parade. You know, have fun."

"We," Danny gestures aggressively between them, just barely stopping himself from stomping his foot. "Don't do things together for fun!" And why Pride of all places, I'm not even gay!"

"I don't believe that."

Danny draws up short. "Excuse me!?"

"I said I don't believe you're not gay. I remember being your age. I was you, remember? I know how you reacted to Wes Weston."

The thought of the basketball-playing ginger runs through his head, sending a strange tingle through his body. Danny has always assumed that he was wary of the one person outside his friends who knew his secret. He can't believe Dan would even suggest that it was anything but weariness. "You mean the creep that follows me, trying to take my picture mid-transformation!?"

Dan shrugs. "You have a lot of things to wise up to. You're young; you don't know yet what having your picture taken does to you."

"What does that even mean!?"

Dan shrugs, putting away all his things in a convenient portal that pops up. "It means you're young. You'll learn."

Danny frowns, ready to demand more, when a shout of his older counterpart's name draws his attention. He twists around, looking into the flow of the crowd only to be surprised again by the more people in various revealing outfits, some of which warm his face.

Walking towards them is a man in a biker jacket, built like a brick house and towering over the people he passes. He's got big, heavy stomping boots, the kind that Sam would fist fight someone for, andan attractiveg white streak in his hair.

Was he a model?

Besides the rainbow wristband, nothing indicates he's here for pride.

"Jason!" Dan greets, grabbing the other by the outstretched arm and yanking in for a one-hand hug. "How have you been man?"

"Same old, same old," Jason responds with a laugh. Danny notes that he has a charming voice. He also has bright blue eyes and a sharp jawline—even the slope of his nose seems perfect. Danny didn't even know that was possible in noses. "Just got accepted to Gotham U for their English program."

"That's great! You'll obviously go to graduate at the top. No one is better at English than you." Dan chirps. Danny is too busy staring up at Jason in awe to be embarrassed by the eagerness with which Dan speaks to his friend. It was like listening to Jazz when she met that one famous poet at a slam and was tripping over herself to ask for his number.

Jason glances down at Danny, rasing a brow. "This is?"

Dan startsles almost as if he forgot he had kidnapped someone. " Oh, right. This is my baby brother, Danny."

"Oh," Jason grins, dragging out the o sound. He turns to Danny—who actually flinches back—and holds out his hand. "Dan told me all about you. I'm Jason Todd. Nice to meet you."

"Um...I- nice to meet. My name is. I mean, it's nice to meet you too. I'm Danny Fenton." He wants to barf.

This is worse than when Wes had cornered him in the boy's locker room, clutching his camera and hissing that he intended to document every moment of Danny's day for signs of Phantom.

It did make sense that any friends of Dan's- bringers of apocalypse, destroyers of humanity- made him uneasy. He's probably evil too.

"This is Danny's first Pride," Dan tells Jason in the same tone a parent would say: This is his first day of preschool. Dannny burns in embarrassment.

"Nice. You picked the great one to start in, kid. Gotham Pride is the best in the whole country." Jason says, tilting his head towards the booths. "My brother is helping his boyfriend run an informational booth for various sexualities if you're interested"

Dan steps forward with bright eyes. "Tim and Bernard are finally official?"

"Five months strong," Jason confirms with a laugh. You think Timmy would have realized it after going on three dates with the guy. It took Bernard getting kidnapped midway by a pain cult for it to click in Tim's head.

"He's young" Dan laughs, gesturing to a stun Danny. "Like this one."

"Ah, to be young and not dead." Jason sighed, sidestepping a child who ran by with a giant rainbow balloon. It smacked against Danny, waking him from whatever trace he was under.

Danny doesn't know what to make of all this. Figuring he should escape while Dan is distracted by the model man, he steps back, attempting to activate his powers, only to be shocked when he remains solid and in sight. Dan glances at him with an evil light in his eye.

"Lady Gotham nuterlizes our powers here. You have to be normal." He says and Jason titls his head.

"He's dead too?"

"A Halfa."

"Ah" Jason looks down at Danny who was starting to panic. "You want to go grab something to eat? There is this one food truck on the other side of the plaza run by the Riddler. He makes a mean BBQ."

At this point, did Danny even have a choice? "Okay."

Pride turned out to be surprisingly fun, and he learned that the paint that Dan had colored himself with was the "pansexual" flag. Also, Jason's parents must have marinated him in hotness juice alongside his siblings before letting any of them be born.

Hot damn.

Danny accepted the pansexual flag that Dan silently handed to him as the Waynes conversed at Tim's booth.

Maybe he should text Wes when he gets back from Pride.

[yesimwriting]

thinking about bestfriend!felix who's known for being touchy within his social circle, so when he holds your hand as you walk around campus and leaves giggly kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck after a few drinks, you think nothing of it.

especially because it comes up in conversation from time to time. everyone that hangs out with him regularly enough has at least one story: felix smoothed circles against my back until i fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a party; he's kissed the top of my head twice; i've never seen him end a hug first.

and you've seen things--at parties, while studying, while out with friends in general. so you genuinely have no reason to think there's anything strange or different about the way he treats you, and neither does anyone else.

at first.

one night, when you're still new enough to felix and his world that you feel extremely out of place at a party that he invited you to, he calls you over to where he and his friends are sitting. you walk over to them, greeting everyone politely before moving to take the available space next to felix.

he grabs your wrist before you can actually sit. you're confused, but given little time to react. felix mumbles an absentminded, "c'mere" before pulling you towards his lap. it's a little flustering, but you sit, because that's just how felix is.

okay. normal enough. conversation continues. no one thinks twice about it. farleigh thinks it's a bit of overkill, but just assumes it's a combination of alcohol and maybe an attempt at laying the groundwork to hook up with you a little later in the night.

then, someone asks about potential vacation plans over break and farleigh brings up an inside joke from the last trip he and felix went on. it's casual, but it's clear that felix is supposed to say something.

farleigh looks over in time to see felix holding one of your hands to his lips. alright. still not the most egregious display of platonic affec--felix takes his time pressing kisses to each of your knuckles.

it's not just the gesture. it's the way felix watches your reaction through his lashes and the amount of care in his focus. as if you're the only one in the room. there's a patience there that's practically devoted.

maybe farleigh had it wrong. he thought you were just one of those platonic friends that felix would cart around for a few months before getting bored. maybe it's more romantic, or at the very least sexual.

then felix's eyebrows draw together. "you're cold." you start to say that you're fine, but before you can get the words out, felix is holding both of your hands between his.

in the beat that it takes farleigh to recover from the slightly nauseating display, the rest of the group has gone quiet. they're all watching felix dote on you like you're the reason for the moon hanging in the sky. annabel whispers something about the "unsuspecting".

farleigh eventually tries again, directly stating felix's name. he finally looks up, a little confused, as if coming out of a trance. farleigh repeats his earlier comment, finally getting a reaction from felix. the group recovers because while the moment had been almost uncomfortably intimate for something so casual, this is far from the first time felix has started (casually) seeing an 'outsider'.

some time passes and you finish your first drink. when felix notices, he asks if you want another. you tell him that you don't mind getting your own, but felix is insistent. you stand so that he can get up.

a part of you wishes you could have found an excuse to go with him. the gesture, in theory, is nice, but without felix's protection, being left with his friends feels like he's thrown you to the wolves.

annabel, a little tipsy and now curious asks, "so, how long have you and felix..." she trails off with a knowing look.

you kind of get what she's implying, but it feels like too random and too unfitting of an assumption to be accurate. "oh, we've been friends since around right after syllabus week, felix ask--"

"no," she shakes her head, "i mean--" she tries again, this time asking with precise language.

your face grows a few degrees warmer. "oh." the slight laugh that follows the syllable is too genuine for it to be you playing coy. "no, it's not--we're friends."

friends. you genuinely believe it. annabel fixes you with a tight lipped smile that makes something in your stomach knot.

you decide that her question must have been prompted by you sitting on felix's lap. you've also heard enough stories about them to assume that they have an on again off again, sort of thing, and because you really don't want to make an enemy of her, you try to justify it, "that was just--you've known him way longer, he's just like that."

oh my god. he's fooled you. completely convinced you that that's normal. before annabel can really react, felix comes back. he hands you your drink and kisses your cheek before sitting down next to you. he doesn't ask you to go back to where you were sitting before, but he does keep a hand on your knee.

----

some bestfriend!reader concepts ft oliver

another bestfriend! felix blurb :)

bestfriend! felix and reader basically dating

[gabgabwrites]

DEVIL WEARS PINK | Eddie Munson [pt. 1]

summary ⇝ Eddie can’t help but be utterly infatuated with you, hawkins high’s most popular, prissy and preppy girl, who has one mean, vile streak for everyone, everyone but him.

warnings ⇝ bitchy!reader, language, bullying, mentions of divorce, sexual towards the end but overall not too bad, did I mention reader is a BULLY?? Ik there’s no smut, but mdni

part 2 coming soon!

You're everything Eddie doesn't like (or so he thought)

You dress in pink, you're preppy, you're popular. You're known to have the 'wrong' kind of fun, your type is jocks as jacked up dudes. Everyone at Hawkins High is scared of you on different degrees as you've been known to lash out.

That's why people thought you were trying to manipulate Eddie when you were spotted one day, leaning over his desk and talking to him, or when you'd greet him in the halls, even with a quick wave.

"Dude! She's psycho! How can you not see that she's trying to dig her talons into you and brainwash you?!" Dustin screamed as the group sat at a cafeteria table.

"She's not that bad..." Eddie quietly replies.

"Oh no, l'm afraid you've already been brainwashed!" Dustin clutched his chest in panic, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "It's too late!"

"Come on man, it's not that big a deal!" Eddie groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"It kinda is," Mike shrugged. "She is like the devil in pink, don't you know what she did to Greasy McGregor?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, "what exactly did she do to McGregor?"

"She pretended like she wanted to, y'know...shaboink him in the janitors closet, stole all his clothes—and I mean all, then locked him inside." Dustin told him.

"When the janitor opened the closet, McGregor came running out, not caring about being covered," Mike said with a shake of his head. "He was the laughing stock for the whole month."

"...did you just say shaboink?" He laughed out loud, "man, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And he's fine now, isn't he?"

The other boys exclaimed nervous looks.

"His dad had to enroll him in a different school in Barcelona."

"Yeah, cause that's soooo terrible, living in Spain,” Eddie rolled his eves again. "You're definitely overreacting."

Dustin shook his head, looking down and picking up a mini carrot before dipping it in the humus. "Point is, she's crazy and you're next."

"Or, hear me out, maybe I'm the first person to realise that she's actually a nice person. Crazy, huh?" he said sarcastically, waving his hands mockingly.

"Insane." Jeff mumbled.

Eddie crossed his arms and gave Jeff a pointed look, "Just because you think she's evil, doesn't make it true, you'd be shocked at how wrong you really are."

"Oh yeah? Then why is she laughing at Caity?" Mike jerked his chin to your direction, where you and your two tight knit friends were giggling at the poor girl who had her yogurt accidentally spurt all over her. Eddie turned his head, frowning as he caught sight of Caity wiping her face desperately with a handful of napkins.

He bit his lip, contemplating whether or not to say something or just ignore it.

"She's—." he started, but just sighed and shut his mouth, looking back down at his food.

"Save it dude, there's no point."

"Yeah, guess you're right." He said after a few moments, pushing his food around his plate, "Maybe I was wrong. She is kind of a dick."

"Oh yeah, big time." Dustin shook his head, the boys went back to talk about other stuff.

For the rest of lunch, Eddie kept his eyes down at his food, not daring to look anywhere near your direction, just keeping a low profile.

He got out of his seat as the bell signaled the start of the next class. He grabbed his food and tray, walking them over to the garbage bin and dumping the contents inside before throwing away the tray.

"Right...time for English..." he mumbled under his breath before turning around and walking out of the cafeteria.

Eddie contemplated skipping, but he had more absentees than present classes, and Wayne had scolded him so many times.

He let out a sigh as he made his way down the hallway.

"Why the hell do I even care..." He whispered to himself. He kept his head down as he walked, kicking himself mentally for thinking you might be anything other than what everyone told him you were.

"Hey, Eddie." You said, as you passed his desk. You were clutching your pink note book that had poorly drawn designs on it. You gave him a sugary smile that stretched across your glossy lips as he looked up.

Eddie looked up once more, his breath hitched as he was met with the bright smile that almost seemed to burn into his skull. He took a shaky breath before replying, "Uh, hey."

"I was wondering if you'd wanna hang out this weekend? There's this new Italian restaurant that opened and I've been wanting to go." You told him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Eddie stared up at you, completely taken aback as you asked him to hangout with you.

This was the last thing he expected when he was warned to stay away from you.

But that wasn't what surprised him the most, no, what surprised him the most was that he wanted to say yes.

He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice as he stared at your face.

"What...me? You want to hangout... with me?" He asked quietly, trying not to seem to dumbfounded at the question.

"Do you know another Eddie?"

"No,” He chuckled, shaking his head. "But, I mean, don't you have other people you'd rather hang out with? People a lot cooler and more fun than me?"

"Cooler? Yeah. Fun? Maybe," you dropped down, leaning your elbows against his desk, your low cut top falling down a tiny bit. Your strawberry and blossoms scent filled Eddie's space. "But not as interesting as you." You whispered.

Eddie felt his jaw nearly drop as he got a better smell of your scent.

He tried his best to keep his eyes on yours, but you were giving him a hard time trying to do that as he tried not to let his gaze fall down to your chest.

"I'm—,” he was struggling with words again, looking down at your top for a split second. "I'm interesting?"

"Oh yeah, totally." Your voice was almost like a purr as you brought your manicured fingers to his hair, before gently grabbing a few strands and twirling it. Eddie's body felt like it was on fire from your words alone, and he had to fight himself to not shiver as you played with his hair.

He bit his lip, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart before speaking, "You sure you want to hangout with a freak like me?"

"Uhuh, I like freaks." Just as your words finished, Mrs O'Nelly entered the classroom, leaving you to smirk before pushing yourself off his desk and walking to yours.

Eddie nearly let out a swear word and just sat in shock, as he watched you waltz away back to your seat, leaving him completely flustered.

He sat there for a few seconds before looking forward and taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. His mind kept going back to your words and your touch, burning the memory into his mind.

He had to snap himself out of it when class started, but he was barely paying attention all class, his mind occupied on just one thing.

Class had ended, and Eddie was quick to turn around, only to find you gone.

Eddie's eyes widened as he looked at your now empty seat, disappointment filling his chest.

He couldn't understand how he could be so upset over something so small. He never usually cared about girls like this, not even the girls in his D&D party were an exception.

He pushed his chair in and let out a huff as he picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

"You're fucked, Munson." He whispered to himself as he raced out of there. He decided to screw the rest of his classes and leave to go to Family Video, where he knew he'd find Steve.

Eddie walked in, raising his eyebrows as he saw Steve behind the counter.

"Hey, Harrington." He called out to Steve, walking over to grab some tapes from the nearest shelf.

"Oh, hey dude. Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Yeah, but a couple of free periods won't hurt, right?" Eddie answered, waving a hand dismissively as he set the tapes down on the counter. He leaned on the countertop, letting out a sigh.

Steve just frowned before taking the tapes and scanning them, snickering on the stupid Sci-Fi and horror names. "Uh, what's up?"

Eddie huffed, "Oh nothing... well—actually...I need your help with something,” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the counter in front of him. "Okay, promise you won't laugh at me?" Eddie looked up at Steve expectingly, biting his lip anxiously.

"I don't do promises." Steve told him as he put the tapes in a packet.

Eddie rolled his eyes, "Whatever, just don't laugh and try to be helpful. Now, tell me something...hypothetically speaking, right?" Eddie leaned in on the counter. "If a girl...and let's say this is also hypothetically a girl who's considered to be...popular for 'the wrong reasons', what would you say if she asked you to hangout?"

Steve gave him a confused look. "What wrong reasons, Eddie?"

"Uh...let's say she's been called a bully..." he rubbed the back of his neck, "A dick to more than just some kids at school, in fact, a whole bunch of the school."

Steve blew air out his mouth. "She wants to hangout with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, see, it's crazy, right?" Eddie threw his hands up. "Like, what reasons could she have? It's probably just one of her tricks, right? She's probably trying to get blackmail or something to hold over me, or hell, to hold over all of us."

"Did you ask her why?"

Eddie stared at Steve with a 'are you kidding me' look. "Are you insane? How am I supposed to ask her that without sounding like a complete and total idiot? Come on, man!"

"I don't know! Who is she anyways?"

Eddie paused, hesitating to say it for a split second before sighing, "promise you'll keep it to yourself?"

"I said I don't do promises." Steve put his hands up in surrender.

"God Damnit Harrington, fine!" Eddie grumbled in frustration before telling Steve your name.

Steve's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I remember her. Did you hear what she did to Greasy McGregor?"

"Yeah, Dustin told me all about it." Eddie rolled his eyes, "It doesn't matter anyway, what the hell am I supposed to do? She wants me to hangout with her, like actually hangout, and I have no idea what to do! It's driving me crazy!"

"Do you like her?" Steve winced.

Eddie froze, his eyes widened as he looked at Steve.

"No!" He said quickly, shaking his head. "Absolutely not! Wh-what gave you that idea?"

"I don't know, man. Look if you really don't like her, say no, easy."

"Yeah, yeah, easy...simple," He said, sighing before leaning his chin on his hand. He then sat up and groaned again, "God, I'm gonna sound like an idiot, but say, hypothetically, that I did like her. What do I do then?"

Steve looked at Eddie, his mouth opening to say something before a third voice popped in. "Don't listen to him for girl related issues!" It was Robin.

Eddie spun around, his mouth falling open a bit as he saw Robin peeking out from one of the shelves behind him.

"Jesus—you need to stop doing that, Buckley!" He exclaimed.

"If you do hypothetically like her, go out with her, but, she is a total wacko who will bite your head off, both of them, so perhaps take a gun and a knife and bear spray and a laser gun, do those even exist?" She rambled.

Eddie let his head fall back as he heard Robin's response. "Okay...yeah great idea...just turn the hangout into a whole damn military mission..." he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes once more.

"Look, maybe say no, and see her reaction? Take that as a hint to what you do after."

Eddie's mind went back to your smile, your laugh, your touch, that stupid strawberry and blossom smell—He shook his head harshly to snap himself out of it. He let out a sigh as he nodded, "Yeah...yeah, you're right. Thanks, Robin."

"But I still say bring the bazooka...just in case." Robin added jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up..." Eddie smiled at her, flipping her off jokingly. The rest of the week was torture for Eddie. His mind was constantly plagued with thoughts of you. No matter how hard he tried to forget, he always ended up thinking of your beautiful smile or your laugh that echoed in his head endlessly.

He avoided eye contact with you, knowing very well he'd be lost the moment he looked at your sparkling eyes and your glossy lips that looked so delectably addictive that it made him weak in the knees. Eddie was unusually quiet at DnD night

The party all shot each other looks as they played, watching Eddie closely as he seemed to be distracted with his own thoughts.

At one point, Dustin leaned over to Lucas and whispered, "What’s with him?"

"I don't know dude."

Mike looked back at Eddie. "Earth to Eddie." He called out. "You paying attention there?"

Eddie snapped out whatever trance he was in. "Uh, yeah, yeah."

The boys exchanged another look, all of them knowing it was a lie.

"Dude, you've been off the entire week. You sure you're good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine, are you fine? You don't look fine? Does he look fine to everyone?" Eddie went of a word splurge.

The other boys all mumbled, "uhh... yeah...he's fine."

"Dude, we're not the ones that have been zoned out the entire week." Dustin said as he folded his arms.

Eddie frowned. "Right, sorry, back to the game..." he mumbled. "Where were we? Oh, so then the Paladin class gets attacked." He picked up the di, and threw them against the table.

The next day, Eddie came into school looking as though he'd been dragged through a bush of thorns. His hair was a mess, he had bags under his eyes, and just looked incredibly exhausted.

He went through his classes in a daze, barely paying attention to anything that was said the whole time.

It wasn't until the bell rang signalling lunch that he snapped out of it for the first time that day. He sat at the table, picking at the folds of the cardboard juice box

He poked at his food with the plastic fork in his hand, his mind wandering all over the place.

He was snapped out of it when Mike's voice called out to him, "Eddie...dude... you look like crap."

"Well, gee thanks, Wheeler."

Mike huffed, raising his eyebrows, "Well, have you slept at all this week? Like at all?"

Eddie was going to say something, when the sounds of all too expensive high heels clacked towards them. Eddie's eyes widened as his breath hitched, knowing exactly who those hitched, knowing exactly who those expensive high heels belonged to.

Just like everyone else at the table, he looked up as you approached the table, all eyes falling on you.

The corners of your mouth lifted, but the smile was bitter, your eyes raked over everyone, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something about the way they stared and glared. "Hey, Eds."

'Eds?' the boys internally screamed

Eddie took a sharp breath, his hands clenched at his sides tightly as you spoke, using that stupid nickname that you always used.

He tried to speak through his dry throat. "H-hey.....what's up?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you accepted my invite?" You asked, dustin shot Eddie a deranged look of confusion. Why hadn't Eddie told them?

Eddie's mind was running a thousand miles a minute as you spoke, his heart feeling like it was going explode in his chest.

He could feel the table of boys looking at him, all of them curious why he'd never mentioned anything about your hangout.

He cleared his throat, "Uh... that...yeah... about that—."

He was cut off when Dustin spoke up,

"What're you talking about?"

Great, just what he needed. Eddie shot Dustin a look, silently screaming at him to shut up.

"Did Eddie not tell you?" You asked with a tilt of your chin. "Well since you're all friends I thought he would."

Eddie's eye twitched, his hand gripping the table as hard as it could.

"Oh yeah...l forgot..." he said through clenched teeth.

"So do you want to go?"

Eddie wanted to say no. He really did.

He didn't want to fall for you. He didn't want to get dragged into whatever games you had up your sleeve.

But something inside him said yes.

Something that whispered to him that maybe you were being more sincere than everyone gave you credit for.

With all eyes burning into him, he finally answered, "Sure...I'll go with you."

Your smile broadened, it was one of those post cover girl smiles that you'd see models give to a camera, hard to tell if it's artificial or not. "Mkay, great. I'll meet you there at seven tomorrow, do you want my number to keep in touch?"

The sight of your smile alone made his stomach turn upside down, his heart thudding against his ears.

"Yeah...yeah, sure..." He was able to say, trying desperately to keep himself from sounding like and idiot and failing miserably.

He could feel the group of boys practically burn holes into the back of his head as they continued to stare, but that was the least of his worries right now.

You looked up. "Does anyone here have a marker?"

Mike, who was sitting just closest to you, reached into his backpack and pulled out a black sharpie, reaching it out to you, "Here."

"Thanks," When your nails scraped against his fingers as you took the marker, Mike could've sworn you had talons, long, thick talons you probably used to shred apart your victims. "Arm." You instructed, pointing to Eddie's arm.

Eddie was reluctant at first, but he slowly pulled up his sleeve, holding out his arm for you.

He tried to ignore the group of boys' stares and questioning glances that were thrown his way.

You uncapped the marker before writing for your number across his pale, freckled skin, even adding a big heart next to the last digit.

Eddie could do nothing but sit there, letting you write your number on his arm, trying to pay as little mind as possible to the boys behind him that were no doubt watching you like hawks.

When you finished, Eddie quickly pulled his sleeve back down and shoved his arm back under the table.

"I'll see you there, later boys!" You gave them all one last look before spinning around and leaving.

Eddie watched you leave, his eyes lingering on you until you disappeared from his sight.

Once you were gone, he whipped around and let out an irritated sigh before glancing at the gawking faces of the boys.

"What the actual heck!?" Dustin exclaimed

Eddie looked from Dustin's confused face to the rest of the boys'.

They all looked beyond clueless and utterly dumbfounded.

"Look, it's not what you think—." he started, holding his hands up in defense.

"Yeah? Then what is it?" Gareth snapped.

Eddie rubbed his face, his brain feeling like it was going to explode. "I don't know...I don't know...one minute she's asking me to hangout and the next she's writing her number on my arm!"

Eddie took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

"Don't tell me you like her." Dustin groaned.

Eddie's heart stopped in his chest for split second. "What?! No! Hell no! Where on earth would you ever get that idea?!" He exclaimed, waving his hands around dramatically.

He didn't like you, he didn't like you, he didn't like you. He repeated it over and over again in his head like a mantra.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? If you don't like her then rub off her number."

Eddie's heart thumped in his chest once more, racing like a thousand horses stampeding against his ears.

He had to bite back the urge to cry 'no!' over and over again, trying desperately over and over again, trying desperately to come up with some excuse in his mind.

He looked at his arm and the numbers that sat so perfectly on his skin, his eyes burning at the idea of erasing it, the idea of losing that link to you.

"Go on..."

His heart was going going a million miles a minute, racing like never before.

He knew he had to do it. There was no way he'd be able to explain to any of the boys how you'd made him melt from just a single smile and a touch.

He let out a shaky sigh, before using his sleeve to wipe the numbers from his skin, his heart aching as he did so.

The numbers began to blend into each other, Mike even went as far as grabbing the small sanitiser bottle his mom made him keep, and squirted some on Eddie's arm.

Eddie kept his eyes on his now clean arm, the numbers now gone, completely gone.

It didn't make him feel better. It didn't take away the aching throb in his chest at the idea of you.

"Good, glad to see you've gone back to your senses." Dustin clapped Eddie on the back.

Eddie's face contorted uncomfortably, his heart twisting as Dustin patted him on the back, nodding in approval.

He let out another sigh but said nothing, keeping his eyes on his blank arm.

Eddie looked to the side, where he saw you, talking to Barb. Eddie grimaced slightly at the sight, knowing full well that you only used her to your advantage.

He could make out the faint sound of your laughter floating toward him, that annoying, stupid sound that made his heart backflip in his chest every single time.

The weekend rolled by, and Eddie had to distract himself from knowing that it was close to seven, the time you had wanted to meet. He didn't know the restaurant's name, he didn't know where it was to begin with. He'd asked Wayne about it and Wayne said he didn't know of a new Italian restaurant that popped up.

Ultimately, he decided to ditch you.

Eddie sat on the couch in the trailer, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Wayne had gone on a night shift, leaving Eddie by himself in the house. For once he actually wished Wayne was home, just so someone would keep him company. He checked the time, five minutes to seven. You'd be there soon.

Eddie let out a sigh as he checked the time on his watch once more. It was five minutes past seven.

He couldn't understand why he could still feel the aching throb in his chest as the minutes ticked past.

Part of him couldn't help it by wondering if you were pissed at him for what he'd done, but he also couldn't deny the other part that was silently hoping you would be pissed. At least that'd show you actually cared.

Eddie groaned, digging a hand into his pocket before pulling out a blunt, he thought that by smoking it, it would dissolve all his worries, and all thoughts of you.

Eddie lit the blunt, holding it up to his lips and taking a deep drag.

He blew out a cloud of smoke, hoping that it would help calm his racing mind and quell the painful throb in his chest.

But it didn't.

If anything, it made everything worse.

The high seemed to make him more hyper aware of everything his surroundings, the silence of the home, the pain in his chest.

His heart rate was up, his leg was bouncing up and down, and no matter how hard he tried to shut you out of his mind, you were still there, constantly reminding him of that aching in his chest.

He took another drag of the blunt, holding onto it for a few seconds before letting out a harsh breath, blowing out another cloud of grey smoke.

Eddie felt on end on Monday, if you found him you'd probably be mad, he'd be killed on spot. Eddie actually had yet to see you in the halls, or in class, but you hadn't come. In done way, he was thankful.

Eddie had tried to stay as low key as possible through the day. He sat through his classes, his leg bouncing as usual and his mind elsewhere.

He'd constantly looked ahead himself, bracing for the possibility that you would pop out right in front of him, but you never did.

He'd even scanned the cafeteria during lunch, praying you wouldn't pop up out of nowhere and confront him. But once again, you never did.

He didn't know whether to be thankful that you hadn't appeared, or upset. It was killing him not knowing where you were or what you were thinking.

But, the last thing he wanted to seem was obsessed with you and your whereabouts, so he played it safe and didn't ask anyone about you.

And it turned out, you'd be absent the whole week.

During the week, Eddie found it impossible to focus on anything. The lack of you anywhere in the school was a constant distraction.

He found himself listening out for your voice, or your laughter, any little sign that you were there.

He'd even looked out for you in the parking lot, hoping beyond hope that the BMW would pull in. But it never did.

So Eddie was back at Family Video after school on Friday, Eddie had actually attended every class and stayed the whole school day in hopes of seeing you.

Eddie had practically dragged himself into Family Video, slumping himself against one of the display cases.

He felt tired, both physically and mentally.

He rubbed his face in exhaustion, his mind racing as he tried to think about where you were and why he hadn't seen you all week.

"You look like you've had a rough week."

Suddenly Steve's voice echoed out through the store, drawing Eddie's attention. Steve stood by the counter, a smirk on his face as he looked Eddie up and down.

"You could say." Eddie sighed.

Steve leaned against the counter, folding his arms and letting out hum.

"You're usually in a good mood by Friday. But you look worse than Dustin when he's lost his D&D book."

Eddie snorted.

Steve chuckled, raising an eyebrow as his eyes darted along Eddie's face.

"Let me guess, this has to do with a girl." Steve stated.

"It's just, everyone, and I mean everyone says she's awful, yet the few times we've talked she's been fine. Then last week she wrote her number on my arm, but I got held at gunpoint to get rid of it, I flunked our...hangout—which I said yes to, sorry. Thought she's yell at me on Monday, only for her to be absent this entire week."

Steve let out a small whistle, his eyes widening at Eddie's words.

"Yeah...that's not good, man." He said, letting out a sigh, "but, what do you mean you got held at gun point to erase her number?"

"The whole group said if I didn't have feelings for her, l'd have to erase her number off my arm. Ugh, I'm so stupid."

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Oh come on, the group was clearly being over dramatic. You could've ignored them."

He folded his arms once more, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Eddie.

"It was either that, or they never talk to me again over some stupid, dumb, mean, terrible... pretty, girl."

Steve chuckled once again.

"You think she's pretty?" He shot at Eddie, a sly smirk on his face.

Eddie sighed, dreamily. "Yeah, man. She has such soft looking hair, and pretty eyes, and her smiled, dude, let me tell you."

Steve made a face that looked like a mixture of amused and bewildered.

"Damn man, you've got it bad. " he said, leaning even more on the counter.

"I know." Eddie mumbled, solemnly.

Steve sighed, pity in his eyes as he watched his friend wallow in his own misery.

"Look man, you like her, a lot. But the rest of your friends hate her guts, it's not going to end well." Steve said with a shrug, "how do you even know if she actually likes you?" "I..." the words died on his tongue. 'Don't' he wanted to say.

Steve seemed to notice the change in Eddie's demeanor, taking a more softer approach. "You don't know whether she likes you or not, do you?"

Eddie looked over at Steve, with sad eyes.

It was then that his heart dropped to the depths of hell when he heard a laugh.

Your laugh.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sound of your laughter.

The sound of you brought a flurry of mixed emotions, ranging from worry to excitement. His heart was back to its usual race from that familiar thump, thump, thump and his palms became sweaty.

Eddie whipped his head and peered round the corner where you stood with your friends, laughing at the funny covers of some of the films. Eddie swallowed thickly at the sight of you. You looked, well, you looked amazing, as usual.

He scanned your face, his eyes roaming over every feature of your face, his heart aching when your mouth curled up into that familiar smile.

He watched as you picked up a copy of The Thing, examining the cover and giggling with your friends.

All he wanted to do was go over there and talk to you, to be next to you, but he stayed rooted to the spot, watching you with a mixture of dread and relief.

"I'm going to go find a worker, I'll be back." You said to your friends, before turning around in search of a staff member.

Eddie felt his heart thump in his chest as your friends nodded and said their goodbyes to you. He watched you turn towards the counter, praying to all the gods, new and old, that you somehow missed seeing him.

Steve had to go attend to your needs, being one of the few staff on the clock.

Eddie let out an internal sigh of relief as Steve stepped out from behind the counter and went to serve you, which left him out of sight of you for the time being.

He slumped against the display once more, his eyes on you and Steve talking.

"Do you have a copy of Heathers?" You asked, nails drumming against the counter. Steve's eyes widened at your choice of movie, before he quickly covered it up with a smile.

He glanced over his shoulder for a split second, making eye contact with Eddie, before refocusing on you. "Yeah, we do have a copy, I'll go find it for you." He said, walking past you and heading into the back.

You nodded as you waited for him to get it.

Once Steve was out of sight, Eddie's eyes were immediately drawn to you once more, watching you quietly.

He let he eyes roam over the familiar features of your face, the features that he'd been thinking about for the past week. He was trying desperately not to notice the pang in his heart as he looked at you.

Before he knew what was happening, Steve was back, a copy of the film in his hand. He placed it on the counter next to you, ringing it up with a smile.

"Oh, and one more thing, tell Eddie I say hi, I know he's hiding behind that shelf." You told Steve before grabbing the bag and leaving.

Eddie froze. How did you know he was there?

When he was sure you were gone, he peered out from behind the shelf, an utterly bewildered look on his face. Steve was standing at the counter, trying desperately not to laugh at Eddie's dumbstruck expression. "She said hi, by the way." He said with an amused smile on his face.

"How did she know I was here!?" Eddie exclaimed, standing up from his hiding place and approaching the desk.

"Well it's not every day you see some guy dressed in leather and denim hiding in the soap opera section."

Eddie made a face at that, but chose not to comment.

Instead, he slammed his hands down on the counter, leaning forwards and looking at Steve.

"Did she look angry?" Steve shook his head. "She wasn't pissed?" Eddie asked, his heartbeat picking up once again. It was a good thing, right? You weren't mad, so that had to mean you were fine with what he'd done.

"There was no look of death in those pretty little eyes of hers." Steve replied, a smirk on his face.

Eddie gave him a look at his choice of words.

"What?" Steve said, his smirk only widening. "I'm just stating the facts."

He let out a small chuckle at Eddie's expression, a slightly amused look in his eyes.

Eddie grumbled a goodbye before leaving

"Bye!" Steve called out as Eddie turned and left the store.

Steve let out a small chuckle as he watched him go.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely got it bad."

Eddie was back at home, the air on had bust, and Eddie was dying. He'd long taken off his shirt and changed into black pair of shorts as he lounged around

The fan was on, but it was doing nothing to cool him down. He'd stripped down to just a pair of black shorts, his bandana in its usual spot on his forehead.

He slumped down onto the sofa, his chest and face glistening with sweat as he tried in vain to keep cool.

knock knock knock.

Eddie groaned as the sound echoed out through the home.

He knew he should have ignored it, hoping whoever it was would just go away. But he couldn't, he found himself stumbling off the sofa and walking to the door, opening it.

And there you were.

Standing there, a small, hesitant smile on your face, with your arms folded.

Eddie froze, eyes widening at the sight of you.

Surely this was just a hallucinations from the heat. A trick of the mind, or a fantasy come to life.

It was only when you spoke that he realised this was, in fact, real, and you were actually here, at his front door.

"Can I come in?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Eddie realised he'd been stood in stunned silence for probably way too long. He quickly shook himself from his daze, and realised he hadn't answered your question. Quickly, he nodded.

"Yeah...yeah, of course, come in." He said, standing aside and letting you inside.

Eddie began to feel conscious of the fact you had now seen him shirtless, you had indeed seen his few tattoos he'd gotten.

He didn't mind anyone seeing, in fact he wanted people to know about his sick tattoos, but there was something about you.

You sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't show up on Saturday."

Ok good, he thought, you wouldn't have known he also didn't show up.

Eddie shrugged gently, sitting down on the couch and watching as you sat on the armchair opposite him.

"It's all good."

It was silent for a few moments.

Eddie was silently thanking the gods you'd shown up in a simple vest, and jean shorts. The look was innocent, but for some reason, it was making the breath get caught in his throat.

You chewed on your bottom lip. "You're not mad?"

Eddie quickly shook his head. "Of course not."

He wasn't mad. In fact, he was overjoyed that you'd came here of your own free will, that you actually wanted to seek him out.

He took in a deep breath, trying desperately not to let his eyes linger on the way your vest hugged your body.

You nodded. "Okay, okay good. It's just, something came up and that's why l've been absent, I don't think you would've noticed."

Eddie had to resist the urge to laugh.

He'd noticed your absence painfully well, it had been all he had thought about all week.

He tried to keep his cool though, not wanting to come on too strong.

"What happened?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You looked down at your lap. "Can I trust you?"

That question caught Eddie off guard.

He leaned forward a little, studying your face, the way your face was contorted into one of slight worry.

"Yeah, you can trust me." He said, nodding once.

"You sure? You won't go around and tell everyone?" You asked, before taking in a breath. "I know how I act so you could use this as dirt on me."

Eddie had to once again stop himself from laughing at your words. No, he wouldn't use this as 'dirt' on you.

Why would he do that? He wasn't going to run off with the news the moment you told him what was going on.

He shook his head once more. "I won't tell a soul."

You nodded. "My parents are...they're no longer staying together," You head dropped. "It's just been hard at home."

Hearing that information shocked Eddie.

Your parents, the parents who always seemed so put together, and happy.

They weren't together anymore?

"Jesus..." He mumbled, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I mean, it's no excuse to be a shitty person, I guess l've been deflecting on others," You sighed. "Um, I should go."

At that, Eddie spoke up.

"Wait!" He exclaimed, stopping you as you moved to get up.

You froze, and slowly turned to look at him. Eddie swallowed thickly, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

"You don't have to leave just yet." He said, trying to keep a sense of control in his voice. He took a shaky breath."I mean, it's a hell of a lot hotter outside. You'll fry in that summer sun."

You let out an amused huff of air at his words. "I suppose you're right."

Eddie tried to ignore the way your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

"Stay a while." He said, attempting to maintain the cool, casual demeanour. "It's lonely here by myself."

"I bet." You grinned as you walked over to him before sitting down besides him.

Suddenly the air felt hotter for Eddie.

Your proximity was doing a number on him.

He could almost feel the warmth of your skin against his own, and suddenly the heat was back with double the force.

He was trying desperately to keep his eyes on your face, and not roam over the skin of your legs which were left on show with those shorts.

"U-Uh, you want one?" Eddie stammered before he picked up a cooler, showing you a range of popsicles.

He mentally cursed his own voice for how it caught in his throat.

He hoped to the gods you didn't notice the way his voice had wavered.

"Sure, why not?"

You picked up a red one, cherry flavoured, before pushing the treat out the packaging and wrapping your lips around it. You let out a small groan as the flavour seeped into your mouth and the colour stained your lips.

And there went any hope of Eddie remaining even remotely cool, or casual.

Your eyes flickered over to his, and he swore he could cum on spot. Your lips popped off the popsicle as you tilted it in his direction. "You want a taste?"

Heat immediately rushed to Eddie's cheeks as your words sent a jolt straight to his core.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming over your face and landing on your lips, cherry stained and covered in the red liquid.

"U-Uh...sure." He said, clearing his throat.

"Open up." He hated how quickly he obeyed your command. Without another word, he parted his lips for you. Waiting.

You brought the cold treat to his lips, watching as they closed around the part you had previously sucked on.

Eddie tried desperately to focus on anything but the sight of your lips on that popsicle, the image burned into the back of his mind for later.

He felt the coldness of the flavour against his tongue, and he let out a soft moan around the popsicle.

"Do you like it?" You asked softly. Eddie didn't want to tell you he'd had this flavour a dozen times, yet none tasted as sweet as this one.

In fact, he was going to buy a whole box just so he could remember this taste.

He nodded, the popsicle still in his mouth, before pulling it from his lips.

"Yeah... do." He said in a low voice, his eyes still trained on your cherry stained lips.

Your eyes watched as a small, red dropped dribbled down the corner of his lip. "Can I clean that up?"

A shiver ran down his spine at that, and he couldn't stop the way that heat once again pooled in his stomach. He let out a shaky breath before slowly nodding his head, his eyes still locked with yours.

What he didn't expect was for you to crane your neck, and to feel your tongue brush his bottom lip, before your lips cushioned around it as you gently sucked the juice off.

He swore time stopped entirely, and all he could focus on was the feeling of your tongue on his lip, cleaning up the sticky liquid left behind by the popsicle.

The heat flared, and he couldn't control the low, guttural moan that escaped his lips.

"Well, fuck me." He mumbled to himself, as he watched you innocently go back to enjoying your popsicle. He had to throw a pillow over his lap, and ignore the feeling of him aching between the legs

Eddie was thankful for the fact you'd gone back to eating that popsicle like nothing had happened, as if you hadn't just made him let out that pitiful moan.

He shuffled in his seat, attempting to create some pressure for himself as he gritted his teeth together.

[head---ache]

Fankids Character Charts [1/3]

The kids!! The first 7 out of all the kids getting charts!!! They're going to be divided in three groups because they're too many kiddos now lol.

More detailed info under the cut!

Emmie: Sonadow kid, the one who got my fankid train started! Also, the first Tube Baby! (Here's three posts about it: One, two, three).

Her full name is Emily (meaning "rival"), however, everyone just calls her Emmie (out of universe explanation + in universe explanation).

She has Black Arms DNA, but it's uncertain the lenghts it's effects have on her. They know she had green blood (first shown here) and has access to the Hivemind, which as a baby she used to communicate with Shadow (first shown here), but as she grew older she stopped using it, and now finds it harder to access it.

She, of course, also has Chaos Energy. She has super speed and can perform Chaos Control (here) and turn Super (first shown here), but her super form is highly unstable and quickly becomes similar to Sonic's "Super Fleetway" form (here).

Emmie uses her trusty yoyo to fight (here), complementing her powers and ability in a way to extend the reach of her attacks, rope in her enemies, etc.

Sparks: The oldest of my Blazamy kids, and first Belly Baby in the lineup (here's context).

Sparks has fire powers, similar to Blaze's, though they find them a bit harder to control. They get Blaze, Knuckles and Espio's help to learn to use said powers, since they require a lot of training. Also, again, quite like Blaze, they can turn into Burning Sparks (here), but this form drains their energy pretty fast.

Since Blaze is a princess, Amy, Sparks and Tulip do acquire royalty related tiltes, however, they're very informal and don't hold that much power due to Blaze not wanting them to have any responsability simply because they're related to her. Despite this, Sparks does end up becoming ruler of the Sol Dimension later in the timeline, but by their own volution.

They use a fire sword to fight (here). It would be a simple sword, but they infuse it with their powers for it to become this flaming version of the weapon.

Lash: The oldest of my Scourgiona kids and your local surprise baby representation.

Her main ability is acrobatics, and she has some sort of super speed but it's quite weak compared to Emmie's.

She has both mommy and daddy issues, and spends most of her time at Aim's house, although she grew up with Mareep, Glamour and Stumble. She has two older siblings, and at first she didn't have much of a relationship with them, since they're younger than her and much closer to each other, but eventually Lash steps in and tries to be a part of her siblings' life like their parents should've been.

She starts as more of a "villain", taking the role of your local mean girl next to Mareep and the others, and has a bit of friction with the rest of the kids, but as she starts hanging out more with Aim and Spades, she begins to let that attitude go and tries to be better, eventually joining the Restoration.

Aim: Whispangle kid, selectively mute, and a Belly Baby.

He does archery, which is their main fighting technique, however, during battle, they also use their tail to move around faster and will occasionally team up with Whisper's wisps.

He does not speak, at all, but the others just seem to understand him without him even needing sign language or anything. Also finally giving it a name rather than just saying 'he doesn't speak', they're selectively mute! So yay for it finally having a name!

Bria: Sonina (Sonia x Mina) Belly Baby! Making them Emmie's younger cousin.

They don't fight much, rather serving to give hope and high spirits to those around her! But of course, living in the universe they live in, they know martial arts just in case it's needed, and as self defense.

Even though Bria's hard of hearing, his biggest passion is music. She plays piano and guitar, piano being his main instrument.

Tulip: The youngest of my Blazamy siblings, also a Belly Baby (in universe explanation here).

He hasn't shown any special ability yet, which is something that bothers him. Because of this, he isn't allowed to be around the other kids when there's danger, but he's very sneaky and often gets things to work in his favor anyway (in some strange way, he always knows what to do to get what's best for his interests, hm...)

He has an interest in tarot cards, like Amy, and in these sorts of magic related topics.

Destiny: One and only Code Baby! And Sallicole kid. She's an AI similar to Nicole, but with more advanced and sophisticated technology.

Being an AI, she can easily hack into robots and computers, which helps during battle.

They usually take the leader role very naturally, immediately making a plan on the spot and guiding the rest of the group thanks to her rational thinking nature. However, she's quite shy which makes things a bit difficult for her, her confident side mainly showing when assuming the role of the leader, or when fighting for things they're passionate about.

Destiny is president and leader or a smaller section of the Restoration, which is the training and formation for teenagers. This is where she shines her brightest, leading this group on missions and making their plans of action, as well as organizing their training schedule.

[amberjazmyn]

decade 💔🥹

pairing : f1 grid x driver!reader

summary :  aston martin driver elouisa holland is great at keeping her composure in front of the judgemental and ruthless eyes of the formula 1 media circus. that is until she gets asked about why she only has her mum and siblings at her races but not her dad even though everytime she did speak about her dad, it was positive. those who knew why her dad wasn't present at races were worried for how elouisa would respond until the room fell silent when she explained since they clearly couldn't understand or recognise the tense in which she spoke about him. 

warnings : mention of parental death, dark humour, f1 grid press conference, driver x female!reader, platonic x f1 grid, driver reader x max verstappen

a/n :  i have to admit, this was slightly self-indulgent because, fyi, my own father died a decade ago this year and this is exactly what i feel like i'd respond with if someone asked me where my dad was if i talked about him in such a positive light and them not recognising the tense in which i spoke about him. and, also, yes, i have elouisa as an aston martin driver because, no hate but, i'm not the biggest fan of lance stroll so he's just not part of the grid and elouisa is instead but all the other drivers are still in the grid though with a special guest appearance of sebastian vettel. 

it wasn't a shock to find out that the media circus involved with formula one was invasive and sometimes brutal. asking questions that people would think would be off-limits from asking however, within f1, no question was off-limits since there were no secrets within the sport. not even questions about personal matters like their families or their love lives since majority of the drivers had relationships that whilst weren't technically secret but on the private side and other personal matters in their life were safe from media scrutiny. things that didn't even relate to being a formula one driver would be asked instead of the more important questions like how they felt about their car or how the race itself went. and of course, because of these nosy reporters who always wanted clicks and the best and juciest headlines, all the drivers on the f1 grid was put through some form of pr media training so they'd always have the perfect response that would also still give them some privacy as well as preparing them for the harshest of harsh questions without lashing out and gracefully rerouting the conversation back to the original topic of racing. so, if they were responding to a question that was quite invasive and teetered on the line of a privacy violation, they didn't give too much away and they weren't giving the reporter the exact response that they so desperately wanted. and, most of the times, it worked perfectly and the drivers hadn't had their whole lives being plastered over the internet. however, for the first time, elouisa holland's pr training did not come and save her because no matter how hard she tried giving the intrusive reporter her pr media trained responses, he still wasn't satisfied and kept on pressing her for a better answer then the one he had been given. 

so, because of that, she decided to tell the truth and it was a hard truth that would also make many people uncomfortable but, elouisa had been pushed too hard and too far and unfortunately, it was with the entire f1 grid around her alongside the nosy reporters. who most of them already knew the unfortunate reason why her dad wasn't seen around the paddock during grand prixs and why whilst she always spoke lovingly of her dad, she always spoke about him in the past tense. and that was because elouisa's dad died when she was only eleven years old when she was still karting alongside some of those who she now shares the f1 grid with. 

however, that's not how the press conference started. it had actually started as an amazing group interview with all of the drivers, all twenty of them, all bunched up together on the teeny tiny couch. all of them giggling and making jokes with one another and the interviewers and the moderator. elouisa was sat in the middle of red bull's max verstappen and ferrari's carlos sainz jr, verstappen on her right and sainz jr to her left. the three of them were giggling amongst each other and it was during that moment of the three of them giggling that the invasive interviewer, a man who was like at least a couple decades older than elouisa, asked her the one question she had always managed to skirt around giving a proper answer and avoid. 

however, the moment her head looked away from max and carlos and over at the interviewer, it was as though she already knew what question he would be asking. and that was before she had even lifted her head up and before he had even opened his mouth to say anything. 

"you always speak about your dad in such a positive light but we never see him around the paddock or at any of the grand prixs. if he's so great and so loved by you, then why doesn't he make any effort in supporting his daughter in a sport that for so many years, was male dominated and still is considered to be. as the only female driver on the grid, it has to upset you that majority of the drivers have their entire family with them to support them but you don't. especially with the consideration that you are actually quite a talented driver and really getting up there in the status of a legend. but, this is something you always avoid and never answer properly so why are you always talking so happily about your dad but when you get asked why he's never here to watch you drive, you always avoid and deflect, why is that?" elouisa should have prepared herself better but, she genuinely thought reporters were getting bored of asking this question because of the fact she always avoided it

however, this crusty old man was persistent and it seemed as though by his stance and the look on his face, that he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he desired. but, of course, elouisa wasn't going to back down either so, she started to respond with the same old, media trained answers that she had always used every single time. 

"my dad and the reason why he doesn't turn up to races has no connection to where i am now as a formula one driver. this isn't a question you would ask to someone like max or to charles so why am i the only one being questioned on this topic other than the obvious that i'm a female and they're men? if you have a better question that is actually in relation to this weekend's grand prix, i will happily answer it but, any other non-related grand prix questions, will be ignored, thank you..." elouisa trailed off, placing the microphone in her hand back into her lap as she smiled over at max who gave her a worried look

elouisa knew that the guy was going to keep on trying, it was obvious. however, she didn't want anyone to notice just how bothered she got when people constantly asked about her father and why he was always mentioned but never seen. 

like mentioned before, she was eleven when her father died. and for the longest time, after the death of her father, it was as though her life went by ever so slowly. she wasn't sure how she was still alive because she never really remembered much from ages eleven to eighteen since those years just culminated together all into one. of course, she liked to say that she was the happiest she had ever been from her formula 2 days in 2020 and onwards but, everyone knew she was still struggling deep down. since the loss of her father, she developed an anxiety disorder that was then rediagnosed as ptsd since panic attacks would always strike the australian girl at the worst and most inconvient of times. however, they never bothered her when she was racing or in interviews which she always thought was suspicious considering just how much more dangerous formula one racing was then anything else that she had going on in her life. at eighteen, she made her formula one debut with torro rosso even though it was only just for that debuting performance. after debuting with torro rosso, she moved to renault and then alfa romeo within the same year since the two teams fought over her, spending one half of the year with renault and then the other with alfa romeo. then, aston martin contacted her for a multi-year contract which she couldn't turn down as they had been renamed and brought back after changing their name from racing point to aston martin. and because they knew alfa romeo were never going to keep her for longer than the second half of her rookie season. and in late 2021, elouisa would be the number one driver of aston martin alongside fernando alonso. 

even though elouisa seemed to smile a lot in regards to talking about her dad, it always killed her a little inside because she always spoke about him in the past tense, reminding her of that solemn fact that, her dad was truly never going to come back. no matter how many times she wanted to forget or pretend that his death was just a mean prank that went too far. of course she did. how else would she talk about her dad who was no longer walking the earth anymore? besides, it had accidentally become a habit that she never wanted to get into in the first place. of course she wished her dad was still alive. it was the same for her best friend, charles leclerc, who drove for ferrari. his dad had also passed away but charles was a lot older, he was nineteen and a year away from getting his formula one contract. so he knew the very pain that elouisa went through every single day when she would look and see the other drivers have both of their parents be present for them at every race. it was something she had always longed for and even sometimes loathed her mum for. she had always wanted her mum to fall in love again and when she didn't, it made her slightly hate her mum for not wanting to try to love someone new again just because she was afraid of the same thing happening again. it hurt elouisa to see her mum just blantly ignore her children when they begged and cried out for more than just their mum. only their youngest brother a mummy's boy. the rest of the siblings obsessed with their dad which caused four of the five siblings way more grief from the loss. 

it brought a painful ache into elouisa's heart every single time she remembered the words she said moments after the death of her dad had been announced. the first thing that fell out of little eleven year old elouisa's mouth was 'when am i getting a new dad?'. and even though she was now twenty-one, it was still something that haunted her every waking hour knowing that those were the first words that came out of her mouth. she was eleven, not a baby, yet she was still so clueless about death being final. that death meant the person wasn't going to come back. and now that she was older, she understood why little eleven year old elouisa said what she said. she said those words because she never wanted to be living a life without a father in her life. whether that was her biological father or a father that stepped up and fell in love with her mum and her five children. 

however, that never happened. elouisa's mum never fell in love and it was still something that elouisa would pick fights with her mum about. calling her mum selfish because she's too scared to fall in love again. reminding her that she can't stay miserable forever and that it's not a crime to try again and give her family the stability that they've been missing for the last decade. 

blinking back the cruel truth of elouisa's life, she was pulled back into the press conference as the intrusive interviewer asked her the question again, "i'll ask you again, why are you always avoiding questions that involve your father's obnoxious absences from the races? if a father loved his daughter so much, he wouldn't be avoiding all of her races so where is your father and why are you avoiding answering questions about his whereabouts?" the interviewer asked sharply, waiting for the moment elouisa would crack under the pressure he put her under 

everyone just watching in wait. the drivers beside her all holding their breath as they never truly knew how elouisa would respond or react when asked about her dad. whether she'd laugh hysterically and insert dark humour jokes, in a bid to cover up her uncomfortability. whether she'd cry because it was a day in which she really missed her dad. or if she'd just be nonchalant and continue to ignore the interviewer. however, this time, it was clear that elouisa was equipped with the perfect answer. the answer that no one was ready for because of how brutally honest and uncomfortable it was. 

giggling under her breath, it seemed to excite elouisa that she could finally throw away all of her pr media training and just make this absolute asshole of an interviewer uncomfortable, "sir, i have a question for you, do you have a dad?" elouisa starts as the interviewer is shocked at getting questioned himself but he quickly recovers and nods his head 

"yes, i do, elouisa, why?" the interviewer questioned as elouisa smirked, her plan was working as the drivers looked at her slightly worried - max holding her hand moreso for his own comfort than hers 

"well, when you talk about your dad, which tense do you talk about him in? present or past?" elouisa questions as the interviewer was still confused but not those around him as they all went into a solemn silence 

"present? i don't know, why are you asking?" he huffed, his arms crossed over like a child as elouisa giggled once again as she shook her head 

"okay, good to know your dad is still alive and kicking, sir. i say that because, if any of you interviewers really did your job and did it well enough, you would have picked up on the tense in which i use to speak about my dad..." elouisa trailed off, her head turned to the side as the other interviewers bit their lips in a bid to not make any noises of shock as they finally realised the way in which she spoke about her dad when she did talk about him 

however, this stupid man didn't. he didn't make the connection because it was always this one interviewer that always asked and asked and prodded but never actually paid attention to what was being said and how it was being said. he only cared about his intrusivity being listened to and responded to so he could get the content and reactions he needed for his big stories. 

"...okay, and? what's the tense in which you speak about your father got to do with this question that you always avoid?" the interviewer questioned in slight stupidity as elouisa sighed, her eyes rolling as she reaised she really would have to spell it out for him 

"fuck me...sir, if you were slightly smarter and actually paid attention to the things i post on social media on days like birthdays and annviersaries and why i never respond to your abhorrent questions, as well as paid attention to anything that is seen on my racing helmets, you would know that my dad has been dead for an entire decade...that's why no one in this interview pen has seen my dad except for the other current and former drivers on the grid because when i was eleven, i was still in karting. at eleven, i hadn't even realised that i wanted to reach formula 1 let alone any of the others. if you paid enough attention instead of focusing on the disgusting and intrusive questions to write your big story about, you would be knowledgeable in the news that my dad's dead, mate. like, he's dead dead. like he's so dead that i don't even think i can remember what he sounds like anymore..." elouisa trailed off as the entire press conference fell silent except for some of elouisa's giggles and the clicks of cameras and the one filming the press conference live 

after finally getting the response that the interviewer so desperately needed, he gulped back in embarrassment. his entire face went red and his mouth fell into a straight line as though someone had zipped it shut. he didn't know how to respond and elouisa found it hilarious. she loved when she shut down the ignorant and intrusive reporters because they always reacted the same exact way that this interviewer was reacting. but, it didn't take long before the interviewer then started to try and save his arse. 

"...i...i'm so sorry. i...i didn't know that your dad..." he stammered as elouisa held her hand up, making him stop talking and he did, however it was max's voice that spoke up next, not elouisa's

"...cut the crap, mate. it's obvious you're not truly sorry because if you were, you would have stopped intruding the first time elouisa avoiding responding to your inflammatory questions! if you were that good of an interviewer as you boast to be, you would know that constant nagging isn't going to get you the answer you long for, it's going to end in the same way this press conference has ended. with a driver being pushed to their limit and giving the truth that you so wish for in the most uncomfortable and confronting way possible because you just couldn't stop prodding and poking for a response. but, well done anyway i guess, cause you got what you wished for, right? you now know why elouisa's dad isn't seen around the paddock even though elouisa still talks about him," max was not playing around, he was furious as were the rest of the drivers on the grid but, no one could see the steam that was billowing from the ears of newly retired f1 racer, sebastian vettel 

sebastian had retired but he was still as ever present around the paddock when he was able to be. and at this grand prix, he just happened to be watching the press conference from the very back with nico rosberg, former f1 driver now journalist and they, nico and sebastian, were pissed. the both of them had seen elouisa holland grow up and see how she went through her life without her father present and how it devastated her. how the grief was always ever present around her when she did everything. if these pesty journalists actually did their jobs and paid more attention to things, they would have seen the very clear memorial that the aussie girl has in honour of her father on her helmet in the same way carlos has maria di villota's red star on the back of every one of his helmets or the way charles always pays tribute to his father and godfather, jules bianchi. if they had just noticed these things, they wouldn't have needed to ask these questions but, they probably still would have because they loved to prod and try to break down the only female on the grid to test just how mentally strong she was up against the male drivers. they always did it on purpose because they wanted to prove that girls shouldn't be allowed in formula one and elouisa was their scapegoat every single time. however, this time, elouisa knew what they tried to do and she wasn't going to allow them this time. 

and that made both sebastian and nico proud of their girl. it made the entire grid proud of their girl. they knew from the beginning that elouisa was not the person to mess with but, people still tried yet, as the saying goes, you fuck around and you find out. and this time, this particular journalist did just that. he fucked around and he found out and he wished he never fucked around. and since max let the interviewer have it, it seemed as though he, elouisa and the rest of the drivers were no longer interested in finishing the press conference so they all stood up and, in solidarity for their fellow driver, they all walked out of the press conference. leaving the poor moderator, who was the sweetest guy in the world, all on his own in a room filled with reporters, having no clue what to do since this was being filmed live with no way of editing or cutting anything out. unless the camerman just decided to cut the cameras entirely before moving onto the rest of the grand prix weekend. which, is what the camerman decided to do anyway. the press conference had begun to drag a little too long and it was no longer the light, fun and easy-going press conference that it had started out as. 

as the drivers left the press conference, a breath of air just seemed to evaporate around them. what were they meant to do now? they couldn't remember what was next on the agenda. then, out of nowhere, elouisa bursts into incontrollable giggles. and, this of course, confused the others because how on earth was what just happened that funny? but, they knew not to question her so they also started giggling and the awkwardness just went away. 

finally, elouisa calmed down as she rested against max, "...mate, the look on that old dude's face when i told him that my dad was dead dead was hilarious!" elouisa sighed with the biggest smile on her face - the purest of trauma responses as the other drivers looked at her 

"it for sure stumped him from saying anything else, that's for sure!" lewis chuckled softly as he shook his head as elouisa nodded her head 

"it was supposed to! i said it for that exact reason! i wasn't going to sugarcoat it since it wasn't the first time old mate was begging for my response and he finally got it!" elouisa shrugged her shoulders as max sighed and pulled her closer to him 

"and that's why i love you, elouisa!" max hums with content as elouisa doesn't fight against max's embrace but embraces it and moves closer to him 

"why thank you, maxie! at least someone's not afraid to say it!" elouisa giggles before she stops as she feels the way the looks of the others change from the momentary joy back to sympathy 

elouisa wasn't normally one to get upset over her dad. because, right from the get go, she would always talk about him and she would be able to do that without crying. it was something that actually confused many people because they couldn't believe just how poised she was when she'd talk about her beloved dad so quickly after his devastating loss. how could she not? her dad was her hero, the reason why she even got into motorsport and why she was now a formula one driver even though he would never live long enough to see it. he still had the belief in his daughter that she could make it. that was why she had made it clear that her entire racing career with formula one would be dedicated to her father. but, when it did get quiet within her head and she did get upset about her dad, she knew she could go to any of the other guys in the grid and they'd be there for her to hold her as she fell. 

that was when the very distinct memory of driving on the anniversary of her dad's death and winning popped into her head. 

ʚ✩ɞ

"...elouisa, i don't want to freak you out considering today's already been an emotional day but, with ten laps left, you are in the lead. max is a whole lap behind you with carlos. fernando is near the back with valtteri and logan. so, you just keep on pushing, okay baby? you keep on going and you get that win, alright?" elouisa's radio engineer's voice crackles as elouisa's breath gets shaky 

"thank you! i'm pushing now!" elouisa breathes out before a quick "over" is heard and it's once again quiet between elouisa and her radio engineer 

it was the italian grand prix. not only the home race of ferrari but also the home race of elouisa holland who is an australian-italian f1 driver for aston martin, born and raised in australia to italian parents which meant that she could claim both the australian grand prix and all the italian grand prixs as home races. and, that's what she did. however, this time, this italian grand prix in monza was the most important home race for elouisa. it was the first time that she was in the clear running for a podium finish. but, not just any podium finish but a win. so, that's what elouisa and her team at aston martin were vying for at this italian grand prix. and right now, without even realising it, since she had been swamped by grief and agony of the memory of it being the tragic passing of her father, elouisa was inching closer and closer to getting her first ever italian grand prix win at monza.

elouisa doesn't really realise what's going on because she's so dazed and taken out of the joyus moment but, she knows somewhere deep down inside of her that she's finally snagged a win at one of her home races. celebrating with her radio engineer was supposed to be joyful but it was as though she wasn't even in her body. it was as though she was having an outer body experience and watching it happen. she hadn't even realised that she had driven her car into the parc ferme and in front of the p1 placard. so, it took max, who grasped second place and carlos in third place to help her out of the car and take her helmet off that she started to come to again.

"...elouisa! you did it, you won!" max smiled, his helmet also off as his hands squeeze the girl's cheeks as she looks at him with bulging wide eyes in shock 

"what? no...no i didn't!" elouisa stammered, she was sure max at some point had overtaken her but when she turned to look at carlos, he shook his head, also smiling wide as he joined max 

"yes, you did, hermana sister!" carlos rubbed elouisa's back as tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't understand why or how she had even won a race on a day as agonising and grevious as the annviersary of the death of her beloved dad

"then why don't i feel happy or excited?" elouisa's voice cracked as max and carlos remembered, their eyes sullen 

they hadn't forgotten what this day was or the feelings it brought up for their best friend. how could they forget? they grew up with elouisa and her family. of course, they were on the older side of the grid but, they still grew up with elouisa in the same way they grew up in similar circles to the rest of the drivers on the grid. so, they knew and remembered the exact time on this specific day that they got the news that elouisa's dad had died. it was devastating for all of those in the karting and motorsport world because elouisa's dad was well-known and very well loved. and because he was so involved with it, it had come as a huge shock that the news had come out during a karting championship that elouisa was actually participating in alongside george russell, alex albon and oscar piastri. and, exactly like today, on the anniversary of her dad's death, on the day that it was announced her dad had died, she had also won that karting championship, having no knowledge that at home, her mum was grieving over the loss of her husband and the father of her five children who were all at the karting championship for elouisa. 

maybe that was why whenever elouisa won on days like anniversaries and the birthday of her dad, it never felt happy or exciting. it always had a tinge of sadness because it was another win that he would never get to witness and be apart of. nor was it a trophy that he would be able to  see. so, getting this win at monza was equally amazing for elouisa and aston martin but it was also agonising that it was yet another win that would never be seen and celebrated by and with her dad. maybe that was why her mum had slowly started to stop from coming to races. she couldn't bear to see her little girl on that podium, winning races, without seeing both of her parents there watching. max and carlos could see that the grieving girl was ever so slightly starting to breakdown and they hated it so, they didn't hesitate. pulling her in for a hug, they pulled her closely and held her tightly. the formula one commentators mentioning just how sweet it was that even though they were rivals on track, as soon as they got out of their cars, they were best friends and were there to take care of one another. they also hadn't forgotten what day it was that the italian grand prix managed to fall on this year so, they couldn't do anything else but pay their respects and send their love to elouisa and the rest of the holland family.

  ʚ✩ɞ

"...hey, you okay, schat darling? you went off somewhere, you back with us now?" max giggles softly as elouisa blinks, looking max in the eyes and nodded her head 

"yeah...yeah, i'm fine, sorry. yeah, i was in fairyland for a little bit. i'm sorry, what were we taking about?" elouisa mumbled as she leaned further into max's protective hold as max smiled 

"don't apologise. and whatever we were talking about before doesn't matter anymore, what was going on inside your head? where did you travel off too?" max's voice softened as he got the two of them to sit down on the couch, the other drivers following suite as elouisa scoffed softly 

"my first win at monza...on dad's anniversary..." elouisa trailed off as max nodded his head, the other drivers smiling softly, understanding how agonising that was for her 

"...why's that schat?" max wondered, he remembers that day like it was yesterday and it haunted him at how elouisa was so hollow and as though it wasn't her controlling her body that entire day

"it's a cruel reminder that it's now been a decade since he's died and i still forget that he's never coming back even when i win races..." elouisa whispered, tears that hadn't been shed since that podium, rose in her eyes as her lip trembled 

"...you can cry, lieverd sweetheart." max whispered and that was all that elouisa needed to hear before the tears tumbled down her face as max hugged her close to his chest, her hand covering her face, the other one wrapping around max's middle

the rest of the drivers weren't sure what to do. so they just stood awkwardly, feeling bad for their teammate that her breakdown was most definitely caused by the extremely persistent and abhorrent interviewer from the press conference. that was until lewis led the rest of them out by loudly announcing that they probably had better things to be doing than awkwardly watching max and elouisa. and, max and elouisa both would thank lewis for that later on in the day. not because the other drivers were being ignorant or rude, but it was uncomfortable to see their best friend and teammate cry and not know what to do other than just stand there awkwardly. they for sure could have gone in for a group hug and hopefully used that as a way to maybe make elouisa let out a croaky giggle but, they didn't want to push it or make her feel worse. so, with lewis in the lead, they all left the paddock and allowed max and elouisa to be left on their own. knowing and trusting that max would do everything in his power to get elouisa back to the elouisa they all knew and loved again. 

and it wouldn't take too much longer before max was able to dry elouisa's tears and get that smile back on her face. followed by a shrill giggle not too long after he got her smile back. sure, it was a painful reminder that her dad was gone but, he was never forgotten. no matter how many decades went past since the loss of her father, elouisa would always dedicate the rest of her life as a formula one driver to him. because he was the one that truly believed that his little girl had it in him to have what it took to become a formula one driver. 

fin

ok this ending was shitty and awful but, whilst i was rewriting an old one-shot that is once again max focused, i had this idea so i decided to write it before i forgot it. and this is what i had come up with. and yes, some of what is written in here is what i've through with the passing of my own dad. the truth starting with that, this year, october 2024, it will be an entire decade since my dad died. meaning that exactly like elouisa, i was also eleven when my dad died as i am now twenty-one. which means, it's getting to the point where i've been remembering him for longer than i've known him and that honestly kind of shatters my heart in a way that, by next year, 2025, he would have been dead for the exact same time as he was in my life and that just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. however, because it hasn't even gotten to ten years yet, i shouldn't be thinking about that just yet! and, another thing that is true that i've included in this story is that, not that long after it had been confirmed by the paramedics that my dad was dead and had stopped responding to cpr and defibrilation, i had said to my mum "when am i getting a new dad?" and, i cannot say that i am proud of that statement. it is truly something that haunts me everytime i remember that i said those words. i was just so confused and had no clue what was happening because everything had happened so quickly that those were the words that just tumbled out of little eleven year old amber's mouth.  i was also originally diagnosed with anxiety but then earlier this year, it was rediagnosed as ptsd because of how severe the anxiety within the ptsd was. so, yes, like i said in the author's note at the start, this was a very self-indulgent fic. i hope i didn't make anyone depressed but if i did, i promise i'll help pay for your therapy

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[neteyamslovrr]

hii, can you do aonung x f reader where the reader gets injured underwater and aonung doesn’t find out he sees her body being carried and he’s gets so worried to the point that he starts lashing out with angry at everyone and at the end of the day he’s just sitting on rock and he starts getting emotional and the reader comes to comfort him and they like kiss and cuddle, just him being really soft after getting really aggressive with everyone

BITTEN

summary: bitten by a mysterious fish, Y/N is rushed to the tsa'hik not without worrying the crap out of ao'nung first.

1.4k words, fem!sullyreader

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You had been swimming with your siblings along with Ao’nung and Tsireya since noon.  The sun now beginning to move slowly down the sky to reveal beautiful arrays of colours.

You had been talking with Kiri and Tuk. Well, listening to Tuk talk to you and Kiri, as she went on continuous blurbs of creatures she had become fascinated with.

“Tuk is it not time to see if mum needs help with dinner? It is your turn to help today.” Neteyam said to her as he noticed his sisters increasingly disinterested faces.

“Oh no! I forgot. I hope mummy isn’t mad.” Tuk let her little hands cover her mouth as Neteyam chuckled.

“She won’t be Tuk-Tuk I promise, come now we’ll see mum. Okay?” Neteyam looked at you both as you gave thankful smiles to him as he ran out of the water with Tuk.

Lo’ak turned to you both “I thought she was never going to shut up.” As the words left his mouth Kiri smacked him on the arm.

“Don’t tease her.” Kiri scolded as Lo’ak poked his tongue out at her.

“If all you guys are going to do is wade in the water, you will never learn to swim.” Ao’nung snickered behind your ear, a sneaky hand travelling behind to rest on your waist, your chest starting to warm up as your heartbeat faster instantaneously.

“Then take us swimming, not that hard.” Lo’ak scoffed, the rivalry between the two boys being apparent in every interaction they had. Kiri glared at him again, a reminder for Lo’ak to keep his father’s words in mind.

“Of course.” Tsireya chimed in before Ao’nung could snap back at the skinnier boy. She dived into the water her body creating small ripples in the surface as the rest of the group followed her motion.

It was peaceful, all of you moving through the water together. The coolness of the sea surrounding you as you kept your eyes occupied at the beautiful sights around you. The bright colours, abstract animals and immersive sounds of the ocean around you, it was just so utterly amazing to you.

That was until you met the dark side of the ocean.

The others were way ahead of you, your distraction leading to your loneliness in the big blue sea. You were so immersed with the school of bright yellow fish in front of you, you didn’t realise there was a larger fish coming up behind you.

The fish was the length of your calf and as wide as your torso it came up behind you, its eyes seeking food, the bright yellow fish that were in front of you. As you swayed to the movement of the fish, the larger predator grew impatient.

Its large mouth opening to reveal rows upon rows of sharp pointy teeth. Sinking into the flesh of your thigh blood immediately seeped out of you.

Your painfully loud scream not only scared the big and small fish away but also alerted the rest of the group who turned to see the water around you a bright red.

The pain was unbelievable. It felt as if your entire leg was debilitated about to tear from the rest of your body and sink down into the depths.

“Shit Y/N!” Lo’ak’s shout brought you back from your flickering reality. “Kiri help me bring her back! Hurry!” Kiri swam with urgency, her and Lo’ak holding your body to the top of the water as you cried in pain.

Ao’nung was oblivious to the whole ordeal. He was never one to stay with a group while swimming and just like you took off on his ilu part way through, why? Because he was bored, why else? He’s a teenage boy.

But the fear that was sent through his body like a shockwave when he saw your pained expression and blood-stained body made his heart drop through him.

He was urgent to ride his ilu quick to shore trying to catch up to your sprinting siblings that took you to his mother’s hut. “What happened to her! What has happened?!” He shouted in an attempt to make Lo’ak or Kiri hear him. He was desperate, any sense of being reasonable about his reaction was slowly slipping away from him as he heard your pained groans grow louder.

While he shouted incoherently Lo’ak and Kiri cried out for help as they reached the village. “Help! Y/N is hurt! Please help!” Kiri screamed out as her arms grew sore from carrying your body.

“What has happened?” Ronal asked in a calm tone ushering you to be brought to her tent as your parents came out of their tent.

Neytiri gasped loudly followed with a shriek. “My baby! My child what has happened!?” You couldn’t get any words out only cries and grunts of pain as Ronal inspected your bitten thigh.

“Everyone out! Now!” Ronal rushed all of the kids out, only keeping your parents in the tent as you breathed harshly every time she applied ointment to your wound.

Outside of the tent, Ao’nung had run up to the entrance only to be stopped by his Neteyam, a handout between the curtain and Ao’nung’s heaving chest. “Can’t go in. Tsa’hik orders.” Neteyam said sternly his eyes filled with concern as another pained groan was let out from the inside of the tent.

“C’mon let me in bro.” He pleaded. He wasn’t a beggar but the desperation was changing his normal thinking.

“I can’t, its just our parents in there.”

“For fucks sake! Bro I didn’t even see what happened to her just let me see her!” Lo’ak then turned to the two bickering men, your blood still on his hands.

“She was bitten, it had torn some of her leg out and left some teeth in her thigh. That’s why there was just so much blood.” Ao’nung felt sick to his stomach, he couldn’t have not strayed off for once? Now you were in writhing pain.

“Shit…” Neteyam muttered under his breath before being interrupted by another pained scream from you inside the tent. The sound of your screams made Ao’nung scrunch his fists together, trying to not lose his cool.

Inside Ronal was stitching up your wound, the venom from the teeth still seeping into you, not lethal at all just debilitating while the teeth were in you. She needed to close the major wound first, so Neytiri cradled your head in her lap as she wiped your constant tears as both dads paced around the tent.

Soon Ronal had finished, giving you some medicine to subside the pain. “You must rest now. Do not try to move, you must call someone.” Ronal stated as she left the tent to see her worrisome son staring up at her hopefully.

“Is she alright?” He asked, his entire body fidgety.

“Go see her.” Before Ronal could finish Ao’nung was inside the tent, staring awkwardly at Neytiri and Jake.

“I- uh…is Y/N doing okay?” He was nervous talking to your parents but as he looked down to your leg to see the wound he felt sick again, there was no way you were doing okay.

“Yes…I need to go check on Tuk….yes. So could you please take care of her for a moment?” Neytiri said as she got off the ground.

“Of course! Uhm.. I mean yes. Yes I’ll take care of her.” Jake looked harshly at the boy before leaving the tent with Neytiri. Ao’nung immediately dropped down to your level, his hand tucking the stray hairs laying on your face behind your ears.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, careful not to cause you panic.

“Hi Ao’nung…” You sounded so weak it made his heart crack, he wished he could just take all your pain away, seeing the way your face would scrunch up whenever you moved slightly.

“Do you need anything? Water? Food?” He was on your side resting on his knees as his hands cradled your face.

“I want a kiss.”

“What.”

“Just a kiss, to kiss it better.”

“How can you be making jokes in this state? You need to rest.” Ao’nung laughed as you smiled up at him easing your face into his palm.

“Lay down with me please.”

“Of course.” He scooted next to you as you carefully moved to lay on his chest, letting out a small groan as your leg twitched. “Be careful Y/N.”

“Just let me sleep peacefully.”

“Sure.” He watched you shut your eyes, but noticed your hands busy fidgeting with the other. “Y/N? You’re not sleeping.”

“sleep. Kiss. Goodnight.” He scoffed at you, you were so cute even covered in blood and stitches. Leaning down, stretching his neck in an odd position he laid a soft kiss onto your lips. A kiss that would wake a sleeping beauty was the kiss given. Soft and delicate, just like you.

“There you go. Little miss needy.”

“Yup, your little miss needy.”

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed!! i didn't proofread coz its like 11pm lmao

[athforskz]

Body Worship - Seo Changbin

Masterlist

Pairing: Changbin  x reader (afab) 

wc: ~2.7k

Type: Angst, smut, established relationship

Warnings: Insecurities (body image issues), cursing, mention of online bullying & death threats, crying, tons of kissing, love bites/ marking, sensory play (reader is blindfolded), unprotected piv, use of sex toys, prone bone, aftercare. Let me know if I missed any!

a/n: I don’t care who you are, but every single one of you is beautiful! You better believe it or I’ll send Changbin after you, myself! 😤

Enjoy lovelies!

It had been weeks since you showed your face to the public or been out of the house for that matter. All you wanted to do was stay home in your cozy bed and sleep. To say you were insecure was an understatement. Your boyfriend, Changbin, hadn’t really minded your increasing tendencies to stay in bed. He figured you were just catching up on some much needed rest. However, when it was creeping up on the third week of you turning down his date ideas he started to get worried. 

“Bunny, you doing okay today?” 

“I’m fine, Binnie.” You sighed from underneath the pile of blankets. 

Changbin let out a frustrated groan. He knew you weren’t fine, but he couldn’t figure out why. He finally had vacation time and all he wanted to do was spend it with you. Take you out to all your favorite places and maybe make some new adventures. 

You, on the other hand, despised the thought of it. Not because you didn’t want to spend quality time with your beloved boyfriend, but because of what his fans and media might think. You and Changbin had started dating a little over two years ago. At first the relationship was kept a secret with only his group members, close friends, and family knowing of your status. But once you both had felt comfortable you guys decided to make your relationship public. For the most part, it went over well with Stays accepting your presence and news outlets making headlines about you dating the K-pop idol. 

Even though the majority of fans and media welcomed you, there were still toxic fans and tabloids that tried to tear you down. Normally, you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, but some of the things you read in news articles or comments fans made chipped away at your confidence bit by bit. It started off with an unflattering photo caught by paparazzi when you and Changbin were headed to the airport, then the comments began rolling in. 

‘Her face looks so uneven’

‘She dresses like a toddler’

‘Changbin could do so much better’

You wanted to ignore it all. Push all the hate aside and continue with the happiness you found in Changbin. But just when you were getting used to the mild negativity, the death threats came. Some crazy fans had found your personal accounts, threatening you to stay away from their Changbin. There had even been a trending tag on Twitter reading ‘Save Binnie from his scrooge girlfriend.’ 

That was your final straw, the final push that had sent you into recluse mode almost three weeks ago. You started nitpicking your looks and facial features. You became hyper aware of every scar and stretch mark on your body. You would stand in the mirror pinching the chub of your stomach or thighs. Everything made you feel disgusted with yourself and the only way to feel any kind of comfort was to hide away. 

“Come on, you have to talk to me eventually.” Changbin wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Talk about what? There’s nothing wrong…” you lied through your teeth. 

Changbin pulled the duvet from your curled form. You whined trying to grab it back from him. 

“Binnieeee, please just leave me be right now.” 

“Not until you’re honest with me,” he retorted. 

You simply laid there feeling defeated, covering your face with your hands as tears welled at your lash line. He could hear the faint sniffles you were trying to keep quiet. Changbin became increasingly concerned and grabbed your wrists to move them away from your face. 

“Hey, hey baby, why are you crying? Please talk to me. I am begging you.” He was pleading with you. 

“Why are you still with me…?” You averted your eyes, not able to look your boyfriend in the face. 

“What are you talking about? I’m with you because I love you and you make me the happiest man on earth.”

“But I’m nothing more than an ugly fucking scrooge!” You had snapped, tears full on running down your cheeks as you completely turned your face away. 

Bin placed his hands on either side of your cheeks making you look at him. 

“Why are you saying this? Please don’t talk down about yourself, it breaks my heart to see you hurting.” 

“Social media and some of your fans have been saying rude things. But now I see that it’s all true.” You mumbled, halfway hoping he wouldn’t hear you, but he did. 

“None of it is true. You have to stop paying attention to those haters.” He said softly as he rubbed your cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. 

“You’re only saying that..” you tried to pull out of his hold but he kept you close.

“Baby, you are the most gorgeous thing to have ever walked this universe. People are always graced by your beauty when you walk into a room. I am beyond lucky to call you mine and I’ll personally fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He declared to you.

“So you don’t think I look like the scrooge?” You sniffled.

He chuckled while shaking his head, “course not. You are my beautiful babes.” 

“I- I don’t believe it. I’m sorry.. I just feel so ugly and unworthy of you.” You sobbed again.

Changbin pulled you in close placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you. Make you believe it.” He simply stated while walking around the shared bedroom gathering a few items and even lighting a couple of candles. 

For a minute you were confused. How was he going to achieve a seemingly impossible task? You had your mind made up and there was no changing it. Your insecurities were set in stone. 

After Bin had gathered what he was looking for he kneeled on the bed in front of where you were now sat up. 

“Close your eyes f’ me.” He said calmly.

“Bin, I don’t think-“ you tried to resist.

“That wasn’t a request, bunny.” 

You shut your mouth and followed his command, closing your eyes. You could feel some kind of thick silk being wrapped around your head, making sure you couldn’t see anything. 

“What are you doing?” You inquired.

“Shhh, I’m going to be the one asking questions. Understand?” 

“…yes,” you whispered. 

“That’s my girl,” he praised. Changbin ran his fingers through your hair, landing his palm on the crown of your head massaging just the way you liked it. You began to relax, your previous sobbing and sniffles coming to a stop. He then gripped onto the roots of your hair and maneuvered your head to the side so he had easy access to your neck. 

“Can’t believe you’d talk about yourself - my girl - in such a way. You have a wonderful mind and a beautiful body and I intend to worship all of it. Show you exactly what I see.” He placed a kiss on your neck, sucking and biting the flesh which will surely leave a mark. 

“You’re so pretty, so damn pretty.” He murmured with his lips still pressed under your jaw, moving to another spot to mark. Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue lick up the column of your neck. 

Needless to say, you and Bin hadn’t been the most intimate the last few weeks. So every kiss and every touch he gave you made you feel more sensitive. The way his hands caressed down your waist until he reached the hem of your shirt set your skin on fire. He pulled the clothing over your head and tossed it on the floor. You covered your chest with your arms out of reflex, but he stopped you. 

“Don’t hide this gorgeous body from me, sweetheart. I need to see you. I crave you.” He said in an almost animalistic tone. It sent shivers down your spine. Bin placed his hand between your breasts and lightly pushed you down to lay flat on your back. He then slid his hand to the side to cup and squeeze your right breast. “Such beautiful tits you have,” he leaned down to suck on the left. “So squishy and perfect,” he’d say between sucks and licks to your nipples.

You started letting out airy moans at his ministrations on your chest. Changbin came up to place another kiss on your lips before kissing down your sternum and down your stomach. The motions made you tense as you especially hated your abdomen. He sensed the change in your body language and rubbed your sides spending extra time there. His fingertips hooking into the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down along with your panties. 

“Binnie.. don’t look please.” You started shaking from anxiety. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me. Binnie’s got you, bunny.” He reassured you as he continued his kissing assault on your middle. 

“I especially love your soft tummy. One of my favorite parts of you and the best place to lay my head when we cuddle.” Changbin affirmed. You whined at his declaration, then you felt him go even lower, spreading your legs apart. You wanted to close them so badly but you know he’d just pull them open again. You couldn’t deny that you were dripping with arousal at this point. He landed a kiss on your wet core making you shudder. Then you heard him shuffling for something next to you. You kind of hated not being able to see anything but in a way it made you calmer. 

A few more seconds passed before you felt your boyfriend shift and a cold object was placed directly in your clit. Changbin clicked the device making it come to life. It was your vibrator. The sudden feeling making your body jolt and a whimper escape your lips. You couldn’t see it, but you could practically feel the smirk Bin would most certainly be sporting right now. 

“Now, you don’t get to cum until you admit how beautiful you are. Got it?” He established a rule that he wanted to make sure you understood. 

“Nng I- I can’t!” The vibrations were already drawing you close. 

“Oh you will, bunny.” He said matter of factly.

Changbin kept the little toy in place on your clit as his other hand along with his lips explored every other inch of your body. He chanted how beautiful, gorgeous, and stunning you were like a mantra. You tried to hold your orgasm back as long as you could but he knew you were on the edge by the way your hips bucked. 

“C’mon, say it. Lemme hear ya, honey.” 

Your brain went fuzzy and you just wanted to cum so bad. “M’ pretty! Fuck, s’ pretty!” You called out. 

“Good girl, that’s right baby. Good job,” he praised.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath as he let you calm down from your high. Changbin removed the vibrator from your soaked pussy, tossing it aside. 

Once your boyfriend felt you were ready he maneuvered you so you were laying on your front, facing your body to the foot end of the bed. He then placed a pillow under your lower tummy to make sure you were comfortable. You could feel him situate himself between your legs behind you, his weight slowly pressing onto your back. You felt a light tug to the silk ribbon he had tied around your eyes some time ago. It fell away, allowing you to see again. You blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. When your eyes focused you could see he had moved you so you could see yourself in the mirror that was placed at the opposite side of the room. You immediately hid your face in the mattress, not wanting to bear witness to the reflection in front of you.

“Don’t look away, bun. Wan’ you to see how absolutely ethereal you look when we fuck.” He nipped at your ear before reaching a hand around to the front of you to grab under your jaw and lift your head. In your haste to hideaway you hadn’t noticed that Changbin was naked on top of you. You wondered how you could feel his cock throbbing so clearly on your thigh. 

“Don’t wanna look,” you whined while locking eyes with him through the mirror. 

“But you just have to see what I see when you cum. You look so pretty when you cum, baby.” You knew there was no protesting, so you simply nodded. 

Changbin lifted his hips slightly so he could line his cock up with your entrance that was currently clenching around nothing. He sank into you slowly, allowing you to adjust. Bin’s cock was thick and the stretch always burned deliciously when he first entered. You let out a breathy moan as he started to grind his hips into your core. The sound of skin smacking as he bounced off your ass. 

He could see your eyes glaze over with lust as pleasure overtook you. You kept your gaze on the mirror as your boyfriend fucked into you mercilessly from behind. “Yeah, that’s it, babe. So fucking gorgeous, my girl- ah,” he landed a harsh slap to your rear making the skin ripple. You let out a squeak between the string of moans falling from your lips. 

Binnie leaned down placing kisses on your back and shoulders, occasionally biting to leave his mark. He’d look up every few thrusts to make sure you were still watching yourself and at one point he saw the position of your eyes shift. You had siren eyes and your moans became more throaty, indicating to him that you were definitely into it. Into checking yourself out which is exactly what he wanted. 

Suddenly, Changbin reached around to grip your neck and pull you up against his chest. Making you both kneel while his other arm wrapped across your waist. His cock reached deeper this way and hit that spot that drove you wild. The knot in your core threatened to snap with every harsh pump of his dick. 

“M’ gonna cum! B-bin please!” You screamed while looking up at the ceiling, your vision becoming blurry. 

Changbin redirected your gaze to the mirror again as he felt your body spasming from your release. 

“Mm fuck look how gorgeous y’ look cummin’ on my cock like that,” he said between grunts as his own high washed over him. His seed spurting into you in waves. 

“So.. gorgeous,” you repeated as your orgasm finished wracking your body. You couldn’t help but watch how your body glowed after your second release of the night. A thin sheen of sweat adorning your body, almost looking like you were sparkling. You looked positively hot, maybe you could see in yourself what your boyfriend saw. 

You both stayed like that for a while, connected and calming down from the mind blowing sex. Changbin pulled out after a few more minutes then went to the bathroom to run a hot bath for the both of you. You laid on the bed feeling uncomfortably sticky from the sweat drying. Before you knew it your boyfriend had returned and picked you up bridal style in his strong arms and carried you to the bath. You giggled and kicked your feet at his display of strength. 

“Binnie! I can walk by myself ya know?” 

“I just fucked you senseless and you think you’d be able to walk straight?” He chuckled.

You huffed in response as he gently lowered you into the water. The warmth encapsulating your body. Changbin stepped in to sit behind you and pulled you back so you were laying on his broad chest. He kissed the side of your head and whispered sweet nothings in your ear while lightly tracing the love bites that were bruising on your skin. 

Somehow the marks made you feel even more confident. They were symbols of your loving boyfriend and that in itself was beautiful to you. 

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always very much appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz

[marvelstoriesepic]

Flufftober (day 10)

Pairing: College!Bucky x College!Reader

Prompt: Bet, Game, Contest

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; beer pong

Flufftober Masterlist

“Alright, Barnes, if I dig this one into the front cup, you’re coming with me, Nat and Sharon to the flea market next month.”

Your voice is honeyed but there is no mistaking that teasing expectation dripping from every word. Spinning the white ping-pong ball between your fingers, poised to throw, you send him a sweet-looking smirk across the beer pong table.

A huff is Bucky’s first response.

“A flea market? You being serious right now?” His voice is gruff, protest lacing his tone as his eyes narrow on you.

“Dead serious.” Your grin widens. “It’s a girl's flea market.”

Bucky groans and Steve, who is standing next to him on their side of the table, snickers under his breath.

“Not a chance, darlin’,” Bucky concedes after he recovered from his theatrics. “You’re gonna have to get them all if you want that to happen.”

He gestures lazily towards the scattered cups still standing on their end. Admittedly, Bucky and Steve are leading, having already knocked out four of your cups while only two of theirs are gone yet.

But you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, especially not when it involves Bucky.

It’s been like this since the start, really. Over the course of the game, this little contest has expanded into small bets placed throughout, mainly between Bucky and you.

One of you proposed something for a bet, that required you to sink the ping-pong ball into the cup you had targeted on and the other would lose.

That’s how you already got to force Bucky to watch Tangled with you next movie night. And when he won, he made you promise him to join his family dinner next Friday, so he can dodge those irritating questions of his parents about college and future plans by placing you in their focus. His parents love you after all.

“Deal,” you concede, glancing briefly at Natasha, who’s smirking beside you. “We win, and you both are coming with us.” Your gaze cuts back to Bucky and Steve with faux-seriousness that barely manages to conceal your entertainment.

“Nope.” Steve’s hand shoots up, palm facing you as he tilts his head down to look at you through his lashes across the table with his fatherly glare. “Don’t drag me into this. I’m not part of this bet.”

“Don’t be such a bore, Rogers,” you groan teasingly.

“You teamed up with Barnes, that makes you part of the deal. Better suck it up, babe,” Natasha chimes in, as she stands with her arms crossed over her chest, that sultry tone edging her voice.

Bucky’s chuckle rolls across the table and he claps Steve on the back. “Your girl has spoken, pal.”

The chattering of your little friend group sitting nearby is muffled as Bucky turns his attention back to you, fixing you with dangerously glinting eyes. There is a challenge in his expression. But there is also so much more. The regular playful nature he carries around you twinkles in the lines around his eyes as he grins at you. But sometimes you spot a glimpse of an intensity that is hard to read and it almost threatens to blur a line you two never seemed brave enough to cross. And well, there it is again.

He leans forward, voice dropping. “Deal’s on, doll! But what do I get if we win?”

You hold his gaze, your sweet grin perfectly in place, although your insides to flips. “Your decision,” you reply smoothly, leaning into the tension, because that’s all you can ever do.

The clear of a throat forces you to glance over at Sam who comes sauntering past, grabbing another beer from the makeshift cooler at the edge of the garden, where your game table is placed.

His smirk is unmistakable and he has his eyes locked on Bucky, sparkling with something you can’t analyze. And you’re certain that there is something you’re missing the moment Sam’s eyebrows move up, suggestively wiggling in Bucky’s direction, something sly and knowing in his expression.

You turn back to Bucky just in time to see the flash of warning that passes his eyes as he shoots Sam a sharp look.

You catch the same look on Steve’s face. That same sparkle that Sam just wore, but Steve is much more adept at subtlety, only smiling to himself. Bucky brushes a hand through his hair, turning back to you. You can almost see him mentally collect himself, forcing the playfulness back into his expression as his lips return to a smile.

“I’ll let you know when we win,” he retorts, teasing in his tone, but it’s still tinged with something like anxiety and he is doing his best to push it down. It’s almost as if he is contemplating something.

You try not to let your thoughts linger, snorting at him. “Have it your way, Barnes,” you reply, lining up the shot with confidence, eyes locking with his for a moment. “Won’t make a difference anyway.”

Smoothly flicking your wrist and letting the ball go, it arcs promisingly through the air and lands with a satisfying plink in one of their cups. You burst into excited cheers, Natasha bumping her shoulder with yours, smirking.

Bucky groans in mock defeat, head dropping, but even the rim of the cup you had hit isn’t able to hide the smile playing at the corners of his lips, as he lifts it to his mouth and gulps down the liquid inside within seconds.

Natasha follows your lead and when her ball sinks into another red cup, Steve downs the beer with a shake of his head and a smile on his face.

Rounds pass and you feel the beer bubbling in your belly, Bucky and Steve had made you drink already, its warmth heating your skin as the sky above begins to darken.

You’ve almost forgotten about your bet until it’s down to one cup on each side. One single red cup standing before Steve and Bucky, and one single blue cup sitting before Natasha and you.

You narrow your eyes at Bucky, ball in hand, ready to sink in the last one and make you the winner of your little contest. He is watching you closely, his hair a little messier than before the game since he’s been constantly raking his hands through the brown tendrils.

“Prepare yourself, Buck. Get ready for a nice girl’s trip to the flea market,” you smirk, eyes focused on him and he rolls his eyes dramatically.

He smirks back at you but there is something off with it. His nervousness is becoming more pronounced and although he tries his best to hide it, you know him better than that.

His fingers are restless, his jaw works under tense skin and he licked his lips far too often for the last few minutes. He’s genuinely edgy and it throws you for a moment.

Bucky’s never been nervous about losing to you. In fact, in your years of little bets and contests during college, he’s always been the one to cheer you on when you win. You know he doesn’t really mind losing, especially not to you. So why does he look like he might be bracing himself for something?

Not wanting to land in a spiral, you refocus on the game and center yourself to throw the ping-pong ball.

It glides through the air before landing perfectly in the red solo cup. You jump exhilarated, Natasha beside you hollering as you celebrate your win.

Across the table, Steve stands with his arms crossed, shaking his head, an amused smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

Bucky chuckles, but it doesn’t sound right. There is something forced in it, something strained. His hand swipes over his face, and when he looks at you with a grin that usually carries his easy charm, you catch the glimmer of disappointment that crosses his eyes.

Steve and Natasha begin setting up the table for the next group of players and you take the chance to step over to Bucky. You try for your usual lightness with each other but his shifty demeanor confuses you a little.

“Well, Barnes, looks like you’re gonna have to join us.” You aim for a teasing tone, though it feels a little stiff as the words pass your lips. “You’ll keep the other girls busy while we grab the best stuff.”

You hate the way that comment makes your stomach twist in knots and your heart squeeze in your chest, needles pinning into it.

Bucky takes a deep breath, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans as if he needs something to ground himself. He shrugs, attempting a casualness that doesn’t quite land, and then huffs out a laugh that sounds thin to you.

“Yeah.” You inwardly cringe at how hollow he said it.

He doesn’t exactly meet your eyes, instead, he watches the way Natasha and Steve fill the cups again and you study him with a growing unease, a furrow in your brow.

“If you really don’t want to come, you don’t have to Bucky,” you say quietly, the teasing edge absent as concern creeps in. And perhaps a bit hurt. “It’s just a stupid bet, it doesn’t mean any-”

But before you can finish, Bucky cuts you off, his voice more abrupt than you expect. “No, no! God, doll, no,” he says quickly, shaking his head in an urgent way. His eyes flash with something that’s gone too fast. “Of course, I'll come with you. A deal’s a deal. You won, fair and square. That last shot was a masterpiece.”

You take in a breath as you watch some of that tension slip away from him, his eyes beginning to turn back to a normal shade. He grins at you and you smile back, ease settling back into your lungs.

“Soo,” you begin, your voice lilting playfully, nudging his foot with yours. “What would you have made me do if you guys won?”

Bucky chuckles softly, his head dipping down and he fixes his gaze on the ground for a moment, a slight furrow in his brow, clearly thinking through your question. You watch him curiously, trying to read the way he seems to contemplate something.

But when he finally lifts his head again, his eyes meet yours with an intensity that immediately sends your heart racing. It’s not playful, or teasing like you expected. No. There is something raw in his gaze, something that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

“I would have asked you to go out with me.”

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

[seoafin]

hi

wc: 3.7k

(cw: oc!children, rampant vile misogyny, stsg as dads!!!!!)

Nagi is ridiculously bored. She wishes Satoru and Suguru would hurry up already, and stifles the urge to look at her wrist and the watch that isn’t there. Riko on her left, looks similarly dissatisfied, ready to give the two a tongue lashing when they come to collect them. Hiroto is content to look out the window and stare at the leaves falling from a tree like the boring person he is, but she isn’t. The three of them sit in silence, unwilling to talk to each other where they could easily be overheard. 

Her first instinct upon being asked to accompany her fathers to some higher up’s house had been a resounding no, but you had overheard. Or maybe it had been intentional on Satoru's conniving part. You smiled and told them they should make friends. Satoru grinned, sensing weakness, and well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother, would you now?

Useless, mundane chatter fills the room. Out of the corner of Nagi’s eye, she catches a boy looking at her. She slowly turns her head, lets her lips lift in a coy smile, and takes some satisfaction in how red he gets before he quickly looks away. Like a tomato.

Nobody talks to them. Nagi can see the girls huddled together in groups, their gazes periodically turning to Hiro every couple of minutes. Hushed whispers. Stare. Giggles. Like a clockwork. The boys are similarly huddled into groups talking about what she assumes to be politics. Nagi cannot recall any names. She does not know these people and she does not care about these people.

There’s a boy in the corner, surrounded by a gaggle of girls and boys. The haughty look plastered to his ugly face had Nagi immediately despising him on principle. The type to take excessive interest in the bloodlines of those he surrounds himself with. He’s been glancing at them, from Riko, to Hiro, to her.

Exhaling, she turns to her sister, about to ask her to accompany her to the garden. Nagi does not particularly feel bad leaving Hiro to the wolves. She feels more bad for the girls than Hiro.

“How many siblings do you have again?” The boy calls, just as Nagi is about to open her mouth.

Nothing gets Hiro’s attention quicker than the mention of Tsuki or Suzu. Except the boy does not look particularly inclined to talk about the dragon drawing Suzu had given Hiro the other day, to which Satoru had tearfully asked her, what about me!? Papa wants a drawing too!

Hiro’s cool gaze rakes over the group. The snickers die out immediately. Some nervously shuffle. Riko doesn’t even bother to give them her attention, staring at the wall.

When it’s clear nobody is going to answer him, momentum lost, anger cracks open his face.

“Tell me,” he says, louder, ignoring the nervous looks given to him. “Who are the men your whore mother opened her legs up for two more times?” Miraculously emboldened, a crass look crosses his face. “Does she take appointments?”

The room goes silent.

Riko freezes. The slow turn on her head forewarns a storm. Her gaze is chilly, blue eyes crystal clear in their divine judgment. “What did you just say?” 

Her fists are white with anger. The air sparks with the billowing cursed energy.

Nagi’s eyes catch on the glinting hair ornament in Riko’s tied hair (a present from Suguru), and idly wonders how easy it would be to stab the boy to death with it. Her own mounting anger is nearing a simmering boiling, despite the apathy of her face. Hiroto is ominously blank faced. 

The boy puffs up his chest, despite the danger gathering around Riko. He can’t yet fathom what Riko will do to him. “Haven’t you heard?” He mocks. “Your mother’s nothing but a cheap whore—”

Whore, whore, whore, whore. She thinks. Mama’s always the whore in these stories. 

Nagi hears the sick crunch of bones, eyes easily following the blinking movement of Hiroto’s body. Limitless. Because in the next second, blood is splattered across the floor and Hiroto’s fists are coming down heavily on the boy’s face. 

Girls scream. People scatter in a shuffle. Nagi stares.

Hiroto isn’t the violent type. Or the angry type. Hiroto is rarely moved in general—

But he loves his mother. They all do. 

In the end it’s Riko who pulls Hiroto back. Hiroto, who has never been one to be provoked so easily. That odd twin-sense-thing they’re prone to doing where they barely have to speak. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, but instead easily stands as if he had merely been picking something that dropped to the floor. Blood stains his fists, dripping onto the tatami flooring. Hiroto looks down at the boy, at the mess of his disfigured face. There are specks of blood on his face, his white hair, and nobody says a single thing.

Riko and Hiroto, the firstborn twins of Gojo Satoru. Nagi thinks that even though Riko inherited the most from their father, all of them only see Satoru in Hiroto. None of them were all that much welcome in the Gojo Clan, least of all her, the firstborn daughter of Geto Suguru, but for Hiroto they made allowances. The son that looked an exact replica of the boy-God they spoiled and coddled.

If only Hiroto cared about any of it.

The boy’s face is nearly disfigured, swollen with blood and bruises. Hiro isn’t even breathing heavily. A wheeze leaves the boy’s mouth. He got what he deserved, Nagi thinks, leaning down to examine him, careful not to get blood on the kimono her fathers had picked out for her. Satoru had been grinning so widely the other day, holding the kimono open and spinning around like a fool while Riko threw bird seeds at him.

Her long black hair brushes his face, the floor, but Nagi doesn’t mind the blood. 

“Don’t you ever call my mother a whore again,” she states calmly, staring down at the boy through the puffy slits of his eyes. Behind her, cracks fracture the air, like glass splintering. A long clawed hand creeps out of the tear. A single wide eye encompasses her back. “Next time, I’ll cut your tongue out, and leave the rest of you to my curses.”

Riko snorts. “Don’t think that matters. It’s not like he’ll be using his tongue any time soon,” she says cruelly.

Hiroto looks on dispassionately.

The door slides open with a slam. Men rush into the room, including their fathers. Her father is immediately at Hiroto’s side, hands grasping her brother’s fists. Her other father raises an eyebrow at the sight.

A man gasps, running to the bloodied boy. “Akito! Akito!” He cries. 

So that’s his name.

A man turns to them. “Just what is going on here!?”

“Oh dear,” Satoru sighs, intrinsically unbothered. “Your mother isn’t going to be happy.”

——

Her mother is a frightening vision when upset.

“What were the three of you thinking?”

The three of them stand across from her in the wide living room of their home. You stare them down, demanding them to speak. “You could’ve killed that poor boy!”

Nobody speaks. You look devastated, and Nagi’s stomach turns at the sight. Riko and Hiroto are also similarly looking green in the face. But Hiro is sweating, wetness gathering at his temples. He’ll be the first to crack, she knows it. Hiro’s never been good at being at the receiving end of your disappointment. A mama’s boy, through and through.

You’ve never been one to raise your voice. Growing up, discipline had mostly come in the form of a curt tone or a gut wrenching disappointed look. Or silence. Despite what people think, and Nagi knows that too many people think about her family, disciplinary measures in the family have always fallen on you. Riko often disregards Satoru’s ire, shrugging it off like second skin. Suguru doesn’t even try, either too doting or too amused. Your opinion has always mattered the most to Hiro, and everyone knows it. Nagi plays the dutiful daughter, but it’s you she’s always listened to above all else. Satoru and Suguru give good advice at times, sure, but that doesn’t always mean they always know best.

The silence is the worst, that, they can all collectively agree on. The instances when you can’t even formulate the words to your anger because you’re too busy internalizing their behavior. It’s your fault. Your inability to parent. All your vulnerabilities rising to the surface. 

The car ride had been silent. When Satoru cheerfully asked how your day was, you had given him such a cold, furious look that he had meekly closed his mouth and spent the rest of the ride meditating. Even Suguru couldn't help him out of that one. It was only their Aunt Shoko’s presence in the car that had given you some semblance of peace.

Upon reaching home, the two of them had immediately bounded for Suzu’s room, eager to see their youngest, and tuck her close to their sides.

Cowards.

“What do you three have to say for yourselves?” Your voice turns sharp. “Is this how I raised you?” You turn to Hiroto. “I thought you were better than this. All of you.”

Nagi’s aunt puts an arm on your shoulder. Riko and Hiro straighten. Aunt Shoko to the rescue! “I’m sure they had their reasons.” She eyes them. “They’re smart kids.”

Riko hides her smile.

You frown. “Shoko, this really isn’t the time to be taking their side. That boy’s face—”

“—is all better now,” she says calmly. A touch of her hand, and the boy’s breathing had evened out, much to the relief of his father. “It’s like nothing ever happened.”

No permanent disfigurement. But he’ll remember, and for now, that’s enough.

You remain unconvinced. You turn away from them and close your eyes.

Her Aunt Shoko gives them an I tried shrug. She gives you a brief hug. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Be good,” Shoko says to the three of them, smiling as if she hadn’t been the one to tell them: ask your mother for forgiveness, not permission.

And with that cheerful nonchalance, their only chance at salvation strolls out the house.

You look at the three of them, gaze decidedly less severe, and exhale. The set of your shoulders make you seem older. It’s an odd contrast. Suguru and Satoru seem to get younger as the years pass, but you’ve always taken on worries too easily. Fragile in a way the three of them always understood, even as children. A shaky mirage in your ever encompassing sadness.

Your mother’s different, Satoru said to Nagi once, when the two of them had been walking home from her ice skating lessons. You had spent the day, listless in bed, Hiro curled up at your side, ever faithful. Suguru had grasped your hand, stroked your face with another, and given you a kiss on the head before making breakfast. She gets lost sometimes. People are meant to overcome their pasts, but some never leave it. You’ve always treaded that line precariously, much to Satoru and Suguru’s constant worry.

“I don’t—” you break off, biting your lip. Gone is the momentary anger, replaced by a deep sadness weighing in your eyes. “Not on my behalf. It’s not worth the trouble. I don’t want you, any of you, to get hurt.”

Hiro bristles, all righteous anger. “If they have something to say about you, they can say it to my face.”

At the same time, Riko surges forward. “They’re—”

“No,” you cut her off, looking right into Riko’s eyes. Then Hiro’s. Then Nagi’s. “No.”

Protests immediately burst from Hiro and Riko, but you’re looking at her.

Nagi meets her mother’s gaze, and nods.

You soften. There’s a history there, in her mother’s eyes, and she knows Hiro and Riko are too impassioned to see it. People will say what they say, even with the threat of her fathers bearing down on them. Entrenched tradition and prejudices making tongues loose, even at the risk of dismemberment.

You are a whore, a seductress, a vile wench who doesn’t know her place. A promiscuous, morally loose woman who can’t stop getting pregnant despite the fact that men are expected to have broods of children with different women. Had Satoru done his duty and taken a high ranking wife, Jujutsu society would have been better off, blessed even. Suguru was inevitable. Even the higher ups held their tongues at what was the most unorthodox relationship to have graced Jujutsu society, appeased only by brute strength. If marriage was out of the equation, then at least a mistress of their choosing, paving the way for children they could mold to their liking.

In no satisfactory outcomes are you kept within the bounds of that equation.

When Nagi was nine, a similarly aged son of an honored guest from Okinawa had told her his father was looking for a whore, and someone had pointed him her mother’s way. Riko had been outside climbing trees. Hiro, glued to your side. Then he proclaimed his intentions to marry her, despite her whore mother’s blood. Nagi never saw the man or his son after that meeting. People were suspiciously quiet in the aftermath. You never made appearances in high society as often after, and you were happier for it. And if you were happy, then everyone was happy.

Footsteps from the corridor. Nagi’s younger brother skids into the living room, football jersey still plastered on his back. He looks wildly at the scene before him, and grins.

“Oh, you guys are in troubleeeeeeee.”

Riko rolls her eyes, folding her arms. Tsuki sticks out his tongue.

You beckon to Tsuki, and he wraps his arms around you, face nuzzling into your side. “You need to take a shower,” you reprimand lightly. “What did I say about leaving your dirty soccer cleats in the genkan?”

Tsuki pulls himself away. “Yes, mama,” he replies obediently, looking thoughtful. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving! Is Papa cooking tonight? When are Mimi-nee and Nana-nee visiting again? Megumi-nii said he’s coming over soon. Did you invite him tonight? Is he bringing his girlfriend this time? Satoru says Megumi-nii doesn’t actually have a girlfriend and he’s lying because he’s hopeless at love. Have you met her?”

He pauses. Looks to his three older siblings. “Have you guys met her?” Then he blinks, the shade of his eyes, peculiar in their color. “Why is everyone in trouble again? Satoru and Papa won’t say anything.”

Tsuki’s brand of hyperactive questioning is nothing new. Questions since he could speak, you reminisce fondly. 

You laugh, the sound a relief, wiping a grass stain off Tsuki’s face with your thumb. Riko opens her mouth, then closes it.

Hiro sighs. “Katsu. Yes. Next Thursday. Yes. Don’t know. Yes.”

Tsuki brightens at the information. Before he can respond, you pat his cheek. “Go take a shower,” you say lightly, smile growing on your face. Maybe they’ll make it out of this one thanks to Tsuki’s timely intervention. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Fine,” he chirps. Approaching Nagi, he smiles, her kid brother, still all gawky limbs and uneven teeth. “You look really nice Nagi-nee. It’s nice to see one girl in this family who cares about dressing up.”

“Ex-cuse me?” Riko squawks.

Hiro chuckles, before an elbow lands itself in his gut. Nagi can’t resist a smile. There’s no underlying jab in the statement, just a plaintive truth most children grow out of. Except Tsuki never had. Nagi thinks it’ll either make his life very easy, or very hard.

She ruffles his hair. “Mama’s right.” She holds her nose. “You stink. You’ll wake up Suzu with that smell of yours.” If Satoru and Suguru haven’t already.

Tsuki lifts his arm to his nose and makes an affirmative noise, nose scrunching. “Tell Suguru I could eat enough for three!” 

Riko snorts. “You pregnant?”

Tsuki frowns in mock-disapproval, holding his hands protectively to his stomach. “I could be,” he says seriously. It’s the last thing he says before hoisting his gym bag on his shoulder and scrambling off to his room in search of his shower.

You sigh, the fight in you long gone. You turn to the three of them, gaze unreadable. In a way, Nagi thinks you are even more indecipherable than Satoru and Suguru. The two of them have never been unfaltering or uncompromising in their wants. In many aspects the two of them are open books people refuse to read. You on the other hand. 

Everything Nagi knows about you is from Suguru and Satoru. 

“I love you three,” you say quietly. “There are better things, better causes to fight for. Just remember that.”

It’s plain on their faces that Hiro and Riko want to argue. Hiro’s gaze flickers to her’s, just for a second, and Nagi shakes her head. Hiro glares at the floor.

“Now,” you say, clearly ready to be done with this once and for all. You smile. “Get ready for dinner, okay?”

——

“You know,” Satoru starts in that deceptively light tone that tells Nagi she should prepare herself for whatever words proceed next from his mouth, “Your mother never wanted children.”

Nagi stares at him.

The seconds pass, and Satoru sighs happily, unfazed. “You really look just like your mother when you do that.” He slips the sunglasses from his face, and places it on the floor of the engawa, fingers grasping at his temples.

Nagi stares at him.

Satoru’s smile touches his eyes, bright in their joy. It’s hard to reconcile this silly go happy fool with the stories, all the myths uttered in whispered awe, but this myth is a reality. Her (unfortunate) reality.

“When your mother was pregnant with the twins, it was really hard for her.” Satoru unfurls his limbs in all their grace, getting comfortable. The evening summer air feels nice on her skin. She watches the leaves of the trees in the large yard flutter. Nagi wonders if the convenience store near the house is still open. She’s craving melon ice cream.

She’s curious though. You’ve never made any mention of this. You wouldn’t. And Satoru doesn’t lie. Especially not when it comes to you. Hiro thinks you’ve compartmentalized your life into before and after, at least that’s his theory.

She stays silent, urging Satoru with narrowed eyes to continue.

“It was so difficult to get your mother to settle,” Satoru sighs in a woe-is-me manner. He grins, sharp. Nagi almost does a double take to make sure it isn’t actually Hiro in front of her. “Then she was pregnant.”

Nagi makes a face. She really doesn’t need a play by play about how her kind, beloved, mother had been essentially baby trapped into marriage. She knows. Riko and Hiro know. All the pointed remarks about babies and pregnancies. Satoru had brought up vow renewals the other day, and Suguru, an all too casual comment about Suzu growing up. Nagi inwardly retches.

“The point being?” Nagi asks coolly.

The amusement falls from Satoru’s face, so easily, Nagi stills at the sudden appearance of Satoru’s grave expression. “She was terrified because she didn’t want them to inherit anything of her’s.”

The gravity of the moment fades, as Satoru’s face regains his usual liveliness, just enough to inject levity into the atmosphere. “Thank god they inherited my looks,” Satoru says, much more cheerily. He twirls his index finger. “Your mother would’ve gone down a dark, dark hole had they looked anything like her.”

Nagi isn’t sure what to say. You’ve never once treated Suzu with anything but the careful consideration that is your love. She can’t imagine you casting your gaze away from the youngest. From her, from Riko or Hiro. You love them with everything. You would die and kill for each and everyone of them. That’s undeniable.

But Suzu especially. Her younger sister who just lost a tooth. Suzu likes fairy tales with princesses and princes, a dreamer at heart who will grow up wanting for nothing. Nagi can already see that. Satoru and Suguru’s favorite. The apple of their eye. Doted on by the entire family. Hiro already frets about what people will say when they see her, the child that takes after you the most. Suguru and Satoru have never taken her to see Satoru’s family. Or anyone really. To Suzu, jujutsu sorcery is a fun family secret to keep hidden from people that aren't her family. 

“Mama loves Suzu,” Nagi says confidently. 

Satoru’s features go soft. “Of course she does. She could never hate any of you. Never in a million years.”

He goes silent, and she can’t help but think it’s rare to see her father so deep in thought, without his characteristic flamboyance. 

Nagi doesn’t realize Satoru is gazing at her until she catches his eye. The look on his face is so fond, the glint of his eyes, proud, that she can’t even find it in herself to be exasperated. She can confidently say she’s never grown up without love. For all that Satoru and Suguru exasperate her, she is fortunate to have not one, but two fathers who love her. Satoru’s unwavering faith. Suguru’s steadying hand on her back.

“Everything good about you comes from your mother.”

And Suguru would agree is the unsaid statement.

Nagi meets her father’s gaze evenly, easily. 

There are many things to be said of Gojo Satoru. People cower and curse and worship. But if anything can be said of Satoru as a parent, a father, let it be this: his children have never known fear in his presence.

Not everything, Nagi thinks. But that’s neither here nor now.

“I know.”

——

extra:

“You two should’ve taken a mistress,” Nagi says, later. She’s only half joking.

The two of them are spread out on the engawa, soaking in the remnants of the summer sunset, watermelon seeds on their tongues. In three minutes, Suzu will join them, excitedly jumping into Satoru’s open arms while he peppers her with kisses as she beams. Tsuki will join them next, clutching a football in his arms, Riko following soon after. Then Suguru, you, and Hiro. Everyone will pretend to be interested in and listen to Suzu point out shapes in the cloud and fabricate inception stories, except Satoru and Suguru won’t actually have to pretend. You will stop Satoru from doing stupid like letting Suzu’s whims dictate what shape he should change a cloud into, and confusing meteorologists for the next week or so. And Suguru will rectify Suzu’s pout with a curse that changes shape into anything she wants. 

Her father frowns, looking more disgruntled than she’s ever seen him. “Suguru and I have enough competition!”

[saradika]

— BLEED FOR ME | part i

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

series prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 2 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, implication of drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death

For the haunted hoedown! Looking forward to sharing this, I wanted to do a vamp!din last Halloween but wasn’t able to. So to work on this with the inspiration of these prompts is so exciting! I hope you enjoy! 💖

When it’s revealed that the Mand'alor is seeking a companion, you find yourself among those hoping to be chosen. A life of luxury in exchange for your blood seems a fair trade - even if you’re hiding a closely-kept secret. One that would certainly put your life in danger.

Though, you are not alone. Because he has one, as well.

The nervous energy of the crowd is palpable - it’s impossible not to get swept along with it. The cowl of your cape is tugged down lower as you follow the others streaming out ahead of you.

Out of the small town, winding around the side of the steep hill. The air growing heavier, the fog rolling in as you climb the moss-covered steps. The castle looms against the darkening horizon, all blackened stone and tall, twisting spires.

They mirror the curl of your stomach - the weight of your feet as they seem to slow, the closer you get.

But you’ve come this far. You can’t go back now.

The gates remain shut, and you’re forced to halt. Huddled together in small groups, nervous and excited whispers breaking the silence.

A shiver even with the heavy cloaks that protect the bared necks and shoulders, a detail noted on that weathered scroll left in the town square.

And for the first time, you doubt.

When it had been announced that the Mand’alor was seeking a Companion, the news has spread. It was no secret that the vampire lord had sought blood.

But he had never chosen anyone before. Never pursued someone, like this.

There had been others but they had never lasted long. Just let into the castle long enough to keep him alive for another moon.

It had amassed a crowd, those who couldn’t resist the reward that was offered - thousands of gold coins, enough to live any life they could want.

Those who wanted the fame.

Those who wanted protection.

Those who wanted to see the spectacle for themselves.

And then, there was you.

Now that you’re at the doorstep, you’re suddenly unsure. If you were chosen - once you step through - it’s unlikely you’d leave alive.

Would that be worth it?

Would you get what you were looking for?

Even after all your training, it hadn’t truly prepared you for the patchwork of emotions you feel now.

Guilt and desperation and melancholy and regret and anger - all branding into your skin until you can feel yourself trembling with the effort to hold it back.

But the gates are parting now. And it’s too late to turn back.

A figure it stepping through - her leather armor blackened with oil. Her eyes are bright, and not the shade of red you were expecting.

Her chin is held high as her eyes sweep through the crowd, an eerie silence settling over your travel companions.

And wordlessly, she begins to sort. Sizing up each person as she approaches. A quick dart of her eyes as she plucks at clothes, examines faces.

Pulling a few to one side, the rest clearly dismissed. No pattern to her choosing that you can sense - that feeling of dread ratcheting up in your stomach as the crowd grows smaller and you grow closer.

Until she’s standing in front of you.

Her fingers pinch at your chin, forcing your eyes to hers. Dark eyes under darker lashes flick across your face, until they drop down to the clasp at your throat.

Your hood is pulled back, as deft fingers unhook the brass fastenings. The wool pools on the cracked stone as your skin is exposed.

Her eyes follow the curve of your cheek, to your neck, to the sharp curves of the scar on your shoulder, just above the cut of your tunic.

A reminder of that night. One that still haunts you, a year later.

Those eyes flick back up to yours.

There’s a second where you stoop to collect your robe - feeling bare, flayed open under her gaze - but her boot presses purposely against the hem.

Shooting you a small smirk as you rise again obediently, before a hand is guiding you towards the group she had selected.

And then, it’s over.

“Those chosen will be brought before the Mand’alor.” The woman’s voice rings out, “And he shall decide from there.”

With her signal the gates creak open again, and you're ushered inside. Across a wide bridge and through a massive set of wooden double-doors.

And then, you’re inside the castle. Those doors shutting behind you with a sense of finality.

The long halls are dark, in the fading evening. The last of the sunlight filtered through tall, stained glass windows - their shadows broken into shades of crimson and silver and gold, distorted where they spill across the floor.

A chill creeps into your skin. The ice of it feels reminiscent of your dreams - that cold bite against your skin, a balm to the burning heat that had surrounded you.

It distracts you enough that you don't see him slip from the shadows. Near-silent steps as he moves to stand before the small crowd, even with the heavy plates of his shining armor.

Everything seems to go still then. The inhale of a collected breath, now held.

You should feel terror. This man - this vampire - has killed hundreds. Thousands. Has feasted on even more.

He's a monster.

The fight or flight should be sinking in - but somewhere deep inside, there is only that weight that you still carry. A prickle across your skin at the way he moves, all sleek and careful movements.

Starting where the woman guides him. His hands stay motionless - tucked in the curve on his belt, the other curling around a black hilt at his waist. Her quiet murmurs that only he can hear. As he stops in front of each one.

No expression can be leaked, with the mask he wears.

Their faces, and finally yours, reflected back at you.

You do your best to gather your courage.

To keep your chin tilted up, gazing into that dark band of his visor. As you hear the rattle of the slow inhale of his breath, as if he could smell you from beneath his helmet.

Even you can see the fear in your widen eyes, feel the small tremor in your limbs as his hand suddenly and slowly moves.

As if he can't help himself.

As if it is on instinct.

Reaching out to touch your shoulder, your neck - but then, just hovering.

Your terror catches up now. That steady beat of your heart now pounding in your chest, knocking wildly against your ribs.

The smallest flinch as his fingertips hang in mid-air, before his hand is curling into a fist.

Dropping back down.

There's the smallest jerk of his head. A gleam in the woman's eye as her hand curves around your bicep, as he sweeps from the room.

A murmur of confusion, disappointment - the rest robbed of their spectacle and entertainment. It had taken longer to get here - everything over so quickly, it feels as if you’ve only just stepped inside.

Armored guards move from their neat rows - shields raised to ward off the remainers of your group - to urge them back outside and back to their homes.

Leaving only the chosen behind.

Only you.

The woman in armor guides you quickly to your new home. Taking you through twisting corridors lined with ancient portraits, up a winding path of stone stairs.

You’re utterly lost, and a part of you wonders if that’s intentional. To keep you trapped inside. A silent realization that perhaps, you haven’t been nearly as clever as you thought.

Those worries lingering as she stops outside a heavy wooden door, lit on either side by flickering oil lamps.

“This is your room,” She tells you, her fingers resting on the door, before she’s pushing it open.

With the stories you’ve been told about the fearsome Mand’alor and the fortress he lurks in, you certainly weren’t expecting a room so… beautiful.

There’s a luxury that seems to weave throughout it. Rich wooden floors and plush rugs. A constellation of glittering stars painted on a domed, navy ceiling - as if you had invited the night sky in to stay.

Bookcases line the walls - framing a wooden desk, plush seating next to the bench that was built into the space beneath the iron-wrought windows.

Thick velvets curtains thrown back to let the setting sun in, casting the four-poster canopy bed in a golden light.

You almost forget yourself, as your fingers run across the bedspread. Finely-made beneath your touch, as soft as spun silk.

If the situation had been different… you think you might have loved it.

“There will be someone to call on you if there’s anything you want. And to take care of things during your day.” She interrupts your admiring thoughts, bringing you back.

You send a silent chastisement to yourself, as your fingers clasp - the picture of docility.

“The Mand’alor has been looking for someone for quite some time. I will give you a moment to get settled, but understand that your duties are to begin tonight.”

The pounding of your heart begins again, not realizing it would be so soon.

She must see the surprise that flickers across your face - her arms crossing as she leans in the doorway, “He has not fed since the last. We’ll all be happier once he does.”

Since the last Companion.

You wonder what happened to them. If they were used and cast aside. If they were drained dry.

If the same would happen to you.

No. You won’t let it.

“I’m happy to begin my work as soon as it pleases the Mand’alor.” Your voice is soft, and her sharp look softens.

“You’re quick.” She smiles, “That’s good. If you listen, you’re gonna be just fine.”

The nod you give is cut short, as the door closes. Left alone, your attention immediately goes to the furniture in the room. You don’t have much time.

Something used as often as a bed would be impractical, especially if someone will be tending to you as the woman says.

The bookcases touch both the ceiling and the floor, the books in neat, uniform stacks. No room for disruption.

Your fingers tug at the bench, but it’s solid wood - there’s no storage beneath.

No closet either, an empty brass rack stands against one of the curving stone walls.

Leaving only the desk, as you hurry over. The bottles of ink clinking together as the tips of your fingers run over the wooden top, and then under.

Looking for a hinge, your fingers closing around the ceramic knob as you carefully pull. Revealing a drawer full of rolled-up scrolls, a handful of quills, a thick leather-bound book.

There’s a knock then, and your pulse races.

Fingers fumbling as you reach for the fastenings of your tall boots. A creak of the door as it begins to open.

Undoing them just enough to pull the thin silver dagger and the sharpened stake free. Hastily shoving them behind the scrolls of paper inside your desk.

Before you’re pushing the drawer shut - just as the Mand’alor fills your doorway.

And the first of the 2 secret prompts are: 'this person' ordered me to kill you but i actually think i'm in love with you. (The second part to come into play!) thank you for checking this out! And hope you like this au! 🥀

[thewickedkat]

long post incoming; meta enthusiasts may wish to digest this in chunks.

i am so completely exasperated with Laudna as of the latest episode. however, i temper that exasperation with my enjoyment as a viewer; indeed, i am feasting on the conflict, thinking finally, some good fucking food, because i think (and have always thought) that Laudna is terrifically interesting as a character and she presents wonderful opportunities for growth not only on her end, but as a catalyst for others.

that being said. the sword. how she handled it. how she handled her own trauma bubbling up, how she handled (or didn't) Delilah, how she handled Orym and Chetney and Dorian and the whole miserable mess she made.

it was selfish. there. i said it. you may disagree with me, i care not, but her course of action was terribly selfish and destructive.

i know many people out there have been likening her behaviour to that of an addict's (and there are many common factors there: the hiding, the lying by omission, the shame, the acquiescence to bad behaviour), but i think in some ways that to do so is reductive, and also removes agency from Laudna herself.

she is allowing her trauma to almost make her decisions for her, allowing it to define her, and she is not giving herself the opportunity to realise that growth beyond it is possible--or, perhaps, she does realise this and is simply too afraid to reach out and grasp it. i think even if Delilah weren't trying to subsume her, Laudna would still be self-sabotaging and self-destructive and still try to hide the parts of her she felt were undesirable; Delilah in many ways simply makes it easier for Laudna to do so and, if pressed, provides a rationalisation for Laudna's choices and actions (as in 'it wasn't me, it was her, she made me do it).

first and foremost, Laudna was a victim of heinous trauma, being murdered and then being put on grotesque display. then she was further traumatised in coming back from the dead and being forced to isolate herself from people for many years, with only Delilah's honeysweet venom dripping into her ear for that time. then she is murdered again as an object lesson for the woman she loves, then stuffed down so deep into her own psyche by the one who first killed her; she is fought for and brought back by her friends...who then seem to do little to check in with her, to make sure she is stable, or coping, because they each have their own baggage and oh by the way, the world is possibly ending. to be fair, there is little time for therapy and stability when you are literally running from crisis to crisis and trying to stop something you haven't even conceived of in your nightmares.

she feels dismissed, often, minimised, and she never developed healthy people skills or coping mechanisms (i am sorry but as much as i love Pâté, a dead rat does not a support group make). so she lashes out, has poor emotional regulation, and Does Crappy Things. so i also understand when she said 'what else have i to give, but myself?'

all that being said. what she did with Orym and the sword was fucking selfish. she is behaving like a child, as if she is the only one whose tragedies matter; she's playing Oppression Olympics, and can i just point out that Orym was the one to say 'i'm sorry' but Laudna never apologised for accosting him while he slept and hurting him? saying 'i didn't mean to hurt you' is not the same, because that implies that if she had not hurt him, stealing from him was perfectly acceptable and reasonable.

i don't believe her when she said 'i accept responsibility' because that means one must accept the consequences of their own actions, and right after she said that, she argued with everyone, told the oldest member of the Hells that he had no right to talk about loss to her, and then fled. that isn't accepting responsibility; that is mouthing platitudes in the hopes you will sway others to your point of view and when it fails, leaving in a huff like a child having a tantrum.

she didn't even bother to ask Orym why he kept the sword. she just tried to take.

Laudna often reacts from a place of fear: of pain, of more trauma, fear of inadequacy, of loss. all of these fears are valid. they are understandable, given all that has happened to her. but just because her fears are valid does not give her the right to make others pay for her emotional baggage. this is what makes her behaviour in ep 95 selfish. all of her actions in the back half of that episode are things she chose to do, and now she must sit in the mess she made. Laudna seems to be falling into the same mental rut that many victims fall into when their trauma isn't dealt with in a healthy fashion: they start fucking others over, as if being a victim excuses it. it does not.

and before others come for me, i say that as one who used to do the same fucking thing but i was lucky enough to have therapy. Laudna doesn't have that luxury--none of the Hells do. there simply isn't time to make space for any of their issues, not just Laudna's. Imogen is still wrestling with her mother; Fearne is wrestling with her parentage; Orym is just trying to keep his feet under him and do what he feels is right without betraying anyone he cares for (yes, including Laudna, shut up); Ashton is still trying to process the loss of Fresh Cut Grass (for gods' sakes, the crafting night was a fucking wake for the lil guy); Dorian just lost his brother and watched his friend succumb to a Betrayer God that turned her into a monster; and Chetney? Chetney is an old man who, i personally think, can pick his battles and knows how to compartmentalise better than any of these kids.

Laudna is not unique in that she has suffered horribly. no one is saying she hasn't, but her behaviour implies that she believes they are saying that. her actions imply she believes not only that she does not trust her friends (thanks, Dorian), but that acknowledging others' losses somehow negates hers. there just isn't time to healthily process any of this, which sucks. it does. i do think her friends love her, care for her deeply, and i think part of the reason they haven't checked up on her as much as they could is because a) they're afraid that her problem with Delilah is much worse than they thought (duh, it is); b) they can't fix the Delilah Problem right now even if they were qualified to do so (even Pike couldn't scour that bitch out of Laudna, she said as much); and c) they run the very substantial risk of wholly alienating Laudna if they press the issue too hard, thus not only losing an asset in the fight against the Vanguard and Ludinus, but also a friend and lover.

it's shit, all around, we all know that. but to pretend that it's okay she did what she did to Orym--or worse, somehow transfer responsibility from her onto him and make it his fault--is infantilising and disingenuous at best, and more than a little insulting.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. five good father’s days.

about. your daughter gives katsuki an early, late night father’s day gift. im a sap for him ok !!

warnings. none. sfw. slight angst, hurt comfort and a fluffy ending, dangerous missions, you have a daughter, dad!bakugou & fem!reader.

this father’s day is different.

instead of wrapping up a saturday patrol early in order to spend the rest of the weekend with his daughter, and with you, bakugou finds himself stuck at the hero commission’s main office surrounded by the very heroes he grew up and studied with.

he knows that he should be paying attention, every second and every detail of this upcoming mission counts. if one thing goes wrong, it could cost someone’s life. but bakugou can’t find it in himself to pay attention to the files splayed out before him, nor the presentation the strategy team run through. his mind is elsewhere, stuck on you and his daughter playing with building blocks and tiaras and stickers back home.

the memory of how your face dropped when he returned home the weekend before replays in his mind throughout the meeting. how you knew, from the moment katsuki stepped through the door, that something was wrong. he had to hold you, kiss your head over and over while you solemnly swayed in the middle of your kitchen. he was to go on a dangerous mission to finally take down a group terrorising all corners of japan and he had to go on father’s day.

how were you supposed to explain to your daughter, your happy and brash and playful little girl that daddy wasn’t going to be there on his special day. that he might not even come back. bakugou’s daughter was five now — every bit of her reflected you just as much as it reflected him. she was perfect in every sense and the explosive pro-hero thought himself proud to be her father.

bakugou was lucky. he’d had five good father’s days with his beautiful little girl, and with you his equally amazing spouse. but if he messed up, on this mission it would practically be suicide and he wouldn’t have any more of those days with her or with you.

“did you get that, kacchan?”

the far away look in katsuki’s eyes dissipates as he makes a noncommittal grunt from his chest and looks up to meet deku’s eyes. there is no stir of discomfort or annoyance with bakugou when he looks to his childhood friend — not anymore. they’d long since over come their rivalry, the blonde happily taking the number two spot once he’d started his life and family. they were friends now, equals. but today, a part of bakugou wishes that he could find it in himself to hate deku just a little bit. maybe that would make this father’s day easier.

“yeah i got it. don’t fuck up. take the leader hostage.”

“kacchan please, this is serious.”

all eyes are on bakugou now. he knows that, he fucking knows how serious this is. his life, his daughter’s happiness and future is on the line. he wants to lash out, bare his fangs in place of his hurt like he used to — but he can’t, you and your daughter had taught katsuki to be kinder and better.

it’s because of izuku that the blonde is even spearheading this mission. he’s got a newborn, barely a few months old — if it had been any other time the number one would have handled the mission all by himself. but this is a first for izuku, he’s never had such a precious day to remind him of how well he’s done, remind him of the life he created. bakugou knows that feeling all too well, he won’t take it away from deku.

after all, he’s had five good father’s days.

bakugou gets home after midnight on sunday morning. there’s still toys scattered on the floor and a blanket fort constructed over a portion of the couch which tells him about all of the fun you’ve had with his daughter to distract her. his lips quirk up into the wisps of a fond smile.

he plops his duffel bag down next to case with his hero suit and mission equipment inside — you’d thoughtfully placed it by the front door. he toes off his shoes to delve deeper into the house, rummages through the fridge for left overs. bakugou finds a plate with his name on it and a bento box labelled good luck. no doubt a packed lunch you’d made with your daughter for him to eat on his mission a few hours later.

god he fucking loves you both so much.

after heating up his food, bakugou seats himself on the couch to eat. he knows he should probably crawl into bed beside you, spend his last few hours with you but he just wants to sit. take in the memories you’ve made within these four walls, the beautiful daughter you’ve raised too and admire your life together.

in the silence of the night, katsuki finds peace in everything he’s done for your daughter and for you so far. he eats the meal made with love, in a room that has surely been filled with the same emotion and levels of laughter. the home you have together is bright, wonderful.

even through the quiet, the tiny steps down the stairs do not go unnoticed by bakugou’s trained ear. “hey bug,” he hums, turning around and discarding his plate onto the coffee table. “what’re you doin’ up?”

“you came home late, wanted to wait up f’ya.” your daughter chips and pads her way over to the couch, shuffling up it and into bakugou’s side.

for a moment, their heartbeats sync and he’s transported back to the moment she was born. the first time he held his little angel in his arms and heard her cry.

“s’past your bedtime baby,” the older blonde punches your daughter’s cheek but doesn’t make a move to send her back to her room. “what could possibly be more important than gettin’ yer beauty sleep, hah?”

she’s quiet for a moment, fumbling around in her pyjama pocket for something. “your card, mama ‘n i made it today, see!” sleepily, she hands bakugou a crumpled piece of paper held together by strings of glue and glitter (in the colours of his hero costume) — grinning while she does. “happy uh…happy papa’s day! i love you so much!”

katsuki is quiet for a moment, cherishing the seconds he has with his baby girl, the piece of paper with her illegible chicken scratch writing scrawled across the front and inside where it folds — in such a way that he wonders if he wrote it out himself. he thumbs the glitter even though he knows it’ll stick to every inch of his skin, before pulling your daughter into his lap and kissing the crown of her head.

“i love you most bug, don’t you forget that. kay?” bakugou whispers in a weak attempt to keep his voice stable and squeezes her again. “promise me.”

“i promise dad, as long as you promise to come back to ma and me.” she says, innocent and child-like. “pinky promise.”

bakugou never thought that he would be this lucky, to have raised a kid so smart and loving. he swears on his life and every star up above that he’ll come back to you both. if not in this life time, then the next.

then, bakugou offers up his smallest finger and his daughter links them. “pinky promise, love bug.”

“what are you two doing up this late?” you pierce the moment with a scolding but affectionate tone, wrapping your robe around yourself as you approach the two blonde’s from behind.

“daddy was jus’ waitin’ for you to come downstairs ‘n make us special papa’s day cocoa!” your daughter giggles, showing off all the gaps in her teeth.

you raise a brow at your husband, watching as he mouths the words ‘liar’ at your kid. “was he now?”

“please sweetness? we’ll be in bed by one latest.”

in the end, you relent. you both want your daughter to have something happy to hold onto while bakugou is gone — and who knows how long that’ll be. the three of you drink hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles until your bellies are full and your little girl is curled between you under the blanket fort on the couch. you wake up giving your husband one last squeeze and desperate kiss, holding your daughter between you as you will yourself not to cry when he has to leave at six am on Father’s Day.

the mission is long, gruelling and contact time with him is far and few but katsuki bakugou isn’t one to break promises, especially to his pride and joy, his daughter because exactly a year later he returns — a little older, a little more rugged with silvering hair and the stubble you always wished he’d grow.

your daughter, now six, runs down your front porch as soon as she sees him — throwing herself into bakugou’s arms and squealing while he peppers her face in kisses. you join them just in time for the blonde to spare you some sugar too, whispering a warm.

“happy father’s day, katsuki.”

and god, he’s never felt more lucky. to be alive, to have you and his daughter, and to have six good father’s days.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cardansriddle]

Your girl - (tom riddle x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you always watch him from afar, waiting for the day you would be able to call yourself his girl.

warnings: reader is pining & kinda obsessed with tom. also sloppy writing for this one, sorry folks.

A/N: inspired by lana's unreleased song 'your girl'.

༻♛༺

Your eyes travelled over the pack of chattering students in the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table where he sat with his group of friends. His wavy hair tumbled across his forehead as he kept his head down, focused on the book laying on the table, fingers idly fumbling with the page of the object before he turned it over. You watched him in a trance-like state, head resting on the palm of your hand as you released a small sigh. 

He was otherwordly. Gods were cruel for crafting him with their own hands, making him to perfection, making him so irresistible that your heart ached every time your eyes lay on the chiselled features of his face. You could not help it. Your gaze would always find him no matter where you were. No matter what you were doing. You felt like a magnet being pulled towards a being that would swallow you like a black hole and leave you in a pit of nothingness. 

Oh, how you desired him. It was agonising. Loving him from afar and knowing you would never be his girl. 

He suddenly lifted his gaze from the pages of the book, and it landed directly on you. 

You had been caught. You quickly looked away from his blistering stare, heat creeping up your cheeks in embarrassment. 

Tom was used to being stared at. He was well aware of the effect he had on people. Everyone admired him. Everyone wanted a piece of him. 

But you, you wanted all of him. For yourself. 

༻♛༺

The chair dug into your back as you struggled to get comfortable, splatters of ink staining the skin of your hands as you scribbled hurriedly on your parchment. The clock was ticking, and the hour was late. The threat of curfew was upon you, yet you refused to leave the library until you got the essay done before the clock would strike midnight. 

As you crossed out a word with a huff, a shadow settled upon you like a gloom of darkness. The air became still, and you slowly rose your head to look upon the intruder who had interrupted you mid-work. 

Your breath caught in your throat when your gaze settled on Riddle, looming over you with an indescribable expression. His head was tilted to the side, stare narrowed on your face as if he was scrutinizing your features. 

Gathering your wits, you cleared your throat. "May I help you?"

"The library is about to close. I advise you to leave before you stay after curfew." 

Of course. He was doing his Prefect duties. He had only approached you because of duty. Nothing else. Disappointment settled in the pit of your stomach like a rock. You felt your soul sink slowly beneath the waves of heartache.

"Oh." You whispered, dropping your stare back to your parchment to hide your expression. "Right. Thank you." You replied meekly, yet made no move to pack your things up. You felt a gust of air, and you looked up to see him leaving, his robes fluttering behind him as he walked away from your form. 

The first time he had spoken to you. And it had been a cold, indifferent exchange. Your heart ached once again as you snapped your book shut. 

༻♛༺

You walked into the DADA classroom with a frown adorning your face, hands clutching your books as you quickly made your way to your seat, giving a small smile to your seat partner before plopping down in your chair. Almost instinctively, you glanced around the space to find him. And when you did, you felt your blood sizzle with an emotion you had learned to know all too well. 

There was a girl leaning on the side of his desk, finger twirling around a strand of hair as she spoke to Tom with a sly smirk on her lips. She leaned closer to him, pointing at something on a book with a perfectly manicured finger, lashes fluttering as he began explaining something she had inquired about. His face was neutral, as it always was, showing no sign of interest. 

It was a common occurrence— girls approaching him and asking about something in order to earn a fraction of his attention even if it was just for a moment. Had you been bold, maybe you could have done the same. But you were not. You were way too afraid of stumbling over your words in his proximity and therefore making a fool out of yourself. You would much rather admire him from afar. And dream of things you and he would never do.

You watched, fury boiling inside of you as she lay a hand on his arm and he produced a polite smile before slightly leaning away from the unwelcome touch. 

The rejection eased your heart only slightly, but jealousy was burning ablaze inside you still. You watched, from afar, as you always did, heart yearning, aching to be his. 

༻♛༺

If there was one thing Slytherins excelled at, it was throwing parties that would leave everyone second-guessing their actions the next morning. You rarely attended those monthly gatherings, the only time when the houses put away their differences and prejudices aside in order to have a great time and drink until their mind had no coherent thought left and was instead clouded with alcohol. 

You sipped at your third—or was it fourth? could even be the fifth drink, you had lost count already. The buzz from the Firewhisky had already begun affecting your head, yet you did not stop and kept going drink after drink if only to drive the thoughts of him away from your mind. He had become a permanent resident in the root of your thoughts, and if people said this was the solution to all your problems, who were you not to at least try?

When you had entered the dimly lit common room, you had spied Tom leaning against the wall with arms crossed across his chest, dark eyes discerning, judging everyone who partook in these activities you knew he considered foolish. But for once in your life, you set aside your need to be liked by him and instead allowed yourself to attempt to forget him.

A call of your name drew your mind away from him, and you turned slightly to face the approaching figure who was watching you with a smirk on his face. "I have not seen you attend these things before," Avery said with a glint in his eyes, gaze dropping down to quickly give you a once over before meeting your stare once again. "Decided to give being a good girl a break?" 

You squirmed, uncomfortable with his crude attention. "It's only for tonight. Don't get used to it."

"Oh? Perhaps we could make the most of tonight then? Well, don't just stand there, come dance." He urged, his hand dropping to your waist to pull you closer to his body, applying enough pressure to get you to follow him into the midst of mingling people. 

You knew it was a bad idea. And you would have pulled away, declined his advances. But when you glanced over your shoulder to where you had seen Tom the last time, you saw his eyes already fixated on you, and you gave in to Avery. You lost yourself in his arms, not fully aware of what you were doing due to the alcohol already fuzzing your brain, but you moved along with him, allowing his hands to run over your curves until the night became a blur. 

Yet over time, the intruding images of Tom invaded your head once again, and before you knew it, you were pulling away from Avery and the others to make your way to one of the velvet couches in the common room, plopping down and resting your head back. 

Why could you not escape him?

Were you cursed to desire a man who would never be yours for the rest of your miserable existence?

"Pathetic." You murmured to yourself, raising your hands to run them over your face. Just as you began thinking about leaving the party, you felt the couch dip next to you, indicating someone had taken a seat. Your eyes snapped open, and you turned your head to the side to see who had joined you. 

"Riddle?" You breathed out in disbelief. When he made no move to speak, you shut your eyes tightly before reopening them. "Merlin, what did they put in that Firewhisky? Great, am I hallucinating now?" 

Tom only rose an elegant brow, and perhaps if you had been sober enough, you could have detected the light amusement on his face. 

"Why would you assume you are hallucinating?"

"Uh...because, I don't know, you are here? We are talking? We never talk."

"We talked that day in the library." He stated.

You snickered, shaking your head. "I would hardly call that talking. You were kicking me out of the library." 

"I was only doing my Prefect duties." He rebutted impassively, before shifting so his arm was resting on the head of the couch and his body was fully facing yours. "Are you enjoying yourself?" He redirected the topic.

"Hardly."

"Why is that?"

You stared at him for a moment, regarding his sharp features before lowering your head to answer his question. "I came here to forget. And I still cannot forget." 

He hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side, gaze never leaving your face. "Forget what?"

As if remembering who you were talking to, you snapped out of your wistful trance and waved your hand as if it was of no importance. "Nothing important."

You were well aware he did not believe you, but you were grateful nonetheless when he did not press the subject. Silence settled between you, and you refused to meet his piercing stare.

He was the first to break it. "I have noticed you watching me." He stated boldly, causing you to swallow heavily at his words. Why would he bring that up out of nowhere? Was he here to humiliate you? 

When you gave no response, he brought his hand to grab your chin lightly, tilting it up so you would look at him. And when you did, his eyes were clouded with an expression that had your gust twisting in most unwelcome ways. 

"I want to know why."

"I—uhm—" You stumbled over your words, unsure how to proceed with the turn of events. "Plenty of people watch you."

He gently shook his head from side to side. "Not in the way you do."

"What way is that?"

"Nothing that could be described with mere words." He replied. You were aware that his touch had not left your skin still, fingers holding onto your face to keep you in place. You sensed his body heat, his knee brushing against your own, and those small contacts had your senses overlapping with need.

"...And how could it be described then?" You asked, tentative, cautious. You were trudging on unfamiliar territory with him, unaware, and unknowing of his intentions. His stare upon you was heated, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips as if he could not decide where to look. He was close. Closer than you had imagined possible. 

You gulped, and he brought a hand to rest on your thigh, leaning further to crowd your personal space until there were inches left between you. "With touch." He whispered, breath fanning against your mouth as he spoke. The hand on your thigh was searing on your skin, evoking feelings deep in your gut that you had never felt so explicitly before. 

Desire. It was desire coiling in your stomach. 

"Touch?" You repeated but he did not give you a reply, only nudged your nose with his before brushing his lips against yours. You froze only for a moment, from shock, before you eagerly kissed him back, heart lurching in behind your ribcage, about to burst through your chest from the overwhelming sensation of his skin on yours. At last. 

You moved your lips against his, hand coiling around his neck to tug at his hair— hair you had been dreaming to run your hands through for as long as you could remember. His hand squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh and you whimpered against his mouth. 

When you pulled away for air, he licked his lips, as if savouring the taste of you on his tongue. He gazed into your darkened eyes before his lips curled upwards. "That is how you look at me."

༻♛༺

You were searching for him again.

But this time it was different. This time, you were perturbed. You felt ill at ease just thinking about what last night had meant for you. But that was not the main concern. What worried you, was the question of what last night meant for him. Did it mean anything at all? 

You shifted in your seat, nursing a goblet of water to hide your anxiety as you watched the doors to the Great Hall, waiting to see a glimpse of him. 

And when he finally appeared, with his posse trailing behind him, your body stiffened, and tension coiled around your body like a venomous snake ready to strike. 

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

You pleaded inwardly, hoping he would somehow sense your internal dilemma and ease your worries even with just a fleeting glance. You waited, eyes trained on him, unwavering. You had longed for him for too long to be kissed and discarded in such a manner. Surely your heart would not be able to handle the ache that would come with his disregard for that kiss. The kiss that had felt more. It had been intimate, passionate, everything and much more. 

And perhaps he heard your silent pleas, because the next instant, his eyes were locked onto yours and you watched with your breath caught in your throat as he smirked at you knowingly before looking away. He had caught you watching him in that manner again. And he was enjoying it. 

You would be his. You were going to make sure of that. You would do anything to be his girl. 

His. His. His. His.

༻♛༺

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