#and they keep using it in almost every argument
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luvismenu · 3 days ago
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Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist
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Chapter 02 — distraction ✎
fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.
nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’
wc: 6k
📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog
📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28
abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!
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“i have to go.”
“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”
you sigh.
“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.
“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.
you roll your eyes.
“i really have to go.”
“___, just listen to—”
but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.
there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.
go back home?
after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.
you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.
you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’
you can’t go back now.
not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.
“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”
min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.
“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.
“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.
“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.
min yoongi; your friend.
well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.
you didn't question him about it any further.
you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.
“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.
you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”
he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"
you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.
that was close.
you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.
he’s handsome.
no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.
but there’s something else,
he looks... mad?
you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.
as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.
“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.
you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.
you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.
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“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.
“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.
“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.
“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.
“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”
“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.
jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”
yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”
jungkook stays silent.
instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.
“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.
and it does.
jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.
as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.
“bad day indeed.”
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you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.
you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.
then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.
“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”
curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.
he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.
after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.
he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.
then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.
“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.
you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”
he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”
“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“good.”
wow. nice attitude.
just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.
“never seen you around here before.”
“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.
“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,
you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”
he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”
“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”
he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”
you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”
he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”
you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”
“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”
“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.
“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.
“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.
he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.
“same,” you respond. “during the day.”
he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”
you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."
“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.
“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”
he stays silent.
“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.
“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”
he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.
you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”
“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”
“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”
his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”
a silence stretches between you two.
“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.
you didn't expect that.
honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.
you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.
a thought crosses yourmind.
if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.
it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.
but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.
because, really, why should you care?
whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.
“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.
“likewise,” you reply.
without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.
you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”
he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”
“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.
“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.
you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.
he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”
“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.
he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”
you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”
he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”
“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.
“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”
your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.
you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.
oh what the fuck.
“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”
suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.
“what?” he stares at you.
“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.
he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.
realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.
what are you even trying to say?
he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”
you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”
but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.
“so, do you want to suck on it?”
“huh?” you blink.
suck on what now?
“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.
oh.
you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.
“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.
“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.
“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.
“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.
he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so��� are you gonna keep holding it?”
you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.
“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.
why do you kind of like his smile?
you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.
“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.
you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”
he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”
you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”
his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”
a pause.
there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.
he's right.
you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.
and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.
you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.
both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.
”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”
“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.
he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.
but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.
you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.
“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.
you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.
he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”
your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.
is he asking what you think he’s asking?
he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.
yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.
“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.
his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.
the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.
your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.
right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.
maybe you do need this distraction.
his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.
“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”
“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.
he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.
you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.
he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”
before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.
he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.
you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?
he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.
what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?
as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.
when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.
he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.
but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.
“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.
the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.
“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.
“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.
your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.
his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.
it's all too good.
too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.
he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.
you're so fucking wet right now.
you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.
“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”
you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.
a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.
b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.
you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.
“yours.”
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the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.
the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.
“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.
you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.
“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.
you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.
“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.
you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.
“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.
your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.
“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.
“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”
you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.
“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.
he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.
instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.
“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.
he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.
his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.
you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.
“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”
he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.
“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.
“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”
his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.
you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.
“fuck. okay, bend over.”
without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.
he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.
grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”
a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.
you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.
each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.
“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.
his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.
your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.
the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.
“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”
“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”
“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.
his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.
“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.
“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.
“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”
“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.
“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.
he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.
after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.
you're definitely going to ask for his number.
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a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha
254 notes · View notes
sherewrytes · 2 days ago
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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 1
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↳ Sukuna x f! black reader
Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?
contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )
fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.
Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.
Chapter Playlist:
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Chapter 1: Rolling Stone
The blaring of the alarm cuts through the dim haze of the bar like a knife. I squint at the glowing screen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My shift is over, but it feels like the world is just beginning again. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fade into the background as I gather my things, the weight of another night spent pouring drinks and avoiding questions heavier than the bottles I’ve been slinging.
What the hell am I doing here?
I didn't need this job—my grandfather left a decent savings, more than enough to keep Choso and Yuuji set for college. But I can't touch it. Not yet. The thought of dipping into that fund makes my stomach twist. It's for them.
It’s always been for them.
So, I picked up this stupid job I hate, slinging drinks for people who don’t care about anything but getting wasted.
“Another night, another dollar,” I mutter to myself, a bitter grin creeping onto my face.
The familiar faces of patrons blur as I head to the door, but the fleeting laughter and boisterous conversations wrap around me, a reminder of the normalcy I’m missing. I should be out there, living it up, but instead, I’m trapped in this monotonous cycle of work and regret.
It’s been eighteen months since Jin died, and three weeks since I lost Grandpa. Shouldn’t I be over this by now?
“Just need to keep my head down,” I say aloud, shaking my head. “Keep the money coming. They depend on you, Sukuna.”
I step outside into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a splash of cold water. The streets are alive with the sounds of nightlife, but they feel like a distant echo, a life I no longer belong to. I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs, trying to drown out the nagging thoughts in my head.
Y/N…
She’s been my anchor since my world turned upside down. I think about the year we’ve spent together, how she’s become the one bright spot in my otherwise dreary existence. But there’s a heaviness between us that I can’t shake. I haven’t been fully present, and I know it.
“I’m trying, dammit,” I whisper, the words almost lost in the rustle of the wind. “But how do I explain this?”
What if I lose her too?
My thoughts spiral. I’ve built walls so high, convinced that keeping her at a distance will spare her from the wreckage I’ve become. But every time I see her smile, it’s like a reminder of everything I’m not—of the light I can’t give her because I’m too busy drowning in my own sorrow.
You’ve done enough of this pity party, Sukuna. Just let her in. She wants to help. You can’t keep pushing her away.
But it’s easier said than done. Every time I think about opening up, about letting her see the raw mess I am, a voice in the back of my head reminds me of the risk. “What if she can’t handle it?”
What if she leaves?
With a heavy heart, I crush the cigarette butt under my boot and head toward my apartment. I can’t let her see how much I’m struggling. I won’t burden her with my pain. But the truth is, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of pretending everything is okay when it’s not. I just want to talk to her, to feel that warmth radiating from her, even if it’s just for a moment.
As I approach my front door, I can see the lights flickering inside. Yuuji and Choso are likely glued to some video game, oblivious to the world outside. I shove the door open, the familiar creak echoing in the silence.
“Hey, I’m back,” I call out, forcing a casualness into my voice I don’t feel.
“Finally! We thought you fell in,” Yuuji replies, his voice full of that youthful energy that’s both infectious and exhausting.
“Yeah, as if. Just needed to pay the bills,” I respond, but my heart isn’t in it. I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like it’s the last drop of sanity I’ll ever have.
I should call her. Just see how she’s doing. She’s been so patient with me, even when I’ve been a complete jerk.
I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up with her contact name. My finger hovers over the call button, hesitation creeping in.
What if she’s busy? What if she thinks I’m pathetic for calling her now?
“Just do it,” I whisper to myself, the words barely escaping my lips. “You can’t keep hiding.”
With a deep breath, I press the button, and the phone rings. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, hoping she picks up, praying she won’t judge me for the mess I’ve made of everything.
“C’mon, Y/N. Pick up.”
After a few rings, her voice breaks through, warm and inviting. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” I say, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the sound of her voice.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.
“Yeah, just finished work. Thought I’d check in on you,” I reply, keeping it casual, though the truth feels heavier than I can articulate.
“Just hanging out. You sound tired,” she notes, and I can almost picture the way she frowns when she’s worried.
Always so damn perceptive.
“Yeah, long night,” I admit. “How about you? You doing okay?”
“Better now that you called,” she replies, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
I need this. I need her.
“Maybe I’ll come over. I could use some company,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my heart races at the thought.
“I’d like that. Just… come over when you can,” she responds, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” I say, ending the call.
As I toss my phone onto the couch and lean back, I realize how much I’ve needed this connection. For all my reckless decisions and the way I’ve pushed her away, there’s something about her presence that makes the world feel less heavy.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can let her in.
I head to the bathroom to shower then to my room to change, scrolling through my phone I scrolled through spotify and played P5hng Me A*wy/Mike Shinoda and Linkin Park. I pulled out an old band tee from Bring me to the horizon and some ripped jeans. In the back of my draw I see some Xanax in a baggie. I pulled it out and popped one then a half I had from sometime before. 
I should really quit this at some point…..but not tonight. 
As I step out from my room into the living room, feeling a renewed sense of clarity, the front door creaks open. Choso strolls in, his expression a mixture of nonchalance and mischief that immediately puts me on high alert.
“Hey, where have you been?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but I can’t mask the irritation creeping in. I left him home with Yuuji, expecting a quiet night, and instead, I get this.
Choso shrugs, the dim light from the hallway casting shadows across his face. That’s when I catch a glimpse of something on his arm—ink, the kind that shouldn’t belong to someone barely eighteen.
For fuck’s sake.
I sigh, the tension in my chest tightening as I stride over to him, my heart pounding with frustration and concern. “What is this?” I snatch his arm, pulling it closer to examine the tattoo. It’s a crude design, something that looks like it was done in a rush, the lines jagged and uneven.
“Where have you been?” I demand, my voice low and sharp. “I left you home with Yuuji. Did you really think sneaking out was a good idea?”
Choso tries to pull his arm back, but I hold firm, scanning his face for any sign of remorse. Instead, I find a mix of defiance and pride that only stokes my anger further.
“Dude, it’s just a tattoo,” he says, a hint of rebellion in his tone. “I wanted to do something cool, you know?”
“Cool? You think getting a tattoo looking like you did it in a back alley is cool?” I hiss, my frustration boiling over. “You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or worse! What the hell were you thinking?”
He rolls his eyes, his teenage bravado coming out in full force. “It’s not a big deal, Sukuna. Everyone gets tattoos. I just wanted to be like you. You’re the one with all the ink.”
I let go of his arm, realizing the weight of my own hypocrisy. But I can’t back down now. “You think I’m some role model? I’ve made plenty of mistakes. This isn’t about me; it’s about you making smart choices! You’re not ready for this—”
“What, you mean you think I can’t handle it?” Choso snaps back, his youthful anger flaring. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can do what I want!”
“Yeah, well, you’re still living under my roof, and I’m still responsible for you,” I remind him, my voice strained but firm. “So until you can pay your own bills, I expect you to follow some rules. This isn’t a game, Choso. Tattoos can have consequences you’re not thinking about.”
Choso crosses his arms, his defiance cooling slightly as he looks away. I soften my tone, fighting the urge to explode. “I just… I don’t want you to end up regretting something like this. It’s not as easy to remove as you think. And if Yuuji knew you left the house, he’d freak.”
Choso’s eyes flicker with guilt for just a moment, but he quickly masks it. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to try something different. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Not a big deal?
I lean against the wall, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Look, just promise me you’ll think about your choices next time, alright? You’re not just a kid anymore, but you still need to act like one sometimes.”
“Fine. I promise,” he mutters, though I can see the annoyance simmering beneath the surface.
“Good. Now go shower and study and cover that thing up. You don’t need to show that thing off to everyone.” I start to walk back to the couch, but Choso grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Wait.” He looks me in the eye, something earnest in his gaze. “What if you’re not here? What if you get tired of taking care of us and just…leave?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged. I open my mouth to reassure him, but the truth is, I’m terrified of what he just said.
What if I do?
“Listen, Choso,” I start, searching for the right words. “I’m not going anywhere. I lost too much already. You and Yuuji are all I have left.”
“Then stop acting like it doesn’t matter,” he shoots back, and I can’t help but feel the sting of his words.
I swallow hard, staring at him, wishing I had the right answers. “I’m trying, okay? Just… let me figure this out.”
He nods, but I can see he’s not fully convinced. “Alright. Just don’t go disappearing on us, okay?”
With that, he heads off toward the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.
I can’t disappear. I won’t. But what if I keep failing?
With a heavy heart, I plop back down on the couch, staring at my phone. I wonder if I should call Y/N again. Maybe she’d have something to say that would make all of this feel a little less overwhelming.
As I sit there, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for Choso, for Yuuji, and for Y/N. I need to find a way to hold it all together.
Somehow. I have to.
I plop down on the couch, the weight of the evening still heavy on my shoulders. The faint smell of cigarettes and whiskey clings in the air. 
Jesus, it stinks in here
 Just as he begins to find a moment of peace, Yuuji plops down next to him, grinning as he passes over his lighter and a pack of cigarettes.
“Here,” Yuuji says, his voice light, almost playful.
“Stay outta my shit, man,” I grumbles, though I can’t help but feel a hint of amusement at Yuuji’s carefree demeanor.
Yuuji chuckles, unfazed. “Where’s Y/N? I didn’t see her at Grandpa’s funeral.”
The question hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, I feel the ground shift beneath me. I had meant to tell Y/N about  grandfather's passing—she had been there for me through so much—but the weight of it all had left me feeling paralyzed.
It wasn’t important that she was there…
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the guilt settle like a stone in my chest. “It wasn’t important that she was there,” I muttered, trying to brush it off.
“But isn’t she important to you?” Yuuji presses, his tone shifting to something more serious.
I fell silent, the question echoing in my mind.
Is she?
I reach for a cigarette, pulling it out with slightly trembling hands before lighting it. The flame flickers in the dim light, illuminating my features for a moment as I inhale deeply.
“Dude,” Choso pipes up from the hallway, his voice laced with annoyance. “You said no smoking in the house.”
I rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Cut me some slack,” I snapped, though I can’t ignore the tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me that I should be setting a better example.
The deep feeling that I’m forgetting something tugs at me, like a whisper just beyond my mental grasp. But then again, if I forgot it, it probably wasn’t important. Right?
Yuuji is staring at me, a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he leans back against the couch, looking comfortable in the silence that stretches between them.
“Things have been rough, huh?” Yuuji finally says, his voice softer now.
“Yeah,” I replied, flicking ash into a nearby tray. “You could say that.”
Choso saunters back into the living room, arms crossed, eyeing Sukuna. “You really should talk to Y/N, you know? She cares about you, and it’s clear you’re going through something.”
I glared at him, irritation flaring. “I don’t need you two playing therapist. I’m handling my shit.”
Choso raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Handling it how? By ignoring everything? By pushing everyone away? Because that’s not working.”
The truth stings, and I shifts in my seat, the tension coiling tighter. “I’m not pushing anyone away,” I shoot back, though I know it sounds hollow.
Yuuji breaks the tension with a laugh. “Yeah, you are. You could at least let her in a little. She might surprise you.”
The idea sits heavy on my chest. 
Could Y/N really surprise him? Could she handle what he’s been dealing with?
What if she can’t?
I take another drag, the nicotine coursing through me like a desperate lifeline. “Whatever, man. Just drop it.”
Choso opens his mouth to argue, but Yuuji nudges him with a chuckle, and they both fall into an easy banter, leaving Sukuna to his own thoughts.
Maybe I should call her...didn’t I call her…can’t fucking remember. 
But the longer I sat there, the more I felt that familiar weight pressing down. The feeling of forgetting something important resurfaces, and I can’t shake it off.
As the night drags on, Sukuna fights the urge to reach for his phone again, knowing that if he does, everything could change. But at the same time, it feels like he’s on the edge of something—something he can’t quite see but knows is there, waiting for him to make the first move.
What the hell am I doing?
I flicks the cigarette butt into the tray, the embers glowing as it lands.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, my voice rough. “What if I mess everything up? What if I don’t know how to make it right?”
Choso and Yuuji both turn to me, surprised by my admission.
“Then you figure it out,” Yuuji replies, his tone steady. “Just like you’ve always done. Just don’t shut her out.”
Maybe it’s time to stop running and start fighting. For once.
With a deep breath, Sukuna decides it’s time to stop overthinking it. He picks up his phone, staring at the screen, ready to reach out to Y/N.
This is my last chance...but I’m exhausted right now. Fuck!
Yuuji’s POV
Sukuna's exhaustion finally takes over as he sinks deeper into the couch, his body curling into itself. The low hum of the television fills the room, blending with the sound of his steady breathing. He drifts off, lost in the chaos of his mind.
Meanwhile, Yuuji glances at the sleeping figure of his older brother, a frown creeping across his face. Curious and a bit worried, he reaches for Sukuna's phone, its screen illuminated in the dim light. He unlocks it and starts scrolling through the messages, his brow furrowing as he realizes how many texts from Y/N have gone unanswered.
“Dude, look at this,” Yuuji says, wandering over to Choso, who’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Yuuji holds the phone out for Choso to see, displaying the countless messages from Y/N that Sukuna has ignored for the past month.
Choso glances at the screen, then rolls his eyes. “Mind your own business, Yuuji,” he replies, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Seriously, though,” Yuuji presses, a touch of frustration creeping in. “He’s been ignoring her for so long. What’s going on with him?”
Before Choso can respond, Sukuna’s phone starts ringing, the sound piercing through the quiet. Yuuji’s eyes widen, and he instinctively silences the ringer, a mix of concern and curiosity flashing across his face.
“What should we do?” Yuuji asks, looking at Choso for guidance, a bit of desperation in his tone.
Choso shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Mind our own business. It's not our place to interfere.”
Yuuji sighs, glancing back at Sukuna, who remains blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around him. “But I like Y/N. She’s cool and puts up with him,” he points out, gesturing to his older brother, still sleeping on the couch. “She deserves better than this.”
Choso lets out a breath, his frustration shifting to something softer as he considers Yuuji’s words. “Yeah, I get that. But what do you expect us to do? You think we can just barge in and demand he talk to her?”
Yuuji's eyes narrow, determination hardening his features. “Maybe that’s exactly what we should do. He needs a wake-up call. This isn’t just about him anymore. He’s got people who care about him—people who are worried.”
“Like you?” Choso scoffs, but there’s no real bite in his tone. “You think that’s going to make a difference?”
“Maybe,” Yuuji replies, his voice firm. “But if we don’t try, then we’re just letting him push everyone away. We can’t let him go down this path alone.”
Choso hesitates, the weight of Yuuji’s words sinking in. He knows Sukuna is struggling, knows that beneath the bravado lies someone broken and scared.
“Okay, let’s wake him up, then,” Choso finally concedes, pushing himself off the wall. “But if he gets pissed, that’s on you.”
Yuuji nods, determination burning in his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”
Together, they approach the couch, the weight of their intentions hanging in the air. Yuuji crouches beside Sukuna, gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey, Sukuna. Wake up, man.”
Sukuna stirs, groaning as he squints against the light. “What the hell?” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled hair, still half-asleep.
“Time to get up,” Yuuji says, his tone serious now. “We need to talk.”
Sukuna blinks, confusion clouding his eyes as he tries to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Talk about what?” he grumbles, irritation creeping in as he stretches.
“About Y/N,” Choso interjects, crossing his arms again as he leans against the wall.
The mention of her name seems to clear the fog from Sukuna’s mind. “What about her?” he asks, sitting up straighter, instantly alert.
“You’ve been ignoring her, man,” Yuuji says, his voice firm but compassionate. “She deserves better than this.”
Sukuna’s heart sinks, the familiar guilt clawing at his insides. He opens his mouth to protest but finds no words.
“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Yuuji continues, determination etched on his face. “You need to reach out to her. She cares about you, and you’re pushing her away. We can’t just sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”
Sukuna looks between the two of them, the weight of their concern crashing over him.
Maybe I’m not the only one hurting here.
“I… I know,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Choso steps closer, his expression softening. “Then what are you waiting for? Call her. Don’t let this go on any longer.”
Sukuna glances down at his phone, the screen still displaying Y/N’s name. What am I waiting for?
With a deep breath, he picks it up, the decision weighing heavily on his heart. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and start fighting for the people who matter most.
Sukuna’s POV
I glance down at my phone as it lights up again, Y/N’s name flashing across the screen.
Not again.
I let it ring, barely registering the sound as I mumble to myself, “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
But the ringing doesn’t stop. I grit my teeth, a sense of dread bubbling in my stomach. “For fuck's sake,” I mutter, watching it ring again.
Why can’t she just give me a minute?
When the phone vibrates for the third time, I finally snap. “Fuck!” I answer, irritation spilling over as I press the phone to my ear. “What?”
“Where the hell have you been?” she shouts, her voice cracking like a whip through the line, the frustration palpable.
I wince, already regretting picking up. “I’ve been… busy,” I respond, my tone defensive.
“Busy ignoring me?” She scoffs, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes, her frustration radiating through the call.
This is so typical…
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside. “I’m not doing this right now, Y/N. It’s not a good time.”
“Not a good time? You’ve been dodging my calls for weeks! What the hell is going on with you?”
Weeks… The word hits me hard, the weight of it settling heavily on my chest. I can’t keep running from this.
“Look,” I start, my voice low, “my grandfather is dead.”
Silence falls on the other end, thick and suffocating. I can almost hear the gears turning in her head.
“...When’s the funeral?” she finally asks, her tone shifting from anger to concern.
“It was three weeks ago,” I reply, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue.
“Three weeks?” she whispers, disbelief lacing her words. “And you said nothing?”
“I'm handling it, Y/N!” I bite back, the frustration boiling over. I can feel the anger and grief bubbling up, the remnants of my grandfather’s absence clawing at my throat.
I don’t want to talk about this. Not now.
Her silence feels like a dagger, cutting deeper than any argument we've had before. “This isn’t how you handle things, Sukuna,” she finally says, her voice shaking.
“I’m not doing this dumb shit with you tonight,” I snap, the heat of the moment overwhelming me. “I’m hanging up.”
And with that, I cut the line, the sound of the call ending echoing in the stillness of the room.
What the hell was I thinking?
My heart races as I throw my phone onto the couch, the silence that follows feeling deafening. I bury my head in my hands, fighting against the emotions swirling inside me.
She doesn’t understand. She can’t know what this feels like… The anger, the pain, the constant ache of losing my grandfather and not being able to show it. How could I have told her?
I lean back against the couch, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
Just give me time…
But as I sit in the dim light, the loneliness creeps in. The silence is heavy, and I know I can’t keep pushing her away. I want to reach out, but the fear of exposing my vulnerability paralyzes me.
I close my eyes, wishing for the chaos to settle, for a moment of peace to wash over me. But it doesn’t come.
Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her. I’ll figure this out.
But as the minutes stretch on, I realize the truth—if I keep this up, I might lose her for good.
Ding.
I sigh, my heart sinking as I open my eyes, dreading that it’s another text from her. I reach for my phone, bracing myself for the disappointment, but I feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see the name flashing on the screen. It’s not Y/N.
It’s Toji.
I’m five minutes away and I got pizza and weed.
I throw the phone back onto the couch and turn to Yuuji and Choso, who are in the kitchen, their heads craned toward the door, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Zenin is coming over,” I announce, trying to keep my voice steady.
Yuuji shrugs, a nonchalant expression on his face. “And I don’t give a fuck.”
Choso snickers, and I can’t help but wonder,
Who raised this kid?
“Yuuji,” I say, my tone firm, “you’ve got school tomorrow. Head to bed.”
He rolls his eyes, but I can see the weariness creeping in. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
I shift my gaze to Choso, who’s been sitting quietly, but I know he’s been feeling the pressure of finals coming up soon. “You need good grades to get into university, too. Go study or some shit.”
He raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I will, but it’s hard to focus with you two around.”
Great, more attitude. “If you can’t handle the distraction, then take your study materials and go somewhere else.”
“Not a chance,” he says, laughing as he grabs a bottle of soda from the fridge. “Besides, I want to see what Zenin brought.”
I shake my head, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite my efforts to maintain a stern facade. “You two are impossible.”
The door swings open a moment later, and Toji steps inside, a broad grin on his face, pizza boxes stacked high in his arms. “Guess who brought dinner!” he calls out, the aroma wafting through the air and instantly making my stomach growl.
“About damn time!” Yuuji jumps up, rushing over to help him with the boxes, while Choso just stands there, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
I lean back on the couch, watching the chaos unfold. This is a welcome distraction. I can feel the heaviness of the earlier conversation with Y/N slipping away, if only for a moment.
Toji, pulling out a baggie of weed from his pocket and tossing it on the couch next to me. “Let’s get this party started. It’s been a rough week for all of us.”
Yeah, rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.
But I nod, grateful for his presence, even if he’s a walking headache sometimes.
Maybe this is what I need—just a bit of normalcy, a moment to breathe.
I watch as Toji sets down two boxes of pizza on the table, and he turns his gaze to me, studying my face.
“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can hear the underlying concern.
I stay silent, reaching for the weed instead, the familiar ritual of rolling a blunt providing a momentary escape. As I begin to roll, I feel Toji’s eyes on me, a bead of sweat forming at the back of my neck.
“What?” I finally snap, my voice edged with irritation.
Toji sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guess we’re doing this.”
Yuuji, ever the meddler, chimes in with a grin, “Y/N broke up with him.”
I shoot him a glare, my hands stilling. “She didn’t.”
“Sure sounded like you guys were about to,” Choso adds, his voice matter-of-fact, as if I hadn’t just dismissed Yuuji’s comment.
I lean back, rolling my eyes. “So you’re both minding my business now?”
Yuuji shrugs, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Of course.” He smacks his lips exaggeratedly, just to piss me off even more.
Toji raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath, the memory of our earlier fight flooding back, sharp and painful. “We got into it,” I say, my voice low. “She called me out for ignoring her, and I... I told her my grandfather died.”
“To be fair,” Toji interjects, “that’s a pretty big deal.”
“I know!” I shoot back, frustration creeping in. “But it was the way she said it. Like it was my fault I hadn’t told her sooner. I just—”
I stop, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of it all settle on my shoulders. “I didn’t want her to worry. I thought I could handle it. But I’m just a mess right now.”
“You can’t just shut her out,” Toji says, his voice steady, and I can tell he’s trying to keep me from spiraling. “You need to let her in. She cares about you.”
“Yeah, but does she really? Because it doesn’t feel like it right now,” I mutter, frustration boiling beneath the surface.
Choso exchanges a glance with Yuuji, and I know they’re thinking the same thing. 
You’re fucking this up, Sukuna.
“Look,” Yuuji says, more serious now, “maybe just talk to her. Apologize or something. She might be pissed off, but she’ll listen. She always does.”
“I don’t know if I can face her after that,” I admit, the confession hanging heavy in the air.
Toji slaps my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “You don’t get to hide from this. Just be honest. You’ve got to get your shit together, man.”
I nod, taking a deep breath, the reality of it all sinking in. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The weight of my decisions looms over me, but amidst the chaos and noise of the kitchen, I can feel the glimmer of hope.
Maybe I can fix this… maybe it’s not too late.
I finish rolling the blunt and take a moment, grounding myself. “Alright, enough about me. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Yuuji and Choso dive into the pizza boxes, their laughter echoing around me. And for a moment, the laughter drowns out the noise in my head, the worries about Y/N fading to the background as I join them.
My phone rings again, cutting through the brief moment of normalcy. I glance at the screen and see it's Y/N. My stomach drops at the sight. I switch the ringer off again, desperate to avoid this conversation.
Toji, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He watches the phone and answers it. “Hey, what’s up, Y/N?”
I can hear her voice through the speaker, sharp and clear. “Where’s Sukuna?”
Toji shrugs, glancing at me. “He’s around. Is there something you need?”
I feel the air shift in the room as Y/N’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tell him to come get his shit from my place.”
My heart drops.
She isn’t doing this right now.
 The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut.
Toji pauses, clearly surprised. “Are you sure about that?”
“His grandfather died,”
 Y/N responds, her tone unyielding. “And?”
And? 
The anger surges through me, hot and raw. I mouth to Toji to pass me the phone, but he shakes his head, his expression saying it all: 
Don’t. Just let it go.
“Y/N, you know it’s not that simple,” Toji says, his voice steady but laced with caution. “He’s going through a lot right now.”
“Yeah, well, so am I,” she snaps back, frustration dripping from her words. “I can’t keep doing this, Toji. He’s been ignoring me, and I’m done. Just tell him to come get his things.”
I can feel my heart racing, the anger boiling beneath the surface.
She really done with me?
Toji glances at me again, gauging my reaction. “Y/N, I get that you’re upset, but maybe you should talk to him instead of kicking him out. You guys have been together for almost a year.”
“Exactly! Almost a year and I feel like I’m in this alone. I’m tired of waiting around for him to decide he wants to talk to me. I deserve better than this.”
Does she really think I don’t care?
“Okay, but…” Toji starts, but Y/N cuts him off.
“No, Toji. I’m not going to keep making excuses for him. He needs to take responsibility. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then that’s his choice.”
I’m clenching my fists now, the frustration spilling over. I can’t just let this happen.
“Just pass me the phone,” I finally say, my voice low and dangerous.
Toji gives me a hard look but eventually relents, handing me the phone with a reluctant sigh. I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
“Y/N,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, but it cracks slightly, betraying my anger. “You really want to do this right now?”
“What do you want me to say, Sukuna?” she replies, her voice steady yet tinged with hurt. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend everything’s okay?”
“I’m not ignoring you!” I shoot back, frustration bubbling over. “I’m dealing with shit, and I thought you’d understand. My grandfather just died, for fuck’s sake!”
“Then talk to me about it!” she retorts, her voice rising. “I can’t help you if you shut me out. I’m not asking for much; I just want to know you’re okay.”
“I’m handling it, Y/N,” I insist, my words coming out sharper than I intended. “But you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like right now.”
“Then make me understand!” she snaps. “Stop pushing me away!”
I can hear the desperation in her voice, and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut.
“Y/N, I…” I start, but the words fail me.
What do I say?
But before I can finish, she sighs deeply, the sound heavy with resignation. “Just come get your stuff. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure this out.”
“Fine,” I reply, my voice quiet. “I’ll be there.”
She doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches between us like an unbridgeable chasm.
“Y/N…”
But it’s too late. She hangs up, leaving me with nothing but the echo of our argument hanging in the air.
Toji and Choso watch me closely, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down. I want to scream, to lash out, but instead, I drop the phone to my side and run a hand through my hair, feeling the tension coil tighter in my chest.
The weight of the argument hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. With a heavy sigh, I pass my car keys to Choso. “Go pick up my stuff.”
He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Nah, bro. You’re doing that on your own. I’m not getting in that mess.”
I scoff, frustration boiling over. “Seriously? You think I want to deal with this shit alone?”
“Yeah, I do,” Choso replies, crossing his arms defiantly. “I don’t want any part of that drama. You can’t just ignore her for weeks and expect her to roll over when you come crawling back.”
“Whatever, man,” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch. I turn to Toji, who’s watching us with a bemused expression. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving me off. “I’ll keep an eye on these two losers over here.” He messes up Yuuji’s hair, earning a frustrated grunt from the younger guy.
With a heavy heart and a storm brewing in my chest, I head to my car. The engine roars to life, but it does little to drown out the chaos in my mind.
 What the hell am I even going to say to her?
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passengerprincessblog · 2 days ago
Text
“Off Track” ~ Pt. 5 Franco x Reader
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WARNINGS: NSFW, angst, arguments, sexting, cheating.
Summary: As tensions flare between Y/N and Lewis after a heated argument, Y/N finds unexpected solace in a late-night text exchange with Franco, her forbidden feelings reigniting despite her guilt. Torn between loyalty and the thrill of something new, Y/N struggles to navigate the boundaries of her emotions as her connection with Franco deepens.
(Note: this is lowkey a filler part, just trying to move the story along and plant some lore, if you will, for later. Thanks for liking and reading.)
The evening was winding down, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses signaling that the gala was coming to a close. People lingered, exchanging goodbyes and quiet laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through me from earlier, or the way Franco’s presence seemed to tether me to the room. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to go.
Lewis, however, seemed to have other ideas. His arm had found its way around my waist, his hand resting possessively on my hip as he kept me close to his side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be affectionate, but tonight, there was a different energy about him—an almost territorial vibe that made my heart skip, especially with Franco so close.
As we stood near the bar, Lewis’s fingers dipped slightly, brushing the small of my back in a way that felt almost like a reminder. He leaned close, his voice a soft murmur, “Ready to head home yet?”
I managed a small smile, trying to sound casual as I replied, “Maybe in a minute…”
Lewis’s hand tightened on my hip, pulling me just a bit closer, and I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and expectant. But I kept my eyes on Franco, who stood nearby, nursing a glass of champagne. There was a slight flush to his cheeks, his gaze flicking between Lewis and me, as if he was caught between his admiration for his idol and… something else. Something unspoken.
We struck up a conversation about the gala, the elegance of the setup, the cause it supported. Lewis seemed content enough to let me speak, but every now and then, his hand would drift lower, brushing over the curve of my hip, edging dangerously close to my ass. It sent a shiver through me, not entirely pleasant, because every touch reminded me of the guilt twisting in my stomach. I should be here for Lewis. But I just fucked Franco in the closet.
“Franco,” I said, my voice a little too bright, “it must be exciting, being part of f1? All the fans, the money.”
He chuckled, looking a bit bashful, his eyes darting between Lewis and me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that kind of thing. It still feels a bit surreal. Besides, compared to you two, I’m just a rookie, tagging along.”
Lewis laughed, pulling me closer, his hand slipping lower until it rested on the curve of my ass, claiming me in a way that was impossible to ignore. “You’ll get there, Franco,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Work hard enough, and maybe one day, you’ll be hosting your own events like this.”
I could see the admiration in Franco’s eyes, but there was something else too—a flicker of discomfort, or maybe jealousy, that he couldn’t quite hide. He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze shifting to me, a small, strained smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone light, but I could hear the underlying tension. “Maybe one day.”
The three of us stood there, a triangle of complicated feelings, each of us playing our parts but somehow teetering on the edge of something unspeakable. I could feel Lewis’s fingers press slightly against me, his silent message clear: I’m yours, and you’re mine. But my heart betrayed me, fluttering at the sight of Franco’s shy, slightly flushed face.
“Speaking of traveling,” Franco continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing, “You said you two might be going to Monaco soon?”
Lewis nodded, his smile proud. “That’s the plan. Got some events lined up, and it’s always nice to go back there. It’s the perfect place to relax.”
Franco nodded, but his gaze lingered on me, his eyes softening in a way that made my heart ache. “Sounds amazing,” he said quietly, and for a moment, it felt as though his words were meant for me alone, as if he wanted me to know he wished he were going, too.
The guilt clawed its way back, twisting in my stomach as I forced myself to look away. Lewis leaned close again, his breath warm against my ear. “We’re leaving. Now,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. I looked at him, slightly annoyed but he didn’t notice.
I swallowed, casting one last glance at Franco, who was watching us with a mix of longing and resignation. “Goodnight, Franco,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N. Lewis.”
I could feel the weight of his gaze as we turned to leave, and every step away from him felt like a thread being stretched thin, holding us together by the faintest of connections. As much as I knew I should be relieved to go, the ache in my chest only grew, a reminder of the forbidden feelings I couldn’t seem to let go of.
Back at Lewis’s luxurious flat, the silence wrapped around us. I quickly made my way upstairs, into his huge bedroom. As I began taking off my jewelry, one piece at a time, the remnants of the night still swirling in my mind. Franco… me.. I felt a twist of excitement and couldn’t help but smile. Lewis watched me, his gaze soft but expectant, like he was waiting for something.
“So,” he said after a moment, breaking the quiet, “what did you think of the gala? It was nice, right?” He said, watching my face.
I smiled, nodding. “It was beautiful. You did an amazing job. Your speech was…” I paused, searching for the right words, “…inspiring.” I say as I put the earrings down on the dresser.
A smile crept across his face, his chest puffing slightly, pleased with my answer. I know exactly what to say. But as I slipped off my rings, my thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Franco.
“I really hope Franco has a seat next year,” I said, almost absentmindedly. “He’s so talented, and… he deserves it.”
The softness in Lewis’s expression shifted, his gaze sharpening slightly as he looked at me. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone neutral. “He’s a good kid. But tonight wasn’t really about him.”
The subtle annoyance in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and I bit my lip, realizing how my words must have sounded. “Of course, I know,” I said quickly. “Your gala was incredible, Lewis. You put so much into it, and I’m so proud of you.”
He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently rest on my shoulders, his gaze softening once more. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You have no idea how much it means to have you here with me.”
His hands trailed down my arms, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a familiar warmth through me. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to my neck, lingering as he kissed a gentle path across my skin.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on him, to let myself sink into his touch and forget everything else. This was Lewis, the man I loved, the one who had always been there for me, who had shared his world with me. But even as I leaned into him, I couldn’t shake the faint pull, the thought of Franco’s hands, the lingering touch that had marked me in ways I didn’t understand.
Lewis’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me close, his lips trailing down to my collarbone. “Tonight was perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “But it would be even better if I reminded you how much I love you...”
I forced a smile, nodding, letting him guide me, his affection a steady presence I didn’t deserve yet couldn’t resist. But deep inside, beneath the guilt and the thrill, a part of me lingered elsewhere, caught in a quiet moment with someone I couldn’t have.
And though I knew I should be fully present with Lewis, the shadow of my feelings for Franco remained, a quiet, forbidden ache I couldn’t quite let go of.
Lewis’s kisses grew more intense, his hands tightening around my waist, pulling me closer as he moved hungrily against me. His tongue swirling with mine, sending soft shivers down my spine. His desire was palpable, the urgency in his touch unmistakable.
But as much as I wanted to reciprocate, to lose myself in him, my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was a mess, my emotions tangled and conflicted, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t muster the same energy he was pouring into this moment.
He pulled back, his forehead creased in confusion, searching my face for some sign of reassurance. “What’s going on, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but tinged with frustration. “You’ve been… distant. This isn’t like you.”
I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, Lewis. You’re overthinking it.”
He let out a humorless laugh, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Overthinking it? Really? You think I don’t notice when something’s wrong with you? It’s insulting that you’d even say that to me.”
I took a deep breath, feeling defensive, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on me. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long week, that’s all.”
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “No, it’s more than that. You’re not yourself, Y/N. You don’t call me ‘lovie’ anymore. You barely respond to my texts, and when you do, it’s like… it’s like you’re somewhere else entirely.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not affectionate, you’re distant… like you’re just going through the motions.”
I felt my frustration rising, the guilt twisting in my stomach, and before I could stop myself, I snapped, “Maybe you’re just imagining things, Lewis. Not everything is about you.”
His face hardened, his expression darkening. “Imagining things?” he repeated, his voice cold. “You think I don’t notice when my girlfriend is slipping away from me? When she’s acting like she’d rather be anywhere else but with me?”
The argument escalated quickly, our voices rising as the tension between us reached a breaking point. The words tumbled out, sharp and angry, the resentment bubbling to the surface.
“You think everything’s about you,” I retorted, my voice shaking with anger. “Every conversation, every moment—it’s always centered around you, your career, your achievements. You don’t even see what’s happening around you.”
He looked at me, his jaw clenched, and I could see the hurt flash in his eyes. “You know what?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I may be a lot of things, but don’t you dare call me selfish. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve paid for everything. I bought you the best of everything, paid off your $80,000 student debt without even blinking, and you have the audacity to call me selfish?”
His words cut through me, a bitter reminder of the life he’d given me, the things he’d provided without ever asking for anything in return. And as much as I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, I couldn’t. The truth was, he had done so much for me, more than I could ever repay.
I felt a hot flush of embarrassment, my anger fading as the weight of his words settled over me. “I… I know, Lewis,” I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m grateful, I am.”
He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Grateful? It doesn’t feel like it. You act like everything I do means nothing to you. I give you everything, and you treat me like I’m just… some guy.”
I huffed, too overwhelmed to say anything that would make things better. I turned, storming out of his bedroom, my steps echoing down the hallway as I tried to put distance between us, to escape the guilt and shame that clung to me.
As I reached the door, his voice followed me, sharp and accusing. “You can be so childish, Y/N! I give you everything, and you act cold and distant with me?”
I spun around, my face flushed with anger. “I do not!”
He took a step toward me, his eyes dark and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “Then prove it,” he said, his voice low and intense, the challenge in his words unmistakable.
The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, and I felt my heart pounding, the weight of his demand pressing down on me, leaving me torn between loyalty and the confusing mess of emotions swirling inside me.
“I don’t need to prove it!” I whined, sounding more like a petulant teenager than I cared to admit.
Without waiting for his response, I turned and marched down the long hall, my footsteps echoing in the quiet flat. I reached the guest bedroom, the room he’d told me was mine back when we’d first started dating, and slammed the door behind me, letting the sound reverberate through the walls. My chest heaved as I fought back tears, the mix of anger, guilt, and frustration bubbling over until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
I spent the next hour sulking, feeling the sting of our argument replay in my mind. The things he’d said, the accusations… they all settled in like weights on my chest. I tried to brush it off, to convince myself that I’d been justified, but the guilt lingered, gnawing at me in a way that wouldn’t go away. Eventually, I dragged myself into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away some of the tension, and changed into some old clothes I’d left here, remnants of the days when I used to spend more time in London with him.
As I curled up on the bed, my phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a new message from Franco.
“Hey, hermosa.”
My eyes lit up, a flutter of excitement rising in my stomach that I tried to ignore. I quickly typed back, my fingers moving almost instinctively.
“Hi, Franco.”
He responded almost instantly, and I could practically hear his teasing tone.
“Why are you up so late?”
I froze for a moment, hesitation prickling in my mind. Should I tell him? Should I let him in on what had just happened? After a beat, I decided to go for it.
“Lewis…”
A pause. I watched the typing dots appear, then disappear. Finally, his response came.
“Lewis?”
The single word hung on the screen, and I stared at it, my heart pounding as I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe I was crossing a line. But before I could second-guess myself, my fingers moved again.
“Nothing.”
I hoped he’d let it go, but Franco was persistent.
“Come on. What’s wrong?”
The concern in his words made my heart ache, and suddenly, I found myself pouring out a little more than I intended.
“Just argued…”
I hesitated, watching the screen as he typed, the anticipation building.
“Are you okay, hermosa?”
His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and before I knew it, the truth spilled out.
“I wish you were here.”
A pause, and then his response came, as bold and honest as ever.
“I wish you were with me.”
My stomach flipped, and I felt the thrill building, the tension between us reawakening despite everything that had happened with Lewis. The guilty thoughts from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by the excitement that only Franco could bring out in me.
“Where are you?” I typed, my heart pounding.
There was a slight delay before his answer came, as if he were weighing his response carefully.
“My hotel.”
My fingers trembled as I typed, feeling the forbidden nature of the question.
“Where?”
His answer came quickly, but his words made me smile, a soft laugh escaping my lips.
“Hermosa… Don’t ask me that. I’m going to need you to come.”
“Fine,” I replied, smiling to myself as I felt the thrill of our conversation overpowering the guilt that had been hanging over me.
He replied almost immediately, teasingly pushing the conversation forward.
“What are you doing?”
I smirked, typing out my response.
“I’m just in bed. Giving Lewis the silent treatment.”
“Poor Lewis,” he replied with a hint of mischief. “You should be nicer to him.”
“Glazer.” I text back.
“Says you,” he shot back. I’m unable to stop myself from smiling.
“I don’t glaze him.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his attempt to tease me.
“Sure.”
A laugh slipped past my lips, and I could feel my mood lifting, the heaviness of the evening melting away in the warmth of Franco’s messages.
“So you are just in bed?” he texted, and I felt my heart race at the subtle implication.
“Yes,” I replied, biting my lip as I waited for his response.
A moment later, his next message appeared, sending a thrill through me that I couldn’t deny.
“I would love a picture.”
My stomach twisted with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Should I send him a selfie? This was already dangerous territory, pushing boundaries I shouldn’t be touching… and yet, the thrill was undeniable, a pull I couldn’t resist.
I glanced at the mirror across the room, debating with myself. My heart pounded as I weighed the options, the rational part of me screaming to stop, while the reckless side urged me to go for it. After all, it was just a picture, right? Just a small, innocent picture…
My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Just a picture, I told myself, nothing more.
I stood up and walked over to the mirror, taking a moment to adjust my appearance. My tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of my waist. I tugged it down, but not before taking a quick selfie, capturing the tantalizing glimpse of skin.
Too much? Maybe it’s not enough…I wondered, biting my lip as I debated. But then again, Franco had asked for a picture...
With a flush creeping up my neck, I decided to take another photo, this time angling the camera to show off my cleavage. My breasts strained against the thin fabric of my top, the outline of my nipples visible through the material.
I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. What am I doing? I thought, panic rising in my throat. But then I remembered the thrill of Franco's earlier messages, the way his words had made me feel desired, wanted.
Before I could second-guess myself, I hit send, the picture winging its way to Franco's phone. I immediately felt guilty, my stomach twisting with a mixture of excitement and shame.
Oh god, what if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, even as a part of me thrilled at the danger, the taboo nature of what I had just done.
I paced the room, my heart pounding as I waited for Franco's response. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Maybe he didn't like it, I thought, panic rising in my chest. Maybe I went too far...
But then, my phone buzzed with a new message, and I nearly dropped it in my haste to read it.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous. You’re going to give me this while I can’t be near you? Evil." Franco had written.
I felt a rush of heat flood through me at Franco's words, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. I know I am doing.. and I hate that I’m enjoying this..
A thrill of excitement coursed through me, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a response.
"Your turn," I wrote, my fingers trembling slightly as I hit send. "I want to see you too."
Oh god, what am I doing? I thought, my stomach twisting with a heady mix of anticipation and anxiety. But I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me at the thought of seeing Franco, of having something tangible to fantasize about.
After a few seconds, I get a notification.
It’s a picture of Franco, in the big hotel bed. His abs on full display. My stomach twirls.
I feel myself grow with need. Need for him.
I can’t respond.. what am I doing?! But my fingers are doing something else entirely, typing out another message.
“I didn’t get to see that tonight.” I text back. Even in the throes of our rushed closet moment, I didn’t get to see all of him.
“Well, I didn’t get to see it all either.”
My face heats up. Fuck….
“Would you like to pretty boy?” I hit send. I turn my phone off and throw it at the edge of the bed. What’s wrong with me?! Lewis is literally done the hall.
I felt a rush of panic as I threw my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell am I doing? I thought, my mind reeling. Lewis is right down the hall, and I'm sexting with Franco?
But even as I tried to talk myself down, I couldn't ignore the heat that still pulsed through my body, the ache that had settled low in my belly. God, I want him, I admitted to myself, biting my lip hard enough to hurt. I want to see more of him, to feel his hands on my skin...
I paced the room, my mind racing with possibilities. We could sneak away, I thought, my heart rate picking up at the idea. Meet up somewhere private, somewhere where no one would catch us...
I shook my head, trying to clear it. No, I can't, I told myself firmly. I can't do this to Lewis, can't betray him like this. Even if he did hurt me tonight, even if he is an asshole sometimes... I love him. I can't throw that away.
But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body reacted at the thought of Franco, the way my skin tingled with anticipation. Fuck, I thought, running a hand through my hair in frustration. What the hell do I do?
I glanced at my phone, sitting innocently on the bed. I should just leave it, I thought, my resolve wavering. Should just ignore his messages and try to forget this ever happened...
But even as I thought it, I found myself walking towards the bed, my hand reaching out for the phone. Just one more look, I told myself, my fingers closing around the device. Just one more peek, and then I'll put it away. I swear.
I unlocked the phone, my heart pounding as I saw the unread message from Franco. Don't open it, I told myself, my finger hovering over the screen. Don't do it, Y/N. Just put the phone down and walk away...
I stared at the screen, my finger trembling as I hovered over Franco's message. Don't open it, I told myself, my heart pounding in my chest. Just put the phone down and walk away...
With a shaky breath, I opened the message, my eyes widening as I read Franco's words.
“Please, baby.”
I hesitated for a moment, torn between my desire for Franco and my loyalty to Lewis. But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body responded to Franco's messages, the way my heart raced at the thought of sending more to him. Just one more picture, I told myself, my resolve crumbling. Just one more peek, and then I'll stop. I promise.
I pull my shirt up and over my head, letting it gently fall to the ground. I pick my phone up as I take a few tantalizing photos of my bare chest.
I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. This is crazy, I thought, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm really going to send him a topless picture?
I sat on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the screen, waiting for Franco's response. I can't believe I just sent him a topless picture, I thought, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement and shame. What if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out?
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Hey, sweetheart," Lewis called softly, his voice muffled through the wood. "Can we please talk?"
I froze, my eyes widening in panic. Oh god, he's here, I thought, my stomach twisting with dread. He's going to see me like this, topless and waiting for Franco's reply...
I scrambled to grab my tank top from the floor, my hands shaking as I tried to grab it. But it was too late. The door swung open, and Lewis stepped into the room, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. My hands drop the shirt, on the end of the bed on accident.
"Y/N, what..." he started, but his voice trailed off as he took in my state of undress. I could feel his gaze on my bare breasts.
I quickly covered my chest with my hands, my face burning with embarrassment and shame. I fully expected Lewis to be furious, to demand an explanation for why I was half-naked.
But instead, he just smiled and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you couldn't find a shirt in here?" he teased, his tone light and playful.
I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his reaction. "I... um..." I stammered, my mind racing to come up with an excuse. "I was just hot," I finally managed, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.
Lewis's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. "Hot, huh?" he said, his voice tight. "Funny, I just turned the AC up."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. He knows, I thought, panic rising in my throat. He knows I was doing something, something wrong...
I could feel Lewis's eyes boring into me, his gaze intense and searching. I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my hands still covering my chest. He knows something's up, I thought, my heart hammering in my chest. He just doesn't know what.
"Come on, babe," Lewis said finally, his voice tight. "Let's go back to our room and talk, okay?"
I nodded numbly, my mind racing. Should I tell him the truth? I wondered, my stomach churning with guilt and fear. Should I confess to sexting with Franco, to sending him topless pictures?
But even as I thought it, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't hurt Lewis like that, couldn't betray him with the truth of what I had done.
"Okay," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
I reached for my tank top, my hands still shaking as I pulled it over my head. Lewis watched me, his expression unreadable. He knows, I thought again, my heart sinking.
I followed Lewis out of the room, my steps heavy and slow.
As we walked down the hall, I could feel the weight of my guilt pressing down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its heavy burden. I'm a terrible person, I thought, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I'm a liar and a cheat, and I don't deserve Lewis's love or trust.
————————————————-
🙈😅 yikes. Lewis LEWIS HE KNOWS AHHHHHH … or does he? Hehe.
Next time Franco will be getting involved into some online drama 🙈
Please like and follow to let me know you want more!
I appreciate all of you! 💜
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levisjinchuriki · 4 hours ago
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confession - toji fushiguro
summary: toji, in his own complicated way, loves you and fears it's too late to tell you
warning: toxic!toji, toji being vulnerable, fluff, angst, almost crying, possessive!toji
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your heart races as you grip the door handle, refusing to look back. the weight of yet another argument lingers heavily on you, each harsh word replaying in your mind, cutting deeper with every step you take away from him. you’ve reached the end of your patience with toji's anger, his possessiveness—it’s too much, too hard, too painful to keep holding onto hope that things might someday change.
just as you start to turn the handle, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, firm and unyielding, stopping you in your tracks. you try to pull away, but his grip only tightens. “don’t walk away from me” he says, his voice low and fierce, barely masking the desperation underneath. there’s an urgency there you’ve never quite heard from him before, but you force yourself to ignore it. 
“let me go” you fight him, wanting to leave before he can see you break down.
toji doesn’t respond with words. instead, he turns you around and pins you against the door, his presence overwhelming. his chest heaves, his jaw tight with a frustration that almost mirrors your own, and before you can get another word in, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fierce and insistent, as if he’s trying to solve every misunderstanding and apologize for every argument.
your hands instinctively go to his chest, pushing him away with all the anger and hurt you feel, but his lips are unrelenting, filled with a need that’s raw and intense. your resolve crumbles as you feel the weight of his emotions breaking through the hard shell he so often hides behind. against every logical thought, you find yourself giving in, your hands softening against his chest as he pulls you closer, every breath, every touch, pleading with you to understand him.
finally, when you’re no longer fighting him, he pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breaths coming heavy and ragged. his hands hold your shoulders, afraid that if he lets go you might run away.
he doesn’t say anything right away, and in the silence, you feel the weight of everything left unsaid, heavy between you. slowly, you open your eyes to look up at him, your breath still shallow and your pulse racing from the intensity of his kiss. you’re surprised to find an unfamiliar expression on his face. there’s no anger or frustration like before—just a look of deep, quiet remorse, softening the hard lines of his features. his brows furrow,  eyes full of emotions he’s never fully shown you until now.
you’re almost afraid to break the fragile silence hanging in the air. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you see the conflict written all over his face, his expression caught between wanting to hold you close and wrestling with the regret of every argument that brought you to this moment.
“i don’t know why i always mess this up” he finally murmurs, his voice thick with frustration and guilt. his jaw clenches, and he seems almost angry at himself, as if grappling with emotions he doesn’t fully understand.
you watch him, taken aback by the vulnerability he’s allowing himself to show. this isn’t the strong, unbreakable toji you’re used to—the man who keeps his emotions buried, always hiding behind his tough exterior. this is the man behind the walls, the one who’s just as scared of losing you as you are of being hurt by him.
“don’t go” he quietly pleads. and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he speaks the words you never thought you’d hear from him. “i love you”. his tone is raw, almost broken. 
toji’s love for you is fierce and consuming, even if it’s sometimes buried under layers of anger and silence. he’s not good at showing it; he’s never been good at showing any of his emotions. life has taught him to hide his vulnerability, to be strong even when it would be easier to let his guard down. you can feel the weight of that struggle, the way he battles with himself just to find the right words for you.
love isn’t soft or easy for him. it’s wrapped up in everything he’s never known how to say and every touch that lingers just a little longer, as if he’s afraid to let you slip away. his hand tightens slightly on your shoulder, grounding himself—and you���in this moment. the intensity in his gaze says what he can’t, those three simple words spilling out of him like they were pulled from the depths of a place he barely knows himself.
he’s rough around the edges, yes, and prone to silence when you crave reassurance. but in the way he protects you, in his instinct to keep you close and safe, he hopes you can see his love. it’s clumsy, flawed, but real. and for him, this is everything he can give.
his confession lingers in the air, heavy and vulnerable, a plea wrapped in the few words he knows how to say. his gaze softer than it’s ever been. there’s fear there, a desperation he’s never shown before, as though he’s finally realized he’s been risking too much, that he’s about to lose something he can’t afford to let go of.
“i'll be better, just– don’t leave me” he begs. your eyes brim with tears at his confession. here he is, letting you see his fear and his need in a way that tugs at your heart.
you reach up, brushing a stray piece of hair from his face, fingers lingering against his cheek. “toji… i don’t need you to be perfect,” you say, voice wavering as the intensity of the moment settles over you both. his shoulders sag and he leans into your touch. for a moment, you see something almost childlike in his expression, something hopeful and fragile, like he’s allowing himself to believe he can be what you need him to be. “i just… i just need to know you’re willing to try”.
he nods, eyes never leaving yours, the weight of his feelings clear as he lets himself fall apart in front of you. with one last, shuddering breath, he closes the small distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s deep and tender, a silent promise that he’ll keep trying, as flawed and messy as it may be.
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thank you for reading! please send in requests!!
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ratcash-wasgud · 1 day ago
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Lmao hey arcane fandom
I'm going to spew my two cents and try to get yall to see why I will defend Cait with my WHOLE LIFE IF NEEDED
I love Vi too btw, don't get me wrong, they both need their foreheads kissed
EDIT: Also, I'm gonna put this here since ppl thought othervise: This is not a post against Vi, she's my goat, she needs to retire from bad shit happening to her. This is a post defending Cait, since she's the character getting the most hate rn, and I will defend basically every arcane character with my whole chest (exepct Heimerdinger, fuck that hoe)
Spoilers
Ok, let me start with the whole breakup scene and the things that led to it, since that's basically one of the biggest points in this argument. I'm going to be honest, I kinda feel like Vi was a little af fault there. Because now, because Caitlyn couldn't kill Jinx, even when she could've, she will have to do the whole hunt again. AGAIN. And we know Cait is only hurting Zaun because she WILL comb through an entire city just to find Jinx, and nothing else. She doesn't hate the people of Zaun. And it could've stopped at that one incident with the grey IF she killed Jinx. But she didn't, because Vi stopped her. Again.
And let me tell you, if I went through all that shit, WITH the support of my bae, just to be stopped at the last moment I'd be pissed too.
"Oh, but Caitlyn didn't care if she accidentally killed the kid," let me remind yall of that moment when Jayce accidently killed a kid in season one with the hextech weapons, and wanted to stop using them, but Vi was like, "hey, it happens a bunch here, let's not stop using these things for fighting!" And literally said "He knew what he was signing up for." But now she suddenly cares about one kid? Plus what's the chance of Cait ACTUALLY missing? And even if she did, and killed Isha...Jinx killed multiple people yall, probably even kids (including her brothers) but yall love her (me too but that's besides the point).
Cait is now driven by revenge. And let's not pretend we didn't see this change coming. The whole bullet board thing she had on the floor in season one, the dedication to free a random prisoner just to get clues about Silco...she was always dedicated to her craft. And the raige started to appear in her even in the final episode, where she got KIDNAPPED BY JINX, let me remind yall, and she had to literally free herself. Just imagine how traumatic that shit was for her. Then, when she could've shot her abductor, her bae stops her, letting Jinx slip away and go on to kill her mother. But, she's still not blaming Vi, and wants her on her team, just to be stopped at the last moment again.
Next thing is the fact that she becomes a dictator...well, she could've said no when Ambessa said her name, right? Yeah, no. That's not how it works. She couldn't have been like "yeah, no, I don't wanna do allat, I'm still kinda liking the enemy after they keep attacking us, so ima pass on this one", for some reason. Ambessa literally made sure that she can't pass this up. Plus she caught her almost right after she returned from Zaun, and leaving Vi. She was in a vulnerable, revenge hungry state.
Ok, yap session over, I'm writing this at 1 am, and I have work tomorrow at 6, so I'm cooked, but Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait Cait
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velvetvexations · 1 day ago
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a trend i've noticed when it comes to discussions around transandrophobia, specifically people's reactions to it, is that anti-transphobia people are very prone to cherrypicking
i almost never see the well thought out and reasoned posts discussing transandrophobia responded to at all by self-identified tmes who are transandrophobes and transradfems/TIRFs. the only posts they put up on their blogs as evidence of "the real nature of transandrophobia truthers" are ridiculously bad faith posts they found randomly that have like 2 notes and no one in the greater discussion takes seriously or backs up. in fact trans men discussing transandrophobia frequently do call out transmisogyny that does crop up.
but suspiciously they have NOTHING to say in response to the posts that actually talk about the theory, or evidence of transandrophobia and transandrophobic violence, none of that. they actively erase those discussions either by refusing to engage with them or by cropping out most of the post to completely misrepresent what's being said, because they probably know doing so will reveal to their circle, their followers, and themselves just how bigoted they are actually being. so instead they go hunting for the worst posts they can find to support confirmation bias and propagandize people against trans men
i think a lot of people have a strong vested in interest in ensuring that trans men can continue to be treated in this way, broadly and within these more niche queer and trans discussion circles. because i think a lot of people have gotten very used to and attached to the fact they have someone they can punch at with little to no consequence (or in fact be cheered on for it). furthermore, a lot of the support structures of their platforms rely on transandrophobia because a lot of their blogging is in response to a manufactured enemy in trans men. and also because people feel good having someone they can punch and feel powerful over. and i know at the end of the day these people are probably hurting in a myriad of ways as well and are lashing out but i only have so much patience and compassion for them when it has become as bad as it has
anyway i know this is kind of rambly so i hope it made sense. i just see so many great posts by trans men participating in the discussion and every time i look at the notes to see how people are engaging with what is being said, none of those big names you mentioned ever do. they never have any thing to say to those posts. and you can't tell me they aren't aware of them because i know they often stalk the blogs of the trans men in question. they're more interested in erasure and a manufactured image that they cultivate and control of trans men. if the word of those trans men's posts actually gets out to their audiences, said audiences might realize just how much they really are just transphobic frauds. i hope people will wake up and smell the coffee some day.
Some arguments rely entirely on keeping your audience from seeing what's being said. They know I've never harassed anyone or directed my followers to but but I was getting instantly blocked well before those accusations sprung up entirely because I left one disagreeing comment.
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wren-kitchens · 1 day ago
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i will hurt you, almost definitely (ask the people who have left me)
1454 words
the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do, anyway. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next. because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost certain that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.
yea I wrote this in about a day I think I was possessed by the spirit of toxic yuri
i'm not too great at writing arguments yet so if it feels awkward or rushed just pretend it doesn't tyty
the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do after all. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next.
because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost sure that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.
gem never really.. forgot what that was like. the image of pearl's face, stony and serious in the way it never is, circles in her mind every minute of every day, coupled with that agonising aching in gem's chest as she realised what that expression meant for her- for them. the way pearl spoke- as if she didn’t even know- of course she didn't want to- how could she even think-
there's a kind of creaking that doesn’t feel familiar, and gem stays as still as she can, listening as the noise seems to move. it's above her, she realises with a jolt, in the attic. gem pulls out her sword, slowly and silently, tensing as she hears the gentle sound of footsteps descending the ladder behind her. she's died once today, and that is absolutely enough for her- whoever this intruder may be is in for an unpleasant surprise.
the sound of a sword unsheathed, and within an instant, gem's blade flies to meet pearl's- and something in her burns. gem pushes herself off the chests, fighting with an intensity she hasn't needed to use since secret life; pearl clearly wasn't expecting it, if the look on her face is anything to go by. it takes but a few moments for gem to disarm her, sword at her throat, panting.
"once wasn't enough?" gem says, and something shifts in pearl's expression. "or is this some kind of tradition now?"
pearl is grinning, as if she has any right. "c'mon, I had to give it a shot, didn't I? yellow and all- who else was I going to kill?"
anger bubbles up in gem's chest, and she swipes her sword at pearl's face- slicing a clean cut across her cheek. "you’re just asking to be red, aren't you?"
it appears that pearl didn’t expect anything other than banter—and maybe she didn't expect to win in the first place—because it takes her a moment to recover. she dabs a hand against the cut, and blinks in surprise when her fingers come back bloody. "I- y’know, I didn't do it to hurt you-"
"kill me?" gem says, voice sharper than she expected it to be. "you didn’t kill me to hurt me-"
"I didn't fight you because I wanted you to die, I fought you because I wanted scar to live." pearl pushes herself to her feet, grin gone from her face. "I couldn’t have both-"
"you could have let it be fair." gem's voice breaks a little, even as it rings through the still air. "you just- you just sacrificed yourself for him, you didn't let me have a chance."
pearl takes a breath. "I wanted him to win-"
"oh- and I bet he thanks you for that!" gem throws her arms out. "you- he was- do you even know?"
"so you wanted that fate?" pearl demands, and gem is pulled up short. "is that what this is about- you wanted to be stuck in purgatory for a year? is that it?" 
gem rakes a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "of course I didn't-"
"so why is it a problem?" pearl half laughs, and gem notices that the sword has left her hand. "you- you don't want to have won- what else is there?"
"I thought we were friends." gem says, and it's not quite a lie. her chest aches as she watches pearl's expression shift into that stupid sympathetic look everyone has given her whenever she says that. 
everyone but joel. he gets it- more than she thought he would.
"we are friends, I just-"
"no, you don't- you don’t get to do that." gem takes a step forward. "you don’t get to- to spout the same shit i’ve heard from everyone else. 'it's just the games', 'you guys are still friends'- no, you broke my trust."
pearl gives a helpless sigh. "I don’t- what else do you want me to say? you’re-"
"if you say 'new' I will rip your throat out." gem says through bared teeth. "weren't you?"
pearl blinks, gaze darting to the side- to the exit. "I- what?" 
gem finds herself moving unconsciously- to block any kind of escape pearl might have. her heart claws at her ribs. "when scott left you? the person  you were supposed to trust- did that hurt? or were you just new?"
"gem," pearl takes a step backwards. "what- what are you getting at here?"
there are tears in her eyes, and gem blinks them away. "I thought you’d get it. you- you lived it, I thought you’d stay."
"it's not the same thing." pearl's voice is harsher now- gem hit a nerve. 
"it's close enough." gem says, fists clenched, shoulders tense. "it's close enough that you should know how much it hurts." 
pearl shakes her head, moving in a way that's almost pacing, but far too jerky and disordered to quite count. there's a stab of regret, and gem hates herself for it. "no. no, it's- that is not the same. he- he left me- i’d done nothing-"
"what did I do?" gem's voice wavers, and she can’t help it. "did-" she can barely finish, and she hates it. "did I do something to you?"
"it- we were soulmates." pearl says, a little more certain- a little more confident that gem can’t find an argument for that. "you and I.." she hesitates, no longer as sure.
gem exhales shortly. "did you- was I not as important?" 
all of a sudden, pearl snaps. "can you just let it go?" she demands, and gem flinches. "it was a year ago- that's just how it goes, okay? why are you so- so fixated on it?"
and before gem can even think about what she's doing- "because I love you!" she yells, and the words echo through the room as if they were in a cave. 
pearl is staring at her as if she'd just stabbed herself in the chest, and gem feels extinguished. "so is that- is that good enough for you?" there are tears falling down her face, and she can’t bring herself to care about it. "is that- is that close enough to soulmates? do you want me to elaborate about how it felt, or can you just agree that it fucking hurt when you killed me like I was nothing."
"so- so you can go back to your impulse, and your cleo, and your scott." gem spits, wiping her eyes. "and you can- you can pretend you’re their loyal dog, and you and scott can do what you always do and die before things get hard and call it a noble sacrifice." gem pushes the gate open. "but I don't want to see you again until i’m the one taking you out of the series." 
"I- gem-" pearl catches her wrist, and gem has her sword out before she's even fully turned around.
her hand shakes, but her gaze is steely. pearl is crying too, and a part of gem just wants to give in and pull her close- but it's only a small part. "pearl, you know me too well to think i'm bluffing."
pearl takes a short breath, and drops gem's hand. as gem lowers her sword, pearl slips out of the back entrance and disappears into the night. gem watches as she runs across the bridge, into the woods, until her silhouette is indistinguishable from the shadows cast by the birch trees- and gem crumples to the floor.
the moon is high in the sky by the time joel finds her there, and the sun is up by the time gem has stopped crying. but there's something in the centre of her chest, something burning red—and there's something else too.
gem is going to win this game.
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cmdrfupa · 3 days ago
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"What if it became more.."
Hiromi sat on the edge of the hotel bed, running his hand over the crisp sheets, smoothing the creases. The cold of the room's AC brushed his skin, but it wasn’t the chill in the air that had him on edge. It was them—*always them*. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the message simple and direct:
"I'm here."
This was your routine—no strings attached, no emotions entangled. You worked on the opposite side of the courtroom, one of the most cutthroat prosecutors in the city, and he, Well he was the idealist, a defense attorney who still clung to the frail hope that the system could work for the weak. But lately, this fragile arrangement between you had grown murky. It was supposed to be easy—sex, an escape from the grueling hours spent in court tearing each other apart. But the lines were blurring, and Hiromi could could no longer see things clearly. The door clicked open, and there you were, stepping in like you owned the place, wearing your tailored best and a silk blouse. Lips curved into a knowing smile as your dropped your bag on the armchair. "You're early," you stated, voice low, teasing. Hiromi's gaze followed you as the blouse you were wearing slid down your shoulders, revealing the neck he found himself thinking about licking and biting while whimpering underneath you. He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his expression neutral, detached, like always. He had perfected this mask—*professional even in the most intimate of moments*. But tonight, something felt different. "You had a good argument in court today," you commented, sliding down your bottoms as he rolled the sleeves of his white button down up. "Almost convinced me, even." "Almost?" Hiromi’s voice was steady, teasing, though the slight twitch in his fingers betrayed him. He stood up, loosening his tie, eyes tracing the curves of your body as your undressed. "We won, so I think the right parties wee convinced." It was mechanical, the motions of a well-rehearsed performance, but the tightening in his chest made him wonder if he was losing his script. You turned to face him, standing there in nothing but the new lingerie you’d teased him with only earlier in the day in text—black, lace, minimal. "Don't get cocky," you teased, but there was something in your eyes, something softer, more vulnerable than he was used to seeing. "You know how this works. I take it all back tomorrow." "Right." His jaw flexed, trying to swallow the sudden rush of emotion. “I’ll enjoy your praises while I can.” He couldn’t say you were wrong —you tore each other apart in the courtroom, but here, there were supposed to be no judgments, no consequences. Just the both of you losing yourselves in each other for a few stolen hours. Tonight, it felt heavier. As he moved towards you, his hand grazing the bare skin that peeked through the intricate lace pattern, the electric spark he always felt between you was stronger, more charged.
You reached up, pulling his tie free and dropping it to the floor, fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders. Your lips met, and this time, it wasn’t just lust driving the heat between you—it was something else, something you couldn’t name, but he knew. He always did.
Hiromi kissed you with a slow intensity, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer. You moaned softly against his mouth, nails digging into his back, and he felt the familiar pull of desire, but now layered with a deeper ache, a longing that went beyond the physical. He had never let himself fall like this far before. He’d always kept it controlled, detached—a way to relieve stress without complicating his life. But with every touch, every breath you stole from him, Hiromi felt his resolve slipping, his careful control unraveling. You tilted your head back as his lips brushed your throat, breath quickening, but the way your body melted into his wasn’t just about satisfaction anymore. It was need. A desperation caused by the selfish desire for more. "Hiromi…" you whispered his name, a rare intimacy on your lips. He froze, hearing it, feeling it reverberate through his chest. You didn’t use names—not in these moments. It was safer that way. Names make this a dangerous game. But hearing his name from the lips he craved undid him, completely and utterly. He pulled back, breathing hard, staring at you with an intensity he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. "We shouldn't—" he began, but the words felt hollow, like he didn’t believe them anymore. "Don’t," you whispered, your voice softer than he’d ever heard it, hands sliding to cup his face. "Don’t overthink it." Hiromi swallowed, closing his eyes briefly, but the weight of the moment pressed down on him. When he opened them again, he saw the same uncertainty mirrored in your gaze—the same battle between desire and restraint. He kissed you again, harder this time, pushing you down onto the bed, the weight of everything they hadn’t said hanging in the air between them. Your bodies moved together, familiar yet tinged with something new, something far more dangerous than the lust that had fueled you both before. Hiromi couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop wanting you, needing you, even as his mind screamed at him to pull back, to retreat behind the mask he had always worn. But he was too far gone. And for the first time, he didn’t care. In the quiet aftermath, with your bodies still tangled together, Hiromi stared at the ceiling, feeling the slow rise and fall of you breathing against his chest. He knew that tomorrow they would return to being adversaries, fighting on opposite sides. But tonight, here, in the dim light of the hotel room, Hiromi felt the walls he had so carefully constructed begin to crumble. He wasn’t sure he wanted to rebuild them.
And your walls have been just as frail from the very beginning.
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sillyravenpassingby · 1 year ago
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I've seen a lot of ppl say Gwen/Peter B betrayed Miles. But maybe 'betrayed' is kinda strong word to use? I mean, couldn't tell the truth isn't exactly the same as betraying someone.
For Gwen, she didn't care much abt her mission when she visited Miles (+ she wasn't supposed to go see him, if anything she betrayed her mission for Miles). Her interest was solely on Miles, so she never really did anything there other than place a spyspider only to completely forget about it moments later. Keeping an eye on the tracker but never really focusing on what's happening with The Spot. (Again, she's slacking off her mission FOR MILES)
Gwen and Peter B weren't also actively pursuing Miles at HQ with malicious intent. Gwen caught him when he was falling and waited on him. Understandably, Miles broke her web but hey... she let him go anyway.
Peter B was dreadful when his tracker went off when he was talking to Miles. Judging by his reaction, that was NOT his doing and he never meant for that to happen.
Also, they both tried to reason that Miles isn't an enemy, he's literally just a kid, and that they should let him go. Only for Gwen to be shut down by Jess, and Peter's pleases be ignored by Miguel.
I think the reason her and Peter B were trying so hard to tell Miles to stand down was because they were concerned that he was gonna get himself hurt.
What's more is that, Gwen and Peter B defended Miles against Miguel anyway. (I know it was a little late, but Miguel's actions were becoming dangerously concerning and THEY were the ONLY ones to have realized this and acted against it) This caused both of them to get kicked out.
So...no betrayals there whatsoever. But maybe that's me being biased idk.
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torchickentacos · 14 days ago
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The world may change at rapid paces that induce constant emotional whiplash, but at least there's one constant (pokemon xy anime discourse on twitter)
#I almost never use twitter for several reasons but I do check in suuuper rarely when I want to look at fanart#and there's always some sort of xy argument on my tl no matter who I follow (or don't). I find comfort in this.#it's an important part of the pokeani online ecosystem#and my part in the ecosystem is 'critter that lives under a rock and occasionally scuttles out for crumbs only to run back afterwards'.#anyways my take on xy is that it did some good things and some bad things like every other season of pokeani. idk.#i know that's an incredibly boring opinion but oh well#i've never been well situated to be passing judgment on which seasons are the highest quality anyways kdjskfjsdkf.#rocks and glass houses and all that jazz.#i mean i do have opinions on xy but i think my opinions are just kind of in the middle and boring?#there's some good and some bad and lots of missed potential. that's pokeani as a whole for you though.#I could make a pros/cons list for every season and I think it'd be pretty balanced at the end of the day tbh?#each season has good and bad things. it's just about finding which seasons have the good things you like!#maybe it's just the people pleasing middle-grounder in me but i really think all seasons are pretty even at the end of the day-#they just appeal to different people.#every season is someone's favorite and every season has haters. this is normal and fine.#but by all means keep the arguing going. people not arguing about xy would be an apocalypse-is-coming type of change honestly
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mortalityplays · 4 months ago
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This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.
e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.
I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.
This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.
And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.
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sherewrytes · 2 days ago
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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒
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↳ Sukuna x f! black reader
Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?
contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )
fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.
Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.
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Prologue
The house felt like a stranger’s home, filled with mourners who spoke in hushed voices as if afraid of disturbing the thick silence. Sukuna leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the wave of people who kept approaching him with sympathy, with empty condolences. They looked at him like he was someone to be pitied, or worse, something fragile. He’d never been either of those things—not until now.
His hands itched for a cigarette, something to bring the haze back, to blunt the sharp edge of grief and guilt cutting into him. But he stayed put, his gaze fixed on the floor as he reminded himself he couldn’t just slip out for a smoke, not here. Not now. His grandfather had all but raised him, yet this crowd wasn’t even here for him—they were here for Jin.
His brother had been his shadow, his accomplice, his anchor, the one who joined him in almost every reckless, stupid decision he’d ever made. If Sukuna dragged him into drinking or sneaking out, Jin never complained, just laughed and told him not to get them killed. And somehow, Jin was the one who’d ended up gone, lost in a freak accident on the one night Sukuna had stayed behind.
That was the worst of it, the feeling that ate away at him in the silence. He’d been the reckless one—the tattoos, the parties, the habits that marked him as the screw-up. And Jin had been the one who’d taken a fall. The one night Sukuna decided to play it safe, Jin had left without him and hadn’t come back.
Sukuna clenched his jaw, tuning out the murmurs and wandering glances as people shared anecdotes about Jin. They didn’t know him. Not like he had.
Then, a voice caught his ear. “... made people feel like they belonged,” the speaker was saying. Sukuna turned his head, almost annoyed, expecting another recycled memory from someone who hardly knew Jin at all. But then he saw her.
She was standing by the window, just out of reach of the crowd, listening to one of Jin’s friends with an expression that wasn’t pity, but something softer. Reflective. The dim light softened her features, giving her an almost ethereal look, like she was a piece of calm carved out of the chaos around her.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Sukuna felt himself drawn to her. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in her expression, the way she seemed out of place, too. He found himself moving toward her, the noise of the crowd fading as he approached. When he stopped beside her, she looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly in recognition.
“You must be Sukuna,” she said, her voice gentle, without a hint of pity. “I’m Y/N. I was friends with Jin… from university.”
“Yeah,” Sukuna replied, his voice rough. He didn’t know what else to say, so he just nodded, trying to keep his expression guarded.
There was a pause, and he braced himself for the usual sympathy, the same rehearsed words he’d heard all night. But Y/N didn’t say anything. She just looked at him with a quiet understanding, as though she could see past the walls he’d put up.
“He… talked about you sometimes,” she said after a moment. “Said you were… the real troublemaker between the two of you. I never believed him, honestly.”
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. “He wasn’t lying. Jin… he was the cautious one. Always reined me in before I got too far over the edge.” He paused, then added, his voice barely a whisper, “Until he didn’t.”
Y/N’s gaze softened, her eyes flickering with something like recognition. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly, as if sensing the guilt he carried, the weight that no one else had acknowledged.
Sukuna felt something inside him crack, just a little. He hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to say those words, even if he wasn’t sure he believed them. He swallowed hard, glancing away as he tried to gather himself. “Yeah, well… I’ve heard that, but it doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“No,” she replied, her voice gentle yet steady. “But it doesn’t have to define everything either.”
They stood in silence for a moment, and Sukuna found himself strangely comforted by her presence. She wasn’t trying to fix him, wasn’t trying to smooth over the rough edges of his grief. She was just there, a quiet presence that understood, and that was enough.
Y/N offered him a small, sad smile. “I don’t know if this helps at all, but Jin… he never judged you for being who you are. He liked you because of it, actually. Said it made things interesting.”
Sukuna gave a small, bitter laugh. “Sounds like him.”
For the first time that night, he felt a flicker of warmth cut through the cold emptiness. Her words gave him a glimpse of the Jin he’d known—the brother who had always seen him for what he was, without the disappointment or disapproval that others had.
As the night wore on, he found himself lingering by her side, grateful for her quiet companionship. They didn’t speak much, but she stayed with him, a silent anchor in the storm raging within him. And when she finally said her goodbyes, slipping her number into his hand with a reassuring squeeze, Sukuna held onto it like a lifeline.
It was only when she was gone that he realized the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.
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The night pressed on, each minute stretching longer than the last, but the crowd finally thinned, leaving only a few stragglers murmuring by the doorway. Sukuna moved mechanically, guiding Yuuji and Choso through the last of the conversations, nodding where he had to, until the house was empty.
As he closed the door and leaned against it, Sukuna felt the silence crash over him—a tidal wave of emptiness in the space Jin used to fill. He glanced over to the couch, where Yuuji had finally fallen asleep, his fists curled into the fabric like he was hanging on for dear life. Choso sat in a nearby chair, his head back, eyes closed, his face still showing traces of disbelief. Sukuna knew that feeling all too well.
The apartment felt hollow, like a body without a heartbeat. He looked around, half-expecting Jin to come strolling out of his room, laughing off the somber atmosphere and snapping Sukuna out of this nightmare. But the room stayed quiet, with only the occasional sound of Yuuji’s slow, steady breathing.
As he made his way toward his bedroom, he unfolded the small slip of paper in his hand. Y/N’s handwriting was neat, almost elegant, the letters curling smoothly across the page. Her phone number stared back at him, a stark reminder of the quiet moments they’d shared in the chaos of the night.
He didn’t know why, but he felt drawn to her in a way he hadn’t felt with anyone before. She was different from the usual people in his life—she hadn’t tried to mask his grief or tell him how to feel. She’d just been there, and somehow, that had made the impossible weight of loss a bit more bearable.
Sukuna sank onto the edge of his bed, staring down at the paper. It was late, too late to be calling anyone, especially someone he’d just met. But the silence pressed in on him, thick and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. Before he could think too much about it, he pulled out his phone and typed in her number, hesitating only a moment before hitting the call button.
The phone rang once, twice. He almost hung up, cursing himself for the impulsive decision. But then, on the third ring, her voice came through, warm and soft, like she’d been expecting his call.
“Hello?” she answered, a hint of sleepiness in her tone.
“It’s… it’s Sukuna,” he said, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but hearing her voice eased some of the tension in his chest.
“Sukuna,” she replied, and he could hear the surprise in her voice, though she covered it quickly. “Is everything… okay?”
He wanted to say yes, to brush it off as some momentary lapse in judgment, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself sinking further into the quiet of her voice, the way she spoke his name like she understood without needing an explanation.
“Yeah. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone, I guess.” He hated how weak it sounded, hated the way his voice cracked, but she didn’t say anything to make it worse.
“I get it,” she said simply. “It’s okay to feel that way.”
The silence on the line wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt almost comforting. They stayed like that for a few moments, neither of them speaking, but both feeling the quiet connection that had sparked between them.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice soft. “I know it’s late, but… if you ever need to talk, or even just sit in silence with someone… I’m here.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. People had offered condolences, apologies, support, but this was different. She wasn’t offering to fix him, just to be there, to share in the silence if that’s what he needed.
“Thanks,” he managed, feeling a strange warmth spread through his chest. “I… I appreciate it.”
They talked for a few more minutes, the conversation drifting between quiet pauses and brief exchanges, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Sukuna felt a sliver of peace. By the time he hung up, the emptiness didn’t feel so crushing, and the dark room felt a little less lonely.
That night, he fell asleep with her number clutched in his hand, her voice lingering in his mind, a quiet promise that he wasn’t alone.
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chososrightnipple · 4 months ago
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❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞
a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.
part one.
── დ ──
. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO
▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.
▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.
▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.
▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.
▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(
▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.
▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.
▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!
. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO
▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?
▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.
▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3
▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.
▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.
▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?
▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.
▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.
. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.
▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.
▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.
▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.
▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.
▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.
▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.
▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.
. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI
▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.
▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!
▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.
▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.
▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.
▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?
▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.
▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.
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mrsbarnesblog · 1 month ago
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just us
masterlist
summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities
word count: 1.8k.
warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe
a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.
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Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.
Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 
You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.
“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 
“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 
“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 
“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 
“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 
“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 
“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”
“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“
“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 
“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 
“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 
He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 
“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 
“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 
“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 
“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 
“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.
“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.
“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 
The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 
“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“
Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”
“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 
“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 
You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.
“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 
“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 
As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 
His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 
“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”
His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 
“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.
“Just us, baby.”
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lokissweater · 3 months ago
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“i would never lie to you.”
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{toge inumaki x f!reader}
summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.
warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.
word count: 2.3k
authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33
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toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.
as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.
he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.
so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.
but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.
his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.
at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.
you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.
every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.
toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.
but not right now.
not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.
and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.
upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.
he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.
“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.
he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.
but you only shook your head again.
toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.
you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.
his heart fucking broke.
“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”
he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.
he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.
he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.
“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”
“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”
he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.
“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”
toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.
fuck he felt like such a douche.
he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.
toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.
“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”
you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.
“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”
you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.
“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”
“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.
“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”
he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.
you felt his tension and pulled back.
“what?”
toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.
you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”
he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.
he typed for a minute then showed you.
“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”
you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”
he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.
“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”
your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.
he typed again.
“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”
“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.
“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”
he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”
“dicking around on my dick?”
you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”
you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.
“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”
his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.
“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”
you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”
toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”
“never.” he mouthed silently.
he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.
“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”
you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.
but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?
“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”
you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.
toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.
“do you promise?” you mumbled.
he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.
“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”
toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.
words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.
“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.
taglist!! <33: @saebaey
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kamitv · 5 months ago
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Thinking about Toji who…
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Is so big in comparison to you.
He’s simply that— big. His shoulders are so broad that when he’s standing behind you, his shadow almost always casts over you. Even if you’re not exactly small yourself, this man is just fucking huge and beefy.
You’d tease him about it too and “joke” about wondering what it’s like to be put in a chokehold by him. He’d probably put you in one too if you asked nicely.
Isn’t completely broke but damn sure isn’t rich either.
He makes enough money to please you. Although his gambling is a bit of a problem, Toji tries to distract you from it by flattering you with occasional gifts that he bought using his wins.
Toji makes do with the money he has. If he’s not gambling it away, it’s 100% going to you to keep that pretty lil’ smile on your face. He’s happy you weren’t hell bent on marrying a rich man and that you accept him for who he is financially.
Has a breeding kink.
For someone who didn’t do much for his children, he was very determined to fuck you full of his cum after seeing how you sweet-talked some little girl on the street. Something about such a small interaction drove him crazy later that night.
Your legs would he dangling over his big shoulders, body folded exactly how he wants you, pussy sopping with every harsh thrust of his hips as he buried his thick cock inside you over and over again— listening to the way you babble his name and watching how your jaw hangs open, eyes rolled back with drool dripping down your chin.
Fuck, you’re a complete mess but he loves it. Especially with the way your cunt spasms around his dick every time he starts talking to you. Toji would have his face hovered right over yours so every breath is shared and the sex is beyond intimate.
Saying things like, “Gonna let me stuff this pretty pussy full of me, huh?” “Yeah? Y’like the sound of that, baby?” “Want me t’make you a mommy? Hm?”
To which you’d just nod along, not against the idea in the slightest but too fucked out to truly respond. Toji would groan at your agreement, heavy balls slapping against your skin whilst his cock splits you open. Huffing an almost desperate, “Uhuh… You’ll look s’pretty walkin’ around with my kid, ma’.”
Is infatuated with your ass.
Toji almost feels as though he shouldn’t go twenty-four hours without feeling your ass at least once. The way the fat fits and molds into his palm perfectly, how soft you are, and the way it’s every movement captivates his attention like a baby with a sensory video is quite amusing.
Even if you didn’t think you had the fattest ass in the world, Toji believes otherwise. He doesn’t care if you nearly fall over every time he slaps your ass as he walks by, hearing the loud smack that follows and the squeal of surprise that leaves your lips makes him happy.
One time, he found you lying on your stomach and saw that as the perfect opportunity to lay his head against your ass, the rest of his body weight rested against your legs and leaving you immobile.
It never really matters what you’re wearing either, he knows what’s under all those clothes so he’ll compliment you on how your ass looks in anything. Though, he will admit that seeing your ass in a tight dress makes his cock spring up.
Would never admit it but is often needy for you.
If you ever call him such a thing, he’ll curse you out while fucking you dumb— claiming to show you just how “needy” he is for you.
He hates when you catch faint pitches in his groans or moans, especially while you’re kissing him. His neck is so damn sensitive, more-so right under his jawline, so whenever your lips and tongue swipe against that area, his throat would vibrate with a deep groan. And fuck if you’re sitting on top of him, steadily rocking your hips against him, you may catch him slipping and he might just whine-
Not that he’ll ever admit he did or does.
Hates when you ignore him.
And you know he hates it too so that’s exactly why you do it.
After any argument, you just go quiet and start giving him those annoying little mhm’s or uhuh’s, clearly not paying attention to a word he’s saying.
Sometimes you ignore him on accident though, not that it changes how much he hates it. It’s usually when you’re working on something or trying to focus and he’ll come talking to you only to receive silence in response as everything he’d just said goes through one ear and out the other.
Typically, he fixes this problem by getting really close to you and talking right against your ear, forcing you to hear every word he’s saying and smiling at the way you find his lips ticklish against your skin.
Forgets important dates sometimes.
He once forgot your anniversary with him and you put him on sex ban for a month. To you, it should’ve been longer but Toji tried his best to make up for his forgetfulness during that month.
Forgot Megumi’s birthday but was happy to have you there to remind him. Again, you scolded him and he promised to work on it.
Doesn’t bother getting jealous.
The fuck is he getting jealous for? You’re his woman. Any man that looks at you doesn’t disturb Toji’s peace, he knows you’ll never leave him (he tells you that you’d be dumb to do so).
If he ever caught someone flirting with you, he’d casually walk up to you and shower you in lewd kisses and touches just to scare the person off. Toji will walk up mid-conversation and grab a firm hold of your jaw, tugging you toward him just to press his lips against yours. After which, he’s dragging his kisses down to your neck, moving a hand to your waist and the other to your ass, silently telling others to fuck off through his touches alone.
Would kill for you.
This should be obvious too. Taking some’s life for you is no different than his job— even though you don’t know much about it…
He may not tell you he’d murder someone for you but if you seemed distressed enough by someone’s presence, Toji will have them dealt with. You’d later ask “Hey, what happened to…” Only to hear that they got into some “strange accident”. But in reality, your lover had disposed of them.
Cherishes you in his own way.
He doesn’t say anything too sappy to you but he does have his ways of showing his love for you.
Toji has a tendency to stare at you, admiring your features and wondering how or why the hell you still put up with him. You’re so perfect in his eyes that sometimes he thinks you deserve someone better and less forgetful or violent.
And yet, every time he comes home— you’re there with that sexy smile of yours and gentle voice that drives him crazy.
Pet names with Toji slip off of his tongue naturally. “You look s’pretty today, doll.” “Love you too, pretty girl.” “I like your hair like that, ma. Looks nice.” “C’mon, don’t be mad at me baby, I can buy you more snacks…”
Loves fucking you from behind.
He’s always bending you over some surface or pressing you against some wall. While, yes, he loves that pretty face of yours, he also loves pressin’ it against the bed as his drills his fat cock inside you.
Toji likes watching the way your ass bounces back against him. He loves looking at the arch in your back, watching your nails scratch and scrape at the sheets, and staring at the way your pussy messily spreads around his cock— such a pretty white ring of cum forming at his base.
He’ll get the whole scene even messier too, spitting down where you’re connected, making his cock slip in and out of you faster so he can fuck deeper. Oh how he loves smacking your ass til’ it’s left with marks, gripping onto your cheeks and just toying with you while he fucks you to tears and incoherent cries.
Then he’s teasing you, “C’mon, throw that ass back on me, girl.” “There ya goo, such a good slut f’me, aren’tcha?” “Uhuh, take my cock baby, jus’ like that.” “Look back at me, lemme see those tears, doll.” “Mhm, feels s’good, huh?” “Oh fuuuck, don’t stop. Keep… Keep movin’ those fuckin’ hips baby, doin’ so good f’me.”
Doesn’t mind listening to you ramble.
You’re a talker, that’s for damn sure. In the beginning of the relationship, he thought he’d grow to hate how much you talk but he actually loves it.
When you talk about your day or any drama that’s happened, he’s happily sitting there listening to every word. Hell, sometimes Toji even makes sassy comments, “Girl, you need better friends.” “You told her off? Type shit.”
And if you pay attention close enough, you may notice how he’s picked up on things you say and started saying them himself. Whatever phrases you often use, you’d catch him using from time to time & you think it’s just the cutest thing in the world.
Would lose his mind if you ever called him Daddy.
You did it one time as a joke and you nearly got pregnant the same night.
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A/N: Not proofread— apologies for errors. This is for those that requested! Lastly, UHM HELLO THANK Y’ALL FOR 3K FOLLOWERS HERE? ^.^ y’all are so sweet I’m gonna eat you guys.
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