#been depressed lately so maybe i will try to write it?

[lord-squiggletits]

Decided to add in my own tags because they elaborate more on some good ideas:

#prowl feels like one of those characters where people trust what he says at face value when like. he's very much not a reliable narrator#prowl SAYS that he does the dirty work no one else is willing to do but. is it really dirty work?#or is it just him authorizing dirty work and hiding it on his own and justifying it in the name of 'it's for the autobots'?#to draw on an old fandom of mine: 'what is the difference between you and the decepticons now?'#'isn't it obvious prime? i serve the autobots'

I also feel like another reason we need to remember that Prowl isn't a reliable narrator is because his attitude towards waging war is frighteningly realistic to real life. The amount of times people in real life want to shrug off senseless brutality and deliberate cruelty/gambling of lives as "just how war is" is a bit frightening. Maybe I'm naive and don't know how war actually works, but I'm pretty sure "someone has to do the dirty work in war" begs the question of what exactly you call dirty work and why you're so intent on justifying (or hiding) it.

The thing about Prowl is I don't really think canon was ever trying to frame him as a "necessary evil" or anything along the lines of "he's a shitty person but his work was necessary" like mmm.... That feels very much like something Prowl wants to believe about himself, not something that's actually factually true in reality.

I can't really make a good argument about it because I only remember like a handful of standout Prowl Moments in IDW1 but like... Prowl dropping a bomb on a neutral city and blaming it on the Decepticons is not "a necessary evil," that's a war crime. Prowl trying to destroy the space bridge to Caminus to keep Starscream from getting power over it, dooming the entire planet and its inhabitants to extinction by starvation, is not "a necessary evil," it's a fucking war crime. I feel like trying to frame such drastic measures as him "doing the dirty work of the Autobots" feels way too much like an excuse for actions that actually aren't justifiable. Especially since Prowl himself is far from being the 100% rational guy he thinks he is, considering how often he bases his decisions on things like his anti-Decepticon bias and his general refusal to follow any orders that contradict what he thinks is The Right Thing To Do (TM).

But also I think this is kind of the fault of the narrative of IDW1, since very few Autobots besides Prowl are given the chance to actually be morally gray even when the worldbuilding implicates them in some very morally gray things. Like, for example, JRO adding in the existence of MTOs which implies that the normally squeaky-clean leader Optimus was willing to approve the creation of new soldiers just to throw them into combat (and even the attempts to humanize the MTOs by giving them "an education" were eventually cut down to nothing but combat optimizations). And there's also the fact that Optimus knows about the Wreckers and has been known to call them on missions at least once (Stormbringer), meaning he's very much aware of the Wreckers and their tactics and is willing to call them in for fights when it's necessary.

I don't think you need to use Prowl as a crutch to make the Autobots morally gray. I think the Autobot leadership (or at least, Optimus, since few people besides him or Prowl seem to have major tactical command over the army as a whole) is plenty morally gray enough on its own, because the nature of war is inherently morally gray no matter how righteous your cause is. Reducing the lives of your own people into numbers on maps, harvesting resources, bringing MTOs to life just to die in a war they practically have no stake in, those things are enough.

And tbh it kind of bothers me when people try to saddle Prowl with the "dirty work of the Autobots", not just because it frames Prowl's blatantly evil actions as some sort of savior act taking the blame from the rest of the Autobots (which isn't even accurate, because the blame for war crimes falls on the entire army as an institution rather than one person), but because it downplays the moral grayness of the Autobots and pretends that no Autobot BESIDES Prowl ever participated in morally gray actions, which simply isn't true.

TLDR: Prowl isn't as much of a hero as he thinks he is because committing atrocities in the name of your cause doesn't change the fact that they're atrocities (and may not have even been justified). However, painting Prowl as the "token evil teammate" of sorts also places too much blame for the atrocities of war on him in particular, when in reality that's a burden shared by Optimus Prime and any other members of the Autobot military command structure.

[lilac-melody]

:)

[nabaath-areng]

I've struggled so much with english these past few days and it's so annoying and embarrassing, and what's even more embarrassing is that I'm embarrassed at all in the first place!!! Everytime I make a rushed error with my unmedicated brain, or swap around with word order, or struggle to pronounce things or outright just fail to recall even basic words entirely I get so ashamed and stressed out.

And I hate being told things such as "you're better than some native speakers" because I know that isn't true! And I wish it could just be fine that I'm not! Sure, I've improved immensely ever since I actually tried to learn it properly 10 years ago, but it was such a bumpy and embarrassing road that it's practically a mercy for my self confidence that I was psychotic for a majority of the time, what with all the things I've forgotten or outright never memorized in the first place as a result lmao.

Everytime I have to edit captions and such after hitting 'Post' I always feel this overwhelming sense of dread that people will just pour in to nag and to correct me even over the smallest things, all without anything good to say. Which sucks, cause so many times where I've had people be condescending or outright degrading, the errors in question didn't even impede on the clarity of what I was saying. Just stupid, unimportant things like using 'has'/'have' wrong, using 'were' two times in a sentence, putting words in the wrong order in a sentence etc.

It's been years now since that was a thing that happened regularly, but that fear is apparently still so deeply imprinted that, even now, I can't read what I'm writing right here and now without this looming fear about how it will serve to make native speakers perceive me as stupid and unintelligent or outright infantilize me. Even though I know that's more than likely irrational of me to feel now. I seriously need to figure out how to overcome this mental roadblock, or at least not let it get to me like this. It's rarer these days, but I still feel it too strongly for my liking whenever my reservations do kick in.

[astromechs]

wake up babe, the funniest comment i've ever gotten on ao3 has dropped

[teruthecreator]

god help you all when i'm finished with a picture's worth >:-)))))))))

[phagodyke]

every time I open the blinds of my bedroom window these last few days I've had this really weird feeling that something is wrong with the view and I've just realised now that the scaffolding which was up outside since we moved in (15 months ago) has FINALLY been taken down. put it backk the buildings naked 😭

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[inkskinned]

it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[oatmealwrites]

Initiation

nsfw [FRAT JJK AU] CHOSO X F! READER

Hematology Student! Frat Brother! Jealous! Choso x Grad Student! Reader

Synopsis: It's Yuji's pledge initiation and you've been dragged out to the JJK function to celebrate the fact he's a full member now. Of course the main reason you want to go is to see the one man completely off limits: Yuji's brother Choso. With alcohol flowing and music playing, maybe he'll admit the only reason he comes to these parties is the off chance you show up

NSFWWW (porn with plot LMAO, mdni) Roomate Suguru, slutty Satoru, mentions of alcohol, oral [m receiving], oral [f receiving], female anatomy, she/her pronouns, p in v, unprotected, creampie, aftercare, yuji is a cockblock, helpless pining, jealously, established relationship at the end

this is a LONG ass fic but I had wayyy to much fun writing it hehehe [i wanna keep doing fics like this in the future too]

Word count: 12.8 k (LET ME COOK OK)

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Papers scattered, Red Bulls empty, and lofi playing in the background, it’s one of the rare evenings Suguru joins you at the shared kitchen table to study for an exam. Silently, you pass snacks and drinks to each other, only looking up from your content material to stretch the ache building in your back muscles. On any other Thursday night Suguru would leave you, his roommate, alone in the shared apartment for a ‘chapter meeting’ and return late in the night to continue his studies alone in his room while you stayed in the same position hunched over the wood table for hours on end. 

A comfortable silence lingers between the two of you, each too focused on your separate exams to make small talk, but enjoying the atmosphere of not studying alone. It’s a routine that occurs several times a week, and one of the rare occasions you’re actually productive. Eventually the lofi playing on the tv in the living room hits an ad roll and you both take it as a moment to break from the material.

“God this exam is going to be the end of me… remind me why I chose oncology as my specialization again?”

“Pretty sure it was just because Satoru persuaded you to stay in the same med field as him-”

He kicks your shin from under the table and laughs with as much emotion as he could muster given the 3rd hour of review you’ve begun. You weren’t in the same field as Suguru, hell not even the same school of study within the university, but that didn’t stop you from spending hours together reviewing material in a shared state of depression.

“Speaking of which- Satoru’s on his way over.”

Suguru scrolls through his phone mindlessly and pushes back from the table to clear some of the empty snack wrappers that littered the kitchen. You lean back in your chair and frown at him, “Huh? I thought your stupid chapter thing was cancelled.”

He takes a moment to step back from the running sink and flicks some water at you with a smirk, “Ok it’s not stupid, it’s called loyalty to a frat.”

“Yea more like cult-”

He splashes you again, laughing at the way you shriek and desperately try to protect your notes from the potential water damage.

“Ok Ok fine, frat. But why is he coming here anyways?”

Suguru dries his hand on the cheap kitchen towel you bought together when you both moved in and slides his phone off the counter to check his messages again; his other hand runs through the long dark hair he’s let hang freely down. 

“Hmm, not sure. He said he’d be here in 10 minutes roughly an hour ago… so that means-”

There’s a quick courtesy knock at the door before the sound of the spare key turning the lock clicks and the wood swings open. Satoru saunters in, no backpack with him, and shuts the door before pulling out a chair, throwing his coat somewhere on the floor, and sitting like he is a third unannounced roommate. 

“Hey~”

Suguru opens the fridge and slides him a canned soft drink before walking around to sit back in his original spot.

You don’t mind him, but you do mind the fact this small 15 minute study break could very well turn into a 90 minute one if he plans on staying a while. 

“Hey, what are you doing here? No exams to cram for?”

He slides off the sunglasses covering his eyes, even though it’s 6pm, and rests his chin in his hand, letting strands of milky white hair swing idly. 

“Nah, not into all that stuff-,” Suguru and you exchange a tired look, “I’m actually here to collect my vice president.”

Suguru sighs and leans his head to the side, making no effort to hide the exhaustion on his face, “Seriously, Satoru? What do you need me for? Chapter’s cancelled this week to prep for the pledges’ final initiation.”

“That’s why I need you! Nanami is holding the frat treasury hostage as we speak– without your override we won’t be able to pay the downpayment on the rental house.”

There’s a twitch in your eyebrow at the conversation. Nearly all your friends were involved with Greek Life in some sort of way, but the frat JJK was infamous for their extravagant parties. Most likely the white haired man’s fault for his expensive taste in renting out a house for each function- finding it easier to simply pay the damages and cleaning fees than actually take care of the property. 

“I’ll go with you to Haibara’s, but that’s it Satoru.”

You snap back into the conversation between your roommate and his best friend for the last few sentences, “Suguru and I planned on a delivery order while we studied. Do you wanna come back here with your bag afterwards and join us?”

Satoru breaks the pleading look on his face and turns to you with an airy laugh, “I already said exams aren’t really my thing, I don’t really like trying that hard. Besides,” he puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I’ll probably be borrowing him for a few hours anyways~”

Suguru shakes his head and stands up to head over to the coat rack and flip through the jackets before sliding on his winter coat. Satoru follows suit and stands up but doesn’t leave the table’s edge; instead he admires your burnt out state. Hair sloppily thrown back, one of Suguru’s undergrad sweatshirts, comfy pants that are nearing 4 years old, and skincare done but no makeup applied. 

“You should come.”

“What?”

Satoru makes no move towards his jacket and stays looking at you, “You should come to this party once I get Nanami to approve the budget.”

You stay motionless for a few seconds, already knowing your answer of ‘no’ before the sentence can form on your tongue. 

“That’s not her vibe Satoru, you know that,” Suguru wraps a dark scarf around his neck and tosses the puffer jacket towards his friend. 

“Still, it would be good to get you out of the house.”

A small ‘V’ is formed by the scrunching of your eyebrows as you watch the man now finally shimmy the coat he threw on the floor back onto his shoulders.

“I do leave the house for your information. I actually go to class and regularly study at the library in addition to meeting with my thesis professor.”

Satoru lifts his hands and rolls his eyes dramatically, “Oh my, what a great social life you got there. At this rate I’m sure the space between your thighs has grown cobwebs.”

“Hey!”

“Satoru-” Suguru warns his friend with a slight shove. 

He raises his hands in defense but turns back to you, “ok my bad, rude wording. But still, you need some stress relief,” he snaps his fingers, “or sex relief.”

Suguru smacks him again while Satoru is too busy laughing at his own joke before pulling up the zipper on his jacket. You stand and turn to the fridge, trying to avoid letting the truthfulness of the commnet get under your skin. You’ve gone on dates before, mostly with assholes who never get a second one, but it’s not like you were actively trying to stay single, just no one caught your eye.

Ok that’s a lie.

In all honesty nearly every member of that stupid frat was painfully attractive, but the one you couldn’t help thinking about was the only one totally off limits: your best friend Yuji’s older brother. 

God even thinking about him was enough to make you lose focus as you dug around in the fridge for another energy drink. Dark hair pulled back, a scar? No, birthmark? Tattoo? Across this bridge of his nose, and a body you’re sure is sculpted from marble. To top it off he never once made you feel uncomfortable or objectified like half the members of the frat did when they flirted at parties. Nope, he was a total gentleman who always put his brothers first and never asked for anything in return. 

Suguru brings his index finger under his chin in a silent thought while Satoru rubs the spot on his arm where he was just punched.

“Come to think of it, when was the last time you brought someone home?”

An apple from the refrigerator flies towards both of them, but Satoru catches it with ease and begins to howl with laughter. Suguru laughs a little, though less mockingly than his friend, “you know I wouldn’t mind having to give you a noise complaint once in a while.”

“BOTH OF YOU-!”

The two men continue their laughter and torment, making your frustration only grow inexplicably bigger as you watch. 

“Alright well,” Satoru wipes a tear from his eye and opens the door to slide the spare key back under the welcome mat, “Wish us luck on getting this party approved! See ya later babe~”

Suguru gives him one last push before waving off and shutting the door behind him while you sit alone at the kitchen table now listening to the subtle lofi continuing to play in the background. It’s lonelier but not unfamiliar as you collect your papers and organize them into your backpack, unable to focus in the apartment anymore. 

It would be impossible to face Yuji at this moment, too caught up in the terrible thoughts about his brother infesting your brain. Instead you slide out your phone and click on Megumi’s contact before hitting ‘dial’. There’s a dial tone that rings three times before a gruff voice mumbles out a short ‘hello?’. 

“Hey it’s me! Wanna go to the campus library?”

*******

A few days go by and most evenings are spent alone in the apartment with Suguru being dragged by Satoru to finalize purchases for the now approved function. Nanami and Haibara gave the green light on the rental house, but it left a majority of the budget unable to cover the steep alcohol costs. Not that any of it would deter Satoru of course: being heir to his family’s extremely successful private hospital left him swiping his metal black credit card without a second glance at the final price, purchasing enough alcohol to stock an entire bar. 

This Wednesday night is like many of the others you’ve had this semester so far, sitting in the campus library with Megumi and Toge reviewing projects, editing thesis papers, and cramming content before exams. The three of you work silently, sipping on to-go coffee cups and listening to music playing in your respective headphones. Occasionally a ‘ping’ from Toge texting you memes causes a slight break to giggle at his antics, but they’re short lived and the three of you continue working again. 

“Hey guys!” “See? I told you they would be here!”

Yuji and Nobara stroll up, dressed casually and without any backpacks in tow. The three of you at the table exchange a quick glance before sliding chairs over and making room for them to sit. 

“You have to come Y/N,” Yuji whines while shaking your arm back and forth in a pleading manner, “You literally never attend the functions.”

Any attempt to continue reviewing your lecture notes is thrown out the window by now as Yuji continues to shake your arm with vigor.

“Yuuuji. Why do you want me to come to this one so badly?”

“It’s my first party as no longer a pledge! I can finally get drunk with no one to drive home and no repercussions. You. Have. To. Come.”

He shakes your shoulders now with each word while Megumi shrugs his shoulders at Nobara who is attempting the same conversation on him.

“You’re on attendance probation for missing too many social events Megumi, you have to attend.”

“I don’t even wanna be in this frat anyways, wouldn’t probation be beneficial to me?”

Toge leans across the table, already deciding he was indeed going to the party and carpooling with Yuta to the function; he gives Megumi a confused look silently before Nobara explains.

“His dad is a legacy member, so he was basically born to be in the frat,” she turns to Megumi, “It’s also highly unlikely you’ll ever be kicked out too- with that idiot Satoru as your big, he’d never let you drop.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and huffs, looking at you in exhaustion and longing to continue studying already. Yuji continues shaking you until you’re able to pry his hand off your shoulders for a moment, a small headache forming from the yelling.

“Ok ok, shush please! I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

He dulls his whines to whimper.

“I’ll go ok? But who else is even going to be there?”

Yuji breaks into a grin and Nobara nudges Megumi to indicate he has to come too, otherwise he’d be the only person not attending.

“It’s the pres and vice pres of course, Nanamin, Haibara, Shoko, Todo, Choso, -”

The list of names grows but you stop listening after Choso’s name is mentioned, the sound of it bringing your heartrate up immediately.

“Choso..?”

“Huh? Oh yea,” Yuji pauses and grins, “He’s always been set on staying sober during my pledge time with me, so now he can finally get shitfaced with us!”

It’s the type of thing you’re not surprised to hear, Choso being so supportive of his brother and even voluntarily having mediocre Friday nights just to keep him company. He’s been to your apartment a handful of times before, studying for medical exams with Suguru and Satoru when they took shared courses in Hematology, his own specialization. He never came over empty-handed, bringing energy drinks and snacks, and even staying after to clean up any mess they had made.

Every time you would come back from the library or leave your room and see him sitting at your kitchen table like he belonged there, like it was the most natural sight to see, it was enough to make you a stumbling idiot. The scent of his cologne would linger in the air hours after he left, and despite being so collected, he would always text you when he inevitably left something behind. It started out as a pencil case, then a scarf, and now even his sweatshirts had all been left accidentally and only returned when he would call you the next day and offer you coffee in exchange for the forgotten items. 

It’s bad. So fucked up to even think of him like this. This is Yuji’s half brother and now full frat brother– pull yourself together. 

Yuji continues talking but the only thing running through your mind is the image of Choso’s hair when he lets it down in concentration, the image of his biceps flexing as he slings his heavy backpack on his shoulders and waves you goodbye, or the way his thighs strain against the fabric of his jeans-

“Is that plan ok with you?”

You blink and snap back to reality, now noticing everyone staring at you expectedly and waiting for your response. Yuji points to his phone, open to a message from Suguru aimed at you, “Suguru told me to let you know he wants your help setting up the house on Friday since you’re coming.”

“You already told him?”

Yuji blinks, “Yea I told the group chat…”

A sigh escapes your lips and any excuse now to bail at the last second has dissipated. “...alright.”

****

Steam rolls out of the bathroom door and you use the edge of your robe to swipe away the fog of the mirror,feeling fresh after a grueling ‘everything shower.’ Suguru grunts a small, “finally” before ushering you out of the room so he can piss. 

Stepping out into the living room and pivoting into your room, music can be heard in the kitchen, likely Satoru’s doing to fill the silence while he works on packaging liquor bottles and decorations into cardboard boxes.

Skincare, haircare, and lotion on, you rummage through your closet for clothes. On your bed sits a variety of party outfits, though all holding very different vibes. Jeans and cropped shirt were a bit too basic given the ‘initiation’ Yuji kept talking about, and the mini dress seemed too formal considering it was technically still a frat party. 

You shuffle through a variety of tops until you settle on black opaque tights under a black miniskirt and an off-the-shoulder tight long sleeve top. The outfit is slutty enough for a frat party but cute enough for a first date if you wanted to recycle the look in the future. 

Taking your makeup bag off your dresser and stepping into the living room, you notice the sound of running water from the bathroom.

“Hey! I thought you were just gonna take a piss!”

Suguru can’t hear you or the knocks on the door, but Satoru wolfishly laughs from behind you. Cutting your losses, you place the makeup bag on the kitchen table and slide a few boxes over to make room for you to spread out. Without looking at Satoru and using the compact mirror that came with your blush, you begin applying products. 

“I didn’t know you cleaned up this good Y/N.”

“That’s because you never actually see me outside of this apartment,” you grumble, now pressing powder to set your foundation.

Satoru shrugs and continues filling boxes with an array of liquor bottles, but lowers the volume on his phone to make the conversation easier, “Well if I had known, I would’ve made some moves on you sooner.”

You roll your eyes at his exaggerated smile and now focus on applying eyeliner without skimming the surface of your cornea. Before Satoru can thickly lay on another pick up line, Suguru steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and snuggly tied just below the ‘V’ line of his pelvis.

You don’t bother looking up, having seen this sight a million times before, and instead you raise your eyebrows dramatically to apply a thin layer of mascara on your bottom lashes. Suguru whistles at your appearance and steps into his room to throw on a t-shirt and jeans while Satoru slides the last few bottles into the final box.

You click your compact shut and zip up your makeup bag, satisfied with your look, and slide your lipgloss into your purse to reapply later. Suguru enters the room and counts the boxes, silently working out in his brain how this would all fit in an Uber with the three of you.

Satoru saunters up next to you and shrugs with a slight wink, “Well if you want those cobwebs cleared out for you I don’t mind helping. Take a quick ride to the party~?”

“That’s my roommate, asshole.”

Suguru nudges him in the rib cage and slides the remaining decorations of strobe lights and speakers into an oversized IKEA bag, waiting for Satoru to help. The white haired man laughs and shrugs with a light ‘worth trying’ mumble before Suguru shoves him again. 

You slide on a pair of chunky docs and sling your purse over your shoulder before grabbing Suguru’s phone from the table.

“Hey– Uber’s here.”

The three of you lift as many boxes as your strength allows and make your way down to the apartment lobby to load them into the trunk of the SUV. It takes 2 trips up and down with all three of you carrying boxes until the back is completely filled and the driver looks between you uneasily. Suguru shrugs and sends a few messages to the other brothers while the driver pulls out of the apartment complex and heads towards the rental house; glass bottles clinking with every turn.

You’re squished between Suguru and Satoru, giving a slight nudge to the flirtatious man on your right.

“Hmm? Can’t keep your hands off me already?”

“Ugh, just make sure to tip this guy extra once the ride is over ok?”

Satoru nods and smirks into a shit eating grin, “Of course~ now is there any tip you were hoping to get too-?”

“She’s. My. Roommate. Asshole.”

You laugh lightly and sink into your seat, pulling out your phone and messaging the small group chat with Yuji, Megumi, Toge, Maki, and Nobara that you were going to be setting up the house soon. 

******

The rental is huge, fitting the extravagant nature of the man who protested so badly to have it and confirming that Nanami’s hesitation for the budget was completely valid. Boxes filled with alcohol sit on the marble kitchen island while Yuta and Toge work filling coolers with ice and assorted beer bottles and Maki and Nobara stock the freezer with handles of vodka and tequila. 

You let out a whistle and do a quick 360 in the room, taking in how the boys have already shoved the sofa and loveseats closer to each other to make room for the pong table Megumi and Yuji were setting up. The house is an open concept with the entire first floor connected except for the staircase leading up to the second floor bedrooms and bathroom. 

“Alright, speakers are set up and lights are all working– are the drinks nearly finished?”

“Yep,” Maki shuts the freezer door and turns to Nanami with a thumbs up, “All done!”

Satoru claps his hands and looks around the crowd, “Alright remember– no normies unless we actually know them OR they can name at least 5 brothers. Keep the ratio good, yea?”

The group mumbles a response and breaks up to complete the last few touches, Haibara dims the lights and Suguru sets up his music playlist to the speakers, already queuing a few songs that Shoko recommends him to play. A group of you decide to take a few pre-game shots to loosen up and then split to finish up preparations before anyone arrives.

You walk up to Yuji and help arrange the red solo cups in a pyramid formation on the folding table, “Where’s your brother?”

“Hm? Oh! Choso and Todo are picking up Maki’s sister and a few others. Should be here shortly.”

Yuji is buzzing with energy, excited to get the night started as more pledges begin to trickle in and assist with the final preparations. After a while Haibara officially cuts the overhead lights and turns on the ambient strobes while Suguru increases the volume on the speakers; after another 30 minutes the house is fairly packed with everyone now dancing and drinking. Enough alcohol is coursing through your veins to feel relaxed and warm, but not enough to make you irrational. 

You grab a drink from the kitchen and admire the party, giggling with Nobara as Yuji is already borderline shiftfaced and yapping Megumi’s ear off despite the speaker next to them deafening every word.

“Should we stop them?”

“Nah,” Nobara laughs into her drink and points at Todo who’s walking over to the two of them, “I think it’s about to get good.”

“My brother! How can you claim you’re officially a brother when you are unable to win a single game of pong?”

Yuji turns to him confused and Megumi takes this as his opportunity to escape with Nobara following after him and laughing hysterically.

“What does pong have to do with being brothers…?”

“My best friend–” A single tear threatens to fall from Todo’s eye as he grasps a metal chain necklace longingly, “If you can’t increase your skills to win a single game we can’t possibly stay friends. A brother of mine would never be complacent with their mediocre skills!”

Whatever energy Todo emits is enough for Yuji to yell out his passion for improving in beer pong and the two take to the folding table to begin a game. Yuji misses the first few shots, but sinks two in after a few turns and evens the game.

“Geez, they’re really going at it huh?”

The voice is deep and rumbles loud enough through the music to immediately indicate it’s Choso’s. He stands tall next to you, giving you a slight smile and dragging his eyes up and down your outfit before coughing lightly and turning his attention back to the game.

“Oh yea.. Ha! They really are quite passionate.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you stand side by side and watch the game unfold, giggling at their dramatic reactions and downing the liquid in the cups when their adversary sinks one. 

“I’d want to go in there and help him but…” Choso scratches the back of his head awkwardly, the dark hair cascading down instead of being pulled back into his usual hairstyle, “It’s a rite of passage I suppose for this frat.”

You have to physically peel your eyes off the man to avoid staring any further, his hair sexily falling around his face, dark piercings in his ears reflecting the strobing lights, and the powerful body standing idly and awkwardly at your side. The conversation isn’t out of place or forced; the nature of it makes you regret not coming to more functions if it meant you could've been this close to him the entire time.

He looks into his cup and takes a big drink before continuing, wincing slightly from the burn of alcohol, “You know I’m actually glad you came– I know you usually don’t go to these sorts of things.”

A blush warms your cheeks and you look at him for a moment before sheepishly laughing, “Ah yea... Usually school takes up so much of my time. I’m surprised you noticed considering how busy frat life and med school can be.”

“-Of course I noticed!” 

He looks around awkwardly and shivers slightly at his outburst before attempting to save face, “I mean you’re one of Yuji’s best friends… he always mentions how bummed he is that you aren’t around..”

You blink and swallow thickly, “right…” of course Yuji would be the one actually wondering why you didn’t show up, “I feel bad about letting him down.”

Turning back to the game of pong, you miss the way Choso cringes hard at himself, completely unable to rephrase the sentence into admitting how he was actually the one who would look for you at every party and stand in a corner moping when he realized you didn’t show, waiting until his brother was ready to go home. Instead, he downs the rest of his beverage and turns back to you, “Would you like a drink? I can grab us another and then we can continue the conversation–?”

You turn back to him and look at your own empty cup, it’s a bad idea to continue but you don’t want the conversation to end just yet. Even if Yuji is standing right in front of you both, and can plainly see the way you're hopelessly staring into his brother's eyes, you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Yea, I’d like that.”

Choso smiles lightly at the opportunity and takes the plastic cup from your hands, “Something sweet but not too sugary, right?”

Your insides melt when you nod and he walks off into the kitchen while your eyes stay focused on his ass for just a moment too long to be casual.

“Hey~ enjoying the party pretty?”

An arm is slung around your shoulders and the mix of cologne and tequila sunrise is enough of a scent indicator to know it’s Satoru who’s gripping you so close. 

A sigh leaves your lips but you don’t make an effort to move, watching Yuji miss his shot while Todo scrambles to try and pry the ping pong ball from where it rolled under the couch.

“Sure, it’s actually kinda fun.”

“Kinda?”

“I’m not giving your ego anything else besides that,” you shrug his arm off and he feigns a wound from the action before laughing and taking a sip of his own drink.

“Talk to anybody yet hmm? My offer of stress relief still stands if you strike out– I’ll keep the door open for ya if you ask nicely~”

You roll your eyes and arms cross at your chest, you deadpan at him, “Seriously, Satoru?”

He shrugs and raises his hands up in defense, “It’s just a casual offer, for real. Suguru is your roommate and we’re friends– I’m not trying to make things awkward.”

“You already are.”

You and Satoru swing to see Choso carrying two red cups tightly, with his fingers bending the plastic, and approaching with an unamused scowl. Satoru lets out a low whistle and chuckles to himself before leaning into your ear, “Alright you got your relief plan sorted out.. Guess I’ll look elsewhere.”

He stands up and gives a nod to Choso before turning over his shoulder and waving off, yelling Suguru’s name to skip the current song.

Choso watches the man walk off until he disappears into the crowd before he slips a cup into your hand and looks at you concerned, “You alright?”

You take the drink and smile lightly at him, noting the way his shoulders are tense and eyebrows are knit together, “Yea, I’m alright. Thanks.”

He breathes slightly before his eyes shoot open wide and he brings his hands up apologetically, “I hope I didn’t misread that then… if you are interested in Satoru I completely understand,” he looks back at Yuji’s game now speaking quieter, “Don’t let me ruin your plans.”

It takes a few blinks before you sink into the exact meaning he was hinting at and you instantly raise your hands in defense and embarrassment, “NO!”

A few people look in your direction and you pull Choso down closer by the fabric of his band t-shirt, his height towering over you regardless, “I mean.. Trust me, I don’t like Satoru like that. We’re buddies.. Not romantic at all.”

He examines you for a moment and looks back into the crowd nervously where Satoru had walked off, “But physically?”

You lock eyes with him and your lips widen in slight shock before you gently shake your head, “No. Nothing like that.”

He holds your gaze for another moment before smiling gently and standing back up, he takes a sip of his drink, “I’m glad. I was worried I made myself look like an ass there for a minute.”

“You never could.”

He glances back at you with a pink dust on his cheeks, looking into the liquid of his cup once again and releasing a shallow breath of relief. There’s an unspoken tension building between the both of you, though you can’t tell if it’s all in your head or in your pants.

The familiar heartbeat feeling pulsing in your panties and you opt for downing half your drink and watching the stupid exchange of ping pong balls instead. Choso rocks idly and shimmies from side to side to let people continue past him, making no effort to move from the spot by your side despite the lull in the conversation. 

He takes another long sip, some alcohol dripping down from the corner of his mouth and trailing down his neck eroticaly; you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, consumed in the way he looks. Choso wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath with a pitiful smile on his face when he turns to you.

“You know I couldn’t help but worry. I know you don’t always come to these parties, and I was worried that my one shot to have you alone was already taken by someone else.”

His eyes are focused on only you and his voice is raw with a rare vulnerability, his cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment and heat from the alcohol. Your heart rate picks up exponentially and you stare at him openly, not even caring if Yuji can see the way you look at his brother. 

Before you can issue a response, Nobara scuffles past the back of Choso effectively knocking him forward and spilling the remainder of his drink all over your shirt. Nobara offers a short ‘shit’ before getting pulled through the crowd by Maki towards the beer cooler on the patio.

Choso’s eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen and his eyebrows furrow as if he could cry from frustration and disappointment. His hands twitch as he quickly drops the empty cup and carefully approaches you, worrying this would be the moment you yell at him to leave you alone and never speak to you again.

“I-I’m so sorry… Y/N.. I didn’t..”

The words die in his throat as he watches you look down at your shirt in surprise and slight disgust at the sticky feeling of alcohol coating your chest. You place your drink on a nearby table and pull the fabric from your stomach to examine the damage.

“It’s alright! Really…” you bite the inside flesh of your cheek with your molars and gnaw on it, wondering how to get the stain out.

Choso gently steps closer and reaches out to take your hands gently, “Here– let’s go to the bathroom. Let me help,” he looks at you with pleading eyes, “Please.” 

You nod once and he leads the way to the stairs, gently slipping between bodies to clear a path for you to step through and ascend the stairs. Leading you down the hallway, he enters the second door on the left into an empty bathroom and shuts the door promptly behind you. 

His hands rush for the faucet while you dig around on the linen shelf to pass him a washcloth; he tests the water’s temperature before raising the cloth to your shirt.

“It’s not too hot right? Not burning at all?”

“No, I’m alright.”

You’re leaning against the counter, feeling the vibration of the bass from the music playing beneath you shake the marble countertop. Choso’s touch is gentle, though his hands shake from nerves and the acute drunken state he’s in; his face is full of self-loathing. 

“Choso.”

He’s kneeling down in front of your torso delicately working on the stain and tilts his head up longingly as soon as his name leaves your lips, “Yes?”

Tongue running over your bottom lip for a moment, you place your hand on his to stop his actions and get his full attention, your own mind still reeling.

“Why did you want to get me alone then?”

He blinks and looks back down at the fabric of your shirt gripping the folds slightly, “Oh.. that?” He looks dejectedly at the stain and frowns harder. 

With a sigh of defeat he keeps his head down for a moment, “I thought I was being so obvious… 

I offered to study at Suguru’s apartment because I thought maybe you’d be home, and always stayed sober with Yuji during his pledge phase just in case you called one night and needed a ride…” he releases your shirt and closes his eyes, “I always wanted to get a moment alone with you to tell you how I felt– but I fucked it all up didn’t I?”

His face is contorted in frustration and self-deprecation; nearly acting in a trance you gently lift your hands to cup his face and pull his attention back to you. He looks back up into your eyes longingly and full of vulnerability, he says nothing as you pull him to his feet and look between his eyes and then his lips. 

Not wasting a single second you slide your hands from his cheeks to wrap around the base of his neck and pull his lips in to meet yours. Choso doesn’t waste a single second either, sighing lightly through his nose and bringing his hands to the plush of your waist. His fingers dig imprints into the flesh on the back of your hips while his thumbs press lightly into the bones of your pelvis.

His lips are nearly glued to yours, tilting his head to the right to allow the kiss to deepen and increase the force he pushes behind it. Your hands tangle in his hair, gently pulling at the raven strands and scratching his scalp while occasional gasps escape his mouth. Moans escape between the both of you, drowned out to the rest of the party from the music, but nearly deafening to the two of you. 

With one more tug of his hair, his tongue gently swipes your bottom lip and without a moment of hesitation you part to allow access. The action has some lip gloss rub off on the flesh of his upper lip, though Choso takes no moment to stop, instead he lifts his left hand to tilt your head further to the side and push his tongue into your mouth. 

The muscle is warm and tastes like a light beer; he takes his time to swipe it along the tip of your own tongue before pushing it deeper. You groan his name and try to pull him even closer to you if it were possible, sighing as he swaps between messy open mouth kisses and closed ones that allow your lips to mold into one. 

With another push of his tongue in your mouth you taste the beer once again but also the sensation of something cold and metal. It takes you a minute to figure out what you’re feeling, the cool orb rolling against your tongue and occasionally clinking onto your teeth when he pulls back. 

Taking a slight breath, he dips his head down in the crook of your neck and breathes deeply while whispering your name, enjoying the moment before he begins to bite and suck along the flesh. You sigh at the feeling and can feel your senses overloading, the heartbeat in your ribs and panties, the scent of his cologne, and the hot tongue running down your neck being cooled by the little piercing in the middle.

“You didn't.. Aahh,” you swallow lightly, “didn’t tell me you have… a tongue piercing…”

Choso groans a response but doesn’t pay attention, nipping at a particular spot just beneath your jaw where his nose tickles the flesh under your ear, “right.. Here?”

His lips suck onto the flesh and his teeth pinch the skin while you squirm beneath him in pleasure; his hand leaves your head and hips to now push you firmly against the counter to keep you still. Choso’s actions are relentless, running his tongue flat across the flesh and letting the metal piercing cool the spot before he continues bullying it. 

“It’s gonna nnngh, leave a mark-”

“-Good.”

Choso remains buried in the corner of your neck but he lifts his lips from the angry purple bruise to speak, “I’m tired of the way everyone stares at you all the time– fuck even Maki and Shoko looked you up and down a few times tonight.”

You run a hand through his hair and pull at the scalp to lift his face to you. His pupils are blown wide with desire so dark it seems the iris is pure black and his shoulder sag with every pant he takes to catch his breath. Despite it, the timid and awkward demeanor remains hidden for a moment, “I want people to know who you’re here with.”

He leans down to kiss the purple hickey, “Not Suguru.” kiss.

His lips trail to the pulse point on the opposite side, “Not Satoru.” kiss.

Lips hover right above yours a moment before he connects them, “Me.”

You push him back gently and Choso’s facade nearly breaks when he thinks you’re trying to make distance and tell him he’s got the wrong idea. Instead, you spin to push him flush against the counter and drag his face back to meet yours in another kiss. 

Instinctively his hands rest on your waist as if they were made for him and he attaches his lips against yours like second nature. Sighs escape him every time your nails gently scratch his scalp and tug at his hair and when you drop your arms lower there’s nearly a whine in disappointment. 

Instead, you run your hands flat down the front of his chest, feeling the swell of his chest rise with each breath and trail down to gently feel the outline of his abdomen muscles with the pads of your fingers. Airy breaths escape more frequently, as Choso fights the urge to escalate things even further. 

With a featherlight touch and without ever breaking contact from his lips, you skim the hem of his shirt and gently graze the flesh underneath. Choso feels like his body is on fire at every touch you make and his grip on your hips intensifies, the heartbeat in his ears louder than the music blaring from outside the bathroom.

His abs flex subconsciously with your touch, and you can’t help the arousal growing in between your thighs as he begins to grind into you. Back arched to keep the angle of his tongue exploring your mouth, your hands dip back down to his navel and run through the course happy trail leading into his jeans. With gentle precision, your fingers dip just the tiniest bit lower to skim the seam of the denim and lightly play with the brass buckle of his belt. 

Choso pulls his mouth from yours before grabbing your hands in his own to pause your efforts, panting in between each word. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you…”

His eyes are sincere and there’s never been a moment in your life you’ve been more sure of than this, “I’m sure Choso. I want to do this with you.”

He continues breathing until his lungs steady out again before running a hand through his hair with a frustrated look on his face, cheeks still red and puffed from the intimacy of the situation.

“Yea but… Look don’t get me wrong I want this to happen more than anything,” he pauses and scans your face before continuing, “and I know I’m gonna hate myself for stopping here but.. I don’t want something just casual or physical with you. I think… I think it would kill me if you only saw me as a one night stand when you’re so much more to me.”

His hands sweat as they hold yours, and his eyes search yours for any sign of reciprocity, and the whole situation is so sweet you could cry. After so many assholes and douchebags, his words are enough to make your knees weak from only kissing.

You remove your hands from his and before his eyes could portray the heartbreak about to happen from the action, you pull him back in to meet your lips, “I want the same thing Choso. I do.”

He pulls away to see your face, but you connect your lips again between each sentence, “I almost feel bad for all the times I invited Yuji out to things because it meant I could see you.”

Choso lets out a chuckle of relief and connects your mouths again with longing before you pull back to continue, “I want this.” Kiss.

“I want you, Choso.” Kiss.

“All of you… and not just for tonight.”

He swallows thickly and his Adam's apple bobs again, pupils still blown out as you kiss his lips one last time before sinking just a bit lower onto the plush bath mat. Your hands fiddle with his belt again, and this time he doesn’t stop you, letting you slide it out of the loops of his jeans and toss it onto the floor without care. Chaste kisses go down his navel, your nose tickling the hair that pokes out right about the seam of his boxers before sinking down just a bit further. 

His hands grip the countertop with enough force his knuckles turn white from the pressure, “ohh fuck Y/N.” 

Your fingers trail just a bit lower, spreading the fabric of the zipper fly open and letting his erection push out into the air, only restrained by the thin material of his boxers. He stares at you intently, watching the way you trace the outline of the small liquid patch of precum forming as his hips twitch in anticipation. 

You meet his gaze and drink in his disheveled and eager appearance before facing his erection again. Placing a few chaste kisses to the tip of his cock that’s now pushing past the fly of his boxers, he sucks in a wince and jerks his hips forward subconsciously in search of some sort of friction. 

After a few more kisses, you look back up to him with a nod and raise your fingers to the elastic of the band and seam of his jeans. Hooking your fingers under the fabric and pinching it with your thumbs, you tug it down maybe 3 inches before his hands stop yours one last time.

“Wait– I uhh..” his hands shake nervously, “I just haven’t shaved in a minute… I’ve not exactly been sleeping with anybody recently.”

You blink and grin up at him, kissing his knuckles gently and then shooing his hands away to tug the materials down juuuust a bit further. His happy trail dissolves into a bit more hair, but nothing unruly, and the ‘V’ line of his pelvis connects to several protruding veins that all lead down to the base of his cock. 

Despite the steamy atmosphere, Choso winces at the change in temperature and jerks his hips forward again; this time the flushed red tip connects freely to the corner of your mouth and smudges any remainder of your lipgloss.

His dick is long with a few prominent veins tracing alongside the under border of the shaft that disappear behind a small tuft of dark hair at the base. Not necessarily thick, but heavy enough in your hand you can’t help but wonder how’d it’d feel inside you. Pearls of precum drip from the slit at his tip and the ghost of your breath against the skin is enough to have him nearly begging for something anything. 

Opening your mouth, you guide his cock to your tongue laying flat and lick a few long stripes along the shaft before focusing on the tip. The action is enough for Choso’s hand to lose balance for a moment and send a few soap bottles on the counter scattering onto the floor in a string of curses.

You pay no mind, licking a few more strokes to lubricate his dick before sucking in your cheeks to build enough saliva to spit onto his cock. It’s messy and wet and when you finally inch him into your mouth and stroke the base you can’t reach, he’s buckling at the knees. 

“Oh shittt…. Yea,” his hands run into your hair, pulling any loose strands away from your face and allowing him an unobstructed view, “J-Just like that… fuck baby”

Your thighs squirm at his praise, feeling yourself grow embarrassingly wet just from the way your name begins to slip from his lips like a prayer. Slight tugs on your hair earn grunts from your throat, and the vibration makes Choso twitch with each bob of your head.

A dull ache in your jaw, you alternate between taking him in your mouth with hollow cheeks and tight suction to using both your hands to jerk him off while your tongue laps at the tip of his cock. The skin is fresh and salty precum coats your taste buds while your nose is tickled by the strands of his pubic hair that linger at the base. 

“S-Shit.. I’m gonna-”

Choso holds your head steady while he lightly thrusts into your mouth, not too deep to gag you, but enough to cause a few tears to prick at the corner of your eyes. You purse your lips to give him just a bit more contact, “Fuck.. Y/N.. I’m…”

“Choso? You in there?”

There’s a knock at the door followed by Yuji’s slurred voice, “You’ve been gone for while… everything ok?”

You pause for a moment and look up at Choso, who’s released his grip on your hair and resorted to covering his mouth with his palms. Taking the opportunity, you resume your actions, bobbing along his shaft, kisses and licks to his tip, and the occasional graze of his balls when you jerk his shaft to the same rhythm as your lips.

His hips jerk and his face shows the most worried and sex-drunk expression you’ve ever seen. Lips quivering and trying to remain silent while his body betrays him and grunts and flinches with immediate response to each of your touches. 

“Hello..?”

The handle to the bathroom jerks slightly, now immediately known to the both of you how it wasn’t locked.

“Wait!”

The door stops and remains shut, Yuji hums in attentiveness at the response, “Ah so you are in there! Hurry up– I need a new pong partner bro!”

Choso watches the door in horror and resorts to biting the knuckle of his right index finger to avoid moaning out your name.

God he really was the worst brother huh? Here Choso was, getting the best head of his life from the girl of his dreams, aka his brother’s best friend, at a party which was THROWN FOR HIS BROTHER.

“I-I’m not…ughh… feeling too well..”

Choso shivers and hunches forward in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face while his eyebrows contort in pure ecstasy. 

He was going to cum. He was going to cum in the mouth of the woman he’s been helplessly in love with, who is the one girl completely off limits, with his brother unknowingly listening to it on the other side of the door. 

“Oh really? Hmmm, just pull trigger and meet me downstairs– ‘kay?”

Choso barely lasts the extra second of seeing Yuji’s shadow under the door disappear before his hips jerk from your grasp and cums. Hard. It’s messy, not quite in your mouth, but also not aiming for your face; insteads pools of it make it onto your tongue with others now clinging onto the apples of your cheeks and strands of your hair. 

“Ohhh shit–”

 He helps you pump him a few more times to ensure it’s all out while you swallow the load in your mouth and wipe at the remnants on your face. The stars eventually pass and his hips stop twitching in slight overstimulation as the weight of everything clarifies in front of him.

Immediately he takes your hands and raises you to your feet, helping to clean your hair with the forgotten washrag from the stain earlier. Gently, he wipes everything away, careful to not mess up any makeup, before sighing at the sight of your bruised and red knees.

“You didn’t have to swallow you know…” he blushes but keeps looking at you, “your knees-!”

You tilt his head back to face yours and connect your lips to his. Any flavor of lipgloss is replaced by the taste of his own cum when his tongue slides into your mouth again without any hesitation. Your tongue flicks against the metal orb a few times before pulling back and wiping a stray line of saliva from the corner of your mouth.

“That was… fuck Y/N,” he keeps panting before you nudge him slightly in the shoulder.

“Well, aren't you going to chase after Yuji now?”

“Why would I?”

You blink in a slight shock at his immediate reaction, never seeing him prioritize anything besides his brother’s happiness. He looks at you as if you had asked something ridiculous, though he doesn’t hold any ounce of condescension on his face. 

“I just figured–”

“ –Figured I would walk away from the beautiful girl in front of me to go play beer pong?”

You shrug into a blush and dig your chin down slightly at the embarrassment of hearing the question out loud. Choso chuckles and lifts your chin to kiss you again, “No I think I’d like to stay by you if that’s alright. Though the thought of Yuji potentially hearing us will haunt my brain for years to come.”

You chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again while his hands find solace at their home on your hips.

“Let me reciprocate, okay? I wanna make you feel good too.”

A shiver runs down your spine and your back arches involuntarily at the anticipation; nipples hardening into the fabric of your bra from the thought. Choso’s hands wander further down to the swell of your ass and give a light squeeze before resting on the flesh under your thighs.

“Jump for me.”

Obeying the short command, you give a slight hop and allow him to rest his forearms under your thighs with the palm of his hands gripping onto each cheek of your ass. His biceps flex from the weight, though he holds you as if you were only as heavy as a housecat, shifting your weight in his arms but never struggling to maneuver. At eye level he nudges you with his chin for one more kiss before spinning and letting you open the door of the bathroom. 

With a short peer down the hallway, he makes a quick break for one of the bedrooms and this time remembers to actually lock the door behind him. Gently, he places you on the edge of the queen size bed sitting on the left side of the room, kissing you once again before stepping back watching you kick off your doc mary-janes and unties the laces of his own boots. 

Music is still blaring off in the distance, though noticeably quieter, and Choso flicks on a dim floor lamp in the corner for some light. He steps between your thighs and runs a hand through your hair with a slight tug before sinking to his own knees at the foot of the bed.

He plays with the hem of your skit absentmindedly and kneads the flesh of your thighs before looking up and swallowing, “Can I?”

A simple nod is all he needs to hoist up the edge of your skirt to pool around your waist and scoff in frustration at the opaque tights now in his way. Shifting his hands from your waist, he takes some of the tension from the fabric around your pussy in between his fingers and rips it open.

“Hey-!”

“It’s in the way..” he whines quietly with no ounce of actual remorse in his voice. 

He takes the fabric and rips it further, exposing the dark purple lacy panties covering what he was so desperately searching for. A dark patch stains the fabric from your helpless desire and whimpers escape your lips above him when he drags a single finger up and down the material in awe. 

“All this– for me?”

“Shut up..”

Your face burns in embarrassment but Choso doesn't care, gripping the fabric and pushing it to the left to expose half of your sopping cunt. He shudders at the sight and immediately places a few kisses to flesh, addicted to the way you squirm with each contact. Though he grows frustrated quickly and tugs at the rest of your tights, keeping your panties caged on.

“Stupid fucking–”

“Choso.”

He looks up, impatient, while you lean onto your back to shimmy the elastic band of the tights down to your thighs and lett Choso drag the material down your legs and throw them to the floor.

“See? You didn’t need to rip them.”

“Hah.. sorry baby.”

There isn’t a chance to react to the pet name he’s begun calling you before he takes a moment to admire the way his favorite color looked when it decorated your pussy, and drags it down your ankles to join your tights on the floor. 

Instinctively your thighs move to shut, but his hand splay them back out to expose your cunt further. A shiver running down his back and a new erection growing in his half-worn boxers, he leans down to admire it further.

“Stop staring. It’s embarrassing…”

 You’re mumbling with your attention turned anywhere else in the room as your cheeks burned. 

Embarrassing? How could this be embarrassing?

Choso looks up at you and then back down, “How could this ever be…? This is the pussy I’ve been dreaming about for months, and you’re going to say it’s embarrassing?”

He takes a moment to let his tongue lay flat and lick a long stripe up the core of your cunt, “This is the only thing I can ever think about…”

The warmth of his tongue makes you wither from the sensation and the cold metal ball in the center causes your spine to arch from the contrast. Taking a few more licks he pushes your back onto the bed and makes space for him to now also lay on the comforter, hanging half off the mattress and humping against the box spring while he makes out with your pussy without shame. 

His tongue drinks up your arousal without hesitation and his tongue dips into your core while his hands wrap around the underside of your thighs to keep them open for him. The piercing bumps into the spongy interior of your pussy while his nose grinds against your clit,  his head rocking into your cunt at a steady rhythm. 

 You groan his name and grab a fistful of his hair and tug hard while he moans in response. After a few more licks he kisses your clit, “Alright.. That should be good…”

Wearily, you look up and watch as he sucks his index and middle fingers in his mouth before he spits down onto your cunt and sinks a finger inside. Throwing your head back from the slight stretch, he watches the way his finger disappears into your pussy, “Shit.. fucking tight as hell baby.”

Choso thrusts his finger in and out and in and out before returning his lips to your clit and sucking on it. 

“Oh my.. Nnghh...”

His other hand holds your hip steady before increasing the pace of his finger and pulling back from your clit slightly. Choso watches your face as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt as well to ensure there’s no sign of pain before thrusting his hand harder.

“Fuck!”

That unexplainable feeling builds in your gut and your hips rock to meet his lips in more friction to chase that high even quicker. Choso notices and twists and bends his fingers from within you, eager to find that one spot while leaning back down to suck at your clit again.

With one more bend of his fingers he can feel it, the spongy rough patch that nearly feels like a citrus peel, and as soon his fingertips graze it, your back arches even more. Grinding down his fingers, his name leaves your lips like a mantra.

“Choso… FUCK.. yea, like that– haa.. Yea that..”

He grinds his hips along the mattress to get some sort of friction while his fingers increase the pace, committing to memory every single sound and taste. Your eyes are screwed shut in focus and shamelessly groaning out as you chase your high.

That knot in your gut forms and gets exponentially tighter before inevitably snapping. The feeling leaves you twitching against his lips and hand, riding out the pleasure and whimpering at the inevitable overstimulation when his mouth refuses to part from your cunt.

“God,” he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue instead, “taste so fucking good. What the hell.”

You claw his hair to part from your thighs but he makes no effort to move, the muscles bulging in his skin, refusing to move from their position as he drinks in every drop of your orgasm. The piercing tickles you as his tongue continues to flick inside you, only pulling back for air and to admire the fucked out face you’re now making. 

Completely pussy-drunk he pulls himself back from your thighs and licks at the sheen of your cum still resting on his lips before climbing over you and connecting your mouths. The taste of your own orgasm would cause pause any other time, but Choso is kissing you with so much want and desire it makes your mind go fuzzy.

“Feeling ok? Sorry if I got carried away,” he nuzzles down into the crook of your neck on the side without the hickey, “just wanted to do that for a while now…”

Wearily, you pet the strands of his hair before Choso sits up and takes the hem of your shirt in his hands and pushes the fabric over your head and off the side of the bed. He admires the pretty lace of the matching purple bra and skims over your hard nipples with the pads of his fingers, the black nail polish glowing in the dim light as he pinches the nerves. 

After a few open kisses to the swell of your breasts and leaving a few marks along the way, he shimmies your skirt off and tosses it to the ground. With a pout you sit up and wrap your fingers along the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, pausing when his chest is revealed. 

Abs sculpted from stone and a variety of small scars along his ribs from stories you’d like to hear one day are enough to make you nearly drool while you stare. It’s the ultimate sleeper build that he’s kept hidden behind baggy t-shirts for way too long. 

“Ok I think I get it now when you said it’s embarrassing.”

Choso looks to the side and gently smiles, his ears dusted pink before you lean up to run light kisses along the mark across his face and trail down to his cheek and navel. 

“So pretty.”

“Don’t you mean handsome?”

“That too.”

He smiles and meets your lips again while your hands go back down to his jeans and attempt to push them down before reaching back and unclasping your own bra. Immediately, he dips down to wrap his tongue around your left nipple, running the piercing over the nub while his hand kneads the fatty flesh of your other breast in his fingers. After a few additional licks and bruises are added around the left tit for good measure, he swaps and pays equal attention to the other one.

He’s in heaven. Silently thanking the gods above for this opportunity and wondering if maybe in a past life he had been a hero of some sort to deserve this experience with you. 

After a moment you push him back and tug his pants and boxers back down the rest of the way, giggling when his foot gets caught in the material and ‘interrupts the mood’ as he calls it. 

“Ah wait.”

Choso pauses from his position of gently pushing you flat against the bed beneath him, wondering if this was too far for your first evening as a… couple? The idea is more than enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation. Fuck, even being called your ‘boyfriend’ could make him bust on the spot. 

“Do you have a condom?”

Choso’s eyes meet yours and he looks back to his jeans, wondering if his wallet would have one or not but ultimately deciding there’s no chance he would actually carry one with him. To be fair, the goal of this party was to ask you on a date without the company of Yuji or Suguru, so to get this far is a miracle in his book. 

“No.. I don’t”

You gnaw your lip and look between the both of you, his long hair tickling your cheeks from the proximity and the tip of his cock occasionally kissing the entrance to your cunt with every twitch. Fuck.

“We don’t have to–”

“Buy me the morning after pill?”

Choso sputters at your response, eyes nearly falling out of his skull, the first time he gets to sleep with you, he gets to hit it raw?

Ok he must’ve been a knight or a king to get this kind of treatment. 

“Y-Yea, of course.”

You pull him down for another kiss and admire the way his hands now shake in anticipation and worry; nearly the same face he made before cumming earlier. It’s a fair assumption considering Choso is convinced he may bust after maybe three strokes. 

The humiliation would kill him, so he swallows and glides the tip of his cock up and down the folds of your cunt a few times. Getting some of the lubrication from your earlier orgasm, he also spits into his hand and coats the shaft to make it smoother. 

With a tap on your clit for good measure, he lines up with your entrance and slowly sinks inch by inch inside. The feeling is a stretching burn that doesn’t hurt but needs a moment of getting used to while Choso cages you underneath and whispers patient soft praises into your ears. 

After a moment he finally bottoms out and the hair from his pubes tickles your clit as he fills you to the hilt. A breath of relief at the sensation while Choso releases a breath of focus, his hair sticking to his forehead in slight sweat. 

His knee pushes up on the bed and opens your thighs wider before he begins to slide in and out, mumbling nonsense with each stroke. The missionary position befits his immediate possessive nature, giving him a perfect view of your face and a decent angle to watch the way his cock disappears into your cunt with each thrust. 

You pull on his strands and kiss him, licking the metal orb on his tongue before admiring the way his abdomen flexes with each movement.

“Oh fuck-”

It’s hard to tell who’s talking in between both of your incoherent babbling, your mind growing fuzzy from the stretch of his cock and smack of his pelvis on your clit, and his brain going completely pussy-drunk and murmuring a string of sappy promises of how happy he is to finally have you to himself. 

Tilting his head to the side, you dig your canines into his neck in an attempt to mark him in the same way he had done previously. 

“Shit.. ahh”

His hips rock unevenly so you increase the suction and dig your teeth once more before a particularly rocky thrust has you biting down harder than you intend. A slight metallic taste of iron coats your tongue and you immediately pull back and apologize for breaking the skin.

“N-No… shit..ahhh baby.. Do it again…please”

Choso keeps his neck open for you to continue sucking on, stuttering with his words and hips at the sensation of his warm blood gently trickling down his flesh. Wordlessly, you move down to another spot and bite down, though not enough to tear the skin and Choso whimpers pathetically from above you. 

“Wait actually–” he pulls back and gently pulls out, hissing at the lack of contact before sitting on the bed next to you and pulling you to straddle him, “I’m gonna cum too fast like that… haaa, you can just ride me, ok? Ride me however you want, baby.”

Sinking back down and sighing in relief when he’s finally kissing your cervix with his cock again, his hands lift to play with your tits while you grind against him. Hands on his shoulders and focused on achieving an orgasm, you rub down especially hard on his slight bush for the friction against your clit. 

Choso admires the way your chest bounces with each movement and settles his hands on your hips, helping you fuck him senseless. 

“Haaa.. you know it’s funny” Choso pants in between bounces, “I always wanted to give you a ride home…”

You laugh and shove his shoulder slightly, falling forward and grinding the tip of his cock against that spongy patch inside your pussy again. Immediately your hips falter and your shoulders slump forward while Choso wastes no time in sliding back down on the bed and planting his feet firmly. Grabbing your hips, he flexes his thighs to meet your thrusts and push further into that spot with his dick with more even force.

“Yea that’s it.. Just fucking use me okay?”

Your thrusts are uneven as your hips twitch with every thrust, feeling that familiar sensation building inside once again. Every thrust has your face contorting with pleasure and Choso can feel himself also ready to finally let go and cum; having been trying to think of anything else to make himself hold out just a little bit longer. 

After a few more strokes, your face is warped in pleasure while he continues thrusting from underneath to drag out the orgasm. Twitching with spinal convulsions from the intensity, Choso watches in awe as he fucks you through the overstimulation and watches the creamy ring from your cum form around the base of his cock. He takes his fingers and pushes it back onto his shaft as more lubrication,taking any remainder on his fingertip to his lips and sucking it off.

You fall in a slump on his chest and he plants his feet firmly onto the mattress, fucking up a few more times before erratically grinding into your pussy and reciting your name over and over again while hot streams of cum fill your cunt. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N-”

The sensation is filling and warm while his hips jerk up a few more times to ride through his orgasm and ensure no drop of his cum is left. His arms are wrapped up and around your while both of your bodies stick to together from the sweat and fluids.

“Haaa,” Choso lets out a half laugh and pushes some hair out of your face before leaning up to kiss you again.”

“That was great.”

“Mmmm, yea,” he pecks your cheek again, the intimacy of the situation becoming not just sexually, but emotionally raw as well, “Let’s do it again?”

You look over at him with a fucked out expression, your hair a complete mess and makeup poorly smudged.

“I mean not now! Haha,” he slides out from your cunt and sighs from the loss of contact as his erection deflates back down to flaccidity. “I think I’m empty.”

You nod and roll off his body but stay intertwined with his limbs as you lay next to him, silently wondering what the fuck the plan was now. Tracing his jaw with your fingers absentmindedly and skimming the mark across his face, you notice the way his eyes never leave yours and his head leans into your every touch.

“Oh that’s right–” Choso looks at you with realization and an embarrassed smile on his face, “Can I take you out sometime?“

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yea…?”

You laugh and lean forward to kiss him and Choso immediately meets you in the middle as if he was constantly waiting for the next time your lips would meet his. 

“I’d like that. Get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

His voice is too excited and he instantly backtracks in a poor attempt to act casual, “Oh tomorrow? Yea… yea I should be free.”

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

He kisses the hand you use to flick his forehead and smiles up at you before biting one of your fingers idly, “But aren’t I…. your dork now?”

You sit up in the bed and lean down to kiss him, “Yea, you are,” before shimmying off the bed and wobbling around to find the remnants of your clothes and shoes.

Choso watches from the edge of the mattress, an obvious pout on his face at the loss of contact from your body.

“I just need to pee ok? I am NOT about to get a UTI before exams.”

Choso huffs in defeat and stands up to sort his clothes from your own, wincing in weak remorse when you throw your ripped tights into the bedroom trash can.

“I’ll join you in a moment.”

You step out of the bedroom and wobble your way down the hallway, not bothering to relock the door, while Choso slides on his boxers and jeans in one pull. He moves around the floor in search of his shirt when footsteps quickly approach the bedroom and Yuji swings the door open.

“Oh there you are!”

Choso is frozen solid standing in a room torn apart that reeks of sex while being covered in sweat and remnants of cum.

“I just saw Y/N walking sooo funny to the bathroom and flipping me off,” he laughs and covers his abdomen, “She totally just got fucked-”

There’s a silence between the two men.

“Hey where are your clothes?”

“Uhhhh…”

Choso stands half-naked with his shirt not even around his neck as Yuji quickly begins putting dots together and stares at his brother in complete shock. Before another word can be issued between them Todo appears and smacks Yuji’s back.

“My best friend, why are you interrupting your brother at this moment?”

“He’s,” Yuji points out, still in complete shock at Choso, “He’s banging my friend!”

Choso winces but Todo just crosses his arms and sighs in disappointment, “Allow him to relish in the feeling of finally getting the person who he desires the most.”

“Yea but she’s my-”

“If I had the opportunity with Takada or YOU had the opportunity with Megan Thee Stallion or Megumi.. Would you want HIM to burst into the room?”

Choso has no idea how this idiotic comparison is somehow making Yuji ok with the idea of him sleeping and now dating you, but he isn’t about to ruin the opportunity. 

“No… I wouldn’t”

“See? You’re growing up nicely. But!” Todo returns his hand to Yuji’s shoulders and guides him out of the room, “You still have training to do until then… you need to beat me at flip cup now!”

Choso waits half a moment before sighing in relief but knows when Yuji’s sober he’ll have to come clean in a better way; he slides his shirt back over his head and scurries out to the bathroom. A quick courtesy knock before he swings it open and shuts it, before standing behind your figure washing your hands. His hands wrap around your waist while he places small kisses on your shoulder.

“Choooosooo”

“Hmmm?”

“You left a million hickies!”

He giggles and laughs into your shoulder before mumbling ‘good’ and spinning you around to face him. 

“Everyone will notice.”

“That’s the point.”

You roll your eyes playfully and then look back down at your shirt, still uncomfortable from the sensation of the now cold and sticky fabric.

“It’s kinda gross…”

“So wear mine.”

You look back up at him as he effortlessly slips his own shirt off and tugs at you to do the same, though his eyes linger on the swell of your tits long enough for you to swat him away playfully. It’s an oversized band t-shirt that nearly falls to the same length as your skirt and smells just like his cologne. 

“I might never return it.”

“I’ll give you a million of them if you promise to always wear them,” he kisses your lips, “especially around Suguru and Satoru.“

“Hmm? Jealous?”

He chuckles and keeps his hands planted on your hips, “How could I not be? Those two get to see you all the time while I have to pretend to leave shit at your apartment as an excuse.”

Your heart tugs at his confession and you push the hair falling into his face back for a moment before it cascades back down to its original spot, “You know you can see me whenever you want to as well now?”

He smiles wide and plants a few more pecks onto your flesh, the awkward and emotional side of him creeping back in.

“Wait, you’re gonna be shirtless now?”

“Yea, I don’t really mind if it means you’re comfortable.”

“But everyone is gonna see the hickies I left on you.”

Choso smiles and pivots to admire his back in the mirror, “Hey don’t forget the scratches– ow!”

You shove him lightly and laugh before opening the bathroom door and making room for him to step out after you. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight? I don’t really want the first thing I do when I wake up to be to explain to Yuji about all of this.”

“Yea, that’s fine.. Was there something else you were thinking of doing when you first wake up?”

He follows you to the edge of the stairs, the music getting louder and louder, “I have a few things in mind, but–” his eyes trail down to his own doc marten boots and your mary-jane ones, “I want the first thing Suguru and Satoru see when they get to the apartment to be my shoes next to yours.”

OMGGG a really long one shot and my first NSFW on this app hehehe

hope you liked it! I'm gonna make a list of holiday topics and try to grind them out despite it being halfway through the month already whoops -> Choso's would be a part 2 to this one :)

reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated <3

-oatmeal

[katiascraft]

so i thought like reader being williams social media manager and she is also Francos ex girlfriend. And now Franco is coming into f1 and they see each other again? I don’t know if it makes sense hut yeah. Maybe you like the idea. Love your stuff💗

Hey sweetie 💌 ooooooh I love the idea! I love drama and second chances! Hope you like it. Thank you so much for your request! You are the first to do so. And so I wanted to let you know you made me so happy today :3 (sorry if it took a while but better late than ever! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well 🩵)

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“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” | FC43

Parings: Franco Colapinto x WilliamsRancingEmployee!Reader.

Summary: Franco and you broke up a while ago. You didn’t expect to see him ever again until he starts driving in F1 for Williams Racing Team.

Now playing: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +2,4k.

Warnings: a little angst? And fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: thank you anon for your request again! First time writing about Fran - maybe I could get used to this. Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were trying to not lose your umbrella because of the wind. It was raining pretty heavily. England was never a city where happy spirits lived. The sky it’s pretty much sad and depressed most days of the year. But you loved it. You loved feeling melancholy. Remembering your past with a smile or tears.

You had something of not overcoming the past pretty fast. It’s really hard for you to let go and deal with deadlines.

You got finally to the bus stop where a ceiling was now protecting you a little from the water. You were heading for the Williams Racing factory where you’ve worked for a few years now. You were the social media manager at Williams. And you had a meeting with the marketing department.

These last few months were really hard on you. And the reason was just one single person. And that was Franco.

You and Franco dated for two years back when he got in F4. You were teenagers. But still he was the guy who made you feel all the butterflies for the first time. The relationship didn’t end pretty well. You didn’t wanna end it but he told you that he had already made his decision. He needed to be focused to be able to jump to F1 and your romance to him was a distraction. That hurt you so much. And it still hurts thinking about it.

You heart stoped for a second when you saw a guy walking towards your same bus stop - you thought it was Franco because he takes the bus to work just like he always did since you two met. But it wasn’t. Though the guy from afar looked a lot like him. You calmed yourself down.

You job got pretty tricky since Franco jumped finally into F1. You were so happy for him. You wanted to talk to him and tell him how proud of him you were but you couldn’t. You were supposed to hate each other. Working with him was a challenge. You just decided to pretend you didn’t even know who he was and treat him as you treated Alex or Logan before. Even though your heart raced so fast by just looking at him, talk to other people.

First time you saw him was back in august when James announced a new driver was chosen to replace Logan. You loved Logan. Such a great guy. But you understood this was also a business and money is top priority. And Williams isn’t a team with many economic resources so each penny counted. James did an introduction to him a day before the race. He said hi to everyone. When you two saw each other just shook hands. You couldn’t even look at him. When you were back home you had a breakdown and needed to call your therapist because you don’t know how the fuck you were be able to deal him every single day. And even post about him most of the time because for your unlucky luck people became obsessed with him. Everybody loved Franco. And you understood why: he was the most charming and handsome boy you have ever met. And he didn’t change a bit after one year of not seeing him - you thought - forever.

Finally you took the bus. You were gonna be late so you texted your co-worker Amanda to let her know it. You sat on the only free seat that there was.

You were preoccupied in revising everything you had to stay and show in your meeting you didn’t realize the guy sitting next to you was actually franco.

After an awkward silence Franco broke the ice “hey… buenos días” he said with a raspy voice. He was nervous. Not sure if you were okay if he even opened his mouth.

You felt colder than the weather when you heard him. You looked at him to check you weren’t dreaming and indeed you weren’t. You give him a little smile. “Oh hi fran” that’s how you used to call him. Your heart sank a bit. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t see you. I have a reunion and didn’t want to forget anything. You have a workout today?” You just decided to talk to him. A little chat wouldn’t kill you. And you hated pretending you didn’t know him. He smelled just the same. The same perfume. He had his mate bag with him and a boca juniors gym bag. Just as how you remembered him. You licked your lips nervously.

He nodded shyly and you saw his cheeks turning red for some reason. “Yeah I have gym today. And everything’s gonna be fine at the meeting. You always explain yourself perfectly” he said, sending you a sweet smile. His voice was deep and raspy. You knew he was still a little sleepy knowing it was almost 8am. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you” you said sweetly. Another weird silence took place between you two. You didn’t know what to say. You just looked around.

“Are you still mad at me y/n?” He said out of nowhere. The words just jumped out of his mouth. He was still hunted by what happened between you two. You looked at him again, giving him a sad look. You denied it with your head.

“No I'm not… I’m just sad. We were something right? But you know. It was hard to let you go but yeah…” you hesitated in what you could tell him. You didn’t even know what you were feeling right now. He stared at you a few seconds and nodded looking down. He started playing with his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about all of this when you finish your meeting? I really think we should talk. I… I don’t like when you pretend you don’t know me… like we never knew each other you know? I feel really guilty about it. And… I’m proud of where you are now. It was your dream and you made it. And you’re really good at it. You give fans what they need” he said shyly and sad? He was working hard to show he can be an F1 driver. That he deserves a seat. But also he was really sad because he since decided to end things with you. He already regretted it.

Yes, he was more focused but he didn’t have your support. He isn’t into physical touch but your hugs were his favorites. He would let you touch him forever. He felt empty and really lonely. Even his family had to deal with the grief of not having you around anymore.

Yes, it was worth it for a while when he had James tell him he was gonna drive an F1 car for the end of the season. But when he saw you standing there. More beautiful than he has ever seen you. You looked so happy and profesional. So beautiful. And bright. He hated himself right there. Because you'd have done it together if he wouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t think he was in love with you when you broke up. But as the time passed he felt miserable. Getting home and seeing no one. No music. No you playing sims and showing him the sims you created while he was gone. No cooking cookies for tea time or ‘merienda’ how it is called in Argentina. Anyone to share mates with or talk about the day. No one to cuddle on the sofa or to forget about everything in bed. No one to go out and eat dinner. Or day trips to London. There was nothing left.

He was an asshole to you. And he really hated himself for that.

You couldn’t keep on talking because the bus was really where you needed to be. You both got down the bus in silence. And just walked side by side into the Williams factory announcing yourselves at the gate.

You were thinking about his offer. Like you needed it but at the same time you were scared. But you decided to follow your heart.

“See you after the meeting then?” You said when he opened the door of the factory for you. His sad look turned into a very smiley one. He nodded.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be waiting for you at the cafeteria. Is that okay?” He said walking behind you because you were running late for the meeting. You turned to him a little.

“Sounds good to me Fran. See you in a bit” you said in a smile but feeling really weird at the same time. You didn’t know if that chat was gonna be the end of you or the relief you just needed. You didn’t know. But you knew you couldn’t keep going the way you two were.

You disappeared from Franco's view while you ran up the stairs to the office where the meeting was being held. He just stared there for a few seconds wondering. He didn’t know if talking was the best move but he felt better after you said yes. And he realized how bad he missed hearing you call him Fran. He got into the gym. Everyone was already there so he didn’t have time to keep thinking about you. Now it was time for a great workout. And a pretty intense one.

(…)

You got out of the office 2 hours later. It was intense. You had a headache now and you needed some coffee. You were regretting deciding to meet Franco but it is what it is. Maybe could it be relaxing? You didn’t believe yourself. But you were sure you just had to give him another chance and maybe be friends.

You walked down the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. When you got there you could see Franco sitting alone at one of the tables. There wasn’t anyone. It was just you and Franco and the women at the kitchen. You smiled. You were a little bit more relaxed knowing it was kind of private. First you headed into the kitchen and asked for a coffee. You knew Franco didn’t want one because you saw him drinking mate. The woman handed the coffee politely to you and you thanked her with a sweet smile “have a good rest of the day Amelia” you told her sweetly grabbing your coffee and now walking towards franco.

He saw you and gave you a bright smile. “Hey” he said, moving his stuff so you could sit with him at the table and have space for your coffee and things. He was reading some papers that were given to him by one of the engineers back in the simulator.

You smiled looking at him. He had showered and smelled incredibly good. And he looked so gorgeous by the sunlight that was coming in from the window. “Hey did I make you wait too long?” You said sitting down and getting comfy.

“No no I got here like 30 minutes ago” he said softly and sweetly. You looked so beautiful in your formal outfit. Though he remembered being crazy about you when you wore pajamas. You looked so cute. He missed you. Like crazy.

“Oh okay. Thank you for waiting for me” you thanked him and took a sip of your coffee. And he did the same with his mate.

“So… how are you? How’s your life been?” You said to start talking and leave the uncomfortness of the situation behind and just chill out and be okay with this. Or at least you wished that but you were a bit anxious of this conversation taking place.

“Well… to be fair it just depends on which aspect of my life you ask. In my driving life everything’s been great. Better than I could ever have expected. In my personal life to be honest I’ve been miserable” he said, giggling a little at the last part of his answer. You smiled sadly looking at him.

“Well maybe we aren’t so different. I’ve been miserable too personally. And at work gray. Better than ever. But you know a guy I used to date decided to fuck my life up by just being selfish so yeah - life’s shit” you really didn’t want to go there so fast but you just couldn’t control yourself. You’re still hurt. And you needed to be vocal about it. You deserve it. You could see he got nervous and readjusted himself on his chair.

“Oh yeah I think I remember him. He was an asshole to you. Then he felt empty and guilty and lonely and got depressed. But you know he deserved it for being such an idiot. I wouldn’t have let you go if I were him. You are in fact an incredible woman with the worst sense of humor I’ve ever met. And by worst I mean best.” He said talking in third person funny. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You looked at him nodding.

“Yeah he was a selfish asshole but we can also agree maybe that he looks gorgeous now. If he has another girl then I would be really jealous. He is really a sweetheart. And a professional clown. Very funny. He should do stand up” you followed his way of navigating all of this mess you two created. He laughed and your heart melted. You loved making him laugh. Your heart started racing and butterflies reappeared in your stomach. You felt dumb.

“Oh no he is pretty ugly in my opinion. You were too much for him but like positively. You are fucking sexy and he is just a dude” he said raising his shoulders quirky and funny. You got so flustered.

“Well maybe you're right. I’m not gonna deny I’m on top level” you said joking giggling. He smiled wildly. There you were again. The you he was madly in love with. And the he was. The guy who made you laugh until you cried. The one who made you so happy.

It would’ve been fun if he would’ve been the one. Or maybe does he still have a chance?

“Look y/n I’m really sorry. I really am. I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix anything but I would really love it if we could be friendly and try to figure this out on good terms?” He said more seriously and you nodded agreeing.

“Yeah we can try. Everyone deserves a second chance right?”you told him. You had mixed feelings about it but you knew that maybe this was the best you could do. Try to make things easier between you two will also be beneficial for your work.

“Alright” he said with the biggest smile you saw him having since you saw him again. “You want some?” He asked, offering you mate and you just nodded, smiling at him and agreeing.

Just like the old days.

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Hope you liked it 💌 if you have anymore ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Chapter 2 - My scars won't heal

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.5k

💔 💘

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA, we die like men. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Author's note: ok, so I kinda his a manic a episode and now I'm writing the second chapter literally the minute I posted the first. We'll see how long it will take me to finish this one but if y'all are lucky, maybe we'll get 2 chapters in one day!

Author's note 2: lucky streak gone but at least it'll be on time. I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every Friday, but we'll see how it goes, life's kinda crazy rn.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of child abuse, Azzie is a traumatized baby, this chapter is actually more fluff than angst but still, we die like men.

Rhys opened the door, only in his pajamas with his hair sticking up in random places. It must have been a long night. Nyx just turned two a couple months ago and he was having a horrible time sleeping through the night. Rhys and Feyre took shift but everyone knew that Rhys was the one that usually stayed up with him.

"hey I'm sorry, I know it's late, or well early, but we officially have an emergency." You said while Rhys just glanced between the two of you, it took him a good second to realize that there was suddenly an extra little one with you both. Azriels shadows darted past Rhys's feet to go check if the house was safe.

"yeah come on in, I'll go get Feyre." Rhys stepped aside and let you both in before jogging tiredly up the stairs to get his mate. You quietly sat down on the couch to re adjust the little hat Elain made for Astrid, fixing it to sit on her delicate head better. You chuckled as Rhys's appearance. Who knew that out of get trapped in hell for 50 years, enduring another war and having a baby, it was the baby that finally got him. "Poor high lord."

Azriel was still standing but he seemed to be enjoying bouncing Rhain in his arms, rocking him side to side as his shadows created a Shadowy mobile above them. He chuckled softly at your comment, glance in his brothers direction before looking back to the little boy in his arms. They were practically making heart eyes at eachother, if it wasn't so late at night you might have asked Feyre to paint it.

The way Azriel interacted with children was honestly what drew him to you in the first place and the ease in the way he can calm them makes your heart melt every time. Your mate was always so still and calm so seeing him bouncing and sway your daughter and the same way he does with Rhain now, made your heart soar higher than the stars above.

You were still smiling at your mate when you heard rushed footsteps flying down the stairs. You didn't have to look up to know that Feyre was running to come see the little one. The Shadows flared defensively but calmed at the sight of their high lady.

"OK, WHERE TH-" you shushed her quickly before she woke up all three kids in the house. She was still in her night gown and her hair was tied back messily. "Sorry, where the hell did this little cutie come from!..."

You chuckled as Feyre took Rhain from your mate. He looked skeptical and basically hovered over his sister in-law as she cuddled the baby. The Shadows however, seemed content to huddle around you and Astrid on the couch, completely ignoring their masters anxious behavior.

"Az, would you calm down, she's not gonna drop him." You say barely containing your laughter. He was actually just as overprotective as the day you brought your daughter home. It was adorable.

"Oh my gods! What's his name?!" Feyre squealed quietly and came to settle on the couch next to you. Rhain was babbling softly and grabbed Feyre's finger in his small hand.

"Rhain. His name is Rhain." Azriel said, still standing next to feyre, he's hands twitching at his side, wanting to take Rhain back from her. You shook your head at his antics, he's had this baby in his care for like 2 hours and he's already acting like Mother hen.

"I'm sorry, I know it late and I know that Nyx id having issues sleeping but we don't have anything that will fit him and I decided that this officially classified as an emergency."

"No, don't worry about it at all! Not at all, no! Not at all!" She said less to you as she cooed down at your little boy before actually lifter her gaze to you and responding. "Yeah, absolutely this is an emergency. Come on I'm sure I could spare some jumpers for him, Cauldron knows that Rhys is gonna buy him more anyway."

Feyre stood and tried to walk away with the Rhian still wrapped I her arms but a wall of shadows came to block her from walking away just long enough for Azriel to take him back. Feyre just rolled her eyes and lead you upstairs, muttering jokingly to herself about Azriel being overprotective.

2 hours later you all were back at your own home, azriel settling the baby's down for bed. You had added a temporary separator in the crib just for tonight, you'll have to make a trip to the Palace quarters tomorrow for another one. Your mate had just finished building your daughter's nursery and now you're either gonna have to rearrange everything or finds another room in your home for a second nursery... Wonderful...

Once they were both swaddled, wings and all, they were out like a light before he could flip the switch. You were sitting in bed trying to read and relax but you mind was reeling from the days events. Your mind wandered to Rhain. He was so small, he still had that fresh baby smell. You had tried to explain the smell to Mor one time but she thought you were crazy, must be a mom thing. He was underweight and dehydrated from what you could tell, the poor thing could barely suckle the bottle you had fed him earlier. You were lost in thought, book discarded laying open in your lap, as Azriel came into the room, his footsteps as silently as ever.

"So how much trouble am I in?" Your head snapped up at his voice. 4 years... 4 years you had been together and he still manages to sneak up on you, you'd think you would be better at spotted him now but no. You looked up at him, you eyes locked on him as you pulled yourself from the whirlwind of questions and worries you had gotten lost in. He was leaning forward against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. His Shadows fluttered and flitted out into the room randomly as per usual when it was time for bed. It was interesting, most people thought Azriels Shadows were just extensions of him but in reality, most of them had personalities and curiosity, it was kinda cute to watch them.

"come here..." You opened your arms for him and waited as he quickly shrugged off his leathers and siphons, a few of the Shadows helping him by catching his siphons and placing them on the dresser silently. He sank onto he stomach and into your arms with a sigh. He nuzzled his face into your chest as his wings relaxed and sprawled across the massive bed.

"I'm not upset with you. I mean I would have loved a heads up that we were gonna adopt an infant today but I know that the circumstances were anything but ideal. Trust me I would have been PISSED if I found out you didn't bring him home. You are the most compassionate and empathetic person I've ever known. Thats one of the reasons I love you so much." You smile as you feel every muscle in his body melt under your hands, your fingers working out the knots from his back. He let out a breathy moan when you gently pressed your fingers into the onyx skin at the base of his wings.

"he needed me, and you. Besides your a good mama, if anyone could give him the love he needs it's you..." He lifted himself slightly to settle on top of you better, he's arms wrapping around your waist and his thighs spreading yours a bit more. You took a second to bask in the moment, your fingers tangling and brushing through his hair, a couple of shadows coming to rest on the pillow next to you. You thanked the mother for moments like this. For the times when you both could just hold each other and feel just as loved and seen as if you had spent the night making the house shake.

"Thank you... for understanding, for not being upset. You have every right to be..." azriel mumbled, his voice laced with emotion. He was right, you did have a right to be mad but you weren't. How could you ever be upset with him for being the most loving male in Prythian?! You hugged him tighter and kissed his forehead.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever your thinking about?" You smoothed a hand over his back to try and comfort him. Even though you had been mated for a few years there were still secrets and things he refused to tell you, especially about his excuse of a childhood. You knew the basics, a general idea of how he was treated but he never went into details. You liked to think he wouldn't tell you because he knew you would find his half brothers and rip them to shreds, although You knew in reality it was most likely just to painful to actively try to remember.

"yeah I do, but not tonight. I... we can talk about it tomorrow, I don't want to ruin the night..." He said choosing his words carfully. Azriel easily sat up and flipped you both so you to rest against his side and pulled the covers over you both, the Shadows that had been occupying the pillow previously jumped away I'm a misty puff. You didn't press. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to open up. It made sense, that he past would rear it's ugly head after he brought Rhain home. You left a small kiss on his chest before snuggling into him and letting yourself drift off into your thoughts, the shadows descending over you both is calm wave urging you both into sleep.

Thank you so much for reading and as always I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you wanna be added to the tag list please comments or DM me to be added!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67 @celestialamore @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @queenoffeysand @suppppp97

[thistlecatfics]

Talking about Incest in Public

(both the painful traumatic kind and the hot fictional kind)

As it turns out, lots of the people who read and write taboo fiction have survived some deeply fucked up shit. After talking about incest with other survivors on the Moon, Sun & Stars discord and answering questions, I decided to share more about my experiences and the things that helped me survive and the things that helped me heal, because there are a lot of us, and a lot of us feel very alone, and maybe there are other people who aren’t incest survivors but who might want to know more to better support the survivors in their life.  

–

Incest is not just a sexual act between two family members -- it's a larger system of absence of boundaries within a family, and it's almost always part of multiple incestuous dynamics, even if only one might be the obvious or explicit dynamic. 

If you’re an incest survivor, you’re almost certainly not the only one in your family. 

-

“The true characteristics and dimensions of incestuous abuse have been masked by the taboo and silence that have surrounded its occurrence. Recent research demonstrates that incest occurs regularly in our society, perpetrated by individuals who, for the most part, would otherwise be regarded as fairly normal. The taboo on incestuous relations is a deterrent to some would-be perpetrators but not to others. The taboo contradicts the reality of incest prevalence, a fact which led Armstrong (1978) to comment that th taboo has been on the open discussion of incest and not on its perpetration.”

-Christine Courtois, “Healing the Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy” 

–

To use my family as an example - 

My (similarly aged) brother did sexual things to me as a kid, and I had a range of reactions to it including pleasure and enjoyment. And confusion. And fear. I do not think he is bad or even what he did was bad. I think we were both two kids who existed in a family with incestuous dynamics, and we were both shaped by those dynamics and trying our best to survive. 

From a young age, I existed as a physical comfort object to my mom (when she was sad she'd get into my bed to hold me until she felt better while I dissociated), and I took on the idea that my role in the family was for my body to be used to make other people feel good. The sexual behavior by my brother felt like an extension of how my mom held me. 

My mother was the victim of incest from her uncle, and her parents sided with her uncle over her when she spoke out about it (even after he was facing legal consequences for his behavior with kids outside of the family) (even after he fled the country). She didn't know how to emotionally regulate herself, and I don't think she had (or has) the capacity to understand a child's need for physical autonomy and boundaries because her own were never respected. 

There were other incestuous behaviors and dynamics within my family which I'm continuously discovering and unpacking. I think my mom’s uncle abused my grandmother too but I’ll never know for sure. It’s deeply uncomfortable to look back on a happy family story or a childhood nickname and see something sinister underneath and wonder if you’re being paranoid or if it’s actually that bad.  

–

Things that have helped: 

Long term relational therapy (5+ years). EMDR. Adopting a cat. Adopting more cats. Antidepressants. Reading about incest (realistic, terrifying, academic). Reading about incest (fictional, hot, amateur). Being a competitive athlete. Getting a graduate degree. Going on long walks late at night. Telling my family I had Covid so I could skip a family vacation. 

These books specifically: Healing the Incest Wound by Christine Courtois, The Myth of Normal, Dissociation Made Simple, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, The Narcissistic Family Unit, Clementine Morrigan’s writing x1000. 

The protector parts: Eating disorder. Self harm. Drinking. Perfectionism. Depression. Suicidal ideation. I’m grateful to these imperfect protectors I’ve leaned on over the years. 

Things that have not helped: 

You will be shocked to hear that people on the internet yelling about how people who find fictional incest hot are disgusting and bad and dangerous did NOT in fact help me unlearn the belief that experiencing incest made me disgusting and bad and dangerous. Luckily, I’m built of spite. But it certainly did not help. 

(If I think about my vulnerable pre-teen/teen self reading those things, I become deeply angry. How dare you hurt her in the name of protection.)

- I don’t cater to all these vipers Dressed in empath’s clothing God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see

-Taylor Swift, But Daddy I Love Him

-

After I discovered fanfiction in middle school, and then after I realized that there was a world beyond OFC/Draco Malfoy fic, I read a lot of Blackcest. I devoured any I could find, hopping through rec lists on LiveJournal. 

Reading Blackcest fics, first Bellatrix/Sirius then Sirius/Regulus mostly, allowed me to see my experiences reflected. Those fics gave me a way to contextualize my family and my role in it. I hate the expectation that kids who experience bad things should go to a safe trusted adult rather than find art that romanticizes their experience. The whole point is that there isn’t a safe trusted adult. The whole point is that I needed the art. I got to hold the romanticized narrative until I got far enough away that I could put it away in a box until I had enough therapy that I could safely open the box and build a new, more honest story. 

Obviously plenty of people love incest smut and fic and art. It’s taboo! It’s angsty! It’s a classic! Probably most of those people don’t have direct personal experience with incest in their families. I’m glad they read and write fics too. 

But for me – have you ever experienced something you believe so strongly you will never be able to say aloud? That any time you see your secret referenced it’s in shock and disgust and revulsion? You can pretend – you’re very good at pretending – but you know it’s real, and you know it’s your secret you’ll hold onto for the rest of your life while the world reminds you how disgusting you are? 

Then you find that people are writing about what you experienced in a thousand variations that all contain some nugget of your truth.

I cannot express in words how important it was that I found those stories at that time. 

I never commented on a single fic. I never made a single account on any of the sites I read fanfiction on. I clicked the “yes I’m 18” box without hesitation every time. I wish I could go back in time and have my adult self articulate the enormity of my gratitude for each and every author who helped save me whose work exists on sites I can only revisit with the Wayback Machine. 

I understand why people might feel horrified at the idea of a 11-12 year old reading smutty incest Harry Potter fanfic. People aren’t wrong for feeling that way. 

That said, I truly don’t care what people who aren’t incest survivors think.

I’m so proud of that child for finding a way to survive. She might have hated herself, might have fantasized about death, but she survived and kept the truth of her experience wrapped up in a fictional world where it could be safe to explore and kept it there until years and years of therapy made it possible to engage with it in reality. 

- I’m a real tough kid I can handle my shit They said, babe, you got to fake it till you make it And I did

-Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart -

No one is writing about incest the way Clementine Morrigan is right now. I’m so grateful for her. I’m not sure this little tumblr post would exist without her essay series. 

"Incest functions as a spell of unreality. A structure of nothingness. A completely normal and unremarkable family life in which something unnameable is ominously and terrifyingly wrong. You know in the summer when you can see the heat making the air go squiggly? Imagine those squiggles as an indication that in the seeming nothingness, there is something there. Incest is like that. Subtle, pervasive, unthinkable, unnameable. But present, felt.

As a teenager I came up with this metaphor: Imagine you are in a house full of bugs. There are bugs crawling all over all the walls and all the furniture and in your food and even on the fork you are lifting to your mouth. And you feel disgusted, you feel like something is really wrong. But your whole family is acting completely normal, laughing and eating and talking as bugs crawl over their faces and into their mouths. When you tell them you think there are bugs in your food your family says it’s just pepper and not to worry about it.

There is no way to talk about incest without feeling that you are lying. This is because incest lives in the realm of unreality and everything in the realm of unreality cannot be thought or said or named. When you speak of things that happen in the realm of unreality it will always feel like a lie and be treated like a lie. You are breaking the fundamental rule. You are not allowed to talk about what goes on in the realm of unreality because it isn’t real."

Read more and pay for her writing if you can on her substack.

-

Without a doubt, the not-explicitly-sexual incest from my mom fucked me up more than the explicitly sexual incest from my brother, but I only feel confident claiming the incest survivor label because sexual stuff was done to me by a family member, and I still feel like I’m lying sometimes because it wasn't bad enough to count. 

I’m a literal mental health clinician who can map out various incestuous dynamics within my family and who has clear memories of a family member doing sexual stuff to my child body, and I still feel like I’m lying. 

I believe you if you feel like a liar because I bet you do. I believe you if the incest never included anything directly physical. I believe you if you enjoyed it. I believe you if you don’t remember but feel like it’s true. 

I love us. 

If we’re monsters, I love our courageous monstrosity.

If we’re liars, I love the way we make up stories to survive when reality is impossible. 

If we’re an uncomfortable truth, good. 

-

It still impacts me. I’m not over it. 

It’s very difficult for me to imagine love that does not include violation. To be loved and to be allowed to maintain a self. 

But I’m open to learning otherwise, and that openness is new. 

-

I was so, so good at living in unreality. I could make myself perfect, such a flawless object until I couldn’t think of anything except killing myself, but even then I still maintained the image of perfection my family expected. 

It’s cool I never actually killed myself. 

I find it hard to be around my family now. There are advantages of living in unreality. I drink a lot more when I’m around my family than I ever did before, but I don’t think about killing myself nearly as much. Reality is worth it. Being able to exist as a person is worth it. 

- I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

-Sylvia Plath

- I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. (I insist.)

It didn’t kill me then. It’s not going to kill me now. (I remind myself.) 

My life is worth living, and there are fights worth fighting, and it is undeniably true the world is full of horror, but it is good to write and create and be alive, and it is good to try. I’m a little afraid to post this, but the fear and shame isn’t mine to hold, and I never should have been the one holding it. 

Consider this a thank you note sent out to the universe in the hopes the sentiment echoes towards those authors who saved me then and to all the writers who are saving people now. Your art matters. No matter how weird or niche or dismissed or hated it is. It matters. 

Thank you.

[rememberwren]

Dichotomy of Thought || 11

Past and further chapters here.

Simon and Johnny make up.

|| Chapter warnings: Anal fingering, anal sex, baby-trapping, medication tampering, medication control.

-

Your boyfriend manages your medications, a one-man pharmacy. 

Every morning the pills are waiting for you on the table in the foyer beside where you deposit your keys in the evening. There are two of them. 

The first is oblong, tan. Your boyfriend hoards and hides the bottle, but you’d fished the information pamphlet that came from the pharmacy out of the trash, and you know everything there is to know about it from that page jam-packed with text. Sertraline, 50mg. Otherwise known as Zoloft. Just swallowing the tasteless pill makes you remember the even darker days than the ones you’re living now, the ones that had led you to that waiting room with your boyfriend in the seat beside you waiting for a doctor to see you. How do I know if I’m depressed, you had asked the doctor, bold as anything even with your boyfriend’s hand on your knee, or if my life just isn’t worth living? 

You’d learned. By God, you’d learned. 

The other pill is your birth control. Round, sometimes blue, sometimes white, depending on where you are in your cycle. Today it is white and—

It looks—different. 

He wouldn’t, you think to yourself, thumb nudging at the pill in your palm, like seeing it from a different angle might jog your memory of it. He wouldn’t do that. A kid is the last thing he wants. He wouldn’t sacrifice his own freedom just to keep you trapped underneath his thumb. 

Except—wouldn’t he? 

“Hurry it up,” he says, yawning, like you kept him up late last night. “I want to go back to bed.” 

You try to take a picture of the pill in your mind before you drop it onto your tongue, taking a swig from your water tumbler, but your brain feels so scrambled that you forget it right away. You can’t even remember the color—had it truly been white, or had it been the pale sky blue of  robin’s egg?

It goes down like a lump of chalk. He makes you show him your empty mouth before he’s satisfied that you aren’t cheeking the pills, and then he kisses you and tells you to have a good day at work, honey. 

-

“Rooster wants you in his office,” Jackie says under her breath, helping you hurriedly clear one of your tables. You’re slow with the splint on your smallest finger, the throb of pain lancing all the way up your wrist each time you use the damaged hand. Jackie has been an angel in khakis picking up your slack. 

You wish that you had one of the pills that they’d given you in the emergency department. It hadn’t taken away all of the pain, but it’d made your head feel light and floaty and like you could care less if all your fingers were broken. Or maybe you wanted one of Johnny’s pills—the ones that put him in a peaceful sleep. You haven’t had such a thing in so long that you can’t remember when, even your moments of relaxation tainted until ‘rest’ is just waiting for the next act of violence. 

“What does he want?” you ask. 

“Probably to tell you about the raise,” she says. She rolls her eyes and twirls a fingers, mouth set in a grim smile of comradery. “Fifty cents. Writing home about it as we speak. Or maybe he wants to grill you about who keeps stealing from the registers—like we all don’t know it’s Ruth.” 

Fifty cents. You can’t even turn up your nose at it. Every penny is one that brings you closer to that apartment across town. With a promise that you’ll return as quickly as you can, you step off the floor (avoiding making eye contact with any customers who would happily sideway you for refills or to complain) and into the back of the house. It’s quiet back here, cooler. Rapping your knuckles against Rooster’s door, you wait. 

There’s no response, and no sign of him in the hallway. Some of the line cooks are coming in, filtering toward the break room to start their shift. You feel their eyes on you as you stand impotently outside the door. One of them says something to the other, and there is laughter, too loud and boisterous for the enclosed space. Your heart has begun to pound, sweat breaking out at the nape of your neck. 

“Hey,” one of them says to you. 

“Hi,” you mutter, forcing a smile, unable to make eye contact. 

Still there is no sign of Rooster from either end of the hallway—never would you have considered the short man your savior. Heart racing, you crack the door open and see that the office is empty. You slip inside, shutting the door safely behind you. 

The room is as self-important as you might imagine: a desk that seems too large for the space, filing cabinets in the corner. There’s a corkboard pockmarked with holes after years of use, and you drift over to it, too anxious to take a seat in the chair on the other side of Rooster’s desk. A calendar is posted there, Rooster’s neat handwriting here and there. 

Something catches your eye: LOCKER CLEANOUT marked for two weeks from now. 

It seemed like the last locker cleanout had just happened. You had only collected five hundred dollars back then, but it was far too much to want to explain to Rooster, and you had nowhere else to stash it that was safe. In the end, it had sat in an envelope under the driver’s seat of your car while Rooster took the week and went through each of the lockers to ensure compliance with the restaurant’s rules (all because someone used to have a penchant for leaving snack cakes in their locker leading to a bad case of ants that almost led to the restaurant being shut down). It had been the longest week of your life, like driving around with a live bomb underneath the front seat. 

Now you have nearly two thousand dollars. Where the hell were you going to put it? 

The door opens. Rooster looks at you suspiciously, eyes flickering between you and the calendar. 

“Next time, wait outside,” he says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. It makes your skin crawl to be alone with him, even if he’s never done anything slimier than asking you to pull a double shift. You know the darkness that lies inside men. All men. 

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, taking his seat in a squeaky rolling chair behind the desk. His smile is a dismal, strained thing, like interacting with you is just as painful for him as it is for you. “Next time, just wait.”  

-

Johnny and Simon spend the day in bed. 

Johnny’s knee is propped up on a pillow, red and swollen. Simon lets his fingers hover over it, gentle, feeling the warmth of Johnny’s skin. Johnny winces, like even the brush of air against his knee hurts. 

“It looks infected,” says Simon. 

“It’s not.” It can’t be. Johnny can’t handle that—can’t handle the idea of having to go through the surgery on his knee again, the recovery, the way recovery is just synonymous with pain. No, it isn’t infected. “Just looks like that because he hit it.” 

Simon leans down and brushes his mouth against Johnny’s thigh. It’s meant to be sweet but—well. It’s the closest his mouth has been to Johnny’s cock in more than six months, and just the sight of it has Johnny’s heart skipping a beat and picking up again in double-time, his face growing flush. Not privy to Johnny’s thoughts, all Simon does is press a chaste kiss to the skin a few inches above where Johnny’s swelling starts—nevermind what else might be swelling now, too. 

The two of them lay entwined together, Simon curling up around him. He plants a hand on Johnny’s clothed chest, right over his heart, like he’s trying to remind himself that Johnny’s here. That Johnny’s alive. The look in his eyes is far away, mouth drawn down into a tight frown. All at once, Johnny’s downright sick of it—sick of them not having anything to smile about. Sick of fighting. 

Johnny takes Simon’s hand, laces their fingers, and guides it down. Down over his slim, firm belly, watching from the corner of his eye as Simon’s brows climb up his forehead. Down until their hands cup his half-hard cock. Simon’s hand shifts straight away, fingers curling around the solid length, thumb stroking up the side, the gentle rasp of his calloused fingerpad loud against the cotton of Johnny’s boxers. 

“You’re hurt,” Simon reminds him. 

“Don’t care.” 

“I do.” 

“We don’t have to fuck. I just—” he doesn’t know how to explain, how badly he needs to feel something good. How badly he needs to know that his connection with Simon isn’t ruined. How badly he needs to see that they’re still lovers, that Simon isn’t just his live-in caretaker. How badly Johnny needs to feel like a human being—like a grown man. He finishes, a little lamely: “I just need it.” 

Simon’s grip goes firm. Johnny’s eyes shut, mouth falling open at the sensation. He hasn’t even touched himself like this in weeks, and while he hadn’t necessarily been keeping track, his cock clearly has been. Simon seems content to go on like this, mapping the shape of Johnny’s cock through his boxers, thumbing over the head until a wet sticky spot appears in the cotton fabric, his hand sometimes drifting down to cradle the warm heft of Johnny’s balls. 

Johnny, usually impatient, contents himself with this torture. Let Simon tease him all day, if he’d like, until Johnny is liable to go off at the whisper of a touch. The thought has his cock jerking toward the warmth of Simon’s palm, and Johnny groans when his grip tightens. 

“Fucking pretty, aren’t you?” Simon mutters, his eyes on Johnny’s face.

Johnny snorts. He tosses his arm over his eyes, but beneath his arm, he’s grinning. “Shuddup.” 

Simon clicks his tongue. “Be good, Johnny. Let me look at you.” 

Johnny moves his arm and gives his grin room to breathe. His head feels light and airy as Simon sits up and helps him work his boxers down his thighs just far enough to draw his cock out. The first touch of skin on skin has him hissing a breath in through his teeth. Fuck, it’s good. Just as good as it always was—maybe even better, because he needs it so bad. 

“Want you inside me,” Johnny says on a whim, feeling the truth of it in his chest. He doesn’t just want it—he needs it. 

Simon leans down and kisses him, just a little too hard to be mistaken as anything but desperate. How long has it been for him, Johnny wonders. He spends every waking moment with Johnny except his perfunctory showers. Does he indulge then, between soaping and rinsing off, holding his breath to hide his sounds while he strips his cock with one slick hand? 

It takes some maneuvering to get Johnny on his side, knee nicely cushioned. He can’t reach back and touch Simon, can’t grip his hip and pull him in closer, and it’s just another reason to miss his arm. Because there are a hundred thousand touches Simon deserves that Johnny can’t give him anymore. 

They’re lucky for the shelf life of the lube. It warms Simon’s fingers as he works them past Johnny’s rim. He takes his time, hands shaking where they touch him. 

“Need it bad, huh?” Johnny wonders. 

Simon snorts but doesn’t deny it. Just curls his fingers searching for that tender spot inside Johnny’s ass that makes him grit his teeth. His cock drools onto the bedspread, red and throbbing with his heartbeat. By the time Simon slips inside him, chest to Johnny’s back, Johnny feels liable to go off at a moment’s notice. 

For all the time they haven’t fucked, Simon remembers everything: the way to touch Johnny,wrapping a strong arm around his chest to make up for the one Johnny lacks, fingers playing with the whorls of Johnny’s chest hair or teasing one of his nipples; the way to angle his hips to nail Johnny’s prostate. 

“Quit,” Johnny groans, shifting until the stimulation isn’t so good, so dead-on. His cock aches, balls heavy and tight. “I don’t want to cum yet. Don’t want this to be over.” 

“Can’t miss Johnny; dick’s too big.” 

Johnny guffaws. The sound nearly startles him—when was the last time he fucking laughed? With you in the park—but he doesn’t need to be thinking about you now, not you with your small, soft hands and the curve of your mouth…

“Fuck—touch my cock, please touch my cock—“ Johnny whines, body trembling. He’s right there, right fucking there, too close to go back now, fuck it all, he wants to cum. Simon’s strong fingers curl around his cock and strip it firmly, and the pleasure inside him bubbles up and over, left too long to simmer. He nearly headbutts Simon in the face, his body shaking and jerking and cum splatters against his belly and the bedspread and down over Simon’s fingers. 

“Just like that—so good, Johnny,” Simon murmurs. His pale hand grips at Johnny’s sharp hipbone, cum smearing against Johnny’s skin. “My turn.” 

Afterwards, Simon gently helps him undress and goes to get them both fresh clothes. Johnny’s knee throbs freshly just from his muscles tensing, but he barely feels it. For the first time since his accident, he thinks that maybe things will be okay. He has no arm—but so what? There are many with a lot less. He’s John fucking MacTavish. He can do this.

Simon has gone still at their closet, holding something in his hands. Johnny leans up on his elbows. 

“What is it?” he asks. “Did you find my lighter?”

Simon holds up with no preamble a skull-embossed balaclava. It’s worn, the fabric gone gray at its most threadbare spots, but the image imprinted on the front hasn’t faded.

“Blast from the past,” Johnny says, throat uncomfortably tight with an emotion he can’t name. “Thought you threw those out.” 

“Thought so too.” He doesn’t look eager to throw this one out though, his fingers tracing over the teeth, like he’s tracing the lipless mouth of a lover. 

“You miss it,” Johnny says, the glow of their sex fading rapidly. Of course Simon misses it. The military had been his entire life—until Johnny’s accident. Until Simon had discharged with him, to take care of him. Johnny hadn’t just blown apart his own life by going down in the helo in Kazakhstan, he had blown apart Simon’s life too. 

“No,” Simon says simply. “It’s not that.” 

Johnny frowns. “What is it, then?” 

“The night of the poker party—I was Ghost again. It was the only way I could…compartmentalize. Stomach it. I’d forgotten.” 

“Forgotten?”

Simon glances toward him. “Forgotten how useful Ghost could be.” Reaching up, Simon slips the balaclava over his head, adjusting it on instinct until it rests just right against the bridge of his nose. His hair is getting long, little blond strands visible, curling at the ends. 

“Now I want to fuck you again,” says Johnny, just to fill the air between them, and because sex used to be such an easy way to fill it. 

Simon doesn’t smile. 

“Johnny.”

“I was just teasin’—“

“Not that,” Simon says. Even his manner of speaking seems different, words clipped, tone short and no-nonsense. “What if I wanted to go visit our neighbor?”

The question lingers in the silence between them. Johnny swallows, the sound of his throat an audible click in the tense air. 

“You,” Johnny wonders, when he can speak again, “or Ghost?” 

Beneath the balaclava, Ghost smiles. 

[esmedelacroix]

All the ways you disappoint me.

pairing: boyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: The honeymoon phase confirmed it's existence for the second year of dating Miguel. Your love life went from flourishing to one-sided the day Miguel revealed to you that he was Spiderman.

cw: ooc miguel, very angsty, depressive behaviors, alcohol abuse

a/n: I have been on hiatus for a very long time. I've been in a very dark place this past month. I lost a very good friend of mine that I have known since middle school. Which really threw me off track. I have a bunch of works in progress coming out soon. I finally feel like I'm in a mentally okay spot to pick up writing again. This is lowk just word vomit but its something.

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

miguel masterlist | next part

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Disappointment. A feeling you you felt often. Maybe even too often. You were very familiar with disappointment. He only ever came around late at night. Disappointment would wrap his arms around you as if he wasn't the reason why there was a wet spot on your pillowcase almost every night.

All Miguel O'Hara ever does is disappoint you. "So why are you still with him?" your good friend Jess asked over hot morning tea.

"What am I supposed to do without him?" you questioned.

"That's not a very healthy mindset to have. You know that," Jess said putting a firm comforting hand over yours.

You look away for a moment. Eyes trailing out the window of the Spider Society Café that reeked of coffee and broken promises. Miguel O'Hara was married to the barista who would hand him five coffees minimum a day. He chose to marry the barista and work and not his own girlfriend of three years.

As you watched the birds create an arrow in the air flying north over the firey trees below. Part of you wished that you were a bird in this very moment flying away from the problems that devoured your brain from the inside. "You still with me?" Jess asked worriedly.

"Yeah," you sighed turning back to her.

"So you'll talk to Miguel tonight?" Jess commanded. She did that a lot. She would ask a question that sounded like an order which made you feel the need to obey. You simply nodded bringing your mug to your lips and sipping on your now-cold Earl Grey tea.

"Isn't it strange how quickly tea gets cold?" you thought out loud.

"Well that's kind of how tea works hon'," she answered.

. . .

You stopped waiting for Miguel to come home ages ago because you didn't think there was a point in it. Just like how you didn't see the point in trying to talk to him about putting effort into your relationship. In the same way you shouldn't have seen the point in staying with him after your last thousand arguments. You felt your eyelids get heavier with every passing hour you spent staring at the ceiling waiting to hear the door swing open.

Like you summoned him with your mind, you heard the door. The keys. The sigh. And the footsteps. Your heart began to race. Why am I nervous? You asked yourself. You stood up and walked out of your shared room.

Miguel's usual routine was to get home eat the food you prepared for him hours prior, shower, and go to bed. As you walked down the hallway leading to the kitchen, you stopped yourself before turning the corner. Inhale. Exhale. You stepped out into the kitchen and his head shot up immediately. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. That’s new. An apology, from Miguel. You thought to yourself.

"No, no, I was having trouble sleeping," you answered in a quiet voice.

"Everything alright?" he questioned as he scraped the last bit of food on his plate into his mouth.

"Yeah, I've just been thinking," you started.

"About?" he asked urging you to continue.

"Miguel do you still love me?" you blurted out.

"Of course I do," he replied in a fraction of a second. He sounded almost hurt that you had even asked that question.

Moments like these make you forget the status of your relationship. Moments when Miguel would forget that he's supposed to be cold to you. The moments when he allowed himself to let his guard down around you. Those fleeting moments that should have never left your relationship. "Then why don't we spend any time together? I want to be around you Miguel, I don't care if we sit in silence in the most boring place on the planet. I just want to be in your presence," you admitted. He gave you that little hurt expression again.

"I—I've just been busy," he stuttered. Miguel would often do this thing where he would begin to say something and then cut himself off and choose to say something else.

"Miguel, you know you can tell me anything," you insisted.

"I just—can we please not do this right now?" he pleaded.

You gave him a frown. "Can we sleep it off? Talk about it in the morning?" he sighed rubbing his face.

"Will you even be here in the morning?" you ask under your breath.

"I'll see," he said putting a hand on your shoulder as he walked past you into the bathroom. He did it again. He cut off the conversation the moment it got hard for him. Why are we so complicated? You asked yourself as you lay your head on your moist pillow. Will there ever be a night where I don't cry because of him? A night where he doesn't confuse me with his actions?

. . .

That night as you lay in bed with his back faced away from him, you couldn't help but cry. You felt like you were drowning in your tears. Like they were holding you back. You tried to be as quiet as possible. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You repeated to yourself.

The only happy thoughts you could think of were of Miguel. Or the Miguel you used to know. The person he used to be before he started using his job as an excuse to neglect you.

Just then when your breathing slowed and you calmed down a bit with tears still streaming down your face. He wrapped his arms around you. He cuddled you from behind. He did that often. When he thought you were asleep. It was almost as if different versions of himself occupied his brain. You liked the one that took the spotlight at night.

The one that would cuddle you. Nuzzle his nose into your hair. The one that would rub your back and. Apologize. To. You.

. . .

Apology fell asleep that night and disappointment woke up at the ass crack of dawn because there was another Spider-verse that needed saving.

You woke up later that morning to the usual chilling feeling of Miguel not being there. You got up stretching your arms as you walked to your kitchen. You made yourself a cup of tea and an omelette, and ate alone, in silence. Thinking. About him. Again.

For the second time this week as if you called for him with your heart, you heard the balcony door slide open and a masked man swing in. He took his mask off and shook his head adjusting his hair. "Good morning," you said with a stupid smile on your face. Why? You couldn't tell. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually here in the morning like he said he would be.

"Good morning. You’re in a good mood," he chuckled.

"Well you're here," you smiled.

Miguel gave you a look. You weren't sure how to feel about it. But it wasn't a bad look. It was nice. Kind of sweet. He prepared a pot of black coffee and talked about his morning in Peni Parker's universe catching a difficult anomaly. For a moment, you could feel little fireflies set off in your stomach seeing him talk about something he was passionate about.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked as he took a seat next to you.

"Just about us and our recent slump, I guess?" you started.

"I'm listening," he hummed as he sipped his coffee.

"I want to spend more time with you Miguel. I want to not argue with you about how much time you spend at work. I want to know what's on your mind. I want to know how you really are and not just how you say you are," you admit. Miguel stayed quiet for a while in thought.

"I don't know what to say to that," he said; his voice cracking a bit.

"You don't have to say anything just—let me be your shelter, please?" you suggested.

. . .

That night Miguel didn't come home. He didn't come in the middle of the night. He didn't come to eat either. He didn't come to wrap his arms around you. And he didn't come to apologize.

. . .

I don't like it when my friends tell me I have a drinking problem. How could it possibly be a problem if it makes me feel better about all the things that rack my brain? Being vulnerable is much easier said than done. Especially, with the girl I love. Of course, I want to tell her things. I want to tell her everything. I want her to know me as well as she knows her hometown. As well as she knows her childhood cat. And as well as she knows how to navigate Pinterest.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll cry and she'll think I'm weak. I'm afraid she'll think I'm unworthy. I know she would never think those things about me. But how could anyone think anything differently if I think that way about myself?

That's why I turn to the friend that won't let me down ever. Endless Modelos. Because I'm so weak that I can't even open up tp my girlfriend. Every time I feel like I am finally ready to tell her what I'm going through, I stop myself because I am afraid.

. . .

To your great surprise, Miguel wasn't there in the morning. Or the next, or even the one after that. By the third you hadn't seen him it was beginning to stress you out. You wondered if he was safe. If he was even still alive. You decided to go to the Spider Society.

After talking with Jess for a while and babysitting Mayday for a bit. You were finally free to go see Miguel in his office. You opened the door and called out to him but the only thing you heard from him was a sniff. Then two. Followed by a third.

"Miguel are you up there?" you asked as you climbed the stairs to his his platform.

"No?" he said in a shaky voice.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. You saw your answer in the form of 10 too many emptied beer bottles on his desk and on the ground.

You rushed towards him discarding your purse on the ground. He brought his hands to his face and he hid. From you. Your heart sank to the lowest pit in your stomach it could reach. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulders and crouched down next to him. "Miguel, talk to me, please?" you whispered.

Nothing.

. . .

The worst way Miguel could ever disappoint you happened. You had imagined it happening in so many other ways but not like that. You never thought of him as the type of man to give up on something so good.

For the last time in your relationship, Miguel O'Hara disappointed you when he told you he wanted to break up.

. . .

next part → All the ways I defy you