#but see me defend Ray!

[scrumptiousstuffs]

LOOK AT HIM!!!!!

Source: Khao’s personal IG

07/07/2023

[hushedstars]

There is one thing I'm kind of wondering about.

Do addicts, ones that are so deep in like Ray is (I've been observing him more this ep and he really is constantly buzzed, his cheeks flushed. The most sober he looked was in the club, when he talked to Sand.), could really see that they should not introduce drugs etc. to sb else?

Especially in Ray's case when he would do anything to please Mew. Mew wants? Mew gets it. It's not like Ray is sober enough to actually think rationally (he does briefly question Mew about smoking, but hey fun is fun right?). He doesn't even want to admit he is an alcoholic, never mind a drug addict.

Mew knew FOR YEARS that drugs, and too much alcohol, and smoking (I guess) are bad. But he is having his moment, and doing bad decisions. That's on him.

Yet everyone is blaming Ray for this? That he is dragging him down? (Top and Cheum did mention how Mew is changing himself, but it still circled back to "the bad friend" Ray when even Mew was like "I do what I want".) Sure, Ray is not a saint, not blameless. But Mew walked into his lifestyle with open arms. Looking at what he said to Top that "he is only caring about himself now, a free man", I would gather a guess that he doesn't see Ray as a person anymore. Just sth that he can use to: change himself, spite Top (the kiss), have the fun that everybody seems to be so into. Also the faithfull one (welp, that didn't go well).

Ray is drowning. Had been for years. Mew knows that but it kind of looks like he either forgot or never really got it. That this "fun lifestyle" Ray has is his way of destroying himself, of escaping from reality, and not sb he really wants to be (or still would be if he didn't have his issues). Yet he chose to be like him for his "Mew upgrade". Sb others see as a burden. Sb people keep getting mad at, even Cheum went from "Ray you are perfect" to thinking the worst of him - so not sb you want to be to become one of the cool people. (Weird choice in my opinion. You want to be unbothered and just there to have fun - be like Boston. But he needs Ray for revenge since that is sb Top was jealous of so there is that.)

The others don't see that Ray is so deep in addiction and so mentally unwell that he won't stop Mew from joining him in his idea of fun.

(Top was using drugs but smh dropped them cold turkey as if it's not a big deal. He wasn't in the state Ray is but it's still interesting that he could just stop with no problems.)

[frostluvrs]

“i keep seeing people defend ray by saying he can’t control his feelings and sand can move on if he wants; that ray can’t actually stop him and he needs to take responsibility for his own feelings and walk away” I haven’t seen this take but the fucking audacity, WHEN has Sand ever not taken responsibility over his feelings?!

The times Sand has gotten hurt over Ray, he has dealt with it himself and didn’t say anything to Ray, ignore him and tried to walk away, Ray is the one who keep pestering him!! “Sand needs to take responsibility for his feelings” he has been doing that!!! repeatedly!! Ray is the one who won’t leave him alone!! And Sand likes him and sees Ray is not well, obvs he is gonna give in because he is human being with feelings and wants to help him?

Sand is not Nick!! He is not going after Ray like a lap dog, the opposite actually! And when Sand tries to ignore Ray and move on, AGAIN, Ray is not gonna let him! (per the preview) Can you imagine if Mew did to Ray what Ray is doing to Sand? Reject him and every time Ray tried to move on, go after him and gave him hope again? Oh we wouldn’t hear the end of it!!

I feel like I am in crazy town lmao sorry for this heated rant and ty for answering my ask, glad it made you see things a little differently!! <3

honestly i need you to keep sending me things (especially after episode 8 i need to know your thoughts) because you’re making me think about what’s happening with sand’s character and his actions in such different ways!!!! even as a sand defender as i keep adverting myself i think you might be his number one because i completely agree with what you’re saying.

you hit the nail on the head with saying imagine if it was mew in this situation and he would be getting more hate than ray would be. i mean there were theories upon theories for so long that mew was stringing ray along for “evil manipulator mew” reasons and even with it being disproven people still think it.

and look at how people are talking about him using ray as a rebound this episode. yes it’s true that he’s using ray a rebound. yes it’s not exactly right to choose him as a rebound knowing how weak he is for mew and how much he wants mew to love him but i also don’t think he understands ray’s attachment to him like the audience does. and people act like ray is not also wrong for taking advantage of the fact that mew is also in a vulnerable spot too. there’s no way you’re telling me that ray doesn’t understand that he’s a rebound and that mew doesn’t actually like him either (unless he’s deluded himself). he just doesn’t care and will take mew’s love in any way he can and that includes going in and taking his chance knowing that mew is only accepting it because he wants a rebound (and possibly wants to hurt top even if unconsciously even though he says he’s not looking for revenge anymore but we’ll see about that one next episode)

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey so like many of you, I saw that article about how people are going into college having read no classic books. And believe it or not, I've been pissed about this for years. Like the article revealed, a good chunk of American Schools don't require students to actually read books, rather they just give them an excerpt and tell them how to feel about it. Which is bullshit.

So like. As a positivity post, let's use this time to recommend actually good classic books that you've actually enjoyed reading! I know that Dracula Daily and Epic the Musical have wonderfully tricked y'all into reading Dracula and The Odyssey, and I've seen a resurgence of Picture of Dorian Gray readership out of spite for N-tflix, so let's keep the ball rolling!

My absolute favorite books of all time are The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. Classic psychological horror books about unhinged women.

I adore The Bad Seed by William March. It's widely considered to be the first "creepy child" book in American literature, so reading it now you're like "wow that's kinda cliche- oh my god this is what started it. This was ground zero."

I remember the feelings of validation I got when people realized Dracula wasn't actually a love story. For further feelings of validation, please read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. There's a lot the more popular adaptations missed out on.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is an absolute gem of a book. It's a slow-build psychological study so it may not be for everyone, but damn do the plot twists hit. It's a really good book to go into blind, but I will say that its handling of abuse victims is actually insanely good for the time period it was written in.

Moving on from horror, you know people who say "I loved this book so much I couldn't put it down"? That was me as a kid reading A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Picked it up while bored at the library and was glued to it until I finished it.

Peter Pan and Wendy by JM Barrie was also a childhood favorite of mine. Next time someone bitches about Woke Casting, tell them that the original 1911 Peter Pan novel had canon nonbinary fairies.

Watership Down by Richard Adams is my sister Cori's favorite book period. If you were a Warrior Cats, Guardians of Ga'Hoole or Wings of Fire kid, you owe a metric fuckton to Watership Down and its "little animals on a big adventure" setup.

A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry was a play and not a book first, but damn if it isn't a good fucking read. It was also named after a Langston Hughes poem, who's also an absolutely incredible author.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a book I absolutely adore and will defend until the day I die. It's so friggin good, y'all, I love it more than anything. You like people breaking out of fascist brainwashing? You like reading and value knowledge? You wanna see a guy basically predict the future of television back in 1953? Read Fahrenheit.

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee are considered required reading for a reason: they're both really good books about young white children unlearning the racial biases of their time. Huck Finn specifically has the main character being told that he will go to hell if he frees a slave, and deciding eternal damnation would be worth it.

As a sidenote, another Mark Twain book I was obsessed with as a kid was A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Exactly what it says on the tin, incredibly insane read.

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin is a heartbreaking but powerful book and a look at the racism of the time while still centering the love the two black protagonists feel for each other. Giovanni's Room by the same author is one that focuses on a MLM man struggling with his sexuality, and it's really important to see from the perspective of a queer man living in the 50s– as well as Baldwin's autobiographical novel, Go Tell it on the Mountain.

Agatha Christie mysteries are all still absolutely iconic, but Murder on the Orient Express is such a good read whether or not you know the end twist.

Maybe-controversial-maybe-not take: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is a good book if you have reading comprehension. No, you're not supposed to like the main character. He pretty much spells that out for you at the end ffs.

Animal Farm by George Orwell was another favorite of mine; it was written as an obvious metaphor for the rise of fascism in Russia at the time and boy does it hit even now.

And finally, please read Shakespeare plays. As soon as you get used to their way of talking, they're not as hard to understand as people will lead you to believe. My absolute favorite is Twelfth Night- crossdressing, bisexual love triangles, yellow stockings... it's all a joy.

and those are just the ones i thought of off the top of my head! What're your guys' favorite classic books? Let's make everyone a reading list!

[aceparagoned]

TAG DUMP PART 1

☆ VISAGE → you’re bright as a star; radiant as the sun’s rays. ☆ MUSINGS → written on your skin like stardust; these are reflections of your undying will. ☆ MANNERISMS → unyielding in your strength; you bow for no one. and yet you have a heart of gold and compassion for everyone. ☆ SELF-PROMOTION → you are a beacon of hope to so many that you meet. the burden is great; yet you remain strong. ☆ AESTHETICS → mementos of the journey she’s undergone thus far; the stars will guide her path. ☆ WARDROBE → even the defender of the world has an interest in the world of fashion; these items adorn her battleworn body. ☆ ABILITIES → her might is strong; unconquerable; this is a display of her prowess. ☆ VITA → everyone’s hero; the one who we all count on to save the day; without her—the world would be lost to chaos and despair. ☆ HEADCANONS → these are layers to you; to your heart. let others see who you are within; let your walls down for now. ☆ META → classified information on the world and the force that declared war on the Earth. ☆ PROMOTIONS → these are my dearest friends! you all mean so much to me & help me keep going despite the insurmountable odds. ☆ DESIRES → what she has denied herself for so long; to have someone to love; to hold; to cherish. yearning can only last so long. ☆ A LITTLE PLACE CALLED HOME → these facets help run the city of neo-tokyo and the world overall. ☆ MEMES → downtime games for when there's a lull in this hero's busy life! ✫ MUSIC → what empowers her to fight — to keep going on despite the surmounting odds. watch her dance like a star. ☆ OUT OF UNIFORM → downtime is necessary even for a hero tasked with so much; remember to take a break for yourself. ☆ STARTER CALL → you've got a message! what does it say? ☆ DASH GAMES → what's new on the 'net? ☆ QUEUE → ''sorry I can't answer your call right now! I'm off saving the world!'' ☆ DASHBOARD COMMENTARY → even if her duty has her out on the frontlines; may these messages remind you that she is with you. ☆ PSA → hey listen! this is some important stuff here!

[robertreich]

When the KKK Murdered My Childhood Friend 

When the Ku Klux Klan murdered my protector, it made me see the world differently.

I was always the shortest kid in school, which made me an easy target for bullies. To protect myself, I got into the habit of befriending older boys who’d watch my back.

One summer when I was around 8 years old I found Mickey, a kind and gentle teenager with a ready smile who made me feel safe.

Over the years, I lost track of Mickey. It wasn’t until the fall of 1964, my freshman year in college, that I heard what had happened to him.

Several months before, Mickey, whose full name was Michael Schwerner, had gone to Mississippi to register Black voters during what was known as “Freedom Summer.”

On June 21, Michael and two other civil rights workers, James Chaney and Andrew Goodman, were arrested near Philadelphia, Mississippi by Neshoba County Deputy Sheriff Cecil Ray Price, for allegedly speeding.

That night, after they paid their speeding ticket and left the jail, Deputy Price followed them, stopped them again, ordered them into his car, and took them down a deserted road where he turned them over to a group of his fellow Ku Klux Klan members. They were beaten, shot at point-blank range, and buried in an earthen dam. Their bodies weren’t found until August 4.

The state of Mississippi refused to bring charges against any of the Klan members. Eventually, the U.S. Justice Department brought federal charges against Price and 17 others.

An all-white jury found seven of the defendants guilty, including Price. Ultimately none would serve more than six years behind bars.

When the news reached me that Mickey, my childhood protector, had been murdered by white supremacists — by violent bullies who would stop at nothing to prevent Black people from exercising their right to vote — something snapped inside me.

I began to see everything differently.  Before then, I understood bullying as a few kids picking on me for being short. Now I saw bullying on a larger scale, all around me. In Black people bullied by whites. In workers bullied by bosses. In girls and women bullied by men. In the disabled or gay or poor or sick or immigrant bullied by employers, landlords, insurance companies, and politicians.

Sixty years after the Freedom Summer murders, America still wrestles with bullies — a rise in hate crimes targeting people of color, LGBTQ people, immigrants, Jews, and Muslims — new laws restricting the right to vote, banning books, and stripping Americans of reproductive freedoms — leaders who insult and demean people with disabilities, women, and trans kids.

We must never give in to cruelty and violence. It is incumbent on all of us to stand up to bullies and be each other’s protectors.

[disappointment-comics]

i think i’m just sad that none of them got to grow before they died

luther was still living in the manor, which he’s always done for his whole life. so much of his arc has been about outgrowing this place and learning to leave. but he still winds up in the ruins of the place he grew up in. i could’ve believed it as a character choice IF we hadn’t already seen luther figure out how to live independently in the world in dallas. instead it was a regression

diego deserved to break the cycle of abuse!! he’s always been softer than he lets himself be, the role of father should’ve been a really big thing for him. and yet he ends the season without his kids and with the whole mess with lila and five. they spent the whole season trying to convince me he was a loser and a failure when he seemed really normal and trying his best. which is exactly what he was as a child, designated number 2 and never good enough.

i was a big s3 allison defender but then they did NOTHING with all the big swings they took with her character, so it was all for nothing?? ray walks out?? (which seems so ooc for him but i guess it was an actor scheduling thing) no conflict with claire very little resolution with her family and no introspection into what her choices and control issues mean for her.

klaus had this whole storyline with his powers and then didn’t get to use them at all… like that’s literally insane. it felt like they were really setting klaus up to reflect on his relationship to addiction and the parts that are and are not related to his powers, but then it just stops. he doesn’t apologize, he doesn’t get comforted, doesn’t learn to save himself, and he just dies, which is such a waste of a character that’s always represented an interesting blurring of life and death. i really would’ve liked to see klaus get some autonomy this season, since so much of his life is other factors making decisions for him, but nope.

five. i don’t even think i have to say anything here.

ben loses so much character autonomy halfway through this season. he’s another character who’s always been at the mercy of others, maybe most of all, and he doesn’t even feel like a main character in the season ABOUT him.

viktor has some moments with getting to confront reggie, but even those fell flat for me tbh. the line from reggie saying “you deserved to wear the mask” just proves that none of them ever understood that NONE of those children should’ve been in the masks in the first place. vik had built a genuinely good life for himself and didn’t get to keep it. dying as an umbrella martyr is not revolutionary when they’ve all been doing that their whole lives. living as a happy, normal person is actually much more radical. also he should’ve got his violin back.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (35/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk - with Nightmare Coladas.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: love you. feedback is appreciated!

You are sitting on the sun bed when Charles rejoins you. He is holding a tray in his hands and as he places it on the floor next to you, you see that it is filled with sliced fruit. In addition to a plate of watermelon, there is a bowl of grapes, strawberries and raspberries.

“A good foundation is essential if you want to get drunk,” he grins and lies down next to you on the sun bed, a healthy distance between you. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to eat something greasy then? Like fries or pizza?” you ask, helping yourself to a strawberry. 

“That's just the beginning,” he defends himself and nibbles on a piece of watermelon. “There are fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets in the oven.”

You have to grin. “Sounds like lunch for a five-year-old.”

Charles shrugs and pops a raspberry in his mouth. “You'll be able to drink like a grown-up in no time.”

“Touché.” 

The two of you lie next to each other in silence, enjoying the last rays of sunshine while you eat the fruit and wait for the timer on Charles' cell phone to beep. The water splashes against the sides of the boat, the smell of the sea hits your nose and if you didn't know that tomorrow is Christmas, you'd think it was a beautiful summer evening. 

“What would you like to drink?” Charles asks. 

You turn your head in his direction. “Do you have any sweet white wine?”

He nods. “I had Thomas bring your cheap wine,” he grins. "He didn't find it at first. Apparently you can only get it in the supermarket and not in a wine store."

You purse your lips. “Hey. The wine tastes good,” you say with mock offence, trying to suppress the thought that Charles sent Thomas out to get your favorite wine. Very thoughtful. “What are you about to drink?”

"There are quite a few drinks. Maybe I'll make myself a cocktail,” he considers, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "Maybe a piña colada? Or a sex on the beach?"

The way the word 'sex' rolls off his tongue makes the blood in your veins run hot. You bite into a piece of watermelon. “When are the fries ready?”

Just as you've said it, Charles' phone rings. He gets up and leaves the sun bed. “I'll be right back.”

You turn to him. “Do you want me to help you?” You're almost on your feet when Charles waves you off. 

“ It's all right.” 

While he disappears into the interior of his yacht, you also leave the sun bed to grab your camera and laptop, but instead of lying back on the sun bed at the back of the boat, you move the party around the bow, where there is another sun bed. From here, you have a wonderful view of Monaco - even if it is still some distance away from you. 

You start to edit a photo of Charles when he rejoins you - fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets on a tray. 

“Here you are,” he smiles, setting the food down. “I thought you'd jumped in the water and swum home.”

"Are you crazy? I'm sure the sea is freezing cold,” you reply and put your laptop to one side so you can grab a nugget. “I've already started editing a picture of you, by the way.”

Your friend plops down on the sun bed next to you. "And?” he asks. “Do I look good?”

You roll your eyes. “You always do,” you reply jokingly, hoping that he can't hear the truth in your words. 

“I know,” he grins and pops a chip in his mouth. "But seriously. Do you think the pictures are any good? For my Instagram profile, I mean."

Charles is a natural model. With his big eyes, deep dimples and beaming smile, he could even advertise haemorrhoid cream and look great doing it.

“Absolutely,” you smile and push your camera over to him. “See for yourself.”

While Charles looks at the many pictures on the small display, you continue to edit some pictures on your laptop. They are all good - thanks to his looks - but somehow none of them reflect Charles as you see him. They look posed, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but you had hoped to capture him with your lens in such a way that you could almost feel the closeness to him and his warmth. 

But you don't tell him that, after all he has to decide for himself which pictures he would like to put on the internet. 

“What do you think of this?” he asks and shows you the display. In the photo, he is standing at the wheel, his sunglasses are perched on his nose and he is smiling broadly over his shoulder, as if someone has said something funny. It's a good picture - objectively speaking.

“It's good,” you reply and bite into a mozzarella stick. The cheese almost burns the roof of your mouth, but you try not to let it show. 

Charles raises his eyebrow. “Just ‘good’?” he asks, looking at the picture again. “Okay, I'll find another one then.”

You shake your head vehemently. "No, Charles. It's a good photo, really,” you assure him. 

He's not buying it. “But?”

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders. “It - it looks so posed,” you answer honestly. "But maybe it only looks like that to me because I know it's fake, you know? Maybe I just can't see it."

He looks back from you to the display. “I know what you mean.” He presses his tongue into his cheek. "I'll take another one then. They're your photos. And I want you to feel comfortable with them too." 

You smile at him. You didn't know he cared so much about your opinion. "That's nice. Thank you."

Charles pops a French fry into his mouth. "Keep eating. Your wine is cold and just waiting for you to drink it."

You continue to eat in silence - Charles continues to rummage through your camera while you edit some pictures. The silence between you is comfortable and every now and then you smile at each other to reassure each other that everything is fine. 

When the last of the fries has been eaten, Charles stands up. "Very nice. Now it's time to start drinking,” he winks at you as he leaves the sun bed. “You want your wine, I guess?”

You nod. “Thomas shouldn't have made the trip to the supermarket for nothing,” you grin and cross your arms behind your head. You look at him. "But I think one glass is enough for now. Maybe I'd like to try one of your cocktails afterwards."

“Of course, Madame,” Charles replies and bows to you playfully like a servant to his queen. "Can I bring anything else? A pillow, perhaps?" 

You nod, beaming. “That would be great. Then the bed here will be even more comfortable."

Without another word, he disappears, the bowls and plates in his hands, while you close the laptop and put it to the side. You consider whether you should put the camera away too, but decide against it. Perhaps there would be another opportunity to take photos of Charles later.

A few minutes later, Charles reappears. He puts your wine glass down next to you and throws you two cushions. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you'll want to stay here longer."

You look at him in confusion. “Why?”

With a nod of his head, he points to the shore. "When it gets dark - and I mean dark - Monaco lights up beautifully. And I don't want to deny you the sight,” he smiles. "I'm going to make myself a cocktail. Do you want me to bring you your sweater right away?"

“Yes, thank you,” you answer him. “And you really don't need any help?” you ask uncertainly. It's nice of him to go to all this trouble to make you feel comfortable, but you feel a bit like you're taking advantage of him. 

But Charles disagrees. "Stay put. You're my guest on this boat. I'll take care of everything while you lie there and look pretty." 

Before you can react to his words, he has disappeared again. 

Look pretty? Charles thinks you're pretty? 

You try to ignore his words, but they keep bubbling up. When he said he was afraid of losing you, he hit you hard. You would never let anything separate you again. You need him too much for that - and it seems he needs you too. Even if it's not the same way. But that's okay, you tell yourself. You'd rather have a piece of him than nothing at all. 

When he rejoins you, you seem to have almost forgotten his compliment. Or at least pushed it aside. 

“Here,” he says, handing you your sweater before setting some things down behind your head. There are several bottles, an ice bucket and a couple of shakers in the large basket. Then he carefully sits down next to you with his cocktail in hand. As he tastes it, he makes a brief grimace. 

You have to grin. “Too strong?” you ask him. 

“No,” he replies, but from the way he raises his eyebrows and turns his head away briefly, it's clear he's lying. 

“What did you mix?”

“Piña Colada.” He furrows his eyebrows. “But it tastes more like nightmare colada than pineapple.” He stretches out his arm and holds the glass out to you. “Have a taste.”

Without hesitation, you reach for the cocktail - still careful not to let your fingers touch - and sip the drink once. You look at him in amazement. “I don't know what your problem is,” you reply and take a big sip. “It tastes fantastic!”

Charles looks at you doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Definitely,” you confirm. “I'd offer you my wine, but you don't like sweet wine.”

“Give it to me,” he says unceremoniously and grabs the wine glass as you hold it out to him. Without hesitation, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks every last drop of the wine. "Sorry. I had to get rid of the horrible taste of that cocktail."

You look from the empty glass in his hand to his face in amazement. "Wow. So you think the piña colada is that bad. If you keep going like this, you'll be drunk in no time."

Charles reaches behind your head into the basket and pulls out a bottle of wine. “That was the plan, wasn't it?” Slowly and intently, he pours some of his dry wine into your glass, careful not to waste a single drop. “Don't tell me I did all of this  for nothing.” He points to the many shakers with a nod of his head. 

You curl your lips into a thin line. “Are you even allowed to drive the boat tomorrow if you still have alcohol in your blood?” you ask and take a sip of his - now your - cocktail, which, contrary to Charles' opinion, actually tastes phenomenal. 

“I don't know,” he replies and sips his wine. “But if need be, you and I can stay here another night.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” you remind him. "Your mom would be furious with us if we didn't show up for dinner. And then she'd kill us."

Your roommate shakes his head. "My mom loves you. She'd kill me without hesitation, but definitely not you." He leans back a little and rests his head in the pillow so that he's comfortable but still sitting upright enough to drink easily. 

“I think I'd stand up for you,” you say before taking another sip. 

The Monegasque looks at you, dumbfounded. “You think?”

The way he opens his eyes and looks at you, you can't help but burst out laughing. "Yeah. After all, I don't want to incur your mother's wrath. I like her far too much for that,” you say into your glass and look at him over the rim. 

Charles rolls his eyes. "You're being mean. I'll take you on my boat -"

“Yacht,” you correct him. 

"All right then. I take you on my yacht, where you can even spend the night, make you delicious food and offer you all the alcohol you can imagine - and you think you'd stand up for me?" Playfully hurt, he puts his hand on his chest. “Wow. I thought you'd care more about me.”

You do, you say in your mind. More than you'll ever know.

“Oh, come on.” You snuggle into your pillow too. "How many women have you taken here already, huh? Surely I'm not the only one you've spent a night with here." Realizing your choice of words, you clear your throat. “In a friendly or romantic way, I mean.” Even though you don't want to know the answer to how many women he's had here on the boat, curiosity wins out. 

Your roommate shrugs. “You're the only one,” he replies quietly before taking a sip of his wine. He avoids your gaze. 

Your head jerks in his direction. “Not even Annika?”

“Not even Annika,” he confirms to you. “I - I don't know - I took Annika out for a nice day at sea once, but we  went home at night. This is the first time I've been on a boat with someone other than my family and stayed the night."

His answer relieves you a little. Apparently you're not the next in a line of women Charles is spending the night with on his boat. And the fact that you're the only one, according to him, makes you feel a little happy. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” you start your sentence, “you're also the first person I spend the night with on a boat.” You smile at him. 

“It's not that difficult if you've never been on a boat before,” he replies with a grin. “And I thought it was a yacht?”

You roll your eyes. “Don't make me regret being on a boat on the open sea.”

As the wind sweeps around you and the sun disappears behind the horizon, you pull on your sweater. You feel Charles's gaze on you. “What?”

He shakes his head. "I thought the alcohol would warm you up a bit. But apparently you need to drink more."

You look into your cocktail glass. “I've almost finished your Nightmare Colada,” you defend yourself. 

"But only almost. Drink up, then I can pour you another one."

You raise your glass to your lips. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Maybe,” he grins and pulls a shaker out of the basket. "There's a little Nightmare Colada left, if you like. Otherwise there's still your wine, or Sex on the Beach, or schnapps."

You take the last sip of your cocktail and put the glass down for him to refill. Heat shoots into your face, which is almost certainly due to the alcohol - and definitely not the way he says the word 'sex'. "Your offer sounds tempting. I think I'll stick to the nightmare colada for now. We can always have the schnapps later."

Charles shakes the shaker briefly before carefully pouring the rest of the cocktail into your glass. “I haven't had a schnapps in ages.”

"Why? Is your nutritionist against it?” you ask him with a grin. 

“Yes, actually,” he replies and hands you your glass. "But I'm on vacation at the moment, so I don't really care. That's why I had the chicken nuggets."

You raise your eyebrow. “I thought the chicken nuggets were there so we wouldn't get drunk straight away?”

Your friend shakes his head. "Actually, you had chicken nuggets because, culinarily speaking, you stayed somewhere between canned soup and Big Mac. That's what Lando said anyway." 

The fact that he remembered that warms your heart. A little something you didn't think he would remember. 

"There's also dessert, by the way, if you're still a little hungry. Chocolate muffins,” he smiles. "But maybe we'll save them for later, when we're drunk. They'll taste even better then."

“Muffins?” you ask in surprise. When Charles nods, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” His voice is soft and warm. He briefly puts his glass to one side and pulls on his white sweater. 

“Are you cold?” you joke, sipping your cocktail. 

“Haha.” He rolls his eyes and adjusts the bandana that is still tied around his head. “Even if the alcohol warms me on the inside, I can be cold on the outside.”

“But make me look stupid for it,” you retort playfully. 

"Sure. It's just pretty easy to drive you up the wall."

“What do you mean -” you start your question, but he jumps up from the sun bed as if stung by a tarantula. 

“There!” He goes to the railing in front of you and holds on tight. “I told you.”

You carefully put your glass to one side and stand up too. When you see what he means, your breath catches in your throat. 

Monaco shines in front of you in the dark and the water reflects the light beautifully. Charles hasn't promised too much. 

You stand next to him with your mouth open, your eyes fixed on the beautiful Monaco. “It is - breathtaking.”

“It is,” Charles replies quietly. You don't notice him looking at you. “Breathtaking.” He‘s almost ashamed at how beautiful you look to him. He has to look away.

The Monaco in front of you glistens and sparkles, captivating you so much that an idea occurs to you. With quick - and slightly swaying - steps, you walk back and grab your camera before standing on the sun bed. The cocktail has done a good job, because the cushion under your feet feels like jelly, so you need a moment to find your footing.

Charles is apparently just as fascinated by the view as you are, because he doesn't seem to notice that you've moved away from him. He continues to look ahead, towards his home, while you take a photo of him. A single photo - and when you look at it on your camera, you could cry. 

“That's it,” you smile. 

“Huh?” Charles turns to you questioningly. “What's what?”

You proudly hand him your camera. “This is the picture.” 

He looks at it briefly before glancing at you. A smile spreads across his face. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you here.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he closes his mouth again before handing the camera back to you.

“Maybe you should hire me,” you joke, sending the picture to your phone and then sending it to him. 

“Maybe I should.” His smile is warm and electrifying and luminous. He's beaming - like the Monaco behind him. 

God, he's the most beautiful man in the world. 

“But first -” he walks around you, staggers across the sun bed and leans forward to fish a bottle out of the basket. “But first - comes the schnapps.”

[enviedear]

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[causenessus]

Biggest Sweethearts. | Haikyuu

inc. atsumu, oikawa + bokuto as an extra <3

written in 2nd pov

song recc: brooklynn baby by lana del ray

word count: 1244 words

summary: defending atsumu and oikawa against playboy allegations or in other words, the kind of partner each boy needs <3

ik i already lowkey went off and defended atsumu in that one post while i went crazy in windowless rooms for 12 hours that one day but i wanted to write the full thing <3 i have not posted written content in so long!! happy 900 followers <3 this has all been written in one night while my brain is giving out so i apologize

miya atsumu

atusmu needs someone who knows what he’s doing

he definitely wants a part in leading a relationship but he wants someone who he can fall back on and isn't expecting him to be like a full-time hotshot

he needs someone who loves him unconditionally, seeing past all the fronts he puts up and loves him past the douche he can sometimes act as/be

of course it’s fine if you tease him like his friends, he’d expecting nothing less, but falling for you means you’re someone he feels safe with

someone he feels comfortable enough to be soft around, someone he can come to after a long day and let his shoulders drop as he falls on top of you while you’re laying on the couch

he doesn’t feel like he has to maintain a facade of a man whose strong and acts like nothing ever phases him around you

like yes, he’s strong and makes a show of it for you all the time, but everyone needs a rest day <3

when you guys are at home together he’s actually pretty quiet

it’s all loving gestures and soft voices

hands wrapping around your waist while you’re in the kitchen and a murmured “i missed you” while he peppers kisses down your neck

he can be so loud around his friends and it’s part of an autopilot switch that just flips on being around them, and being loud is nothing bad

but if he needs your help with something while you’re both home, he’s never yelling for you

he’ll peek his head in, finding you laying on your shared bed

“babe?”

when you look up, he’s picking at the doorframe, quietly waiting a response

“if you’re not busy can you help me with something? it’s okay if you don’t want to”

you’re already getting up from the bed, softly pulling his hand off the doorway to hold it between both of yours, “of course i’ll help you, ‘tsumu, what do you need?”

biggest baby ever actually

he could never be with someone short term or do casual relationships and he really hates hookups

everything already feels so superficial to him besides volleyball, and he knows he’s eye candy but he wants to be more than that

he wants to be more than the shallow flirt his fans seem to obsess over

(of course he’s a big flirt, but his comments are reserved for you and you only <3)

falling for you means he’s found that in you; he’s found someone who sees him for who he really is and still loves him

oikawa tooru

tooru knows what commitment is

he knows that fruition will only come from time

if he wants something meaningful, he has to put effort into it. he isn't going to get that from messing around with a girl or nothing else

of course he accepted the gifts from his fan club and ate up their attention, but once he met you, it no longer meant anything to him

he wanted you to be wholly is, and him to be wholly yours

he would never do anything to make you think that he wants anyone else but you

he’s committed 100% to you which also means you also receive 100% of his flirting because he enjoys the reactions it gets out of you

and even when he teases you, his words are light and harmless; you can hear how much he loves you behind it all

honestly probably the best communicator ever because he wants to make sure you know how much he loves you

will text you about how he’s been asked to do a photoshoot with a model and then will write you an essay on how he’s not doing it because he’s interested in anyone else other than you and in fact, he’ll only be thinking of you during the shoot

his fan club made it a little hard for him to really accept or even know who he was, he wasn’t sure anyone would value him for anything other than his volleyball skills and looks

but you’ve stayed with him, seeming to find the positives in everything he’s done. even through the games he’s lost, and when he’s acting pessimistic and is isolating himself, you’ve stayed with him

you’ve talked him through the losses. when he’s curled up and turned away from you, mind drowning in thoughts of failure, your voice seems to break through everything

you take small steps towards him, telling him that you’re coming closer, and that if he wants you to leave at any moment then to tell you

but he never tells you to leave

he’ll lean into your touch, and he feels how much it quiets his head

as soon as he’s better he’s always apologetic for how he acted and he tells you how thankful he is for you while rubbing small circles on your skin

you always hush him with a kiss

“tooru, i’m not gonna get mad at you or leave you just because you lost a game and then understandably get upset. you’re always working so hard”

you silence his biggest fear

he needs someone who really sees him

you’ve never once failed to notice an accomplishment or how hard he’s working at something and that’s what he needs, rather than someone whose only with him for what he can give them or for something physical like his appearance/manners <3

extra!! bokuto koutarou

NOT a playboy but i just wanted to sort of hc the kind of person he needs in his life

amongst everyone who always seems to be “growing up” in the world, he needs someone who will still see the beauty and the color in the world

not here for anything that those people who are always posting about “look how successful i am at the age of 18” “here’s how to make an extra 10k a year” “you should be doing this, you shouldn’t be doing this…”

just wants to be happy with u <3

he needs someone who will still get excited with him over getting ice cream, looking at christmas lights, watching new episodes, and more <3

he knows money or whatever concerns of life people have will be solved and follow after happiness so he’s also definitely your biggest cheerleader

always advocatess for you to find things to do that you enjoy. hushes any concerns you have about how much it'll pay

"i've got it, baby. you do whatever you want. whatever makes you happy. and if volleyball somehow doesn't make enough i'll find a way :) maybe akaashi will let me help him with his editing"

will check in and make sure you’re always doing good

will always always always come over immediately to be with you if you’re not

he'll brings over food or distractions to give you company, never pressuring you to feel better immediately

it’s okay to stay and work through any feelings you’re having <3 there’s no rush, but he does want you to be feeling good so he’ll stay with you until you’re doing better and even after <3

life isn’t simple, he knows that, but there’s also no reason to overcomplicate it in his mind so he’ll never fail to get excited over new movies and getting to go out with you <3

paying bills and tax days are fun

(also he's definitely the kind to be like "we should just get married rn so we get those discounts")

you’re both fighting for your lives, the table is a mess, and while some couple next door is argued over taxes, you both have your heads in your hands

then you’re both looking up at each other

“i didn’t even know we got charged for having a phone” he whispers, absolutely horrified

“me neither,” you reply, just as confused

“do you wanna go watch wall e?”

“yes” you’re both already sliding out of your chairs, leaving the bills for another day

[zhongrin]

bound matriarch

© zhongrin | 2024 ✼  [✘] no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. [✓] rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli

✼ tags ┈ yandere, fem!pronouns ('wife', 'matriarch', 'goddess' used), zhongli as morax/rex lapis, set right after archon war

✼ a/n ┈ i have to be out all day today so i'm not sure if i'll be at home when this goes out but let me just say FINALLY I CAN RELEASE THIS. THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG (i'd also like to silently thank jessamine bc their comments on my posts were the main catalyst for me to finish this little blurb sobsob)

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

oh, what a dream it is to be the spouse of the strongest archon in teyvat, whom he wed right after archon war ended. some might see the celebratory wedding as something uncouth; an utter disrespect to the lives lost at war and the bereaved families, but the lord of geo disagrees. what could be a better reassurance to ensure the people of liyue would start believing in and striving for a brighter future, than the joyous union of the new geo archon who defended them throughout the arduously long war and the prosperity goddess who has the power to bless the land and its people?

you're draped in gold and red as you sign the oath in blood; sealing your matrimony amidst the cheers of the mortals and immortals alike. the ruby reds on your lips are plush and soft against their god's own, the gossamer thread of embroidered gold of your clothing matching your now-husband's attire. even the bright blue sky seemed to celebrate such a joyous occasion, casting its warm rays upon the now-peaceful land of liyue to offer you its blessing.

they do not know that one certain party was most ardently unwilling to take the vow under one of the most sacred contracts of all.

they need not know that the marriage was a desperate attempt to shackle you to him and erase your individual worth as a goddess; to ensure you are remembered as rex lapis' beloved wife, the matriarch of liyue. they need not know, for just as no one questioned why the god of freedom was not invited into the banquet, no one questioned why a sheer veil covered the lower part of your unsmiling face, or the fact that countless shackles cor petrae accessories heavily rested against your neck and limbs.

what they do know is that this is your prison home ー he is your captor home and you will never belong anywhere else.

and perhaps given a few eons, you shall learn it too. worry not, your husband is a patient god. but you best remember that a god's patience, too, has its limits.

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

[gothgoblinbabe]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), fem!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?” 

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts. 

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly. 

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue. 

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail. 

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him. 

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air. 

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered. 

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to. 

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C���mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you. 

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed. 

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

[noira-l]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: You are falling into darkness and meaninglessness. Satoru refuses to let you do that.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of comfort, after 'premature death', after suguru deflection, describtion od depression, apathy, lost meaning in life, slight eating disorder, sleeplesness.

author's note: We finally get to see his softer side, though as is his fashion, he does it in his own way.

4 months after Suguru defected

"I know that the situation that happened has left its mark on you, however, you must not give up like this."

Yaga had been trying to reach you in his office for several minutes. To no avail. Your gaze was still blank, staring at a single point on his desk since you sat down, it didn't seem like you were present in any way.

Silence. You didn't answer anything. Just as you always do.

This is not your first meeting with your Sensei. Yaga has been trying to make his way to you for about a month.

A void in your head, so great and black that it swallowed you whole. Your body indifferent to every sense that reached you, you did not analyse it at all. If Satoru hadn't dragged you here, literally holding your hand and leading you, you wouldn't have come here at all. You didn't have the will or the strength for it.

Everything stopped at that moment. It ended. There was nothing left. Anything important and beautiful in your life was taken away from you by the terrible malice of fate. Your house burnt down. Your beloved had descended into madness. You no longer had anything to care about. Your entire past no longer mattered. Everyone is literally dead.

Even you died that day.

You wondered what was still alive.

Or at least that's how you explained it to yourself, unable to accept that the same person who promised you the world had just taken it away from you.

You were lifeless. It didn't take much to conclude that.

All that remained was a fragile, frail and empty shell of a person once filled with love, dreams and passion.

You no longer had the strength to cry, or to utter any words. If it wasn't for Shoko, you wouldn't even eat, and if it wasn't for Gojo, you probably wouldn't sleep.

You could smile altogether now. The world of jujutsu never broke you, the person you loved did. But you didn't, even though it crossed your mind.

What an honour to be the exception to the rule.

Yaga sighed leaning against his expensive chair.

"(Y/N)." he called out, though you didn't even flinch "I don't want you to end up like this. As your teacher, I recognises your self-doubt as his personal failure. The situation that has befallen you is a very difficult one and I understand that you would need time to get things back to normal."

He leaned towards you "However, in this world we live in, we cannot afford such a luxury." you knew his eyes were drilling into you.

"It has been more than four months. Your condition is not improving, only getting worse. At your request, I have specifically let you skip part of your training." you heard him grinding his teeth, but not out of anger, but out of helplessness "I'm doing my best not to send you on missions in this condition, because I know that even if something attacks you-" he paused.

-you won't even try to defend yourself.’ you finished for him in your head.

He was right, you knew it, and so did anyone who would just look at you. You lost a lot of weight, your skin turned pale got a shade of gray, and your eyes lacked their former spark.

You could see that Yaga, in that silence, couldn't find the right words. When he opened his mouth to say something, you finally muttered, pausing his speetch.

"But Sensei, you should…" you raised your gaze from the one point where it was cumulative to look the man deep in the eyes

"..let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway."

★ --

Yaga sat in his office, surrounded by a silence that seemed to deepen his worries. Outside the window, the rain drummed against the glass as if to wash the weight of anxiety from his soul, but it only deepened his sense of helplessness.

Your words, haunted him.

‘Let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway' constantly echoed in his mind, like a silent cry of despair that gave him no peace.

Never before had he seen such emptiness in someone's eyes - an emptiness that testified that all hope, all will to fight, had been sucked out of you.

He was incapable of seeing Geto Suguru roll into a similar spiral.

It was a failure that has pursued Yaga, reminding him of the fragility of the human mind.

You are reminder of that too.

Now he saw the same symptoms in your - empty eyes, unresponsive to sensory input, avoiding contact with others.

Every day when you came to training was like seeing a ghost moving among the living, unable to fully return to life. You was physically there, but you soul seemed to be elsewhere, trapped in a place you couldn't get out of.

In this state, Yaga knew he had to seek advice from others.

He must act. He will not make this mistake again.

You will not be a case to regret.

And he had a lot of them.

He was the first to go to Shoko. He met her in the corridor, as busy as ever with her work, locked in a world where medicine was everything.

"Shoko, have you tried to talk to her? Something about her condition?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. Shoko sighed, not stopping for a moment.

"I'm not good at such conversations." she replied briefly, looking at him fleetingly, as if those words would explain everything. Yaga knew that Shoko was doing as well as she could, but he also knew, that she was avoiding emotion like a fire. She couldn't help you in this battle that was going on inside. She was only capable of healing you on the outside.

The next stop was Nanami. Always serious, always composed, Nanami was someone who could be counted on in the most difficult of times. However, when Yaga asked him the same question, the answer was equally overwhelming.

"I understand what she is going through. I've tried to reach out to her, but… she's silent. I don't know how I can help her when she won't talk.’" there was a note of helplessness in Nanami's voice that had never been there before. Yaga knew that he sympathised with you, that he had tried, but that he himself could not break through this invisible barrier you had built around yourself.

Last was Satoru, always the enigmatic one, always full of contrasts. Yaga found him in one of the training rooms as he watched the younger students' classes.

"Satoru, did you talk to her?" he asked, knowing that Gojo was someone who could see more than others.

"I don't talk. I just sit by her when she's awake. That's all I can do." replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yaga felt a mixture of relief and sadness upon hearing these words. Satoru, in his typical style, had found a way to be beside you, but even he, with all his unlimited potential, could not pull you out of your state.

★ --

3 weeks after Suguru defected

Gojo was initially not supposed to get so involved.

He kept repeating to himself that he wasn't good at such things, that he didn't know how to talk about such topics, couldn't find a solution for you or show you something he should.

Your storm you showed him that day left a mark in him. It awakened something in him. He couldn't deny it. He just kept living in the belief, that he wasn't capable of doing anything about it. He didn't feel that there was anything in him that he could offer to help you. He never knew what to say, he never knew what to do. He felt hopeless about it. Satoru was not the kind of person who makes the same mistakes twice or never learns from them.

He blamed himself for Suguru's departure. He felt that his corruption was his fault. His lack of attention, his lack of interest, his powerlessness - his failure to adapt to such situations.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest, that was the reason he was born. It was what he was made for.

He was not made to come into contact with the problems of humanity, he was always above others, he never touched such topics. And now here you are. In front of him. You are showing him this.

You bring him closer to this subject, you prove to him that he, despite his title, is still human.

He feels exactly what you feel.

You are proof that the feelings he has inside him - make him human.

What ultimately made him abandon the idea of leaving the subject to himself was the sight of you. Soaking wet for long moments on the training field.

He saw you from a distance, as he walked with Shoko to class. He separated from her to letting her go ahead, saying he would catch up with her. The rain was dark and heavy. he didn't need an umbrella, so he walked throught it like was nothing. A white beam of light, walking throught the dark.

The sight of you, sitting on the training field with a bamboo sword, completely soaked - stuck in his mind. It was an image that spoke more than a thousand words. You were physically there, but spiritually you seemed to be far away, in a place where no words could reach you. Satoru, though usually full of energy and humour, this time simply walked up to you and without a word took your hand, pulling you out of the rain. You didn't even defy him as the force lifted your body and made you float slightly above the ground.

He sat you down in his room, giving you a towel to dry you off. Gojo left for a while, leaving you covered in towels and a warm blanket.

He quickly teleported to the kitchen, to brew a mug of warm tea for you. He waited patiently for the kettle to boil the water, tapping his fingers against the kitchen counter in thoughtfulness. He thought about bringing Shoko to you, as you might have caught a cold. Suguru had mentioned that you catch such colds quite easily.

As he moved back, he set his mug down on his notebook-cluttered desk and looked at you. You stood at the window, watching the rain that had kept the world quiet all day today.

"Why the rain?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. You did not answer immediately, still staring at the raindrops reflecting on the window.

After a moment, you raised your gaze, looking at him with a blank stare. "Because the rain is clean. It washes everything away. Maybe if I stood there long enough, it would wash me away too." Satoru felt his heart squeeze with pain at those words, but he didn't allow himself to have any emotional outbursts.

You sat like this for a long time, he beside you, looking out at the rain. In the silence that surrounded, he could feel how devastated you were, how much you had lost the will to live. He knew that these feelings would not disappear overnight. He was aware of that.

So from that moment on, Satoru implemented a plan that seemed strange and effective, exactly his style.

★ --

1 month after Suguru defected

The first month was a time of anticipation and patience for Satoru.

When he first entered your room, he felt the dense atmosphere almost overwhelm him. The quiet, enclosed room seemed as if trapped in time. You were sitting on the bed, your back turned to the door, shoulders tense. It was clear that your thoughts were far away.

Satoru closed the door behind him, then took a seat against the wall, far away from you, right next to the door. He sat down on the floor, pulled his gameboy out of his pocket and began to play, pretending it was a normal everyday situation.

At first you did not even look at him. Your gaze remained fixed on one point, as if you were trying to find a meaning in it that you could not find anywhere else. Satoru, however, was not bothered by this silence. He concentrated on the game, allowing you to get used to his presence while giving you space. Managing the space was his special skill.

Every day he would spend a few dozen minutes in your room, sometimes playing, sometimes bringing something to eat with him. Often he would sit there with a meal in his hand, eating slowly, and the sounds of munching were the only sounds in the room. He never tried to get you to talk, knowing that your personal space was crucial at that moment.

★ --

2 months after Suguru defected

The second month brought slight changes. Satoru, feeling that your reactions to his presence had become more bearable, decided to get closer.

Instead of sitting on the floor by the door, he took a seat in the chair by your desk, which stood slightly closer to the bed. When he entered the room, you looked at him - that was a success! Noticing change in his behaviour, but you took a quick glance at him, so he couldn't be happier. He passed you a small smile, that was a welcoming greeting.

Satoru stretched out comfortably in a chair, pulled out a book and began to read. Occasionally he would reach for his headphones to turn on some music for himself, shutting himself off from the world but still being there, at arm's length, if you need him.

There were days when he couldn't concentrate on reading, so he would just sit, watching you out of the corner of his eye. As time went on, he began to notice that you would sometimes glance at him, as if trying to understand why he came here almost everyday that was free for him, even though you didn't exchange a word with each other. Even when he was busy, your room was the first stop when he came back from any mission.

★ --

3 months after Suguru defected

In the third month, Satoru felt he could risk the next step.

When he walked into your room one day, instead of sitting in a chair, he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. He felt your body tighten as soon as he sat down, but you didn't move away or ask him to leave. This was the sign he had been waiting for.

He pulled out his gameboy, fired up the game and started playing, sitting next to you. For a while, the silence was almost overwhelming, but as time passed, the atmosphere began to relax. Satoru noticed that although you still didn't speak, your presence had become somewhat more conscious.

He started bringing you food when Shoko couldn't. He felt that when he brought you something, you were more eager to glance at it. And you even took a bite of the sweet roll he left with you one day.

There were also moments when you started to move, as if you wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. Satoru did not push. He felt that these small gestures were a sign of progress.

★ --

4 months after Suguru defected

In the last month of this silent coexistence, Satoru decided to go all in.

When he entered your room, he didn't stop at the door or the chair. He immediately headed for the bed and lay down beside you without a word. He felt you body stiffen at first, but after a while you relaxed, accepting his presence. This was so strange, but so.. welcoming.

Both of you lay side by side, arms barely touching, but it was enough.

Satoru pulled out his mp3 player, turned on quiet music and placed it between you two, letting the soft sounds fill the silence. He watched the ceiling, occasionally glancing up to look at your face. The sight of it, now devoid of such deep pain as it had been in the beginning, made him relieved. He knew that your emotional state was still fragile, but he was sure that his presence was helping you in some way. You were helping him too, he just couldn't say that to you.

His presence in your room become such a small tradition, which he often looked forward to. Besides your dorm was a good escape for him, when he was looking for, there was never any thought that he could be at your place.

One day, as both you lay like this, you gently turned towards him and looked at him with a slightly softer expression on your tired face. You didn't need to say anything - your gaze said more than words.

Satoru smiled slightly at you, then closed his eyes, feeling that you had reached a state of understanding that was only possible through months of patience and perseverance.

He was content, that he could see your eyes weren't so empty or full of tears. That was a breakthrought, that he was so eager to welcome.

★ --

4 and a half months after Suguru defected

Satoru has not visited you for a week.

You knew he was back from a mission, because Shoko bringing you food mentioned it. She also said that it had been a long and exhausting one, on which they had sent him alone, with no support from even specialists.

It was already very late in the night, you had been waiting for him for a long time, and yet he had not come.

For the first time since moths, you got out of bed by yourself.

You poked your head out, to see if the light in his room was on, it still was. You were overwhelmed by a strange feeling, that you could not quite describe. You wondered what the reason was for breaking this little tradition you shared between the two of you.

You came to the conclusion, that he probably needed the space himself and was just using it. Although this seemed to you to be completely unsuitable for a person you came to know. Should you do something about this fact? You nervously bit your nail.

What if he now needs the same treatment that he used to give you? What if he just needs to be alone?

A conflict arose in your mind. You didn't know what to do, how to behave. You felt a little stressed as you slowly sat back down on the bed.

What should you do?

Your decision was made, when your foot visited the kitchens for the first time in months to brew a tea for him.

All you could hear in the quiet corridor was the soft creaking of the floor, as you approached the door of his room. The wooden gates were slightly open, as if Gojo didn't have the strength to close them fully. You carefully pushed it open with your hand, peering inside.

Satoru was lying on the bed, with his arms spread, as if the weight of the world was crushing him to the mattress. His white hair, always so perfectly styled, were a mess. Fortunately, he had managed to change into his pyjamas. There was an expression of extreme fatigue on his face, but when he heard quiet footsteps, he lifted his eyelids.

Your gazes met. You gently closed the door behind you, then stepped deeper into the room, setting your mug of warm drink down on the desk. Just as he had done this to you one time. Your limbs tremble slightly from the cold. Going to the kitchen in just your pyjamas and flip-flops at this time of year was a stupid idea.

You didn't exchange a word with each other. You blandly started playing with the sleeve of your nightshirt. You didn't need words to understand how tired he was, the slight bags under his eyes and messy look told you all you needed to know.

He changed positions on the bed, moving more towards the wall, grabbed a corner of the duvet and lifted it up. He made an inviting gesture with his head and his slightly glowing eyes went out.

You sat on the edge of the bed first. Feeling a little on unfamiliar ground. You had only been in his room a couple of times. The main place for you to hang out as a group was Suguru's room. Immediately you felt the warmth emanating from the sheets.

With a slow movement you lay down next to him, letting the warmth of the duvet and his scent greet you. The mattress bent slightly under you weight, as you turned to face him. You could feel how soft and molded his mattress was, how his pillow was pleasantly arranged. Your body slowly began to warm, heat waves spreading through your body, soothing your mind and dulling your senses. The air around you was warm, enveloping, and his presence added a strange sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

You could feel your body relaxing more and more with each breath. You could hear the calm rhythm of his breathing, which worked on like a lullaby. You were so warm, not only physically, but also internally, as if this place, this moment, was exactly where you were supposed to be.

You slowly closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to embrace you with it's softness. The thoughts that had been swirling around in your head just moments before, began to quiet down, giving a way to a blissful emptiness. The warmth of his body and regular breathing were like an focus points that, allowed you to pull your head away from your worries and sink into a peaceful sleep.

Finally, you allowed yourself to fully surrender to the moment. You fell asleep, with his hand still gently resting on your waist, in a place that seemed the safest in the world.

★ --

Satoru slowly opened his eyes, feeling the soft rays of the sun on his face. For a while he lay still, savoring the quiet of the morning and the warmth that beat from the body, cuddled into his. You were sleeping peacefully, your breathing was steady and deep, and face expressed the kind of calm he hadn't seen in you in a long time. He smiled slightly, pleased that you could finally truly rest.

He didn't want to wake you, but he knew the day was calling him. He shifted cautiously, reaching for the phone that lay on the bedside table. For a moment, he pondered how to play it, but quickly decided that the only person he could ask to do it - was Shoko.

you: "Take care of everything today? Thanks. >ᴗ<"

7:43 am

Sent a message, not waiting for a respond, he put the phone aside, before turning back to you.

He glanced at your face once more. You looked so peaceful, as if for a moment you had forgotten everything that had overwhelmed you for months.

Gojo gently ran his fingers through your hair, trying not to wake you up. He smiled, seeing how you moved slightly in his arms, as if you instinctively knew he was there.

He was so proud of himself, the sight of your sincere rest soothed his heart somehow. Thanks to him, you were finally able to rest. He felt satisfaction and contentment at the thought. He finally didn't feel so helpless and powerless. He felt that he had just done something, that at least one person, by some screwed up luck, had managed to be saved by him.

With a slight sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into sleep again. He knew that he didn't have to rush anywhere, that this was a day they could spend relaxing, even if he had responsibilities and pressures on him, at this point he totally didn't give a damn. He fell asleep quickly, holding you close to him, enjoying the moment of comfort you brought to him as well.

You two slept all day, cuddled up to each other in warm cozy embrace.

With the peace and quiet you finally rested, as you both deserved.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[leahsgirl]

can you write something else based in the homemade love universe :)

sun kissed escapade | leah williamson x reader

in which you and leah go on holiday with your three-year-old.

might make leah with kids fanfics my whole personality because im down bad for them

-

“and what do you think you’re doing?” the blonde stood at the bottom of the stairs, her arms folded over her chest as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“leah i’m capable of carrying wren’s case.” you replied carrying your daughters peppa pig suitcase down.

“and have the possibility of you falling? no can do princess.” she grabbed the luggage off you despite the protesting and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. “are you going to let me help at all?”

“nope!” leah had without a doubt been very protective and helpful since finding out about your second pregnancy. but that also meant she didn’t let you do anything if she thought it involved the slightest bit of hard work.

“are we all set then?” you asked.

“yep, everything’s packed.” the defender scooped her daughter into her arms, making her squeal in delight. “we’re gonna have so much fun aren’t we baby?”

wren giggled and nodded enthusiastically, her tiny hands reaching out to play with leah’s hair.

after a few hours of travelling - a difficult task when trying to keep a toddler entertained, you made it to the beachfront hotel youse were staying at. Instantly revelling in the sun’s rays and the general smell of the heat abroad.

the three of you occupied yourselves with spending time at the pool, opting for just a chill first day. “bleedin’ hell they don’t make these easy do they?” leah sat on a sunbed catching her breath as she tried to blow up wren’s armbands.

“babe you’re letting all the air out.” pointing to the open cap that wasn’t covered. “oh for god’s sake.” despite the cursing and countless breaks the blonde managed to do it as you’d just finished lathering sun cream onto the little girl’s face.

“don’t go running off missus.” you tell wren before letting her waddle off to the kids pool. pulling your beach bag closer to you, you take out the book you’ve been reading and get yourself comfy on the sun lounger. “you not coming in?” leah motioning to the water as she throws off her sliders.

“i’m just gonna relax for a while, read my book.” not looking up as your eyes stayed fixed on the page in front of you. she pressed a kiss on your forehead “okay darlin’.”

not even ten minutes later and you find yourself being smothered by a dripping wet wren whose bombarded you in a hug. “oh my gosh! wrenny i’m soaked through now.”

the toddler shrugged apologetically “mama told me to do it.” your eyes darting over to the older girl who was at the edge of the pool laughing cheekily. “oh did she now?”

“oh come on it’s just a bit of a laugh, stop being boring and come join us.” leah chimed, wren joining in on the pleading.

you caved, making your way over to the steps and into the warm water. leah grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to deep end. “see this is much better than your book.”

you rolled your eyes playfully “i’ll have you know it was getting to the good part before you decided to use our child for your scheming.”

the skipper just smirked “it worked no?” happy her plan to get you in the pool succeeded. “just this time williamson.”

she pressed you against the wall, staring directly into your orbs, a dopey grin on her face. “i love you.” the words falling effortlessly from her lips as you repeated them. her mouth attached to your neck, peppering delicate kisses up to the back of your ear, a place she knew you was sensitive. you were thankful the hotel was quiet and secluded, only a few other people around who were too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice the public display of affection.

—

“princess - wait up!” leah called out to a very excited wren who you chased after while the arsenal player was busy unloading stuff out the rental car.

the toddler made a beeline for the sand and sea, eager to splash about. “we can’t be running off like that sweetie.” you getting your breath back now caught up with the little one. “sorry mommy.”

leah now joining youse, she laid out beach towels for you all to lie down along with passing you a cold bottle of water; the two humans inside you making you thirsty like no man’s business.

you occupied yourself with building sandcastles with wren, soaking in the quality time of just the two of you - only a couple of months remaining until you’d be a family of five. the blonde watched on in admiration, sneaking a couple of cute photos that she’d be posting later on for her ‘holiday camera roll dump’.

a good hour had passed - and lord what an hour it had been. it turns out the day you decided to go to the beach was also the day they was offering surfing lessons, so of course leah had to participate, her competitive spirit just as prevalent 4,000 miles away here than it was back home. “be prepared to be blown away by your incredibly sexy, multi-talented fiancé.” the taller woman winked before running off to join the group.

you and wren watched on from a distance, the small blonde sat in between your legs with your arms wrapped loosely around her stomach. “what’s your mother got herself into now hm wrenny.”

the three year old just giggled, nuzzling herself closer to you.

now if there’s one word to describe your partner’s performance on the waves - it would be hilarious. the poor girl could not stay on the board to save her life despite the adamant determination. when she did eventually stand up on the thing she got too excited and fell straight back into the water, the taste of salt getting unbearable at this point.

she made her way back over to you, a small scowl on her face now that she received a bruise to the ego. “have fun?” you asked finding this very amusing. “stupid surfboard - it clearly had something wrong with it!”

you patted her back reassuringly “maybe just stick to football love.” managing to get a little smile out of her as you pecked her lips.

“you thought i was good didn’t you angel?” leah diverting her attention over to the toddler who avoided the question, nuzzling into you more. “well it looks like beach 1, leah williamson 0.”

the centre-back mocked offence “i’m gonna give you two 10 seconds to run before i get you.”

you matched wren’s childish squeals as you ran off hand in hand away from the blonde, it not taking it long for leah to catch up and swiftly lift her daughter into her arms tickling her all over. “oh no looks like you’ve been caught wrenny.” sticking your tongue out playfully.

“erh you’re not off the hook either.” using her freehand to rope you in closer and have your lips crash together for a bruising kiss. “don’t see how that was much of a punishment babe.” you say once breaking apart.

“just giving you a glimpse of tonight’s agenda.” smirking cockily and smacking your butt.

—

nearing the end of your relaxing getaway, the three of you chose to go on an evening walk into town to find a restaurant to eat at. your hand intertwined with leah’s as she pushed wren in her pram.

after reading countless outside menu’s, you finally agreed on a small italian, leah content at the fact there was the option of chicken nuggets. “such a child.” you teased while being escorted to your table.

before leah could counter back she was being tapped on her side, small hands pointing to a little playground area set up at the end of the restaurant “can we go play?”

leah exchanged a glance with you waiting for approval, your lips curling up in a tender smile. “sure thing sweetheart, go have some fun.”

wren wasted no time in scampering up the ladder of the slide before abruptly stopping once at the top, the five feet off the ground suddenly very daunting. "c'mon you've got it." leah encouraged noticing the uneasy facial expression on the girl's face. "can you do it with me?"

giving in, no one surviving the puppy eyes wren gave when we wanted something, leah sat at the top of the kid's apparatus and positioned wren on her lap. "here we go baby."

huge grins on the toddlers face as they slid down - until they hit a snag that is; leah's hips getting wedged either side of the slide's edges, leaving both girls in an awkward predicament.

"uh-oh." the blonde muttered, attempting to wriggle free to no avail. "i think we're stuck."

wren's eyebrows furrowing in concern as she glanced back in your direction where you sat down rubbing your bloated stomach, people watching. she manoeuvred out of leah's grip, descending down the remainder of the slide.

"mommy! mama's stuck!" she tugged at your shirt urging you to get up and follow her. "mama's what?" you asked but didn't need your daughter to reply as your eyes landed on a very grumpy looking leah.

"oh wow, what's happened here?" trying to contain your amusement but failing miserably when a laugh escaped your lips.

leah's frustration was only mounting as she struggled to free herself. "its not funny." she grumbled, shooting a glare your way. "a little help would be appreciated."

"right, sorry." you attempted to slot your hand between the slide and her thigh hoping it would loosen the grip but it was useless. "babe please hurry people are starting to stare." despite the woman's strength, it was like she was superglued in place as she tried to break free. "why does this stuff only happen to you?" racking your brain for another plan.

leah folded her arms "i don't know but I'm stopping being the fun parent that's for sure."

you rolled your eyes playfully. "i'm gonna have to ask for help." scanning around for someone to help you. "no! this is embarrassing enough." to say this was humiliating for the older woman was an understatement. "honey its the only way - i can't get you out and wren definitely can't."

huffing but ultimately having to accept, leah let you call over a waiter who noticed your struggle. and after what felt like an eternity and three staff members later, your fiancé was set free, slightly disheveled but unharmed. wren burst into a fit of giggles, finding the entire ordeal utterly amusing.

"don't you dare send that video to anyone." leah noticing how you discreetly (or so you thought) video taped her whole rescue mission. you kissed her cheek "never babe. come on lets go eat."

after a very delicious meal that the restaurant kindly offered to pay for due to the trauma leah just faced, the said girl whipped out her phone, it buzzing relentlessly for the past ten minutes.

"babe why do i have multiple texts asking about the slide incident? who did you send it to?"

innocently smiling at her you shrugged. "no one really - just your mum..and our england teammates..maybe a few arsenal girls."

leah gawped at you, stopping in her tracks "you wouldn't dare."

holding up your phone to show her the messages, her face drained in humiliation. "i do dare." the opportunity to showcase the side of leah people rarely see too good - how could you not?

"oh you are so dead."

[rafesangelita]

hii again ik i just sent one but what about rafey manhandling you out of a party when you get into an argument w some girl who was like trying to get all over him (he was clearly not into it and was telling her he had a girl) and then him eating her pussy in bed that night saying that shes the only one he wants cause he loves her and her pretty pussy so much -👛

warnings: arguing, oral (f receiving)

you were sitting next to rafe when the broad stumbled over to him, so high out of her mind that she didn’t notice your head resting on his shoulder. “hey rafeee!” your eyes shot to the source of the voice, your boyfriend immediately glancing over at you. “you got a line for me?” she smiled, tripping over her heels before falling right into his lap. “yo, come on!” he pushed her, “watch the fuck out, i got all this shit out right here.” you glared at her, annoyed with the way she was looking at your boyfriend.

“i don’t have any money on me, but i could pay you with something else..” rafe’s lip curled in disgust, physically cringing at her while you fought the urge to drag her out of the house by her hair. “go be a mess somewhere else, i got a girl.” rafe pulled you closer to his side, her eyes finally landing you. “all lines are fifty dollars, babe. sorry, no free plays around here!” you flashed her a smile, running your hand across rafe’s chest, “this is your girl? my god, i’d think you have higher standards, ray.. guess not.” you took a moment to examine her.

“then what does that make you?” you stood up. “the whole world could see where your hair extensions start, your lashes are hanging on by a thread, you desperately need a nail fill, and you could barely walk in those things called heels.. you’re as low as they come.” rafe was already packing his stuff, knowing how this would end if you two didn’t leave right now. surrounding partygoers were now looking at you two, your boyfriend tugging on one of the belt loops of your skirt. “my daddy is chief police, i’d watch out if i were you. i could shut your whole operation down.” at that, rafe cursed under his breath, dragging you away before anything could escalate.

“do it then! and make sure you tell him how you’re an easy coke whore while you’re at it!” rafe picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder while you tried to squirm out of his grip. “put me down!” it wasn’t until he made it to the truck that he placed you in the passenger seat, your hands shoving him away when he tried to talk to you. he groaned, making his way to the driver’s side. “you should’ve defended me.” rafe looked over at you with wide eyes. “i should’ve defended you? against what? the idiot that couldn’t tell left from right?” he laughed.

“it’s not funny.” you crossed your arms over your chest, scooting as close to the door as you could. “are you seriously mad at me right now?” you swatted his hand away when he reached over, making him shake his head. “just wait till we get home.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him for the rest of the ride. you were quick to get off the truck once he pulled in, slamming the door shut as you ran inside. rafe scoffed, “well that was a little dramatic.” he went up upstairs, groaning in frustration when the door knob to his bedroom didn’t budge. “you can’t lock me out of my own space!” you were naked, about to step into the shower before you shouted, “i just did!”

you took your time under the hot water, washing off all of the irritation and anger from tonight. you knew rafe did everything he could to establish himself as unavailable and uninterested to that girl, he even pushed her for crying out loud. the guilt for being mad at him was starting to seep through, making you open the bedroom door after you got out of the shower. once you changed into a pair of his boxers and a baby tee, you climbed underneath the sheets, waiting to hear his footsteps walk in. eventually he did, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, “i just get so mad when someone thinks they can just flirt their way into getting your attention.” he turned, rubbing your leg through the comforter. “no one, except you, has my attention, y/n. nothing else matters to me.” he uncovered you, fingers toying with the waistband of your, well his, bottoms. you sighed, pulling him to your chest where you cradled his head. “i promise i won’t be mad at you when it comes to other girls. i trust you.” he kissed you before pulling away, sliding his boxers down your legs.

you let him have his way with you, a gasp leaving your lips when he pulled your thighs on top of his shoulders. “you never have to worry about anyone else, no one even compares.” rafe left wet kisses on your folds, your back arching off the bed when his tongue met your clit. “i’ve never met someone so beautiful, ‘never seen a pussy this pretty.” he spread you apart with his thumbs, marveling at the sight of you. “you’re the only girl i need, ‘the only one for me.” you knew rafe had a mean head game, but one hour later and he was still making you cum until tears rolled down your cheeks. “please! it’s too much, rafe,” you sobbed, your body on fire as your legs trembled.

he finally pulled away, his lips shining with your slick. “i love you.” he rubbed circles into your skin. rafe waited until you were able to meet his eyes, your chest falling and rising with each breath. “i love you, too.” you blinked slowly.