#but they work with anything that has crumbs

[gojougf]

love me not .ೃ࿔ gojo satoru

synopsis ╰┈➤ pining over your best-friend's brother for as long as you can remember actually did work out in your favour!

wc: 6.1k

warnings: shameless smut bc i was deprived of having the best friend's older brother experience, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of food, fem reader, angst if you squint really really really hard.

a/n: this is a remake of a geto fic i wrote last year on ao3 when i was missing tumblr bc i had to visit my home country, and tumblr is actually banned there.. so in the offchance you did read my fic on ao3 (it has like 1k hits so you probably haven't) this is the same author lol! my writing lowkey sucked back then. not proofread so if it does say suguru's name instead of satoru it is not my fault ok ( ´ ω ` )

You rolled over, stomach aching with hunger, as you listened to the slow, steady breathing of your best friend. The dim glow of the clock read 3:25 AM. With a sigh, you stared at the dark ceiling, unable to ignore the gnawing emptiness in your stomach any longer.

It was your sleepover with Ami, but an ill-timed nap during dinner had left you feeling both restless and starving. Giving in, you quietly tiptoed out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, hoping there were some leftovers from the meal you and Ami had prepared earlier.

Switching on your phone’s flashlight, you barely stifled a scream when a dark figure loomed in the kitchen. Your heart slammed against your ribs as the figure turned, moonlight catching sharp eyes—ones that, even through your panic, you recognized instantly.

"Y/N? What’re you doing here?"

The deep, sleep-roughened voice of Gojo Satoru, Ami’s older brother, filled the silence. He spoke through a mouthful of Oreos, crumbs clinging to his lips. You exhaled shakily, quickly turning off your flashlight.

"I—uh, I was hungry and couldn’t sleep," you admitted, staring at anything but him. "Thought I’d grab some of the leftovers."

Your heart still pounded in your chest, but now for an entirely different reason.

You had known Gojo Satoru for as long as you could remember. Through every phase, every milestone, every moment of your friendship with Ami—he had always been there. Not always present, but there. Three years older, confident, effortlessly cool. While Ami was open and fiery, Gojo was just as lively—charming, talkative, always the center of attention. He had a way of making people feel at ease, flashing his easygoing grin and slipping effortlessly into conversation. But with you, it was different. With you, he was distant. Playfully dismissive at best, indifferent at worst, like you were the only person in the world he had no interest in figuring out.

And yet, despite his distant nature, one undeniable truth remained: you had been hopelessly in love with him for years.

Only two people in the world knew this—Ami and your diary.

You still remember the first time you saw him. Fourteen-year-old you had been completely mesmerized by the sight of Ami’s older brother—the ivory, icy hair, so similar to his sisters (you’d always called them Elsa’s siblings) the shirts he’d wear that did little to hide the toned body he had began building once he started hitting the gym, biceps filling the sleeves, and the way the muffled sound of his electric guitar filtered through the walls when you and Ami were in her room. You had been too shy to even approach him, content to admire him from afar, heart pounding at every accidental brush of his arm when he passed by.

Your infatuation had been so painfully obvious that Ami had once turned to you, deadpan, and asked, "Do you like my brother?"

You stammered, cheeks burning, only for her to roll her eyes and say, "I don’t care, do whatever you want."

But wanting had never been enough.

Over the years, you had tried—desperately—to get his attention. Push-up bras you had no business wearing at sixteen. Cherry-flavored lip gloss, tiny shorts, stolen tank tops from your older sister. Cute bikinis on beach trips with Ami, hoping his gaze would linger just a second too long. But he never looked. Never really looked. To him, you were just his little sister’s friend.

Seventeen-year-old you had given up entirely.

Especially when you saw the other girls.

The ones he did look at. The ones he brought home late at night, holding them close as they giggled against his shoulder, their hands roaming across his tall, lean frame. The ones who disappeared into his room, only for you to hear muffled noises through the walls no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

"Give up already," Ami had told you bluntly one night, rolling her eyes. "My brother’s a whore."

Now, at twenty, with college life keeping you busy, Gojo Satoru has become little more than a distant, bittersweet memory. You had forced yourself to move on, burying that old crush deep in the past where it belonged.

But then, summer came.

And Satoru was back.

Home for a few weeks, lounging around the house like he owned the place. Teasing Ami relentlessly, getting on her nerves while you stood awkwardly by, watching the two siblings bicker. Occasionally, he would drag you into the conversation—just to fluster you, just to see you squirm.

At most, your only real interactions with him had been when he gave you and Ami a ride to school in his car or when he felt like helping with your math homework. Even then, it was never just help. It was teasing Ami for her awful math skills, then turning to you with a smug grin and exaggerated praise, just to make her mad.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

It had to mean nothing.

And yet, as you stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, watching him casually eat Oreos under the moonlight, you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Like that fourteen-year-old girl was still somewhere inside you, heart still foolishly hoping.

You stood there awkwardly, stomach no longer the only thing in knots. This was the first time you’d ever been alone with Gojo Satoru, and suddenly, you had no idea what to do with yourself.

"You want some Oreos?"

He pushed the half-empty packet toward you from across the counter, chewing lazily on one himself. "Oh—uh, thanks." You took one, feeling a little ridiculous as you nibbled at the edge. Turning away, you busied yourself with the microwave, searching for the tacos you and Ami had left behind earlier. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the way Satoru raised an eyebrow. You weren’t exactly being subtle about your discomfort.

"Are you scared of me or something?" His voice was teasing, but there was curiosity behind it. "You never talk to me." You turned, startled by his bluntness. "I’m not scared of you," you said quickly. "I just… don’t really know what to talk to you about." He let out a low, breathy laugh at that, and warmth spread through your body at the sound. God, why did he have to sound like that?

"Oh, really?" he mused. "I’ve known you for years, and this is the first time we’ve actually had a conversation without Ami around." You didn’t have a response for that, so you focused on the tacos instead, pulling them from the microwave and settling onto a chair near the countertop.

Satoru snickered, shaking his head as he turned to the fridge. He rummaged through it with his broad back to you, the muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his tank top. Your gaze drifted downward, trailing from the taper of his waist to the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His icy hair was gleaming under the dim light of the fridge, looking pristine even at such an absurd hour in the night. With a small flustered twinge in your chest you noticed how he had an undercut now— why’d he look more.. delectable than usual? Were you ovulating?

He turned back around, holding a container of leftover cake. You quickly looked away, flustered. "You like strawberry cake, don’t you?" He cut two slices, sliding one toward you. You blinked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

He smirked at your expression. "Ami mentioned it once. When she threw you that surprise party for your 16th birthday." Your breath caught. That was nearly four years ago. You hadn’t even thought he knew about that party, let alone remembered such a small detail about you.

Heart fluttering, you took a bite of the cake, trying to push down the giddy feeling creeping up your spine. Slowly, the tension between you began to ease. Satoru was surprisingly easy to talk to—charming, even. He started sharing embarrassing stories about Ami, making you laugh so hard you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. You learned that he wasn’t as distant as you had always thought—if anything, he was naturally outgoing, effortlessly getting along with everyone. Everyone except you, or so it had always seemed. But now, as the conversation flowed and you found unexpected common ground, you realized he wasn’t avoiding you—he just never had a reason to talk to you. Until now. You also learned that he had a lot more in common with you than you expected. He was into photography, filmmaking, and music composition, even studying music at university.

What started as a midnight snack turned into hours of conversation. Before you knew it, the sky was shifting from black to a soft, early-morning blue. 

"Never knew you were this cool, Y/N." 

You tried not to visibly preen at his words, fighting to keep your composure. "So you didn’t think I was cool before?" you teased. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "C’mon, you know what I mean." Then, more casually, he added, "You should hang out with me sometime. I could show you some of my short films, if you’re interested." Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you nodded—a little too eagerly.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. But then, for the first time that night, his gaze flickered—down. Just briefly. You caught the way his eyes lingered at the neckline of your flimsy sleep shirt before snapping back up to meet yours.

A shiver ran down your spine.

But before you could overthink it, Satoru stretched, gave you a lazy grin, and bid you goodnight before heading back upstairs. When you finally slipped back into bed next to Ami, she was still sound asleep, completely unaware of your absence. You buried your face in the pillow, heart pounding.

You had definitely caught him looking.

And just like that, your years-old crush was back in full force.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A few days later, you were back at Ami’s house, waiting for her to return from running errands. You plopped onto the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when footsteps coming down the stairs caught your attention. You looked up.

Satoru.

His white hair was falling into his eyes, loose strands framing his sharp features, and the compression shirt he wore clung to his torso in a way that wasn’t helping your thoughts at all. 

"Oh, hey," he greeted, blinking at you in mild surprise. "You waiting on Ami?"

"Yeah, she said she’s gonna be late, though. Not sure how long."

"Damn." He stretched lazily. "I was about to head to the gym, but they’re closed today." You nodded, pretending to focus on your phone again, even though all you could think about now was him at the gym. Then, his voice broke through your thoughts.

"You wanna come up to my room?" Your head snapped up. He was watching you, eyes unreadable, a small smirk playing on his lips. Your stomach flipped. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at his suggestion, your face turning toward him with a slight pink dusting your cheeks.

“What? Go to your room?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, you said you’d be interested in seeing some of my short films for my college projects. Want me to show you some? Seeing as we both have nothing else to do.” There was a certain teasing lilt to his voice, his sharp eyes taking in your flustered state with amusement.

“Oh.”

Realization struck, and you cursed yourself internally for how obviously thrown off you sounded. Really, it wasn’t your fault—you were a newly minted adult, and your hormones were practically waging war against your common sense. Still, you nodded, standing up alongside him, hyper aware of just how much taller he was. That ever-present smirk never left his face as he led you to his room, clearly entertained by your reaction.

The moment you stepped inside, you realized this was the only space in Ami’s house you hadn’t properly explored. You’d caught glimpses before—grabbing a charger or returning something Ami had borrowed—but never had you taken the time to actually look around. It was surprisingly neat, with the exception of his desk, which was cluttered with scattered papers and notebooks. A few posters lined the walls, his bed was made, and the entire space carried the familiar scent of his cologne.

“You can sit if you’d like. It’ll take me a second to find the files,” he said, gesturing to the bed as he made his way to the desk.

You hesitated before sitting down, instantly taking in just how much stronger the scent of his cologne was here. His bed, his pillows—everything was drenched in it. You briefly considered asking him what brand he used before dismissing the thought as too weird.

As Satoru rummaged through his laptop, you let your eyes drift to his back. The black compression shirt he wore hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric straining slightly each time he moved. You wonder what it would feel like putting your ankles on them while he– stop! Your gaze traveled lower, to his tapered waist, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips—

You shook your head quickly, mentally chastising yourself for where your thoughts were heading. You crossed your legs in an attempt to ground yourself, tugging at the hem of your skirt in the process. As if sensing your discomfort, Satoru glanced back at you before giving you a small, teasing smile.

“M’not gonna bite, you know. You can sit comfortably,” he muttered, his attention half on the laptop.

“I-I know,” you mumbled, shifting slightly.

With that same lazy smirk, he returned his focus to the screen, fingers moving effortlessly across the keyboard. You watched them for a second too long—his hands were large, his nails neatly trimmed, his fingers long and dexterous. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the files he was pulling up rather than imagining sucking on his fingers.

“Aha,” he mumbles. “Found it.”

He clicks on a small folder icon, opening a three-minute video that plays like a cinematic trailer. You watch, both curious and impressed, as the screen fills with warm, golden hues—the entire short film has an almost Sufjan Stevens-esque aesthetic, shot on a beach at sunset. A man with dark long hair with striking amethyst eyes and a stunning woman with short, rust coloured hair (you ignore the tiny pang of jealousy at the fact that she got to work with Satoru) move through the scenes, their story unfolding in quiet gestures and lingering glances.

“The theme was ‘how love is shown through actions rather than words,’” he explains casually, glancing at you.

You look at him, thoroughly impressed. Even in such a short film, the theme is so carefully and beautifully portrayed through small, thoughtful details. You’d always assumed Satoru would lean toward thriller, or perhaps comedy, something packed with action. But this—this careful, deliberate depiction of love through unspoken moments—only deepens your admiration for him.

“I can tell,” you breathe out, taking in the last frames of the trailer. “It’s really beautifully made.”

A small, pleased smile tugs at his lips as he closes his laptop.

“The actors are beautiful, too. It adds to the mood of the film,” you add softly, glancing at him.

Satoru laughs—a smooth, melodic sound that makes your stomach flip.

“Those are two of my best friends. Suguru and Shoko,” he says. “Getting Shoko to agree was the hard part—she’s not into guys, but I knew her face had the exact look I wanted for this. She didn’t mind pretending to be with Suguru, but I did have to bribe her with a pack of cigarettes to make up for it.” He grins, amused at the memory.

You laugh too, feeling a strange sense of relief at his words. So Shoko wasn’t even into Satoru. Not that it should matter, but—well. She was gorgeous. You could admit that much. If you weren’t completely, hopelessly in love with Satoru, you might have tried hitting her up yourself.

He leans back against his pillow, elbow propped up to hold his head, watching you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. You curse yourself for turning pink under his gaze. Shifting slightly, you fold your legs underneath you, adjusting your skirt as it rides up just a little. His eyes flicker downward, tracking the movement, before darting back up to your face.

You suddenly feel the weight of the atmosphere, hyper aware of the way his presence fills the room. Your gaze flits away, scanning the walls, the desk—anywhere but him.

“Um, I think I should go. Ami’s probably almost h—”

Your words cut off as Satoru’s large, warm hand closes gently around your wrist.

His lips curve into something unreadable, his dark eyes holding yours. “You know,” he murmurs, voice low, “I know about your little crush on me.”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t know whether to go pale or burn up entirely, but it feels like something in between.

“Wh—what?” You barely manage to force out the word. “Who said that? I don’t have a crush on you.”

He gives you a knowing look, rolling his eyes playfully. “C’mon, you think I wouldn’t notice?” He shifts slightly closer, and the warmth of his cologne—sandalwood and something rich you can’t name—fills your senses. “It’s so obvious. How did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with an easy familiarity. You blink at the gesture, suddenly feeling absurdly close to tears.

He notices. His expression softens as he wipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why’re you crying, pretty?” He murmurs.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. “I thought—I thought you’d find me weird. Or childish. For having a crush on you.” You fidget with your hands, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, just—just please don’t make fun of me or anything.”

His thumb lingers against your cheek. “I never said I didn’t enjoy your attention.”

Your breath stills.

“I think you’re pretty cute too,” he admits, voice dropping lower. “I’ve thought that for a while now.” His fingers trail to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. “I’ve always been… a little older than you. Always thought you were attractive as hell, but I didn’t want to freak you out about the age thing. Not until I saw one of Ami’s chats with you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you fight the instinct to take it in your mouth.

You shake yourself. Your brain can’t keep up with your body right now.

You look up at him, dazed, hanging onto his every word.

“Always suspected you had a little crush on me,” he muses. “You think I didn’t notice the tiny little tops you wore? How you’d lean in extra close, tits practically brushing against my arm, when asking me for help with math—math you already knew, by the way.” His eyes gleam as he watches you squirm. “Or how you’d reapply that pink lip gloss every time I looked at you?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you think he might hear it.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that slow, amused smirk.

“My suspicions were kinda confirmed when I saw you texting Ami about how sexy you thought I was,” he murmurs, his voice like silk.

Your brain is screaming.

And yet, you don’t move away.

You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment, unable to believe he was telling you all this, too ashamed to look at him. His words ignited desire in you. He had noticed all your futile attempts to seduce him and despite the teasing words, you were getting wetter by the second.

He tutted softly, his eyes flicking to your face with a look that almost seemed amused. Gently, he reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His large hand easily enclosed both of your wrists, holding them firmly but not painfully, as he pinned them softly to your lap.

His gaze remained on you, studying your flushed expression with a small, knowing smile.

“You know what I wanted to do then?” He says, his voice low and teasing, as he leans a little closer, his eyes locked onto yours. The playful gleam in his eyes lingers as he watches you, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips, his tone laced with lust.

“What?” You ask with a faint voice as he leans into you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat as his presence fills the space around you.

“Wanted to fuck you so badly. I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He groans as he pulls back, his oceanic eyes now clouded by desire and lust as he boldly makes eye contact with you, squeezing both your hands in his large grip.

You instinctively reach up to wet your lips, no longer unfamiliar with the warmth of embarrassment after his bold words. Then, surprising even yourself, you do something you never imagined—your heart racing as you rise onto your knees, tilt your head, and press your lips gently against his.

He responds immediately, his hand freeing your wrists as it goes to grip the back of your neck, and the other spayed on your lower back. He kisses you passionately, the kiss itself a clash of teeth and tongue. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth, swirling around yours and completely dominating your mouth as you gladly let him. You feel dizzy when experiencing a kiss like this, pulling back from air, your lips coated in a mixture of both your saliva.

He has a crazed look in his eyes, as he leans in to softly bite your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact with you as he tugs on it slightly, letting it go with a pop. You’re breathing heavily, not only because of the kiss but because of how heavily you’re attracted to him.

Without warning he pushes himself against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs slightly and pulling you on his lap. You let out a small whimper at the way he manhandles you, arching your back and pressing your chest towards his as you both start kissing again. He kisses you like you’re his last meal, his tongue playfully chasing yours as he sucks on it, making you buck your hips against his.

He lets out a low groan at that, and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Eager to hear it again, you grind your crotch onto his again, feeling the hardening imprint of his cock through his sweatpants. He grabs you in place by placing his large hands on your waist, bringing his hips up to rut his cock against your crotch again. At this point your panties are completely soaked. you were already wet just from his confession about you, his smooth voice being able to turn you on embarrassingly quick. They feel uncomfortably wet and you look down, seeing a wet patch forming on his sweatpants.

He humps into you harder, as you try your best to rub down on him, your clit being stimulated by the feeling of his hardened length rubbing against you even through the layers of clothing. Satoru stops his ministrations for a second, looking at you, realising how small you are even while sitting in his lap. his hands travel up your thighs as he lifts your skirt, taking in your absolutely soaked pussy. You bite your lip in both frustration and lust, wanting him to touch you rather than just stare.

“Fuck baby, you’re so eager, huh” he mumbles, distracted by how he can see the shape of your pussy through your panties. You moan, a little embarrassed, pushing your hips up, to signal him to touch you. Teasingly, he runs a long finger through your slit over your soaked panties. You swear you almost cum at his touch, as your body suddenly jolts, your hands grab at his shoulders. He chuckles a little, as he slips his hand in your underwear, his fingers teasingly sliding up and down your labia, gathering your slick. he uses that slick and prods at your puffy clit, causing you to let out a whimper, your hands grabbing tightly at his shoulders as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“So shy.. fuck I wanna see if you can come on my fingers alone. Y’r so wet, You like it messy?” He breathes out his words, his voice like honey, his fingers setting a brutal pace against your clit as you succumb to the pleasure, not even getting embarrassed at the fact that you’re basically riding his hand. with no warning his middle finger slides into you gently, as you gasp at the intrusion. However your clit is never left neglected, as his thumb immediately goes back to rubbing and flicking it, making you bite and kiss his neck in order to somehow relieve yourself of the torturous pleasure you’re experiencing.

“F-fuck,” you mutter, leaning back to look at Satoru in the eyes, biting your lip. “I think- I think ‘m close Satoru.” You close your eyes as he watches your face intently, his gaze boring into you as you twist your face into one of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a coil in your stomach snap as you feel yourself release all over his fingers, your breaths coming out fast and shaky. with one last flick to your clit, he grins smugly.

Clumsily, you climb off his lap, kneeling off the bed, hands reaching the waistband of his sweatpants. his brow furrows as he tsks cutely. “Let me take care of you baby, don’t you wanna feel good?” He asks as you shake your head, still flushed from your orgasm.

“No. wanna make you feel good too Satoru.” You say, as he throws his head back in a groan, getting painfully hard at just your words. “Fuck. okay. you’ve done this before?” He asks, as you nod your head. “Once, but I.. I don't know if I'm good at it.. I mean he came.. so..” You admit, looking at him, playing with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Shit, you have such a pretty mouth, I'm sure it’ll be good. I’ll teach you, baby” he says, caressing your face, setting his legs at the edge of the bed, as you get down on the floor between his spread legs, looking up at him.

You quickly discard your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ironically, you chose to wear a lace one today as all your other ones were in the wash. Satoru smirks at your cute, lacy pink bra, snapping the strap against your skin as he looks down at you, analysing both your face and your supple tits. You nimbly take off his pants, gulping at the tent in his boxers. Timidly you run a hand over his clothed cock, and you see a wet spot starting to form. He gasps at the feeling of your hand caressing him, and you pull down his boxers with a gasp.

It's big. it’s really big, is all you’re thinking. It slaps against his stomach, tall and proud, the tip a flushed pink colour, already starting to dribble pre-cum. His base is trimmed, and you almost salivate when you see how it connects to his happy trail, the tantalising white trail peeking out at the end of his compression shirt. You have no idea how you’re gonna fit it inside of your mouth.

You gingerly grab it, your mouth reaching out to kitten lick the tip. Slowly you take the tip in your mouth, suckling on it, as you start to make your way down. He starts moaning when you pay attention to the tip, and you bob your head up and down his shaft, feeling a small sense of success when you hear him downright whimper, and you feel slick slide out of you again. You eagerly bob your head up and down, not being able to take all of him in because he’s so big, spit is coating your chin and dripping on his dick, your hands pumping the remaining part of the shaft that won’t fit in your mouth. You’re gagging and he’s grabbing your hair to roughly lift it up and then thrusting his cock back in your mouth, and you let out a moan, pressing your thighs together at the rough way that he handles you.

“Fu-fuck, you’re taking it so well. shit- ah!” He moans out louder and you look up at him with teary eyes, hollowing your cheeks. A few more thrusts and suddenly he pulls you off, his face flushed.

You whine, wanting him to cum in your mouth. he coos up at your needy reaction. He pulls you onto his lap, his face flushed and red. “You’re on birth control right?” He pants recalling when he had overheard you telling Ami that you’d need to leave their house soon to stop by the store to get some birth control before they closed. You nod and he gives you a happy grin, his canines peeking through. 

“Need to cum inside of you.” He whispers in your ear and you nod eagerly, wiping off the spit on your chin with the back of your hand.

His hands travel up your skirt and pull your basically ruined panties off as you sign a breath of relief, the cold hair hitting your pussy. You’re left in a bra and a skirt and you quickly unclasp your bra and Satoru pushes off your skirt. you’re left completely naked and Satoru still has his shirt on.

“Hey, take your shirt off too!” You whine and he laughs, pulling off his shirt in one swift go and kicking his sweats and boxers that were both pooling at his ankles. Immediately your hands run down the hard planes of chest, feeling his rippling muscles, your hands scratching at his abs. He shudders at that as he buries his face in your tits, licking and kissing them in a way which has you arching them in his face.

He sets you down on the bed as he grabs his stiff cock, running it up and down your pussy. It touches your clit, which is still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and you let out a little whimper.

“Satoru, stop staring at it like that..” You mumble shyly, as Satoru’s eyes are completely focused on how your pussy is clenching, wanting nothing more than his teasing cock inside.

“Your pussy? S’not my fault it’s so fuckin pretty. Wanna taste it next time.” He mumbles and you flush at his crude words, moaning and bucking your hips as he prods his dick at your entrance.

You close your legs at the intrusion as he slips the tip inside, hissing at the slight burn as he stretches you out. He pries apart your knees with his huge hands, spreading out your pussy to him and you grab the sheets, writhing. He enters you slowly, pulsing inside of you, and suddenly the pain melts into pleasure.

“You can-you can put it fully in now.” You signal and he immediately fills you up, staying still so you can get used to the size. “M-move. Fuck. Please, Satoru, move!” You whimper and he starts thrusting into you, at a deep yet slow pace that has you seeing stars. He kisses you, swallowing your moans as he peppers his kisses down to your neck, sucking and kissing, which you’re sure is gonna leave marks but you’re feeling too good to care at the moment.

Satoru starts whimpering, relishing each time he slides into your warm, gummy walls. “You’re so tight, your pussy is literally suckin’ me in. Shit you’re so gorgeous” he breathes out, watching down at where your bodies are meeting, getting turned on by the lewd slapping sounds filling his room. Your eyes roll back in response, you’re too fucked out to respond. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest as you squeal, his cock now drilling into you at a deeper angle. He keeps hitting the right spot each time and you swear that with a few more thrusts you’ll cum again.

“Ah, I'm so close. You sure I can cum inside this tight little hole?” he says, looking you in the eye, as you nod eagerly. “Please, please cum in me. I need it inside of me!” You start incessantly babbling as he chuckles. Thoughts of him fucking a baby into you take over you and you wonder what it would feel like having him cum in you without any birth control.

He grabs your tits, squeezing them harshly, rolling your nipples in your hands, fucking into you at an almost animalistic pace as he is trying to reach his high. You feel that familiar bond in your stomach, as its warmth is threatening to spread all over your body.

“Sa– Satoru!! I’m gonna cum, I’m-“ You start writhing as he moves his hands to hold your hips down, his thrusts becoming sloppier. He reaches down to kiss you messily, biting your bottom lip as you moan into his mouth.

He suddenly stills, filling you to the hilt, breathing heavily as you feel him release hot spurts of cum in you. The thick ropes of his seed paint your walls, suddenly fucking into you harder, even though he’s sensitive after his orgasm, a hand reaching down to play with your clit to help you cum too.

You feel the bond snap as you cum all over his cock, arching your back and grabbing the sheets, your breaths coming out in pants as you lock eyes with Satoru. His hair is falling onto his slightly sweaty forehead, and he’s breathing heavily, as he pulls out. A mixture of both your fluids come out, and he quickly goes to the bathroom and grabs a small cloth, wiping you down and cleaning you.

“You okay? Need me to run a bath?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. You shake your head tiredly, lifting your arms toward him.

“Can you hold me?” Your heart pounds as you meet his gaze, and he smiles down at you—soft, reassuring.

“Of course I can, baby,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck as his fingers stroke through your hair, his warmth melting away the last traces of exhaustion. He tugs the blankets over both of you, his steady breathing lulling you into a peaceful haze.

Within minutes, sleep claims you both, wrapped in each other’s embrace—completely unaware of the door creaking open downstairs.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

You creep down the stairs quietly, Satoru’s hand warm in yours. The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the living room. After last night, you had called your parents, telling them you were staying over at Ami’s—though you left out a few details.

Both of you are still giggling when Ami suddenly pops out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula like a weapon.

“You guys need to be more quiet. Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard you,” she grumbles, smacking Satoru’s shoulder with the spatula.

“Ow—why are you hitting me? She was the one making all the noise,” he teases, nudging you with a smirk.

You groan, burying your face in your free hand as Ami winces.

“I did not need to know that. At all.” She glares at him before her eyes narrow suspiciously. “So… are you two, like, dating now or something?”

You tense, looking away but still holding Satoru’s hand. Truthfully, you have no idea where you stand with him.

“If she’d let me, sure,” he says softly, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

You whip your head around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

Ami rolls her eyes. “Whatever. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.” With that, she turns and disappears back into the kitchen.

Satoru chuckles, leading you toward his car to drop you back home. As he unlocks the door, he looks at you, a playful glint in his eye.

“So… what do you say? Wanna go on a date with me?”

hiiii writing is so fun omg i have so many ideas and so much freetime i think i'm gonna write about nerdjo next :3

[bones4thecats]

Hello! I really like your writing! I wanted to make a request for record of ragnarok if that dosen't bother you! Of nikola with a s/o that is a housewife, while nikola is a very work centered man is also really grateful of his wife work to make the house a real home:)

I hope you don't find this request weird but if you do you can reject this request.

❥· Wife of the Child of Light, RoR! Nikola Tesla × F! S/O

Characters: Nikola Tesla (🧪) A/N: Thank you for the compliment, @ultravioletqueen! This request was not weird at all, I found it to be very unique and cute! I do hope that you enjoy how it turned out! ✎ Summary: What is life like with Nikola Tesla when you're his Housewife! S/O

P.S: The Reader was born in the same year as Nikola Tesla here (so, they lived from 1856 to the 1938 and died at the age of 82, meanwhile Nikola lived from 1856 to 1943 and died at the age of 86)

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

🧪 You hummed as you danced around the house. In the background was one of your favorite songs, Jingle Bells. This song came out in 1857, when you were just a year old. Memories of your mother singing it to you as you grew up laid deep within your mind. But, memories of singing it with your husband, Nikola, also laid in there.

🧪 It has been years since you both joined lives again in the afterlife. He died four years after you did, and was happy when you hugged him, told him how proud you were, and just stayed near him. It may have only been four years, but, for him, it felt like a million being away from you.

🧪 The thought of him wrapping his arms around your neck made your cheeks flush, a smile on your face as he hugged you. He didn't look like the elderly man you saw before passing away in your sleep. No, he looked like the younger man, the same man you married early on in life.

🧪 As you continued to move around, dusting off some counter-tops from crumbs due to making your husband the occasional snack as he worked in his lab. But, you never minded it. You never did when alive, so why would you when deceased?

🧪 A sigh came from the doorway, along with a flop afterwards. You looked over your shoulder and saw your husband there, his face buried in a pillow as he took calming breaths. His hair was slightly pulled back by his goggles. A smile crossed your face as you tapped his shoulder.

🧪 Nikola, still in a slight daze, looked upwards at you. You pointed to the end table. He followed your finger, and his eyes softened when he saw his favorite foods; cauliflower and turnips. A smile decorated his face as he lightly grabbed the plate and a fork, poked one of the cauliflower, and began eating it.

🧪 You, giving him some privacy, went back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. When you did this, Nikola looked at you. His eyes were filled with not only the emotion of observing and the want to learn and understand, but the emotion that many believed he couldn't express: love. His eyes were filled with love for you.

🧪 Ever since he married you when you both were in your early 30s, he felt like his life just lit up brighter than anything he had ever come across. His life changed, became more colorful. You did amazing and he appreciated that about you.

"Moje Láska... what would I do without you?"

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

[purple-mushroom-cap]

i think part of the reason we as a fandom think percy is so based because there's thousands of stories where the "superhero" defeats the "supervillain" that is sick of being stuck in a fucked up system and is hailed a savior for restoring the status quo.

it comes to the point where so many people prefer the anti-heroes because you hear them and think "why are they making good points, and why are they being framed as the bad guy." we as readers are never condemned for thinking that luke has a point. the characters of the story--even chiron understands how and why luke turned.

percy is someone who is actively suffering from the system that is stacked against him, just like luke. throughout the books, he actively is on hater shit towards the hypocrisy of the god's so-called "perfect system." they demand respect, literally making their children worship them to give them any crumb of favor, without doing anything to show they deserve it.

he calls out athena for stringing annabeth along. he sees what hermes has done for may castellan. he despises heracles for treating zoe like shit and selling out/submitting to the same system that broke him down by becoming a god. the gods offer percy the same choice to become a god, because they've been through this before. they've seen a tired, angry, overpowered demigod with the power to topple the system and they offer him godhood because it *works* to keep the system in place.

instead of defeating luke and getting the glory, he gives back to the story by breaking the status quo and demanding the right for every kid to have equal opportunity to belong in a world where they've been called mistakes their entire lives.

that's also why hestia is the last olympian. he respects her because she never forgot those that need her. she might not be the strongest in fights, but she represents those that have been beaten down and unrepresented by those in power.

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

I could say that I messed up bad on my first two batches of blondies. Nothing burned, the flavor was right, but the texture and consistency were way off. Like, I somehow missed fudgy, chewy and cakey and ended up at the hard crack candy stage. On a tray bake. Which was also oily af on the bottom. (Long story short: batter height matters, don't pour bubbling hot butter into room temp ingredients.)

Instead of admitting failure, we're gonna call this a learning experience and also an opportunity to make the world's most failsafe brownies.

The lady presenting this is a trained food scientist, but I'm still amazed each time I make this, either from stale baked goods, or cake scraps or "hide the evidence" situations. The batter just looks wrong. Every time as I'm patting it into the mold at a different height, it looks like it's gonna fail in a different way. Too stiff, too dry, too grainy, too imbalanced with whatever crumbs it's based on this time. This time, I think, this time it won't work. Especially if it's made with a failed bake.

20-25 minutes later, there's brownies. Sometimes cakier, sometimes fudgier, and not always the prettiest, but always yummy.

So I might have messed up, but no one is going to find any blondie brittle in our house. Brownies are on the counter in the haribo tub, though.

[ninkaku]

“they had something” and it’s gihun and frontman ?? im sick

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

I've been thinking about Ochako's role in the story, and thinking about how underdeveloped she was compared to Izuku, Shoto or Katsuki's, which got me thinking about it and since the manga's in its final arc and there's nothing to lose, why the heck not.

If Izuku is set up as someone born with "nothing", Shoto as born with "everything" and Katsuki as someone who was born loved, why not set Ochako as someone who wanted to give back love? It'd be a nice four-way connection/foil, considering she should've been set up as one of the main players of BNHA.

Ochako foiling Shoto alongside Izuku and Katsuki as born and raised in a loving environment, and how they've responded in comparison to his broken family unit - since she's the poorest classmates with humble beginnings and he's the son of a top 10 hero;

Ochako foiling Izuku alongside Shoto and Katsuki as born with something he "lacks" in comparison - which is both opportunity his Quirkless background wouldn't give and his shattered sense of self worth, compared to her who would be okay with being anything else but decided to be a hero for the money she could provide for her family;

Ochako foiling Katsuki alongside Izuku and Shoto as someone who started off as a hero who wants to help others in contrast to his motivation to be a hero who never loses a battle, with her sharing that same competitive streak and fighting edge while ultimately focusing on helping others before her. (Which is something Izuku does fill in the story but it could've worked imo)

This is partly because I want to imagine if she was part of the Endeavor Internship Arc, she'd benefit from forming a deep bond with the main deuteragonists on some level, if only to take her out of the preconceived notion she's there to be Izuku's love interest first and foremost- removing that aspect or using that expectation she's there to revolve around him to make her "one of the boys", give her the rotating spotlight a bit more.

But also it'd be a nice setup as as she could compare her background to Shoto and reflect on how she perceived the ideal hero vs. how flawed they can actually be, and her reason to be there could've been she's looking for a way to be strong in a way that can properly help others after Sir Nighteye's death. Imagine the bond they'd have if they were allowed to interact with each other the same way they do with Izuku and Tenya.

The less wealthy classmate with a loving and supportive family and the most wealthy and well-known classmate with a broken and dysfunctional family, two of Izuku's closer friends being inspired by him and trying to break away from the labels others pushed on them and be their own people? One with envy for a villain who reminds her of feelings she wanted to bottle up and the other whose villain's anger mirrored his former to his consumed his family for years? And yet both coming out of their experiences wanting to extend their hands to Himiko and Touya, to start anew and ease that pain?

And with the Paranormal Liberation Front Arc, you could still split her up but using that as a build up, with her and Shoto following Izuku and Katsuki, but she sees people in need of saving and decides to help others instead; make her confrontation with Himiko happen before Dabi's Dance; then let her join the battlefield shakened after spotting Gigantomachia from a distance. (Would it be cluttered? A little, but that arc was already somewhat cluttered, coming from someone who loves that arc A Lot.)

And to avoid her from being too OP, one could make her try to fight but still thinking of Himiko's tears while using her grappling hooks or Zero Gravity on debris to stop Gigantomachia- it could've foreshadow the conflicting emotions she feels are allowing her to surpass her own limits there and come back full force during her fight with Himiko later on, similar to Katsuki with his Cluster technique or Shoto developing Phosphor.

And imagine her worldview shattering even more from finding out a hero would fall so deep into obsession into being the greatest, he lost sight it what it means to be a hero and it created his own villain. Wouldn't that push her even further to try and be a hero the others can rely on, and later, the one Himiko needed? After all, if Ochako and Himiko already parallel, let's use the love thematics; they both love passionately, and unlike Himiko, Ochako didn't give up on a better world for everyone- she just realized what everyone entails.

Just thoughts from someone who'd love to see Ochako breaking out of that label of "love interest"- love and passion are a defining part of her, but her crush shouldn't be her defined role, the story itself has realized that. But it could've realized a lot sooner. It probably wouldn't have removed the fandom's perception of her, but it would've helped her in the long run, especially when the merch set her up as even more of an protagonist, and to an extent it feels like the fans want to believe she was planned to be like that when we know Horikoshi was playing around with her character until he finally settled on what to do with Himiko and wrote Ochako around it.

[valdotjpg]

hey boss, any thoughts on the upcoming elden ring dlc? ur fromsoft takes are always enlightened

dont quote me on this but i thjnk miquella might be in it.

[keeps-ache]

thinking of fairies that look like ferret + mourning doves. uh huh yep :>

[teamfortresstwo]

Still clinging on to the hope that TMP is going to be non-eye coded. I hope it’s like web or spiral or fuck if it’s corruption or lonely that’s be great!

[rusannadoll]

love it when the clinical trials for coeliac disease research are like. you must be willing to consume significant amounts of poison for a minimum of sixteen days!!! as if that wouldn’t literally ruin my life for at least a year

[dmumt]

genuine question is having a flatmate ever a pleasant experience

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[norrisainz33]

ski trip || ln4

☆ summary: annual ski trip with lando, max and p! ft. down bad bf lando

☆ pairing: lando norris x private!nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and suggestive and minor bad language- you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by landonorris, ln4, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, yourbff and 1,238 others

ynuser: and that’s a wrap on the 2024 season! congrats again to the mclaren team and my little gremlin boy 🧡

view all 56 comments

landonorris: AWOOOGGAAAAA

ynuser: 😘🤍🫶🏻😔👏🏻🫣🥹

oscarpiastri: i was so scared he was going to drop it

ynuser: you and me both osco

muppet4: AWOOGA THATS MY GIRL

ynuser: not the priv too 😭

muppet4: had to make sure you knew i thought you looked hot

carlossainz55: simp 🫵🏻

ynuser: that’s him your honor

maxfewtrell: did you swipe me one of those ornaments

ynuser: yes multiple dw

lilyzneimer: prettiest girl at the party

ynuser: no baby that was you

oscarpiastri: 🫣

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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landonorris: thanks for not posting the strip poker pic 🫣

ynuser: HA i didn’t but i wouldn’t put it past max

maxfewtrell: let’s gooooooo

yourbff: yeeeeee i’m so excited for you

ynuser: eeek me toooooo

pietra.pilao: huge agree 🤍⛷️

ynuser: missed you sm bestie

carlossainz55: where was my invite amiga?

ynuser: mi amigo it was sent but someone said they were busy 🙄

lilyzneimer: wish we were there with you!!! next time 🤍

ynuser: next time pleaseee!! i know i just saw you at the holiday party but my god i already miss you

pietra.pilao has posted to her story

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maxfewtrell: what about me???

pietra.pilao: what about you?

maxfewtrell: 🙄

ynuser: my girl 🫶🏻🥹😍😘

pietra.pilao: i love you long time

pietra.pilao: can you just move to london with max and i

ynuser: i love you more 🤍 ill work on getting lan to move to london asap 😍

user2: serving so hard it criminal

landonorris: NO!!! that’s the love of MY life!!!!!

pietra.pilao: get in line

landonorris: god dammit i knew i should never have introduced you two

pietra.pilao: bc she likes me more?

landonorris: yes 😔

user1: omg mothers are mothering

yourbff: god i’m so in love with you both

muppet4 posted to their story

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elmatador55: this angle makes you look tall

muppet4: thanks mate! i grew a few inches 🙂‍↔️

maxfewtrell: can’t believe you made me take this to only post it on the priv ?!

ynuser: i wish we could stay like this in our little snow bubble forever

muppet4: same darling. id love to be able to spend every single second of all my time with you but it makes the time we do have that much sweeter 🤍

ynuser: very true sweet boy

muppet4: plusssss you’re coming to more races next season so it wont be as bad i promise

ynuser: starting my full time wag duties 🫡

oscinha: keepin it pg i see

muppet4: always

m4xlol: my eyes 😭

muppet4: close em 😘

landonorris has posted to his story

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iamrebeccad: as you SHOULD!

user4: any day that we get y/n crumbs is a good day

ynuser: thanks for the bag baby 😍

landonorris: anything for my world 😘

ynuser: i love you 🤍

landonorris: god say it again

ynuser: i love you forever

landonorris: mm yeah you do

landonorris: i love you too ❤️

maxverstappen1: she deserves it 😩

landonorris: you right 😔

user18: lando can you fight?

yourbff: this is the richest and bougiest thing i’ve ever seen

landonorris: lv in snow is next level

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, iamrebeccad, yourbff, muppet4, maxverstappen1, and 989 others

ynuser: how lucky i am to live this life with you 🤍

view all 57 comments

yourbff: cutie patootie

ynuser: 🥹🤍

carmenmundt: the perfect couple

ynuser: says you and georgie

landonorris: man don’t make me cry

ynuser: ur a cute crier

landonorris: it’s just bc i love you sm

maxverstappen1: he’s the lucky one y/n/n

muppet4: unbelievably lucky mate

maxverstappen1: 👏🏻

pietra.pilao: snow angel 🫶🏻

landonorris has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, lancestroll, georgerussell63, and 657,235 others

landonorris: would give anything for break to never end

view all 644 comments

maxfewtrell: heard the real estate prices are cheaper here than monaco

pietra.pilao: no it’s better in london pls

ynuser: yes lando london is quite nice this time of year i hear

landonorris: yeah no it’s not y/n

maxfewtrell: it’s actually horrible this time of year

user12: god you two are perfect

user23: Y/N CRUMBS YEEEEEE

ynuser: you and that puppy makes me want a puppy

landonorris: i can make that happen

ynuser: 👀🫵🏻🐶

mclarenf1: going to pretend we didn’t see this! you gotta get back on track soon!

user24: y/n is literally so gorgeous how did he bag such a baddie

user19: if my man don’t post me like this i don’t want him

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

[chewablepebbles]