#i don't want to be in a relationship with him but i want him to flirt with me bc i think he's adorable
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crookedteethed · 1 day ago
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ᡣ𐭩 Positive • °   .  * : r. cameron
synopsis -- There are three things you know for certain right now:
You're pregnant.
The father currently has his hands all over some blonde at The Wreck.
According to Topper, you're Rafe Cameron's favorite topic during locker room talk.
warnings -- 18+-mdni, unplanned pregnancy, cursing, angst no happy ending, readers a pouge, fuckboy!rafe (?) toppers a dickhead frl, mention of abortions (once)
main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 2.2k
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"Fuck." You stare at the positive pregnancy test between your trembling fingers.
"Fuck," you curse again, realizing you're alone in your apartment with this life-changing news.
Of course this would happen.
After months of sneaking around, of heated encounters and promises to keep things casual, one reckless night was all it took. One moment where passion overrode common sense, where neither of you cared about consequences.
A hushed "I want to feel you, all of you," slipped from Rafe's lips as he paused, the condom still on, but his desire for you raw, uninhibited, consuming him. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, silently asking if you trusted him enough to let go..
How naive you'd been, thinking you could trust Rafe Cameron with something so intimate. The golden boy of the OBX, known for his volatile temper and reckless abandon. The type of man who treats both relationships and speed limits as mere suggestions.
And you'd fallen for those dark cerulean eyes and heated whispers like every other girl before you. Only difference was, you were now staring at the consequences of that trust, watching it turn into two pink lines that would complicate everything.
Your secret hookup.
The trust fund bad boy of the OBX. The same Rafe Cameron who's probably at some country club event right now, charming his way through a crowd of socialites, completely unaware that he's about to become a father.
You can already hear the whispers at the yacht club – the Camerons' golden boy and his latest pouge conquest.
As if sleeping with Rafe Cameron wasn't scandalous enough, now you're carrying the next heir to his family's empire.
"Have you seen Rafe?" you shout at Topper over the pulsing bass of The Wreck's speakers. Your hand instinctively rests on your still-flat stomach – a new nervous habit you've developed since seeing those two pink lines.
Topper takes a swig of his whiskey, looking entirely too amused--and drunk, "Lost track of your boyfriend already?"
"He's not my—"
"Yeah, yeah." He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Just his favorite little Pogue to fuck behind closed doors, right? You know, he tells us everything in the locker room." He leaned closer, whiskey breath hot against your ear. "About how eager you are, how you beg for it. Though I gotta say, for someone from the cut, you've got quite the reputation among the trust fund crowd now."
Your cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. Of course Rafe would brag about all the girls he's had to his Kook friends. Of course you were just another story for their country club gossip.
"Go fuck yourself, Topper. Where's Rafe?"
"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We all know you've got a thing for rich boys. Though usually we don't keep Pogues around this long – Rafe must really like something about you." His eyes raked over you suggestively. "Or some things."
The way he says it makes your skin crawl – it's pure Rafe Cameron coming out of Topper's mouth. That same calculated charm, that practiced way of making someone feel simultaneously special and worthless.
You wonder how many hours he spent watching Rafe work his magic at bars, memorizing the exact tone needed to make "sweetheart" sound like an insult. Rich boys and their fucked-up everything.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your discount panties in a twist." He gestures toward the bar with his glass.
"Last I saw him, he was chatting up some blonde by the bar." Topper continued, "Though, something tells me you've got more on your mind than just another quick fuck in the coat closet."
"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" you snap at him, hands clenching into fists.
Your head whips around, scanning the crowded bar area, but there's no sign of Rafe's familiar frame among the sea of drunk socialites.
"He's not there," you mutter, frustration building in your chest.
"What's wrong? Don't have your Kook King on a leash?" Topper calls after you as you push past him toward the exit. "Better hurry – you know how fast Rafe moves on to the next thing!"
You storm out of The Wreck, the humid night air doing nothing to cool your rising anger.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Here you are, pregnant with his kid, and Rafe Cameron can't even stay in one place long enough to hear the news.
Slumping into your car, you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his contact. Three rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. Your frustration builds with each failed attempt.
hey, we need to talk
rafe, answer your fucking phone
where are you?
this is important
You watch the messages turn from "delivered" to "read" with no response. Of course he's seeing them. He's probably looking at his phone right now, some blonde draped over his shoulder, both of them laughing at your desperate attempts to reach him.
seriously rafe, this isn't about us. something happened
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You could just text it. Three simple words: I'm pregnant, asshole. But somehow, dropping that bomb over text feels wrong, even for whatever this is between you.
After the tenth unanswered call, you throw your phone onto the passenger seat, fighting back angry tears.
You should have known better than to expect anything different from Rafe Cameron, who treats Pogues like they're as disposable as his designer clothes.
To him, girls from the Cut are just temporary entertainment – something to play with until a more suitable option from his tax bracket comes along.
Your phone buzzes. For a moment, your heart leaps – but it's just another notification that he's read your messages.
"Fuck you, Rafe," you mutter, starting your car with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life, matching your mood.
You consider driving to his place – you know he'll end up there eventually, probably with tonight's blonde in tow. But the thought of waiting outside his house like some desperate ex makes bile rise in your throat.
Your phone buzzes again. This time it's a text:
busy rn. talk tomorrow?
A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow. Busy. Of course he's busy. He's always busy when it doesn't involve getting into your pants. Your fingers fly across the keyboard before you can stop yourself:
hope she's worth it. btw, might want to start setting aside some trust fund money for child support
You hit send before you can think better of it, immediately regretting it. Your phone explodes with incoming calls – now he wants to talk. But you're already pulling out of the parking lot, vision blurry with unshed tears.
Let him panic for a while. Let him feel a fraction of the anxiety that's been eating at you since you saw those two pink lines.
Besides, if he can't be bothered to give you five minutes when you need him, he can wait until tomorrow to hear how he managed to knock up his favorite Pogue.
You wake up to the sound of coffee brewing – which is impossible because you live alone and definitely didn't set the timer last night. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you freeze in the doorway.
There's Rafe Cameron, looking unfairly good for someone who should be hungover, sitting on your beaten-up futon. His expensive clothes are a stark contrast to your shabby apartment furniture, but somehow he looks like he belongs there.
Between his fingers, he's holding the pregnancy test you'd forgotten to hide in your emotional spiral last night.
"Breaking and entering now?" Your voice comes out shakier than you'd like. "That's low, even for you."
He doesn't look up from the test, but you catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's not breaking in when I have a key." He finally meets your eyes, holding up the small silver key you'd given him three months ago after that night he'd brought you soup when you were sick. "You know, the one you said was 'just for emergencies'?"
The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. This thing between you had stopped being just hookups somewhere between the late-night conversations and the drawer of his clothes in your dresser. Between him knowing how you take your coffee and you knowing which side of the bed he prefers.
"That's not—" you start, but he cuts you off.
"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to text it and disappear like you did last night?"
"Oh, like how you disappeared with that blonde? Or should we talk about how you disappear every time after you're done with me, just to go brag to Topper about your latest fuck?"
His face darkens. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, Rafe. Your locker room talk is apparently quite entertaining. 'Eager.' 'Begging for it.' Ring any bells?" You wrap your arms around yourself, hating how your voice shakes. "Tell me, do all your Kook friends know how I sound in bed, or is that a special story just for Topper?"
"That's not—"
"Not what? Not what you meant? Not what happened? Because Topper seemed pretty clear about exactly what kind of reputation I have among your trust fund crowd now."
"You really think that's what this is?" He gestures between you. "That I could think of you as just another hookup?"
"Isn't it? I mean, god forbid the Kook King actually care about the Pogue he's fucking—"
"Jesus Christ," he runs his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. "If this was just about sex, would I have a key? Would I know your coffee order or—"
"You can't use that as some kind of proof you care! Having a key doesn't mean shit when you're out there treating me like your dirty little secret!"
The silence that follows is heavy, charged with months of unspoken hurt. When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is low, controlled: "Is it mine?"
The question hits you like a slap. "Are you seriously—"
"Just answer the question." His eyes are intense, searching yours. "Is it mine?"
The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. He already knows the answer – can read it in the way you can't quite meet his eyes, in how your hand unconsciously drifts to your stomach.
That night without protection wasn't your first together, but it was the first time he'd looked at you like you were something more than just a good time.
Like maybe you could be everything. Now that look is back, mixed with something like fear as the reality of what you're not saying sinks in.
"Those tests—" he starts pacing, running his hands through his hair. "They're not always accurate, you know? Maybe you should take another one. Or three. Fuck, how do you even know for sure?" His voice takes on a desperate edge. "There are… options. I know a clinic in Chapel Hill. Discrete. I could make some calls—"
"You know what?" Your voice comes out quiet, defeated. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe this is exactly what I need to finally stop pretending this—" you gesture between you, "—could ever be anything real."
"I'm just saying we need to think about this logically—"
"No," you snap, your voice rising until it bounces off the walls of your tiny apartment. "You're trying to make this disappear, just like everything else that threatens your perfect Figure Eight lifestyle!"
You watch something crack in his expression, that carefully maintained Kook King facade finally showing a glimpse of real emotion. His hand reaches for you, then drops. "Don't—"
"I think you should go." You turn away, unable to look at him anymore. "Use that key one last time to lock up behind you."
You don't need to see his face to know he's struggling with what to say. The perfect Rafe Cameron, for once at a loss for words. It would be funny if it wasn't breaking your heart.
You don't turn around to watch him leave, but you hear the way he hesitates at the door. The silence stretches, filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say. Finally, the door clicks shut, and you're alone again.
Your hand drifts to your stomach, and you let out a bitter laugh. You can do this alone.
You'll move out of the OBX, maybe up to Wilmington where no one knows your name or that you're carrying a Cameron heir. You'll work extra shifts at the restaurant, save every penny.
Your kid won't need trust fund money or a father who treats relationships like they're disposable. Your child won't grow up feeling like some dirty secret.
Somewhere across town, Topper's probably already hearing about how the Pogue girl tried to trap Rafe Cameron with a baby. You can almost hear the yacht club whispers starting. But let them talk – you've survived worse than country club gossip.
(What no one would ever know: how your hands shook as you slid his key under his door later that night, or how he sat in his car outside your apartment for hours, staring at a small velvet box he'd been carrying in his pocket since before you ever said the word "pregnant."
Some love stories aren't meant to have happy endings, and some babies are meant to have just one parent who actually wants them.)
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a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾
taglist --
@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt
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uravitypng · 1 day ago
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𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲
pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader
summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you
word count: 14.7k words
a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x
content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+
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everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?
there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.
then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.
but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.
it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.
first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.
"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."
"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."
"moriyama?"
"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."
you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.
next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.
you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.
"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.
the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.
all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.
you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.
gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.
his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.
in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.
with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.
things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.
you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.
satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.
you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.
after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.
you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"
your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"
he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.
"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."
"you didn't say you didn't like it."
"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."
you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.
all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.
satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'
someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.
"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"
"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.
he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.
"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"
"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.
you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.
you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'
you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'
you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'
'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'
'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'
'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.
half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.
by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.
it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.
"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.
"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.
behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.
gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"
you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.
'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.
you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."
he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"
your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.
he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."
"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'
"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.
you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.
"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.
"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"
"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.
"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...
he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"
"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.
"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.
"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.
"i'll just get my bag."
"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."
you yield, "okay let me go get changed."
satoru smirks, 'good girl.'
as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'
"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.
"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.
gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.
you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"
satoru grins at you, "sure thing."
the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."
you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."
when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"
"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.
you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...
"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."
"how did y-"
he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."
"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.
"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.
bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.
'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.
your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.
"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.
gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."
you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.
gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.
"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."
you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.
by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.
"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.
gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"
"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."
he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."
"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.
"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'
you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.
when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."
"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.
"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."
"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.
your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.
even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'
quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.
'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.
"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.
he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"
"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.
"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.
"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"
he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.
not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.
satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.
"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.
he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.
'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.
you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.
satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.
"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.
you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.
the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."
you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.
"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.
you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"
"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"
"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.
"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."
he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."
you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'
"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.
satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'
"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.
"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.
satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.
"sure."
following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"
not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."
'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."
in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.
satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'
he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.
gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.
you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."
gojo frowns, "are you going now?"
"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.
"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"
he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."
that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.
gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.
"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.
it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."
he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"
"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.
"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.
a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.
you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.
when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.
satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.
you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"
you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."
he returns your smile, "i'm glad."
satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.
you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.
forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.
as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.
"did you enjoy the film princess?"
you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"
satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."
that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"
he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."
satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.
he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"
your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"
he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"
"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?
"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.
"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.
"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."
"you are?" you're still quiet.
"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.
"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."
'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'
he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.
he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.
his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.
satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.
the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.
you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.
satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"
"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.
"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.
he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.
only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.
with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.
at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.
you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."
satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."
at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"
satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.
"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.
he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.
satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"
you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.
feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.
you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.
he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"
you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."
satoru smirks, "that's good."
you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.
"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.
"we could watch another film but it's getting late."
"no... i mean with us..."
satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"
"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"
"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.
you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.
"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"
your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?
'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'
you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.
"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"
at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.
"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."
he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."
satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.
"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"
"bingo!"
you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"
satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."
you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.
how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"
"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.
you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"
satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...
"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.
you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."
'yeah i know.'
gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."
your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"
he throws his hands up and grins "well..."
you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."
"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."
you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"
"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.
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sayangrafayel · 2 days ago
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They got caught staring at you! (pre-relationship) (non canon AU)
Uh oh! You caught them staring at you. What are they gonna do about it? You guys are strangers except for Caleb because.. childhood friends and all.
(I wrote Zayne as a stranger too because they got separated for a while and.. IT JUST WORKS BETTER THAT WAY OKAY.)
Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.
Sylus
At the club.
Does Not break eye contact even after you caught him.
You want to ask him why he's staring at you but your friends are scared (for you). But you went anyway.
"Excuse me, are you staring at me?" "I am, yes." "Okay.. can I help you with anything?" "Your phone number would be nice." "You know staring like that at a stranger could be seen as creepy, right?"
Xavier
In a library.
Breaks eye contact, but immediately recovers and smiled at you. He waves too.
"Sorry, do we know each other? Why are you staring at me?" "Oh, we don't. Sorry. I think you're very beautiful." "Oh! Thank you.. you look very pretty too." "I'm.. pretty?" "Mhm!"
You end up being the one asking for his phone number because.. well.. he forgot.
Rafayel
At one of his art exhibitions.
He's quite subtle about it plus you were too busy staring at his art to notice. He ends up being the one approaching YOU.
"Like what you see?" "Sorry?" "The art. You like it?" "Oh! I do. It's very... captivating." "Not as captivating as you." "Sorry?" "I said thanks! It's one of my favorites too!"
He ends up gifting you the art piece with his phone number on the back of the piece.
Zayne
At a cafe.
You notice him staring at you, or rather, you notice how hard he's trying to look casual.
"Sorry, are you staring at me, Sir?" "No." "Oh" "Yes. Yes I am." "Oh oka-" "I'm sorry. I will leave now. I apologize." "SIR WAIT-"
It gets more awkward because when you go for a check up the next day, he's your new doctor.
Caleb
You guys are studying together.
"Stop that." "Stop what?" "Stop staring at me like that! I can't concentrate." "Didn't you always stare at me when we were kids? Why can't I do the same?"
He's not shy about it. Nu-uh, he will openly stare at you. Hand under his chin and all that. Remember his quality time preview? Just like that.
You end up having to turn your back to him. Otherwise no work will get done.
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kashverse · 12 hours ago
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gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."
nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.
geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"
"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."
"are you mad?"
"no. just disappointed." ouch.
toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"
"what?"
"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."
"oh."
"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."
choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"
"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."
"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.
sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."
"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."
"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"
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kierancampire · 7 hours ago
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Reblogging a clean version to add
I had a very close friend for many years, I even ended up living with her. I didn't want to cut her out, but she ended up being the most toxic, abusive, damaging person I've ever lived with, which believe me is saying something. It sucked losing her, but for my sake I had to
I would love a relationship with my dad, I would love to have a dad in my life to hang out with and bond with, I'd love to have both parents. But I don't. I want and crave the idea of a dad, but my dad in reality is not that ideal. I hate having to have cut him out, and sometimes it does suck and I do regret it, but it's what I had to do
I have had to cut out so many people from my life, it's second nature to me now, I am so used to doing it. But I don't enjoy it, and so many people I have wished I didn't have to cut out. It's just become a way of life for me, I have had to do it so many times for my survival, at times I may seem so cold and distant outwardly. But yeah, inwardly, it does bother me, I do miss people, I wish things were different, sometimes I want to take back my choice. But it's reminding myself why I did it, and things won't change. I'd love a dad, but sadly mine is man who he is
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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago
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SO IT GOES - chapter 7
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Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33
italics are flashbacks
-
Before London
“You buckled up?”
“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.
The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.
“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.
Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.
“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.
“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”
“Do you need help?”
“Nah.”
“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”
Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.
“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”
“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”
“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.
Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.
I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment. 
Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked. 
The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.
“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.
“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.
“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.
She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”
Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.
“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.
“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with. 
Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.
I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy. 
For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip. 
“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake. 
“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck. 
“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”
Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”
I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”
Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”
When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.
“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.
For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.
“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.
“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.
“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.
“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.
“Yes. Please.”
I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.
“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing. 
My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.
“Paige,” I cry out.
“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.
“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”
“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”
My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.
Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.
“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.
“You hear that?”
“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.
“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.
“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”
It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-
“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.
-
There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.
“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically. 
“Why aren’t you at practice?”
“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”
“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”
Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.
“Wh-” I start
“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.
I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.
“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.
“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.
“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.
“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”
I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.
“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.
I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.
“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.
“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?
My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.
“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.
“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”
“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”
“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”
For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.
“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”
-
She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible. 
“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.
“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.
“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.
“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.
The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.
“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.
“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need. 
The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.
I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.
“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”
The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”
“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”
Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”
“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.
“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.
“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”
Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.
“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”
“Yooo…”
I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.
“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.
“Whatchu need?”
Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.
“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.
I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”
KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”
-
Paige
Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early
That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?
I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.
Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.
-
“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”
My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.
“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.
“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”
“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”
There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.
“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.
The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”
“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.
“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying. 
“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.
I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”
“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”
“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”
“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.
“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”
“No, that’s not what I said-”
“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.
“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”
He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.
“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”
The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.
“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.
I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”
“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.
“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
-
My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.
“Oh hey.”
“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.
“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, uh, is um, is-”
“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.
“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.
Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line. 
“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.
She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”
I can tell that she’s not. 
“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”
She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.
“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”
I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast. 
“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.
“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra. 
“Of what?”
“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.
“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”
“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin. 
“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”
“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”
“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”
Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath. 
“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”
“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile. 
“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.
“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”
I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”
She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”
I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.
Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was. 
This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.
Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it. 
“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”
No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.
“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.
“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”
I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.
“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”
Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.
“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.
Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.
“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.
“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.
“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.
A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.
“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled. 
“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.
“Use your words ma.”
“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.
“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”
I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.
“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.
Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way. 
It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.
“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.
It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.
“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”
“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”
“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.
“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.
“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”
Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.
“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.
“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”
“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.
“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”
I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”
-
“Okay, Paige, stand here.”
Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.
“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”
“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.
“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.
“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”
“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.
“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.
I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.
“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”
Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”
I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her. 
“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.
“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.
“Yooo, bro what?!” 
Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.
“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.
“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.
“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.
“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.
“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”
The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.
“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”
“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”
“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.
“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening. 
“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.
“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.
“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.
I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me. 
“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”
Fuck.
I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”
“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.
“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.
Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.
“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”
I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.
“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.
“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”
My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.
“Trey, you’re not going to-”
He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”
I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.
-
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bywonyo · 13 hours ago
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THE BOY ──── ( 종성 ) IS MINE ! jay shows you he’s all yours ..
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엔하이픈 종성 && f ! r ! 7OO fluff suggestive established relationship skinship making out alcohol consumption ⪩⪨ ( ESTANTE )
이에라 i got carried away sorry .. this is for my babygirl chole btw, she begs for more Jay!!
&メモ reblogs ˊᗜˋ feedback pls !
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you felt an overwhelming urge to leave the party at your house upon seeing a girl holding your boyfriend's arm. anger swelled within you as you glared at the scene — clenching your fist in anger.
you were furious, seething at how close the girl was to your boyfriend. sure, he was the perfect guy, but he belonged to you. you couldn’t stand her; batting her eyelashes and licking her lips as if she wanted to devour jay. the jealousy surged within you and consumed your thoughts.
he looked visibly uncomfortable, gently pushing her overly touchy hands away, yet jealousy still consumed your emotions. you desperately needed to escape this party and regain control over your rising anger before it boiled over.
( ˊᗜˋ more under cut ! )
you didn't realize that you were gripping your plastic cup so hard until you felt it squash. you continued to glare at the two of them — making eye contact with jay as his eyes seemed to widen.
you stormed off, pushing through the crowd of people; jay finally pushing the girl off as he chased after you. you were still fuming with anger as you scoffed at the pathetic sight of jay hurrying over to you.
but before you can walk away further, jay reached for your hand, his eyes pleading, silently conveying a message that made your heart secretly flutter even though you were still mad.
“what do you want?” you asked, your voice flat as you tried to break free from jay’s hold. “princess, she was clinging onto me, please..” jay’s plea for understanding made your cheeks flush; his intense and yearning gaze on you made you flustered from how hot he looked.
you sighed, choosing to reveal the embarrassing truth. “i’m not angry, it was just her touch on your arm i couldn’t stand.” jay's frown transformed into a grin, clearly entertained by your jealousy. “what if I show her I’m yours, hmm?” he suggested, your cheeks flushed visibly as you nodded, and jay wasted no time grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours hungrily.
you drop your cup to the ground as jay kisses you harder, snaking a hand down your waist to pull you closer. you wrap your hands around his neck as Jay holds you tight, lifting you as you flutter your eyes for a second to admire his pretty face.
you gasp in the kiss at jay lowering his hand to your hip, jay’s eyes looking eager as if he was a starved man. the party around you two faded away as your focus was solely on him.
he was intoxicating, you don't know if it was the drinks you shoved down your throat or the strawberry taste of his lips from his chap stick mixed with the scent of his strong cologne.
you could feel jay’s lips curl into a smirk hearing you whimper at jay’s hand slowly sliding his hand slightly under your shirt, feeling his cold fingers on your warm skin. the eager man opened his eyes to see you and he could feel his mind drive to insanity seeing your furrowed brows.
he craved your touch, and he knew you craved his as well. jay’s hand on the side of your face moves to your thighs — making you feel sparks of electricity from how risky this was. jay seemed to become more desperate as he groaned in the kiss, letting go for a split minute.
“i’m all yours, hmm? no one else on my mind.” he breathed, his hot breath against your sweaty neck from the heat. you nodd, his pink lips against yours again — feeling the hunger from his lips. despite the dark room, the dim light still showed you the sultry view of jay biting your bottom lip gently, savoring every taste of your plump lips.
he looked breathtaking — his loose black t-shirt and the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead driving you crazy, wanting nothing more than to feel his body press against yours.
you two finally break free from each other as you gasp for air, losing track of how long you two have been devouring each other. you looked around, grinning possessively not seeing the touchy girl anymore. “now she knows who you belong to.”
“all yours, sweet girl.” you chuckle as you grab jay’s shirt to pull his face closer to yours, only an inch being the gap between your faces. “please, pretty girl, let me have more?” jay looked up at you with soft, pleading eyes that you couldn't resist as traced his jawline with your finger before connecting your lips once again.
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taglist open ☘️ ! send an ask, comment on any post to join
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shoukokus · 1 day ago
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Beautiful day/night (or afternoon) may I request how the overblot characters in twisted wonderland would react to s/o culture clothing? (For example: spanish people have those beautiful colorful traditional spanish dress)
I tried not to make it too specific, so as to not exclude anyone!
Riddle Rosehearts
He firsts sees your cultural clothing while attending a ball in his hometown
It was just for a couple of days, and everyone in Heartslyabul was invited, Deuce, Trey, and Cater were there too. Ace didn't want to go to a stupid event
It took you all day to get ready, and Riddle was beyond curious why you were being so secretive
But when you finally came down the stairs, your stunning garb on display, Riddle knew it was worth the wait
When you explain the significance of your outfit, he's very touched
You waited all this time to wear something so important to you, for an event important to Riddle? Someone hold him, he's about to start crying in the ballroom
Leona Kingscholar
When his family invited him home for a long weekend, the only thing that would make it tolerable would be your presence
He said something about some fancy dinner party really offhandedly, and you came up with an idea to make even THAT fun for Leona Kingscholar
Outside of your room in his palace, he waits for you, tugging at the tie you gave him for some reason
When you come out, ready for the dinner, it all clicks into place. His tie matches your outfit and its colors. But more than that? You look incredible
He smirks as he twirls you around a little, eyeing all the details and any skin that's showing....
You tell him that you wanted to make a good impression, to be proud of your history and culture like his family is... Well, let's just say he's thinking about how to mix those two cultures
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul had potential investors coming to visit, and he was unbelievably nervous the night before
He was pacing, and triple checking all his accounts and even the freshly pressed suit laid out
He reminded you multiple times to have your own outfit ready, and you would assure him every time, don't worry... you got this
When Floyd and Jade escort you into his office a few hours before the event, he looks up and nearly breaks his pen in half
You look incredible! He stands and sputters as he compliments you. How did he get so lucky?! Where were you hiding this? It looks amazing on you and perfectly goes with your features
When you tell him the significance, he starts tearing up. He hugs you, whispering how much he appreciates you and the mindfulness you always give him
Jamil Viper
You and Jamil are having a cozy night in when the topic of cultures came up
With your full attention, Jamil tells you about the Scalding Sands and the society he grew up in
When the topic of clothes come up, you get excited, an opportunity presenting itself
You tell him to wait for just a little bit as you run to your room. He waits curiously until you finally come back
Your attire has been changed and Jamil is stunned. You look amazing!
He watches you with loving, soft eyes as you explain all the details of the outfit and what they mean
Vil Schoenheit
It was the first major event that Vil had invited you too, and the desperation to make it a good experience was palpable
A simple luncheon was surely like the jungle in Vil's world... but he was insistent that you could wear something simple yet elegant
With your cultural clothing, you decided to take the chance
Of course you would need Vil's approval so you invited him over the day before
When he enters your room and sees you inspecting yourself in the mirror, he's immediately entranced. What wonderful colors on you, how it works with your figure and features...
Telling him that it's from your culture, he's not surprised. Of course it would look perfect on you! With a kiss on the head, it is officially Vil approved
Idia Shroud
Idia finally wants to take your relationship to the next level... By showing off his costume collection!!
He has outfits from all sorts of different shows, movies, and games. It may seem silly, but they're very important to him
So the next day, you decide to reciprocate in a similar way
You invite him over for the usual game and snack night, but when he opens the door, he's greeted by you in a new, brilliant outfit
He thinks it's amazing, but is unclear on what it means. When you explain that you wanted to show him care in your own way, his hair turns a light pink
You.. showed him your important clothes in response to his important clothes? Yeah, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you
Malleus Draconia
Malleus had just bought you a ton of new clothes. It's not unusual for him to go buying up things for you when the impulse strikes
This time he had been thinking about how wonderful you'd look in some traditional Briar Valley clothing, and then... nine outfits happened
When it all arrives, an impromptu fashion starts as you try everything on to test sizes and styles
He's helping you sort through everything and hang things up when he spots an outfit he's never seen before
You tell him that it's the only change of clothes you came to Twisted Wonderland with, that it was important to your culture and meant a lot, but just hadn't the time or reason to wear it
Immediately demands to see it, and you agree. When you come out looking like the sun itself, he pulls you close and promises to keep your heritage alive and well
Requests are open!
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musicalhell · 2 days ago
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Story time, children. (tw: sexual assault, death, misogyny, fatphobia, media sensationalism bullshit)
On September 5th, 1921, a model and actress named Virginia Rappe attended a party at the St Francis Hotel held by silent film comedian Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle. At some point during the night, Rappe became severely ill and was taken to a doctor, who believed she'd simply been drinking too much and prescribed some morphine for pain. Her condition worsened and she was admitted to the hospital on September 7th, where she died two days later from an infection resulting from a ruptured bladder. Shortly afterward an acquaintance of Rappe's, Bambina Madue Delmont, accused Arbuckle of sexually assaulting Rappe, and he was brought up on charges of rape and manslaughter.
This is possible, even probable, given a) we believe victims and their advocates when they speak up and b) Rappe was at the very least heavily intoxicated and in the presence of a man with significantly more power and influence than her, so her ability to consent was highly compromised. Unfortunately, the truth of what happened that night was quickly buried under a tide of speculation, sensationalism, and character besmirchment on both sides. Arbuckle's defenders described him as very sweet and shy around women (immaterial, as we've all seen how easily predators can hide in plain sight), pointed out that Delmont had a record of extortion, blackmail and prostitution, suggested the true cause of Rappe's death was an aggravated UTI (which she had) or STD (which she didn't have), and claimed she had given birth out of wedlock and put the child in foster care (she was never pregnant).
Rappe's defenders, meanwhile, were less interested in uncovering the truth and finding justice for her than they were in using her as a soapbox for attacking the entire film industry. Led by William Randolph Hearst (whose life goal was to take anything awful that happened in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and somehow make it ten times worse) and other yellow journalists, they painted a lurid picture of Hollywood as a den of vice and corruption, declaring Rappe's injuries had been sustained by Arbuckle laying on top of her (yeah) or because he penetrated her with a piece of ice (or a Coke bottle, or a champagne bottle). The prosecuting attorney was more interested in laying the groundwork for a gubernatorial campaign than advocating for a young woman who had died tragically, encouraging witnesses to give false testimony. Arbuckle was eventually acquitted after two mistrials, but his film career was over, his films were banned and only a few of them have survived to the current day.
A lot of you right now are saying, "Good, fuck him!" and I don't blame you. But it doesn't end there. See, Arbuckle was banned by the newly formed Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, led by one Will. H. Hays. And they didn't stop there. Holding up the Arbuckle scandal as an example of the moral degeneracy of Hollywood and the need for firm control over its output. The ultimate result was the series of standards now known as the Hays Code, which enforced strict limits on the types of content films could show. It's the reason why "Golden Age of Hollywood" pictures contain no swearing or sexuality, no non-heteronormative relationships, no interracial relationships (and by extension, predominantly white casts), and no moral ambiguity. It was a shackle on artistic expression that kept smaller film companies on the margins and assured that the exploitative studio system could flourish. Not only did they fail to serve justice in the case of Virginia Rappe, they created a code of silence which served as a cover for many similar abuses.
Why am I telling you all this? Because right now people are aiming to use your real and justified outrage to turn you against the people they want you to hate. They're going to blur the lines between art and reality, and say that since (objectively bad person) created something involving (subject they want to censor), it's proof that no decent person would touch that subject and it should be eliminated to protect victims/the children/the innocent. They will use your best intentions against you, wrap their authoritarianism in language that you approve of, and convince you it's all for the best.
It has happened. It is happening again.
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it's true and you should say it.
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nativegirltapes · 1 day ago
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dakotaaaaa i’ve been thinking of military!rafe. think of after the events of season 2. i imagine season 3 and 4 with that fucking buzz🤤🤤. imagine got sent off to military school after ward figured it would solve his problems and make him more disciplined. what do we think. i believe im COOKING💜
no you are cooking ........... HELLA
𐙚 ⟡ ݁₊ . 🪷 ✴︎˚。⋆
i can sooooo see this because imagine s2 rafe getting sent off to the military and you're both in a terrible spot of your relationship because his addiction has hit an all time low and you're both just struggling with your own shit. you both don't realize how much this no contact is going to benefit you individually and together ♡. and when he comes home you realize how much he's changed, for the better. his hair is all buzzed and he looks soooo good, you want to pounce on him the minute you two are finally home alone (you do, best dick of your life btw). but aside from his physical changes, you see how much he's changed mentally. he seemed to have mature a lot and realize what's important to him, that being you of course. he's so disciplined and wayyy nicer for some reason (because it literally just made him realize he doesn't want a life without you in it) but he's also still the same ole mean rafe, but this time it's the perfect amount of mean.
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themultifanshipper · 2 days ago
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It was a lot of fun, being persued by by two Formula 1 drivers. 
But they would soon be getting tired of the chase. They weren't going to let you stay ahead of them for much longer. 
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Warnings: smut, finally bottom franco, technically a threesome but not really, restraints (belt), edging, shower sex, anal (mxm), face fucking, tension?
Anon originally had an idea with journalist reader but I went in another direction :3
The tension between you and Max had been brewing since your rookie year. 
You'd instantly taken a liking to each other and hung out all the time whenever you had breaks. 
You'd been on his yacht, he'd been to your family's vineyard for some wine tasting. You were good friends, and you knew each other exceedingly well. 
And of course it wasn't rare for the two of you to find yourselves battling for positions on track, and even came together a couple of times over the years. 
That lead to some pretty heated arguments, you even took a swing at him once. You were both hot-headed competitors, it was inevitable. 
Nothing ever happened between you though, you'd always kept a sensible distance to your coworkers. 
But you couldn't help being a tease. 
You'd put sexy bikini pictures of yourself on holiday in your private story, which only Max had access to. 
He figured it out pretty quickly when no one else seemed to know what the hell he was talking about when he asked them about it. 
And then Franco arrived. 
But he never pushed. If this was a game you wanted to play, he could wait it out, no problem. If you got desperate enough you would come crawling to him, he was sure of it. 
Franco was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen. Surpassing the likes of Daniel and Carlos as the smoothest talker on the grid. 
 He was slightly closer to you in age, so you gravitated towards each other naturally. 
You went on holiday with him a couple of times, and you went clubbing a lot. 
So pretty soon the rumours shifted from you and Max, to you and Franco. 
And there were pictures circulating. You and Max had had your fair share of paparazzi nuisances, but with Franco it was on another level. 
It was impossible to see each other without photos coming out the next day. 
Some were photoshopped, like the ones of you and him on your yacht, kissing.  
Or at least that's what your PR team told the public. 
You hadn't slept with him of course, but 4 glasses of wine is 4 glasses of wine. 
That's 3 too many if you want to keep a clear head. And day drinking in the sun is a dangerous game when you're alone with a horny man on a yacht. 
But you politely rejected his advances, insisting that your relationship was supposed to be professional. 
Max saw the photos. Of course he did. And he knew they weren't fake, so the next time he saw you he confronted you. 
Much to the chagrin of both of your bodies’ needs. 
“So how's it going with Colapinto?” he asked, faking nonchalance while you waved to the fans at the drivers parade. 
“Nothing's going on, don't be jealous” you plastered a fake smile on your face for the cameras. 
“I'm not jealous” he snapped. 
“Sure you aren't, Max. Anyway I keep my love life, and sex life, separate from my career, you know that”  
He scoffed, turning away from you to talk to whoever was on his other side.  
During the next week you decided to spice things up a little. 
The race weekend went by without a hitch, and Max didn't bring it up again. 
You sent Max a dirty picture. 
Nothing too bad, just you in some lingerie and a see through robe that hid absolutely nothing.  
You followed it up with “shit, that wasn't for you sorry” 
If that didn't get Max riled up nothing would. 
But to your disappointment, he didn't reply. 
That night you got yourself off to Franco's answering texts instead. You sent the same picture with the same caption, and waited for him to take the bait. 
The next weekend Max cornered you in the paddock on media day. 
He’d played the game at least, sending you a delicious picture in return, in the name of fairness. 
He dragged you to a quiet corner and caged you in against the wall. 
“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed, pressing you against the wall. 
“What the fuck Max! What are you even talking abou-” 
“I'm not fucking stupid, I know that picture was for me” 
You sighed. 
“No it wasn't, Max” 
“Who was it for, then?” 
“Wouldn't you like to know” you smirked, which just made him angrier. 
“Yes, I would actually”  
You pushed him off roughly and he stumbled backwards, taken off guard by your sudden aggressiveness. 
“None of your fucking business. And if you want to fuck me, this really isn't the right way to go about it” 
The next day, lord knows how, Franco managed to sneak into your driver’s room. 
You sauntered off, leaving Max to fume in silence at your audacity. 
“I enjoyed that picture very much, you know” he mumbled as he approached you from behind. 
He quickly plastered himself to your back, hands on your hips while he felt you up. 
“I'm sure you did. But it was an accident” your voice shook as his hands wandered. 
He chuckled. “I am not convinced of that”  
He placed kisses along the side of your neck, trailing upwards towards your lips as he turned your head to look at him. 
“Any chance I can see more?” 
His lidded eyes bore into yours and you sighed, pushing him away half-heartedly.  
“No Franco. I can't go around sleeping with my coworkers. It's not professional” 
He smirked. “Not professional? Tell me, who was that picture for?” 
You hesitated a second too long. 
“You don't know him.” 
He bit his lip mockingly, he knew you were lying. “Okay. I guess will just go then”  
Max won the race. He was back on his A-game and you’d spent the second part of the race squabbling with Franco and Alex over 10th place for the last point. 
And he did, he slipped out without anyone noticing him, leaving you to contemplate your next move. 
You got it, at the expense of Franco's front wing. 
“That was a dirty move” he groaned into your neck. 
You'd found yourselves back in the same position, him grinding against your ass, this time in the club while the bass made your bodies thrum with excitement. 
“If you want to get my attention, crashing into me isn't the right way to go about it” 
You shivered, both at his tone and at the fact that you'd said almost exactly that to Max three days prior. 
“Why would I want your attention?” you murmured back, enjoying the feeling of his hands caressing your body. 
“Darling, we both know you want to fuck me” 
You turned around in his hold, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster. 
“No I don't” 
He groaned and threw his head back in frustration. 
“Don't do this to me. We both want it, stop playing around and let me show you how good I can make you feel…” 
You smiled and leaned in. 
“But where's the fun in that?” 
You removed his hands from you body and slinked back into the crowd. 
What you didn't know is that Max was in the DJ booth with Lando, and with his vantage point he could see everything. 
Running away, once again. 
He saw you slip away through the crowd and over to the bar. 
His blood boiled and he decided to take action. 
But he didn't make his way to you. He went to see Franco instead. 
“Mate I need to talk to you” 
“Ok, mate” Franco was confused, but followed him towards the bathrooms anyway, where it was slightly quieter. 
“Did she send you a picture of herself last week?” Max was going straight to point. 
Franco hesitated. “Who?” 
Max rolled his eyes at the younger man “You know who, don't play stupid” 
The sudden thought that you might be in a relationship with Max flashed through Franco’s mind. 
What if he'd read the situation all wrong? What if Max had found out about the flirting and was actually about to beat him up? 
“No?” he answered, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. 
Max looked unimpressed. 
“Give me your phone” 
Franco complied immediately.  
Max proceeded to scroll through his messages, and clicked on the conversation with you. 
The picture of Franco appeared on his screen first, and he looked up at the man incredulously. 
“You sent one back? It was obviously bait. Are you stupid?” 
“I know it's all a game to her” he snatched his phone back “but playing it got me a very nice picture of her so who cares?” 
“I'm not playing the game and I got the same fucking photo” 
Franco frowned at his phone, and had to admit, he had him there. Maybe he had been stupid. 
“Well… you keep not playing, and I will keep playing, and we will see who get her to break first?” he suggested. 
“No” Max snapped. “I am sick of not playing”  
He glanced at Franco's screen, where the photo of you was still visible. 
They completely ignored you for two whole weeks. 
“She has been teasing us for too long. Now it's time she learned her lesson”… 
They avoided you at the weekend, and they never returned any of your calls and messages. 
You even tried sending them more pictures, but they both left you on read. 
You were bored. 
You knew something was up when you spotted the two of them deep in conversation in front of the Redbull garage. They were plotting. 
Max was pretty much your best friend on the grid, and you missed messing around with Franco. 
So on Saturday night, you sent them both a text you knew they wouldn't be able to ignore. 
Well Max might, but Franco would definitely crack. 
To Franco, you sent “If you come and fuck me now, I won't tell Max” 
And to Max, “If you come fuck me now, I won't tell Franco” 
You sent them both your room number, and waited. They both saw the texts immediately. 
Max had too much self control, so you doubted whether he would be desperate enough to show. 
You waited barely 20 minutes before Franco was at your door. 
But Franco…  
He was so easy. 
You had him on the bed, laying under you while you made your way down his body, picking off his clothing bit by bit. 
“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me”  
His pupils were blown wide and a slight blush was creeping up his neck. 
“The offer was too good to pass up” he groaned as you rubbed yourself over the bulge rapidly growing in his boxers. 
You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and roll you over. 
“Your teasing has been driving me crazy” he panted, hovering over you while he made quick work of your clothes. 
“Why do you think I was doing it” you muttered with a smile, and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised how much you'd been enjoying teasing him. 
“To make me lose it and come fuck the shit out of you?” he asked, exasperated. 
“That's the plan” you bit your lip, looking up at him with a smile. 
“Perra” he groaned, sitting up. “Turn over” 
You raised an eyebrow at him, doing as he said. 
His hands were palming your ass while he admired the view, when a sharp knock at the door broke the tense silence. 
Your jaw dropped as you looked back at Franco who was wearing a similar look of shock on his face. 
Neither of you knew quite what to do, and the knock sounded again, louder this time. 
You jumped to your feet, grabbing a robe on the way and opened the door. 
Max stood there, fists clenched. 
“Max…” 
“Is Franco in there?” 
You were taken aback by his question. 
“And bear in mind, the answer is going to determine how this evening goes for you” 
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but was saved answering by Franco appearing next to you. 
“I am here… sorry” 
He looked slightly afraid, and it was understandable, because the grin that spread over Max's face was evil enough to scare even you. 
“I had a feeling you would be here” he stepped inside, crowding against you as he slammed the door behind him. “Option number two, then”… 
You didn't know what option number one was, but number two involved you having your hands tied to the headboard, while Max had his cock shoved down Franco's throat. 
Which is not something you ever thought you would see. 
But there Franco was, drooling around Max’s girth with red cheeks and tears in his eyes. 
You knew he was enjoying it though, because he was still wearing his boxers and the wet patch at the front was getting steadily larger. 
“Look at you” Max cooed “are you crying because you got caught betraying me just to get your dick wet?” 
Franco whined, hips bucking at Max's tone. 
“Or are you crying because you’re enjoying this a bit too much?” 
Franco closed his eyes, more tears falling as he breathed deeply through his nose. 
“You were fucking made for this. You've obviously had practice, slut ” 
Franco whimpered pathetically and you throbbed at the sound. 
You were fully naked, spread out for Max to admire. 
“And you” he snapped at you. “You have been teasing me for years, making me wait, while posting pictures of yourself for my eyes only. Then this little bitch arrives and you let him touch you? Absolutely not” 
He pulled out of Franco's mouth and manhandled him onto his hands and knees, facing you while Max dragged his boxers down his legs. 
Franco's eyes widened as he looked at you, glancing between your thighs at where you were glistening in the soft light. 
“You've been playing games with me since you joined the grid. And you would just let Franco have you after a couple of months? Over my dead fucking body” 
He pushed Franco down onto the bed, making his arms buckle and his back arch obscenely, and the younger man gasped. 
“So I'm going to fuck Franco, and you are going to watch.” 
God knows where the bottle of lube came from, but you were grateful for it, on Franco's behalf. 
The way Franco reacted when the first finger went it made you gasp softly. 
His eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back even more, pushing back against Max as he let out a porn worthy whimper. 
You were getting so turned on, you went to close your thighs but Max tutted. 
“Franco, hold her legs open” 
He obeyed, shuffled forwards and curled his hands around your knees to hold you in place. 
Unfortunately, that brought his face closer to your soaked folds and you could feel his cool breath down there. 
You whimpered and he groaned, leaning his head against one of your knees as he looked at your slick lips with a pained look on his face. 
“Don't you dare touch, Franco” Max growled “You need to learn patience” 
He was on three fingers already, and he was entranced by the way Franco's hole swallowed them greedily. 
He made quick work of lubing himself up and pushing into the younger man, who mewled at the stretch. 
“Jesus, you are tight.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed in to the hilt. “squeezing around me so good, maybe I should give up on her and just keep you as my plaything, hmm?” 
He gave an experimental thrust and Franco whined low in his throat as he looked up at you through lidded eyes. 
He looked so fucked out it was almost pathetic. 
But to be honest, you probably looked even worse. 
You squirmed against the bed, unable to get any sort of friction or stimulation as you were forced to watch Max rail Franco into the mattress. 
“You're fucking dripping” Max commented, finally glancing at where you could indeed feel the sheets under you becoming damp. 
He wrapped an arm around Franco's middle, shuffling him forwards until he was only an inch away from your soaked folds. 
“You want a taste Franco?” 
The younger man nodded as best he could with Max’s grip his hair. 
Max just chuckled and pushed Franco's face forward, allowing him to eat you out hastily. 
The sudden intense stimulation made you writhe under him, cursing as he sucked on your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness. 
“Fuck! Oh my god-“ you whined, hips trying to buck but Franco's hold on your thighs was too strong as he devoured you. 
As your moans increased in pitch, Max could tell you were getting closer and just as you were about to fall over the precipice, he pulled Franco's head back roughly. 
You cried out at the loss, and Max just chuckled, slamming his hips into Franco even harder. 
“Max please” you whined, and Max cooed in mock simpathy. 
He pushed Franco against you once again, revelling in the way he tightened around his cock at being manhandled like this. 
He angled his hips so that his cock pushed against Franco's prostate, and the vibrations of the resounding moan against your cunt got you right to the edge once again. 
But again, when Max saw your thighs start to tremble, he pulled on Franco's hair to separate him from you. 
Tears clung to your lashes as you were robbed of yet another orgasm, and Franco let out a loud moan. 
“I'm gonna come, Max!” he cried, and Max just picked up the pace of his hips. 
“Then come, I'm not stopping you” 
Once Franco had come down from his mind-numbing orgasm, Max pulled out of him carefully and rolled him over, making sure to avoid the puddle of cum now in the middle of the bed. 
Franco's eyes rolled back and his upper body slumped against the mattress as Max continued to pound into him while you watched helplessly. 
“You can go now, I will take it from here” he muttered as he handed Franco his clothes. 
You looked at Max. 
He looked at you on his way out, sending you a kiss before the door slammed shut behind him. 
He was making his way around the bed to come and untie you from the headboard. 
You weren't quite sure what to say to him as you stretched your arms. 
He walked into to the bathroom and turned the shower on, then poked his head around the doorway. 
“Come and join me”  
You got off the bed hesitantly. 
Was that it? Were you going to take a shower and then he’d leave? Or stay with you and talk? 
You weren't sure which option you hated more. 
You got to the bathroom and he was already under the water, cleaning himself without a care in the world. 
You approached him, putting an hand on his shoulder. 
“Max? Are you angry with me?” 
He huffed out a laugh. 
“No, why would I be angry?” 
He kept washing himself, and you had no idea what to answer. 
He had every right to be pissed after all. 
He looked at your confused face and chuckled. 
“No, I am not angry with you” 
You nodded, and he moved over a bit and pulled you under the spray. 
He pulled you against his chest and looked down at you. 
“I'm not angry, but I am sick of your games” 
You gulped. 
You could feel him against your hip, he was still hard. 
“You didn't come” you muttered, and he smiled. 
“Neither did you” 
Your heart was beating fast as you stared at him. 
“Are you planning to?” 
He nodded. 
“Oh yes. But you have a choice to make. Either I fuck you now, and we both come.” 
His hand came to cup your jaw as his thumb stroked your cheek. 
“Or, I leave right now, and you’ll never get to know how good you could've had it these past two years.” 
Your jaw dropped, and your cunt throbbed at the idea of finally getting to fuck Max. 
“Well?” his other hand trailed downwards to ghost over your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, to confirm that you were still soaked. “What will it be?” 
You gasped, head leaning back against the tiles of the shower wall. 
“Fuck me, please” 
He grinned. “That's what I was hoping for” 
He wasted no time turning you around and pushing into you roughly, your wetness easing the slide as he bottomed out on the first thrust. 
You both groaned, and he snapped his hips, determined to hear that noise again. 
He made you come twice like that, pressed against the shower wall as he took the frustration of the past two years out on you. 
He did indeed make you regret not giving in to him sooner. 
Later, in bed, you cuddled together after having changed the sheets. 
“So tell me Max. If tying me up and fucking Franco in front of me was option number two… what was option number one if Franco hadn't been here?” 
He chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. 
“If you had been alone, I would have tied you to the bed and left you there alone" 
You gasped. 
“and Franco?” 
“I would have fucked him anyway, to congratulate him for not giving in to you” 
You went silent. Thank god for Franco’s weak will. 
“Can I fuck him?" you asked "I really want to"
Max nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your skin. 
“Of course. As long as I can keep fucking you, I don’t really care” 
You hummed and turned your head, looking into his deep blue eyes.  
“Sounds good to me” 
He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before laying his head back on the pillow. 
“Me too” 
You giggled sleepily.  
Just like you planned. 
You had your best friend back, and two men were at your beck and call.  
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starrygazers · 2 days ago
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cross my heart (hope to die)
˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ haiii :3 I only write like once a year but that won't stop me from yearning for these new characters. I love Amphoreus because I was a Greek myth nerd growing up and this new update tickles me in aaaall the right ways.
˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : angst, established relationship, mentions of character death
˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei; minor spoilers for 3.0
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Mydeimos, the Crown Prince, has no fears. He tossed away his humanity when he embraced immortality, the tool that he needed to trek on this god-slaying journey. There was no room for fear, not when he had to fight the Titan of Violence. A man such as this was not capable of human emotions; or so he thought.
"So," you hum in a sing-song tone, draping your arms around Mydei's shoulders. "When will you take me to that new restaurant in Marmoreal Market?"
Mydei huffs, but makes no effort to peel your touch off of him. He turns around to meet your eyes; you're so close to him. If it were any other person, they would have faced the wrath of the Undying Lion.
You detect no change in his expression, so you start pouting. "Mydei! You promised me you would."
Mydei shrugs. "Did I?"
You roll your eyes, finally letting go of him and sitting on the empty spot next to him. "Dying doesn't exempt you from the promises you make, you know?"
The Prince can't help but crack a smile at this; you're the only person that he can comfortably joke about his immortality with. With you, it doesn't seem like the big deal everyone makes it out to be. Not the heroic Chrysos Heir trait that Phainon envies him for, or the source of worry for Aglaea and Tribbie. It's just another part of him that you've accepted.
Because you accept all of him.
You cross your arms and look away from him, mumbling about how the restaurant's been open for a month and it's not new anymore so there won't be as many people and why do you always have to go on such long expeditions, but Mydei shushes you by taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
A whisper of apology.
"It's okay," you mumble, extending your pinky. "Just promise again, for this life."
"I'll make a thousand promises if that's what you want," he says, and it comes out rough, like he's doing it to get you off his back. But you know better, you know him better.
He raises his own pinky finger to entwine it with yours. "How does the saying go again?"
"You're so forgetful," you laugh, and it's the most melodious tune he knows.
"Cross my heart..."
Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. He's content with this destiny, because he knows he is not given the privilege to choose. He must lay down his god for the glory of what little humanity he has left within him. He will trade a thousand lives for peace, and he will enter a losing battle with only his faith in the infinite lives that he has.
Perhaps this is what made him forget how flimsy a life really is.
In his usual boredom, Phainon once riddled him. "How heavy do you think the world really is? Like, a thousand Dromas?"
Mydei's response, in typical fashion, was to huff and call Phainon's musings irrelevant. But now, he thinks he can answer that question.
The world is really light in his arms. The world is pale, cold, and losing a lot of blood.
"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you manage to say before your last breath. Your voice is hoarse, but Mydei would beg Oronyx to loop it forever because he still thinks your voice is his lullaby.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. He promised to take you to that restaurant, and many more. He vowed to bring peace to this world to one day crown you as his queen.
Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. But this was worse than death. For you, he would trade it all; his status as Crown Prince, his pride as the Undying Lion, his immortality.
A thousand life for yours.
"... and hope to die."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.
˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
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grimmweepers · 2 days ago
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— ☆ contents: dealing with dragon!form zhongli who possesses cat-like behaviours. human reader. dragon husband. sfw. fluff. established relationship. might be a little ooc. this is very unserious. 0.6k. | masterlist (i’m a dark content blog so mdni).
Dragon!Zhongli who acts much like an affectionate housecat despite his towering size and the magnitude of his status.
He, who is so comfortable around his human partner that he isn't afraid to bear his dragon form day-to-day, lest his cat-like behaviours (endearing as they are) go unnoticed.
Every time you run your fingers through the silk of his dark locks or scratch at the base of his horns, that's when it starts. A deep, soothing vibration beneath his scaled chest. The low rumble is almost hypnotic as his amber eyes drift closed, lulling him (and yourself) into a state of ease. If you remain watchful, you'll catch the corners of his lips curl ever-so-slightly upwards.
You can’t help but giggle because you know it’s not quite purring, but it might as well be.
Dragon!Zhongli whose tail is as much part of his personality as his deep voice and eloquent spiels. First and foremost, that thing is unapologetically heavy. When he’s in a good mood, it swishes around lazily, thumping against the furniture or brushing against your legs as he walks by.
Once it knocked over an entire stack of books and while you were busy laughing, he just sighed and said, “An unfortunate accident.” But if he’s feeling especially affectionate? Even worse. That's when you really have to watch out. It possessively curls around you and suddenly you’re dealing with the weight of a solid tail pulling you closer to him. You’ve almost toppled over a few times because of it.
“Careful, Zhongli,” you’ll tell him. “You might end up sweeping me off my feet.” Then he chuckles at you, tail tightening around your waist just a smidge.
That’s the idea, of course.
Dragon!Zhongli who feigns annoyance every time you act on your favourite habit: lifting his lips to inspect his fangs.
They’re a far cry from the tiny, delicate teeth of a cat, which is the only other creature you’ve subjected to this odd little inspection but that makes them even more fascinating.
"Must you do this every time?" he asks, lips pulling back just enough for you to admire them. They were sharp, pristine, and unsettlingly perfect. Enough to crack a bone with a single snap of his jaw but it was the same mouth he kissed you with. You never got used it.
"I'm lucky you’ve never nicked me with these," you’ll tease, brushing your finger along the largest fang.
Zhongli's responses are always the same: a long exhale as if you've just asked him to recite every contract he's ever known (which he could btw), followed by, “You’re enamoured with the oddest things.” But he lets you do it anyway. His words begin lose a bit of their weight when his tail slowly starts swaying behind him, exposing that he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.
And no one will ever believe you when you tell them how he is when he's feeling playful. It's a rarity but he'll nudge you gently with his horns as a display of affection and if you don't respond right away, he'll flick his tail at you. Not hard but enough for you to look his way.
Pay attention to me, it seems to say.
It’s mischievous, even if for a moment. Then you’ll catch a glint in his eye while he pretends to be all composed, but truly, he finds it amusing how he easily this form could be used as a weapon against you when he warrants his own needs.
The mighty dragon, who can command the earth itself, is stripped of his grandeur when you're around, replaced by a creature who wants nothing more than to be with you in the simplest way. And if you mention it, he’ll give you that look of half exasperation and half fondness before pulling you closer and acting like it’s purely your fault he’s such a softie with you.
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a/n: if it wasn’t obvious already, i am a cat person (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform
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luvybun · 3 days ago
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Fun asks telling u to write things u say? Look no further…
Been very feral for super soft domestic smut. Morning sex on a weekend and the man just fucking WORSHIPS you and ur body. Im especially picturing dino, hoshi or mingyu.
Pretty please💓
Mwah💋
౨ৎ princess treatment - lee chan x fem!reader
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ᡣ𐭩 genre: smut, fluff, established relationship ᡣ𐭩 cw: feminine pet names, oral (f receiving), riding, piv sex, no protection (don't do this), praise, (please lmk if i've missed anything) ᡣ𐭩 words: 1.2k ᡣ𐭩 notes: YOU REALLY DELIVERED WHEN YOU SAID FUN ASK
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. any names, images, or references to real individuals are purely fictional and do not portray or represent their real-life counterparts in any way.
꒰୨୧꒱ 18+ content, MDNI ꒰୨୧꒱
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plump lips littering your clavicle and neck with kisses made you flutter your eyes open. you sighed, wrapping your arms around the neck of the man leaning above you. chan peaked his head up from your neck and smiled.
"good morning," he muttered, his voice laced with sleep.
"good morning," you replied with a playful smile. "is there a reason you're waking me up on our day off?"
he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your lips, it's chaste but with a hint of some other want. "i was going to wait... i just don't want to waste a second with you."
"my sleep is not a waste of-"
chan cut you off with another kiss. your hands traveled over his shoulders, feeling the way that his muscles of his back moved with him. his skin is warm from laying under the bedsheets all night.
"baby," you interrupted him. "i'm gross, and i have morning breath-"
"you're not gross." he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "and you don't have morning breath." another kiss. "you're beautiful."
the light from the windows were dulled from the blinds, leaving a warm glow over the room. chan looked angelic the way that he leaned over you. his chest and face were slightly flushed. you brushed your fingers over his chest, softly leading your digits up his neck and into his hair.
"love," you hummed. "i think i've blinded you just a little."
"you blind me every day." he grinned.
"no-" you giggled. "you know what i mean."
"i don't." he pressed more kisses on your jaw. "in fact... let me show you what i really mean."
you hummed in delight as he went under the covers, quickly lifting the duvet to look at him. chan pushed your legs apart slowly, kissing the inside of your thigh. he smiled at you, like the two of you had a secret that no one else would ever know of.
"you're a tease," you whispered.
"i like taking my time." he pressed a kiss right above the waistband of your panties. "help me take these off?"
you lifted your hips for him, and he carefully slid them down your legs. he took them out from under the covers and threw them somewhere on the floor. he peppered more kisses along your thighs before reaching your core. you giggled as he pressed a kiss above your clit.
"my pretty girl..." chan wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. "you have no idea how much i've missed being with you like this."
before you could lovingly reply that you've missed him too, chan laid his tongue flat against your pussy - not breaking eye contact. you let out a quiet whimper, your hands reaching to run through his already messy hair.
he ate you out like his life depended on it, your juices dripping down his chin. his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, definitely leaving marks in their wake. you were left on a cloud of bliss, only brought down by an earth shattering orgasm.
when chan came back up from under the covers, his hair was wild and his face flushed and wet. "good morning to you too..." you giggled and shuffled around to get on top of him.
chan groaned as your pussy brushed against his hard-on. feeling a lot less tired, you pulled the t-shirt you borrowed from him over your head and threw it to the side. he took a second to take in the view, smiling like a lovesick fool.
"what?" you asked.
"you're a goddess."
chan sat up up, trying to get closer to you. you put your hands on the skin of his shoulders - finding comfort in the way he radiates warmth. you feel his big hands on your waist, smiling at the way they start drumming to a mysterious melody. instinctively, you start caressing his neck - trying to find those areas where he's extra sensitive. one of your hands come up to cup his cheek, and he immediately leans into it.
"i'll do anything for you, you know that right?" he murmured and turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.
"i know," you hummed.
you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, before you started grinding down on him. chan let out a soft moan against your lips. taking the hint, he shuffled around to take off his underwear and started lining his cock up with your entrance. you kept yourself stable with your hands on his shoulders, as you sank down on him. once he had bottomed out inside you, you started littering his lips with kisses - trying to find a moment to adjust to him.
"you look so pretty taking my cock like a good girl," chan whispered as he pressed a few kisses on your temple and cheek.
he adjusted himself to lay down, making you gasp. "baby-"
"take your time," he assured you. "move at your own pace."
you put your hands on his chest and slowly lifted yourself up - the delicious feeling of cock leaving you, just for you to drop back down and be full again. you started moving more feverishly, desperate to get another release. chan's hands stayed on your hips, keeping you somewhat in check.
"you're doing so good, baby- looking so beautiful."
you whimpered. your legs were still shaky from your last orgasm, and you were already growing tired. it wasn't exactly the smartest idea to try riding him first thing in the morning. chan noticed your sloppy movements, and held you still. he put his feet on the mattress and started lifting his hips to meet yours.
"oh my god-" you moaned, nails sinking into his chest.
"take it, yeah, just like that..." chan groaned as he continuously slammed inside you.
your limp body fell onto his chest, and he took the opportunity to flip you over on your back to continue fucking into you. the new position let him get even deeper inside you, as he lifted your knees up to your chest.
"want me to cum inside you, don't you baby?" he muttered through gritted teeth.
"yes! yes, please!"
"so perfect for me," he moaned. "my pretty angel, all fucked out on my cock."
you nodded deliriously, clenching around him at the thought of him cumming inside you. "want you, channie... please."
chan's thrusts grew sloppy, and soon he came inside you - pressing his hips as close to yours as he could. still coming down from his high, he started rubbing your clit until your legs were shaking and you came for the second time this morning.
"oh, thank you, baby," he whispered. "such a good girl, thank you... did such a good job for me."
chan carefully put your legs down on the mattress, and leaned over you - his cock still inside you, as he pressed an innocent kiss to your cheek.
"you doing okay, babe?" he asked in between kisses.
"mhm..." you sighed dreamily and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "thank you, channie."
"i told you." he leaned back up and caressed your cheek in his hand. "anything for you, princess."
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love-quinn · 3 days ago
Text
— THREAD OF GOLD
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summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.
warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.
pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader
pronouns — she/her
word count — 7.8k + social media posts
note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.
important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33
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ONE. july 2017
California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away. 
You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment. 
You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.
So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now. 
You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state. 
He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later. 
It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him. 
You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.
“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”
“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”
You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”
He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”
Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”
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TWO. october 2017
You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride. 
You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest. 
The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly. 
You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible. 
Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.
Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked. 
He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him. 
You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point. 
The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had. 
You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him. 
He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face. 
You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.
“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”
“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”
You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”
He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”
You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”
“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”
You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”
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THREE. december 2017
You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone. 
He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.
“LMAOO not people”
It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”
“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered. 
“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought. 
“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.
Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”
You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.
You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.
You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations. 
You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life. 
Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.
Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.
So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it. 
When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”
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FOUR. march 2018
Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.
You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike. 
He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.
You look pretty here. 
It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love. 
Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love. 
Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth. 
And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.
Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.
You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”
Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :( 
You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are. 
That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.
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FIVE. september 2018
Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous. 
It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all. 
But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend. 
The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it. 
You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders. 
“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.
He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”
You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”
You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.
Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together).  The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you. 
He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you. 
You lean in so you can hear her without much strain. 
“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”
You beam back at her. 
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SIX. november 2019
You’re thinking of selling your California apartment. 
You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore. 
You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule. 
You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.
And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do. 
You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York. 
“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you. 
“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails. 
Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”
“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.
“I love you,” he offers instead.
You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”
He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”
That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle.  “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”
Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”
“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”
“Forgive me?”
“Fine, I love you or whatever.”
Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”
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SEVEN. november 2019
You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while. 
“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder. 
You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.
“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.
Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck. 
The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed. 
“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny. 
You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”
The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine. 
And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no. 
Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike. 
Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.
yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers. 
You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that. 
“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend. 
She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”
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EIGHT. june 2020
The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together. 
You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike. 
And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.
It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him. 
So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood. 
Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.
He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out. 
You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted. 
Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend. 
You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend. 
Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it. 
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NINE. october 2020
You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit. 
So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.
It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.
Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.
It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner. 
You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.
You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash. 
You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask. 
Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”
Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing. 
“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him. 
He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly. 
You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”
Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”
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TEN. february 2021
Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse. 
You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves. 
You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home. 
Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him. 
Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself. 
There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.
You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him. 
“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.
“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of. 
You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”
You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”
You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”
“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face. 
Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back. 
When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too. 
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ELEVEN. august 2021
The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend. 
People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet. 
Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time. 
Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married. 
“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple. 
You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”
He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.” 
The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue. 
“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”
You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.
It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that. 
Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her. 
Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.
But, getting back meant going back. 
You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York. 
It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though. 
Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”
Mike mused, “Do you want to?”
You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”
“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him. 
“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy. 
“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to. 
You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet. 
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TWELVE. november 2021
So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it. 
Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period. 
Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots. 
“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”
He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”
You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”
It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him. 
You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not. 
“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner. 
It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”
You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you. 
“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”
Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are. 
“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”
You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there. 
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THIRTEEN. april 2022
“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again. 
Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”
You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne. 
Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”
You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”
One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”
“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”
“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in. 
Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck. 
You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with. 
“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”
He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up. 
The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in. 
A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.
It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.
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messenger-of-babel · 1 day ago
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Bruce Wayne Who...
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Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Bruce Wayne.
Word Count: 1.6K
Notes: So Sorry for the longgg absence. I won't explain it too much but I've had serious health complications that require me to go to the doctor weekly and I've been struggling with that a lot. Half of the Christmas event unpublished stories are done- but I don't want to upload them half baked. I will be uploading them around my original schedule of normal fics, so I'm so sorry this all happened while I was doing that Christmas Countdown. So if you see unseasonal content- that is why. I will ask to refer to the notes section of some of the fics before this. I will be trying to deliver more- please be patient and thank you for reading! (I'm working on my requests next so you'll seen them soon <333)
Love RiRi <3
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Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…
had sworn off dating. Being a vigilante was enough work on his plate, and he had already involved too many innocent people. He had already made too many people join him in on his night life, like he was a black hole that sucked in anything around it and slowly suffocated its prey. The playboy image also helped him keep his cover up. After all, who could dare point a finger at Bruce Wayne and claim him to be the Bat, when he was spending the night at the Iceberg Lounge? How could he be the one tracking down criminals from Arkham when he had a supermodel on his arm at the mayor’s winter gala?
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…
Has to throw that all out of the window the moment that he catches sight of you. When he meets your eyes for only a moment across the sea of people at the Gotham Museums grand reopening, to which he had donated personal items of his family's. His heart lurches in his chest and adrenaline courses through his veins like he's in a fight. You look away after a moment, but he stays fixed on your form as you disappear to talk to some of the curators. Bruce takes a deep sip of his champagne; mind muddled suddenly and distracted the rest of the evening as Alfred drives him home.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Still doesn't think that it's love that has him. He's a stoic man deep down, with the facade of a charming smile and a friendly arm around the shoulders. He doesn't consider it love when he goes out as Bruce Wayne more often, taking impromptu visits to the museum once he discovered that you were an employee there. He doesn't even call it infatuation when Alfred points it out to him. It was merely him making sure that the billionaire image remained intact, and that he was in the public eye.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…
Eventually caves and admits his feelings to himself, head in his hands one night. His skin is a storyboard of scars that criss cross lines across his chest and arms. He had tried to brush it off originally as just his playboy persona finding a good alibi for future reference, but late-night thoughts on rooftops had cleared his head. This was the true him that liked you, the scarred black hole that was undoubtedly going to try to drag you in and suck you of what light you had. He spends the night with an anguished heart, trying so hard to contain the ache that had begun to settle there every time he thought about not approaching you.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Practically fawns when he catches you at work, stumbling over his words as he catches you at the end of your shift. He regains his composure and manages to ask you out quietly, giving you an out if you said no. He felt like some teenager, red faced and anxious. He had fought the Joker countless times, stared down Bane and left with his ribs beaten blue. Yet this somehow made his hands shake, hiding in his pockets. The anxiety all but evaporates when you give him a chance, letting him know your address and to pick you up at six that evening. His head felt light, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His breath heaves out in a sigh, and he nods, agreeing and promising to send a car around at six. He left the museum that day grinning ear to ear, and this time it wasn't his persona doing the smiling for him.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…
Spoils you as much as he can when you give him the green light. After you've tested the waters and have been dating for a few months, he's enamoured. He bought your apartment for you outright and changed the deed to be in your name, so you never had to worry about rent. Bruce doesn’t want anything in return, he just wants you to be safe and happy. Not that he's really been a man of words, the written mess of symbols and letters clog up his throat when he tries to speak. No, he'd rather explain his affection for you in deep stares and gentle hands on your shoulder of back. He loves that you aren’t deceived by the callouses or the rough texture of his palm. He loves that despite the nicks and scars and occasional bruises on his knuckles that you don’t shy away from the coarseness that emanates from him, your body leans in and relaxes instead. He loves that you make him feel softer than he is.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Can't bring himself to tell you that he's Batman but wishes to do so desperately when he sees you lying next to him in bed. You're still fast asleep wrapped in the sheets, arm tucked under the pillow as he gazes down at you. He wonders what you'd do if he shook you awake gently, if your nose would scrunch up as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. If you would be more irritated or concerned at being roused from sleep. He wants to show you all of him. After all, you're the person that's come closest to seeing the real Bruce he thought he lost years ago. Yet when he thinks too hard on it, he feels sick, like he's leading you on. He can't tell you who he is on nights you aren't tucked in next to him, when he's out on the street. He can't tell you that everyone in this family is in on one big secret, and that there are shared glances and knowing looks traded behind your back. He feels like a liar.
He is one.
He wants to not lie anymore, to involve you into his fold. He had come close once, before Dick pulled him aside and told him it was probably for the best that he didn't. But Dick wasn't here now, was he? He could just reach out and-
His hand hovers as he reaches for you. No, Dick was right. This was for the best.
So, he lies down next to you again and drapes an arm over your middle, convincing himself to sleep it off.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Considers keeping you in his life forever once the tabloids start running marriage speculations about you both. You've been dating for a while and recently have been out of the public eye. Of course, you were just sick, but a few weeks off were enough to substantiate rumours of eloping and a honeymoon. He can’t deny that he thought of it when he made public appearances, or when he was out in the shopping district and his eyes lingered on the engagement rings just a tad too long. Yet he is the same Bruce who shoves that feeling down deep inside him so it can't surface again or bother him at the board meeting he has in thirty minutes.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Leaves said meeting early to find you at work, taking your lunch break. Who pulls you outside and tells you he has something incredibly important to tell you with a slightly wild look in his eye. You can't help but be taken aback, wondering what's gotten the ineffable billionaire agitated. You think of a million scenarios. He needs to go into witness protection? He got involved with gangs? threats on his life again? he's being blackmailed? Blood money? He leaves as soon as he came, driving himself back once telling you to meet him at the manor that night after work. Immediately after work. He drives back to the manor with his pulse thrumming against the skin of his neck and fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. he was going to tell you. He was going to risk everything on a gamble, and he couldn’t help but feel the pit beneath his feet trying to swallow him whole at the implications of it.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Jumps up from the sitting room the moment you step in the door, hands jittery despite the glass of scotch he had been sipping. Whose nerves get the better of him in that one moment despite spending years training away that fear. He was fear now, he was the Batman. But in this moment, he felt more man that he had felt in a long, long time.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Feels like he could collapse as you listen to his admission. He's placed all the cards in your hands, enough to extort him forever, expose him and his identity. Make the world crumble around his ears in such a dramatic fashion that the Justice Leage wouldn't even be able to save him from it. He wasn't just gambling with his identity, he played with the lives and identities of everyone he was connected to, every Robin he had raised and trained. So, when you hold those cards he gave you and fold them to your chest, swearing to never tell a soul, the breath leaving his lungs makes him feel boneless.
Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...
Thinks for the first time, that there was a way to unite the Bat with Bruce Wayne. That when he goes to hug you, he knows that he risked it all on that gamble, but it paid off in ways that he couldn’t have imagined.
and that was enough for him.
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