#i know so little about him i just find him completely and utterly pathetic in the most charming of ways | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emphistic · 5 months ago

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Forget-me-nots

A/N: call me Nick Cannon the way im out here rawdogging this fever

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“Hey, babe,” you said, catching Sukuna by surprise. You placed your hands on the back of his gaming chair, “I’m gonna go on a walk. D’you wanna come with?”

“I’d rather go for a run, but God knows your slow ass wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Sukuna removed his headset and placed it on his desk, before following you out of the room.

If he had kept his headset on for just a little longer, Sukuna would’ve heard the protests and complaints of Gojo. The white-haired man was utterly disappointed at Sukuna for leaving in the middle of a game, who was going to carry him now that Sukuna was gone?

Sukuna looked you up and down, watching you as you put on your shoes, and let out a scoff, getting your attention. “You’re forgetting something.”

You met his gaze, “Uh huh, go on.”

“A jacket, dumbass. A jacket.”

You waved your hand around, dismissing his suggestion. “Don’t be silly, Sukuna. It doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“That so?” He raised a brow.

“Mhm.”

“It’s literally dark out, babe. Who are you trying to impress?”

The two of you continued on your way out of the complex without putting an end to your usual lighthearted banter. The sky was clear of clouds when you made it past the front doors; and cool air immediately hit your skin. Okay, maybe Sukuna wasn’t wrong in reminding you to layer up.

But, despite his demeanor on the exterior, Sukuna was far from cloud nine. Was that selfish of him? To truly have everything, and yet, still want more? He managed to get himself a loving girlfriend, not to mention, one that was exceptionally beautiful, both on the inside and outside. He should be content; he should be satisfied. But how could he? When guilt gnawed at him every second, every minute, every hour?

Sukuna was afraid, deathly.

He could tell you about the bet, but it was inevitable that you would leave him right after. Or, he could choose to keep silent about the bet for the rest of his life. But that would mean Naoya Zen’in having a leg up on him, and that was no good.

Sukuna couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at your face, admiring your elated expression. He liked the sound of your voice, and hearing you laugh. The thought of you being gone plagued his mind, and he knew he would be a dead man walking if that nightmare became true.

Things truly could not be worse for the pink-haired man, who felt utterly pathetic. He felt vulnerable, and weak. Completely opposite of the image most people portrayed him as. Which is quite amusing, to say the least.

Sukuna was at a crossroad, but it was clear he wasn’t choosing either path. Maybe it was the worst choice, maybe it was the best choice, but Sukuna knew that doing nothing was probably the most impactful choice, and so he decided to let God play out his fate, leaving him to wait day and night, never knowing when you would find out and his world would flip upside down.

To bet something is to “risk something, usually a sum of money, against someone else’s on the basis of the outcome of a future event, such as the result of a race or game.” Sukuna knew that, when he was drunk at that damned party. Sukuna knew that, when he signed up for this. Sukuna knew; he wasn’t stupid; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

“—Nobara was telling me, after the party, about my . . . complexion, or, I don’t know. My skin was apparently glowing—”

“Are you a virgin or something?” Sukuna cut you off with a laugh, turning to look at you. And, not that he had any knowledge in the field, but, with the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the wind, and with the way the moonlight casted upon your face, illuminating your best features, you looked just like a cinematic masterpiece.

You gave him a pointed look, as if to say, You would know, and again, Sukuna laughed.

“It’s called afterglow, babe. Science-y stuff, I figured you would already know, but I guess not.”

“Can you go one second without being rude?”

“You’re funny; don’t get your hopes up too high,” Sukuna ruffled your hair as you both continued down the dimly lit street.

It was a quiet, peaceful night. There would usually be something happening a block away, maybe sirens in the distance, kids playing around and screaming, but there was not. Maybe that was a blessing, maybe that was a curse, but it left you and Sukuna both to your own thoughts, and that was comforting enough.

“Is everything okay? Did you have a long day?” you asked, breaking the overwhelming silence. You turned to look at Sukuna with worry written all over your expression.

Sukuna had been tense ever since he got home, like a heavy weight had been placed upon his shoulders. You thought it strange; your boyfriend was a carefree man. He was easygoing and laid back; he knew how to start up a conversation, get everyone’s mood up, but this. . . This wasn’t Sukuna.

Whenever you two went on walks or runs together, sure, there’s a silence, but it was never like. . . Like something was wrong. It was never like this.

“Hm? No, I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about, that’s all. Don’t worry for me, ‘kay?” Sukuna gave you a smile, but it only tightened the knot in your chest, your concern doing the opposite of diminishing.

Truth was, you didn’t know what to think. And if you had to be honest, you couldn’t say your mind hadn’t wandered to the idea of Sukuna being unsatisfied with your relationship. Was he upset with you? Did he think you too much? You shuddered just thinking about it.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna watched as your eyebrows furrowed, and you chewed at your bottom lip. It was a habit of yours — the latter, and Sukuna noticed you only gave in to it whenever you were anxious or deep in thought.

“Hey, I was thinking, how about we go out sometime?” asked Sukuna, out of the blue.

You two hadn’t been on a date since the baseball game, and that was a while ago. Sukuna missed spending an entire day with you, and was desperate for something fun to take his mind off of the bet.

“You make it sound like we haven’t even kissed yet,” you covered your mouth, trying, but failing, to stifle a giggle.

“What else did you want me to say, huh?” Sukuna humored you, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to lift the tension.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Do you want to—,’ actually, I have no idea. How do you ask someone on a not-first date?”

“That’s a good question,” Sukuna added. “Now that I think of it, I’m not sure.”

“Eh, whatever. Any other way is totally better than yours.”

“Now who’s the rude one, hm? Do you want to go on that date or what?”

You laughed, “I’m only teasing, ‘Kuna. Of course I do; I don’t even know why you’re asking.”

“It’s polite.”

“You? Polite? Hilarious.” You placed a hand on Sukuna’s arm, but he pulled away, feigning to be hurt by your words. But you knew he was just trying to joke around.

“Awh, baby, don’t be sad. How can I make it up to my handsome, handsome boyfriend?”

“You can’t.” Sukuna turned his head away from you, hiding his grin.

You didn’t take no for an answer, and stood on your tiptoes in order to plant a wet kiss on Sukuna’s cheek, even going as far to voice a Mwah! sound.

When Sukuna still didn’t look at you, you started to wonder if he was genuinely upset. But when he abruptly turned around to smash his lips on yours, all other thoughts in your head completely vanished and you melted in his arms. Placing your hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you kissed him back just as fervently.

One of Sukuna’s hands wandered down your middle to the small of your back and rested just above your behind.

With your boyfriend’s lips on yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and his murmuring of sweet nothings every now and then, all previous worries and concerns of yours were no match. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

“You look good,” Sukuna said, a sultry look in his eyes as he shamelessly checked you out.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He shrugged, “I try.”

“So, where are we headed?” You asked, immediately after entering your boyfriend’s car.

Sukuna hadn’t told you anything since he asked you out. Only thing he said was, “Look pretty for me, like you always do, and bring a jacket or something.” But since he knew there was no way in hell you were going to listen to that last bit, he already knew he was giving you his hoodie if you needed it.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know,” said Sukuna, as he started driving down the road.

“Oh, yeah? What, you gonna drive me to a secluded area and chop off my head or something? Is that why you’re being so lowkey about all of this?”

“Would you like that?” Sukuna quipped, turning to look at you as he pulled up to a red light.

You laughed, “I don’t know; I haven’t tried it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It wasn’t long till Sukuna and you arrived at a crowded space overshadowed by the large buildings beside it. Said space was filled from corner to corner with food vendors and other small shops selling trinkets, clothes, toys, et cetera. There was music booming from speakers located all around, and the air smelled like a variety of food that had you salivating on the spot. Not to mention, the beautiful array of string lights above all the stalls, giving an authentic sense and feel to things.

Families, friends, couples, and individuals walked through the streets of the area. Carrying toys that lit up or made music with a simple click of a button, holding small paper plates stacked with food, bargaining prices of intricate garments, or simply conversing with their companions. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, gossip, jokes, whispers.

The exciting, fun-filled atmosphere of the place was surely popular among its customers. And, even taking one look at it all, you knew you were bound to have endless entertainment and enjoyment here, tonight.

“What do you think?” Sukuna asked, noticing you had gone quiet. His voice was barely above a whisper, saddened by the idea of you hating it. He thought you might’ve liked something like this, that’s why he picked this place. But maybe his judgment was—

“It’s—I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful, and the food smells amazing,” you smiled, looking at Sukuna.

Unbeknownst to you, the pink-haired man let out a sigh of relief upon hearing your answer.

“I used to go here all the time with Yuuji back when we were little; he loved the oyakodon. I don’t know if they still have the same one he preferred.”

“We should take a picture, babe. Make him jealous that we’re having a better dinner than him.”

Sukuna laughed, “You’re starting to sound like me. I think I’m rubbing off on you, squirt.”

“It’s only payback since he ate the last of my Häagen-Dazs. I was saving it,” you grumbled, still holding a grudge about the distant memory.

“Sure, sure.”

Sukuna snaked an arm around your waist, directing you to a red, striped stall. Smoke flying from the back of it as people fried and cooked and did whatever. “Jakoten?” he suggested.

“Obviously.”

If there was one thing you learned while being with Sukuna, it was that he was an eater. He wasn’t picky, no, quite the opposite, really. He could eat literally anything he got his hands on. Sukuna had a strict diet — being an athlete and all that — but he had his off days, where he could eat anything he pleased.

And, although you are a little less “wild” compared to him, you two often shared interest in the same dishes. Like jakoten, for example. But that’s a simple one, most people like it, so that’s not much good of an instance.

Sukuna and you waited near the front of the food stand, and when it was time and your order came out, Sukuna helped put a cupped hand under your chin, catching all of the tiny crumbs in his palm.

“Good, right?”

Your reply came muffled, as you chewed on the fried fish paste. “Mhm.”

“Where do you want to go next?” Jakoten was delicious, Sukuna couldn’t deny it, but you would be wrong if you thought that was enough to satisfy his hunger.

“Hm, we should go and see if they have tonkatsu. I’m kinda hungry for a main dish now.”

Together, you and Sukuna walked hand in hand around the people-filled space, seeking out different meals to try. Contrary to your main mission — finding a filling dish, you and Sukuna both had your fair share of small appetizers and sweet treats. When you two decided unanimously to find a table to sit down at and enjoy your dinner, you weren’t aware of how difficult of a journey that was.

To say the place was packed was an understatement, and most people didn’t even try to find seats, instead opting to stand and walk the whole time. After getting hundreds of steps in just to come out fruitless, you and Sukuna gave up on even the idea of sitting down.

“You know, I was thinking,” you began, while picking at the greens on your plate, “we should totally get a bowl of noodles, and recreate that scene from Lady and the Tramp.”

“We totally should not.” Sukuna shook his head, an unamused look on his face as he bit into a Japanese type of skewered chicken.

“C’mon, it’ll be cute. And, and, we would get to kiss,” you pursued.

“Is kissing you supposed to tempt me?”

“I—How dare you; you know what, don’t talk to me.” You turned away from a laughing Sukuna.

“Aw, sweetheart, I was just joking. ‘sides, who would pay for your food if you walked away from me?”

You turned back around.

Pleased with himself — having gotten your attention back, Sukuna gave a boyish smile, “That’s more like it,” before swinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling, “Don’t, ‘Kuna. You’re going to make me drop my food.”

“So cold. Your boyfriend’s giving you kisses and you tell him to stop? That’s a new low, even for you,” Sukuna feigned a hurt tone, but remained smiling all the while.

“Mm, yeah. Sulk all you want, you were the one who refused my kisses first. Don’t you dare forget.”

“You’re really never going to let that go, are you? Ah, I know, would this,” he pulled out a wad of cash, “change your mind?”

Sukuna had seen you eyeing a ramune-selling vendor ever since the both of you arrived. Of course, after being around you for so long, he was quick to learn that ramune was one of your weak spots. You were a fiend for anything sweet, after all. And the popular carbonated drink was perfect for the current weather.

Seeing your eyes widen to saucers, Sukuna knew he had won you over.

“Just, get me one, too, alright? You’re not the only thirsty person here.”

As you began to walk in the direction of the stand, Sukuna abruptly pulled you back, “Actually . . . they might have soju, so get me a cup of that instead. You know the kind I like.” And with that — and a final kiss to your cheek, Sukuna sent you off.

It didn’t take very long to acquire your drinks, as the line was pretty short seeing as most people were starting to leave the area considering the late time. On the other hand, it did take you a fairly drawn-out amount of time to find Sukuna. For he wasn’t in the same place he was before; Sukuna was now standing in a much more secluded area. And, he wasn’t alone, either.

The blond dude, who hosted that party, was standing in front of a very tense-looking Sukuna. To passersby and the naked eye, the two men might look like they were simply a pair of friends conversing. But to you, you noticed Sukuna’s clenched jaw. You noticed his arms, crossed over his chest. You noticed his eyes, usually holding a light to them, were dark, and Sukuna was glowering.

You assumed they started talking a little while after you left Sukuna to go shopping, and, as strong as your morals were, you couldn’t help but listen in to their conversation.

“—I’m surprised, I didn’t foresee a chance to meet you tonight, captain. And, another date? You’re really scoring, aren’t you? Though, I can’t say I expected less from the Ryomen.”

“Look, Zen’in, I told you — a million times, actually, I’m done playing this stupid game of yours. Grow up, or, better yet, find something else to entertain your fucked up brain.”

“Woah, didn’t mean to hit a nerve there. I was just about to ask — since we’re already here — if you wanted your cash now, or later. Wouldn’t want to intrude on your little date.” Naoya let out a low laugh, “You know, you’re really starting to drain my bank account. First kiss, two dates, and you fucked her? Man, you’ve outdone yourself.”

With each sentence that man spoke, your jaw only dropped lower and lower. Your chest tightened, and it felt unbearably suffocating to breathe. Tears threatened to spill at any second, but you still weren’t sure if Naoya was lying, and making all of this up.

God, let this be just a nightmare.

Sukuna couldn’t have. . . Sukuna wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do something like that to you, right? He wouldn’t use someone, all for a silly bet.

Heat rose to your face, as emotions bottled up inside of you. You didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Sad? Betrayed?

When the blond noticed you standing only a few feet away, and snickered, “Whoops, looks like I am interrupting something.”

Naoya flashed you a fake smile, before turning back to Sukuna, “Take care, Ryomen.” He pressed multiple hundred dollar bills onto the pink-haired man’s hand, and took his leave.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed you before Naoya said something, and when he saw your face, hurt written all over your features, his eyes softened. He tried to take a step forward, but with every step he took, you took two backwards.

“Sukuna, I—I don’t even know what to say to you,” your voice cracked, and Sukuna swore his heart shattered right then and there at the look on your face. “Is it true? — the things he said?”

It pained Sukuna, to see you hold out hope. Hope for him. Hope for your relationship. He was undeserving of such grace to be bestowed upon him, and couldn’t say anything but, “I’m sorry.”

Your expression morphed into that of confusion, and then into one of frustration and anger. You couldn’t believe Sukuna just threw away everything you two had, shared, dreamed of, all for some money and a stupid bet.

“Was nothing we had real to you? Was everything just a big ole lie you fed me so that you could see some more zeros at the end of your already large enough fortune? . . .Sukuna, answer me.”

Your voice got softer as you spoke, till it was just above a whisper. Your breathing was uneven, and came in gasps. This was all too much for you to wrap your head around.

“I trusted you, I gave you everything. You saw me vulnerable, you saw me naked, you . . . you—” You weren’t even aware when it started, but tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, and even wiping them away with your sleeve didn’t help.

All the while, the man who brought you so much joy, and now, so much pain, could do nothing but stare back at you in silence. His eyes were empty, the light gone. The man you loved, gone. Sukuna didn’t try and defend his stupidity, he had no reason to. He was in the wrong, and was — rightfully so — being berated for his doings. Sukuna loved you, but pride was a much stronger feeling than love.

“I thought you changed, Sukuna. I thought you matured, and grew up, and learned, but . . . God, I was so wrong. You’re nothing different than the boy who tormented me in high school, aren’t you. But, I don’t understand. . . What did I do to you? What did I do for you to—to treat me like this? You willingly accepted to be paid to take me out?”

“Was I not enough for you, Ryomen? That you felt the need to be rewarded for staying with me?” Your voice was so, so soft; it sent a pang through Sukuna’s heart.

In your eyes, Sukuna now looked so different, after having learned what you did. He was really nothing but a man. A man whose pride and dignity and ego took the best, and worst, of him.

“I can’t believe I even trusted you. But, you know what, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. It doesn’t matter what I did. Anything regarding you doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You’re not sure what took over you at that very moment, but you do know that throwing a drink at a man does contribute to getting your emotions out. “There, you can have your soju, you can have your money, you can have whatever you want. Good bye, Ryomen. And good fucking night.”

You had no way home; Sukuna was the one who drove you two here, and you both knew that. But you didn’t care. As long as you got away from that man you would be okay. You would be okay. . .

At that very moment, after seeing you storm away from him, and into the crowds of people — who appeared shocked to see a woman with mascara running down her cheeks, — Sukuna understood the term ‘significant other’. He realized you were his other half. You completed him. But now. . . You were gone, disappeared, left — forever, if he didn’t do something about it. Sukuna wasn’t whole. Hell, he wasn’t even half. He was nothing, nothing without you.

It wasn’t like Sukuna to cry; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

As the days went on, Sukuna couldn’t have been more stupid as to think you would talk with him after a week’s time, and that everything would go back to normal. He wanted this to be a nightmare. But oh, how wrong he was. For days upon days upon days, you greeted him with nothing but silence.

You blocked him on all social media, you premeditated routes to avoid him on campus, you deleted his number, you did everything to erase the face of the man whom you called the love of your life from your mind. The both of you went from texting or calling each other almost every night to complete radio silence. It drove Sukuna to the brink of insanity.

“—I’m just saying, you should go tell her you’re sorry. I mean, that was a really fucked up thing to do. And, even coming from you, I’m surprised.” Yuuji popped another potato chip into his mouth as he lounged on his older brother’s sofa.

“Don’t you think I’ve done that already? She hates my guts, Yuuji, and—and I don’t blame her but. . . Right now, she thinks I’m a dickhead who just used her for money. But that’s totally not true.”

Yuuji raised a brow, as if to say, Are you sure about that? And Sukuna sighed, plopping down beside his brother.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I technically was using her, but only at the very beginning, but everything after our first phone call was real, genuine. I didn’t get into this whole bet thing to hurt her, I was just trying to prove Naoya’s bitchass wrong and maybe make his wallet lighter at the same time. . . I really, really love her, Yuu—”

“Y’know, I’m not a big fan of listening to your drama-filled life, but I’m also not very keen on hearing you be a sap.”

Sukuna, outright ignoring his brother, continued on with his speech anyway, “God, this might be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.” He ran a hand down his face, exasperated.

“It is.”

Sukuna shot him a pointed look, and the younger boy only shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude, I’m pretty sure your girl broke things off permanently. Besides, there’s not much you can do to redeem yourself, anyway. Betting on a relationship is a pretty shitty move.”

“Do I look like I don’t know that?” Sukuna grumbled, stealing a handful of chips from Yuuji’s bowl.

“Well, you could’ve at least explained yourself while you had the chance, instead of just saying you’re sorry. I mean, poor girl, you faked a relationship with her and that’s all she knows.”

Sukuna — deep in thought, held his head in his hands.

“I’m sure if you tried to give an explanation she would at least hear you out. Eh, it might not even be too late to get her a bouquet or something. Whaddya know, I heard girls liked those kinds of things, when you get them their favorite flower and stuff.”

Yuuji paused, “You do know her favorite flower, right?”

“. . .”

“Man, I’m an optimistic person at heart, but this is just. . . You might be a lost cause, ‘Kuna.”

Sukuna had a lot of hope. Key word: had. As in, used to have.

Attempt no1:

They say Forget-me-nots (also referred to as Scorpion Grasses) represent true love, and respect or, at least, something of the like. But, the flower also — when gifted to someone — symbolizes that you’ll always hold them in your heart and in your thoughts and in your mind. The flower could additionally be interpreted to suggest fidelity, and being truthful, genuine, to someone you love.

Now, Sukuna knew you were smart. And he never doubted that fact, despite all of his previous teasing and joking of that. But he had never wished for someone to have knowledge about the meanings of flowers more than he has at this very moment.

It’s funny, one can laugh, but it’s true that Sukuna spent countless hours researching different flowers and their archaic all the way to their modern meanings just so he could prove maybe he wasn’t that much of a dick, after all.

But maybe, he should’ve put a little more effort into the planning of his execution rather than the organizing part of it.

Sukuna knew you were avoiding him, even going as far as changing your daily routes to classes even if it meant walking farther distances. He was more impressed than offended at how dedicated you were to the whole “Never-Seeing-His-Face-Again” bit.

There really wasn’t much he could do to be able to see you in person, since you blocked all contact with him, but . . . Sukuna did happen to think of one way he could meet up with you.

While he may not have been the best boyfriend, Sukuna was still . . . decent, sorta, if you put aside the whole bet crisis. And, even if he couldn’t remember the purpose of your Student Council meetings, he did remember the directions to where your briefings took place. Call him a stalker or serial killer or whatever, it doesn’t change the fact he drove you to and from those damned meetings.

Pacing to and fro outside of a library was already strange enough; being covered in tattoos and having pink hair did not help with the amount of stares Sukuna received, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Sukuna gripped the bouquet of Forget-me-nots — and other flowers, but it was mainly filled with Forget-me-nots, like his life depended on it.

He went over his speech — that he had previously practiced with Yuuji the night before — over a hundred times in his head. But when he suddenly heard you call out his name out of confusion, all that he managed out was a plethora of garbled “I’m sorry’s” and “Please’s.”

“Sukuna? What—what are you doing here?” you asked, bewilderment written all over your features as your eyes wandered down to the enormous bouquet in his hands. Being greeted by your ex-boyfriend right after finishing a meeting was not on today’s Bingo card for you.

“I—I know the other night was . . . a mess,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “but I didn’t get to explain myself and—”

“No, it’s okay, you have nothing to explain. Everything was a lie; everything you said was a lie; everything we did was a lie. See? I get it; no need for your clarification.” You shook your head, and began walking down the street to your next destination.

Even after knowing Sukuna for so long, you were a fool for thinking you could “outwalk” him. The male had no intention of letting you leave without you hearing him out first, and he was able to catch up to you within just a few strides.

“Can you just let me talk? For a second?”

You quickened your pace, trying your hardest to get him off your tail, but he just wouldn’t budge. Doesn’t this count as harassment?

“There’s nothing for you to say, Sukuna; I’m not wasting my time with you on this.”

Sukuna murmured your name, “Please, there’s more to the story than you think. I didn’t accept the bet to hurt you, I. . .” His voice trailed off as he wondered what to do next, but he suddenly remembered the bouquet and shoved it into your arms.

“What is this?” Your face morphed into one of incertitude, your voice softening as you examined the bouquet, but still, your pace never slowed.

“Special flowers, for a special girl.”

You rolled your eyes, again, quickening your pace; you were now speed walking while holding a comically large bouquet. Sukuna was finally not the only one being stared at, though he didn’t revel much in that fact.

“Don’t say that. You know we’re not together anymore; we’re over. Are you ever going to get that through your skull?” You finally stopped in your tracks, and turned to look at Sukuna — half because you were out of breath from walking so fast and half because you wanted to see the expression on his face.

“We don’t have to be; c’mon, I want to make things right—”

“Sukuna! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” A high pitched voice called out, out of the blue.

You both turned your heads to see who it came from.

“You never texted me after I gave you my number last week. Don’t tell me you’re shy; there’s nothing scary about this girl,” the short brunette giggled.

In truth, Sukuna had no idea who this was. Probably just some rando who hit on him after seeing him play basketball.

“Lady, I don’t even remember your name—”

But the girl had already caught up with Sukuna and looped her arm around his, acting all friendly and whatnot. Sukuna looked at you for help, but you merely scoffed, amused with the sight, “You shouldn’t have to make things right in the first place. You chose this, don’t you remember?”

Exhaling, you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Nobs, I think I might take a break from the dating scene, for a while. I mean, I’ve only recently begun to be able to look at Sukuna’s face without breaking down in tears.” While you tried to appear better off, your voice gave it all away. You weren’t completely over him yet.

“But, you’re hot; you’re young. This could be the perfect opportunity for you to make Sukuna regret losing you.” Nobara tried her hardest to get you to go to this party with her; she knew about your recent breakup, of course, but she was apparently too scared to go on her own, since Maki was unavailable.

“If Sukuna’s going that just gives me all the more reason to not go,” you stopped shoving ice cream in your mouth for a second to really get your point across.

Nobara sprawled across your bedroom floor, miserable, but not as miserable as you. She started thinking about not going to the party after all, but she had been looking forward to it all week! Ugh, going alone is the most “Loser thing” ever.

You paused your eating, and thought to yourself, If Sukuna’s really desperate to explain to me and apologize, he must be in his feelings, so he probably won’t go to the party.

“Ah, you know what, maybe I can go to that party, after all—”

“Really? Oh, my God! Yes!” Nobara immediately jumped up from the floor and threw her arms around you, trapping you in a hug.

“I’m still stuck on why you’re so happy. I seriously do not get what’s so great about this party.”

“Everything, duh.”

“Whose house is this, again?” you asked, once you and Nobara pulled up at the address you put into the GPS.

“Uh, dunno. I’m pretty sure Yuuji does, though; he got me the invite.”

At the mention of his name, your mind immediately went to his brother. Which was your first mistake, since tonight was supposed to be fun, and help you forget about everything that went down.

“Oh, so they’re in the same year as us, then?”

“Mm, probably. C’mon, what are you stalling for, let’s party!” Nobara dragged you out of the car and continued dragging you until you both arrived in front of the door.

Upon entering, you noticed the house was . . . nice — definitely not a mansion, unlike someone else’s, but it was the size of a typical “party house”. It looked sorta old, but it wasn’t rundown, so maybe people just used it a lot for large gatherings like this.

Did you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven? No. Were your protests overlooked? Of course. Did you sit down in the circle? Yes. Yes, you did. This was now your second time playing the game, and your opinion of it hadn’t changed at all. Being surrounded by drunk or high college kids instantly soured your mood, and you almost regretted agreeing to join Nobara.

A brunette girl, whom you recognized as the girl from yesterday, spun the bottle first, and the game commenced. What’s different about this house is that it has multiple closets, so the game progressed pretty quickly, with several couples being in their respective closets at once.

When it came down to your turn, you spun the bottle, though, not without some hesitancy, at first.

1 . . .

2 . . .

3 . . .

The empty bottle went around the circle three times before it landed on . . . Sukuna? What the fuck? You hadn’t even noticed he was here. This happened last time, too. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this game? Is it cursed or something? God.

There was visible and audible shock amongst the crowd.

“Didn’t this happen at Naoya’s party?”

“Yeah, it did!”

“That’s crazy.”

“Look, I know this might not be the best situation to say this but—”

Despite your misgivings about doing so, you went in the closet with Sukuna anyway. And after locking the door behind him, Sukuna turned to you with a desperate look on his face.

Attempt no2:

“I’m giving you seven minutes, because that’s all the time we have in here anyway and also because I’m bored and curious as to what you think is a valid apology.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s enough for me. . . I know — that from the moment we met, it started off bad. Beyond bad. Horrible, even. But I want to make things right between us. Because, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And, I fucked things up. I followed through with Naoya’s bet when I was drunk and out of my mind. I should’ve ended it the next day but I didn’t; I wanted to prove to Naoya I could take you out. Because . . . I’ve liked you for a long time, probably since high school, even. And I know I never expressed that in a good way, but that’s only because I never realized it myself. So, seeing him just dangle the money in front of me, I just—I just thought of the money as a nice ‘incentive’ or something.”

“That’s a weird thing to think.”

“Yeah, I know. And I was stupid to think that that justified what I was doing. But, everything after our first phone call was real, I swear. Nothing we did together was fake or me just using you to get money. But, I won’t deny that that doesn’t change the fact I was an asshole—”

“You are an asshole.”

“Okay, that I will admit. Yes, I’m an asshole. But, I’m sorry. I’m a sorry asshole. Heh.”

“Did you just laugh at your own joke?”

“I—uh—” Sukuna took in a deep breath, “I know you could have as many me’s in your life, and hate them all the same. But I’ll only ever have one you. And that’s all I need. So please, I won’t ask for you to take me back; I don’t deserve that, but please, I just want you to hear me out.

“You can punch me, kick me, block my number and delete it, but please, don’t ignore what I’m saying to you right now. Know that I’m sorry — though sorry doesn’t quite cut it, but please know. Know that I love you. Know that I’m completely devoted to you. Know that I will kiss the ground with which you walk upon. Know that I love you, for fuck’s sake, and will wait for you to accept that — you don’t have to love me too, just accept that I love you. Please, know.”

Sukuna’s voice was soft as he spoke with such earnestness you almost wanted to feel guilty. You knew what he did was unforgivable. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if you wanted to just forget all that had happened and go back to how things used to be between you two.

You would be a terrible liar to say you hadn’t missed Sukuna, and although he was a stupid asshole, his words proved he did nothing with ill intention. He agreed to the bet because that was the extra push he needed to be able to ask you out. He couldn’t have done it by himself, out of fear or anxiety or whatever. It was an impossible thought — the idea of Ryomen Sukuna being scared of rejection, but nobody was superhuman. Everyone has emotions.

Speaking of which, maybe it was an emotional choice to take a step forward. Maybe it was an illogical choice to finally meet Sukuna’s eyes since you two entered the closet. Maybe it was an impulsive choice to wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug, with your head resting on his chest. But, either way, you felt it was the right choice.

At first, Sukuna was tense, surprised at the sudden embrace. But, he remembered it was one he longed for, ever since that fateful night, and it didn’t take long for him to return the hug, wrapping his arms around your torso.

Through silent, unspoken words only the both of you shared and understood, you two basked in the moment of finally getting your love back. Sukuna had more words to say than he could speak. You had more feelings to share than you could show. The time you two spent apart was excruciatingly and regretfully (on your part) long.

On both sides there was an absence of something fundamental; whatever you two built while together was gone. But now? There’s not much to be said except for the light returning to those crimson eyes that you so loved.

It’s enigmatic; you don’t know what possessed you to speak up — your voice muffled due to burying your face in Sukuna’s chest. But you knew it was partially because of how long you spent bottling up your emotions: anger, sadness, regret, longing. All for one man, and one man only.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your stupid brain, that managed to apologize whilst using math as metaphors. I hate your dumb smile, which still stuns me even after everything. I hate your annoying voice, which is the only thing I can fall asleep to. I hate your hair, which stands out in every crowd I enter to avoid you.

“I hate your motorcycle, which even the rational part of my mind still imagines hearing the engine of. I hate your hands, which I undeniably long to feel in my hair. I hate your way of talking to me, which I can never get bored of, no matter how hard I try. I hate when you lie your way out of the littlest of things. I hate when you’re not around, and I have no one to tell me jokes that don’t even make sense. I hate that you think you can just win me over because you got me flowers knowing they have a specific meaning.

“I hate that I hate you. I hate that I still love you.”

Hearing you sob your heart out while laying everything bare for him, Sukuna couldn’t help but place a kiss on your crown, burying his nose in your hair. After all, Sukuna had a feeling you were just listing parts of him you loved. But either way, he didn’t mind. This was simply the start of everything reverting back to normal, something both you and Sukuna longed for. And, —

In the end,

Sukuna didn’t want anything. He wanted everything. He wanted you. (you were his everything.)

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒

A/N: Thanks for all the love and support I’ve received on this series!!, it was definitely a pain to finish and every one of your comments and reblogs and likes definitely helped me get through writing this <3

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lordbrainsnatcherr @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura @xiraxdl @sterzin @catobsessedlady @alwaysfreakingout @uhnanix @ssetsuka @wrldtups @lovra974 @rzcnlb @piercddprincess @satoru2716 @bananaminn @tomiokasecretlover @bigraga-sk @villainsevilandhot @5seos

#its COMPLETE finally #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen x reader

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

Text

I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -�� Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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mistiell · 2 years ago

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I'm Starvin', Darlin'

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how touch starved he is when you, the newest member of the BAU, develop a habit of casually touching him throughout the day.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, bit of a misunderstanding towards the end, this hasn't been proofread so I might come back to correct some things later

A/N: So, I have been like, completely MIA for the passed few months, and I apologize for that. Life has been hectic and I haven't had any motivation. However, I'm back now! At least for a little while. This is my first fic for Spencer but I hope to write more for him in the future. There'l definitely be a part two to this sometime in the future, so look out for that.

Part 2

Spencer has never been one for physical affection.

Logically he knows that he needs a certain amount of it to survive, and he doesn’t particularly mind it anymore when Morgan claps him on the back or when he has to shake somebody’s hand. But when he’s pulled in for a hug, there’s this weird sort of anxiety that makes him worry about whether or not he’s holding on too tight or how long he can stay there without making it awkward. He’ll endure it if he thinks a hug would be the best way to comfort someone, but typically, he avoids them altogether.

That was, until you came along.

It was sunny out, and for the first time in a while, the blinds in the bullpen were pulled open to let the sun shine in. Spencer was sitting at his desk, flipping through his mound of paperwork when JJ had led you over to your new desk, right across from his. JJ had caught his attention to introduce you, but the moment he laid eyes on you, whatever she was saying went in one ear and out the other

You had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life.

“Spence.” JJ’s voice snapped him back into reality and he was suddenly acutely aware of how long he’d been staring.

“Hm?” You’d giggled at his dumbstruck expression and he swore he’d do anything to make you laugh like that again.

JJ stared at him expectantly for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and gesturing to you again, “I said, this is Agent L/n. She’s our newest member.”

“Oh, right, um, I’m Sp-Spencer Reid. Er– Doctor Spencer Reid.” He was halfway through mentally berating himself when you smiled oh so kindly at him, extending your hand.

“Y/n L/n. It’s nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Oh, um, you can just call me Reid.”

“Right.” You very obviously looked him up and down in a way that made his heart race, “Reid.”

And then you sat down at your desk.

And he had to sit there and pretend he wasn’t utterly and entirely flustered by that tiny, microscopic interaction.

He came to realize about a month into your friendship that you were a touchy person by nature. You’d touch his arm when he made you laugh and sometimes you’d squeeze his shoulder before you sat down next to him at the round table. Six months into your career there and you’d gotten comfortable enough that you’d hug most of them when you showed up for drinks outside of work and playfully pinch Morgan’s arm or side when he got a little too brazen with his flirting. Sometimes you’d bump Spencer’s shoulder to tease him. It took a few times to get used to it, but eventually he started bumping you back.

Actually, he found that the more you touched him, the less he seemed to dislike it. In fact, he finds himself waiting for those casual displays of affection. Every time your skin meets his, he feels warm, revitalized.

Which is why on one particularly late night, when he’s utterly exhausted and the two of you are the only ones in the office, he feels comfortable enough to do what he’s about to do.

He thinks about it for a long while, never one to do anything like this without properly thinking it through. He’s just so tired and this case was so draining that, as pathetic as he thinks it is, he finds himself wanting to ask for a hug.

He won’t. He’s not that confident yet. But he thinks that maybe there’s another way to get away with touching you in some capacity.

So he rolls his chair over to your desk, attempting to casually plop down next to you so his side is practically pressed against yours. To his surprise, it actually works, though his casual “plop” is more like a rather awkward “slip-and-almost-accidentally-knock-you-over”. But you don’t mind. Instead, you laugh and bump his shoulder a lot more gently than he bumped you.

“Watch it, clumsy.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, awkwardly clearing his throat, “What are you working on?”

“The mountain of paperwork that’s been accumulating since I got here.” You huff a short, embarrassed puff of laughter as you glance down at a notepad he hadn’t noticed, “That, and doodling.”

“Doodling what?” He asks, though he wonders how much he’s actually going to be able to pay attention when he’s so focused on how warm your thigh and shoulder feel against his.

“Oh, um,” Is he crazy or are you blushing? “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.” After a split second of deliberation, he gently shifts his weight into his shoulder to nudge you just a little.

“Promise?” You smile shyly and he can’t help but smile back.

“Promise.”

There’s a second where you hesitate before sliding the pad over for him to see. He uses his middle and index finger to drag it over a little more and what he’s met with makes his cheeks warm and his heart flutter about in his chest.

It’s him.

You’ve drawn him at just about every angle, and in such detail that he wonders if you were trying to downplay your abilities or if this is really your definition of doodling. It’s clear you’ve done most of these by memory only because he’s had his head bent over his desk for the past few hours, and most of these are full views of his face. They’re unbelievably accurate, and he realizes you must look at him enough to have his facial features memorized.

“I-I know they’re not great, and I messed up your lips in a couple, but, uh–.”

“Wow.” He breathes in such genuine wonder that you cut yourself off. He looks up at you, a strange, viscous warmth weaving in between his ribs and settling to swirl in his stomach in such a way that it makes him feel a little sick. But, even more strangely, in a good way. He catches himself staring and quickly looks back at your artwork with a flustered smile, “I-I’m flattered. This is… I mean, you’re amazing.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, heat creeps up his neck and he rushes to correct himself, “I-I mean your work is amazing. Not that you aren’t amazing, because you are, but–.”

“Spence.” This time, it’s his turn to cut himself off. That’s the first time you’ve ever called him that.

And fuck, if he isn’t a goner.

You place your hand over his and his heart leaps into his throat, “Thank you.”

“Y-Yeah.” He’s so lost in your eyes that it comes out a whisper. With a little flush of confidence, he turns his hand palm up in yours to squeeze your fingers before hastily pulling away to avoid you noticing how clammy his hands are.

After that night, he finds himself seeking you out a lot more. Knocking his knee against yours under the table, tapping you to get your attention rather than just calling your name.

It isn’t until you’re both out with the team that he realizes he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he’d been. He’s had a few drinks and is a little more than tipsy, which is never a good thing with how much alcohol loosens his lips. Especially when you’re sitting right next to him, definitely more sober than he is.

“Pretty boy, when did you get so comfortable with people touching you?” Derek asks, earning a rather confused look from the man in question. Before he gets a chance to respond, you’re asking exactly what he’d been thinking.

“What do you mean?” By the way he’s looking between the two of you, Spencer assumes Derek is referring to the way you’re pressed against his side – or rather, how he’s pressed against yours, considering he’s the one who leaned practically his whole body weight into your side the moment you sat down.

“You don’t know?” Emily asks, and you shake your head, “He doesn’t like touching anyone.” A knowing smirk creeps up on her face as she locks eyes with him, “Or at least he normally doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Is all you say in response. He doesn’t like the sadness in your tone, and he especially dislikes the way you shift away from him to give him space. There’s a rather startling urge to wrap his arm around you and pull you back to him, but he shuts that down immediately, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Do you remember that time he dodged a handshake by telling the guy it would be safer for them to kiss?” Penelope giggles, clearly drunk at this point.

“You weren’t even there.” Spencer counters, laughing a little to diffuse the tension. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and notices that your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You’re a little too quiet the rest of the night. At one point, you leave for the bathroom and when you return, you slide your purse in between the two of you to keep a safe distance.

He hates it.

He hates it even more when you stop him outside the bar with an apologetic look on your face as you’re all leaving.

“Hey, Spence?”

He swallows the butterflies in his throat that surface at the nickname, “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” You clear your throat awkwardly, “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable with all the, um… touching.”

He opens his mouth to tell you he really, really doesn’t mind it, but you accidentally cut him off, “I didn’t even consider that you might not be comfortable with it, and that was really inconsiderate of me. Now that I know, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’ll be sure to uh, keep my hands to myself.” You titter, glancing at your shoes sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay–.” He’s cut off again, this time by Emily, who’s yours and Garcia’s designated driver for the evening. “L/n! You coming?” She calls with a smile.

“Yeah!” You call back, before turning back to him. He watches you almost lean in for a hug, and a pang of disappointment stabs at his chest when you stop yourself in favour of nodding at him with a smile, “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Is all he has time to say before you’re climbing into the backseat of Emily’s car.

He is seriously dreading going into work on Monday.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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empress-simps · 8 months ago

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Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.

#sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #soulmate au #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter #angst with a happy ending #sirius orion black #regulus black

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ham-st4r · 1 year ago

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𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓽.3 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

📞 Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, cursing.

Genre: PSO (phone sex operator) heeseung.

Summary: too lazy to make one honestly :/ but y’all know the drill probably a couple errors in here too my bad 😣

Number of words: 1,981k

Feel like this is turning into my other work “cyber sex” and I’m highkey disappointed but I hope y’all will still like it

Pt.1 pt.2

Find your way around!

“You always make me feel so good, angel.” You hear Ethan panting on the other end after what had been nearly two hours of being on the phone doing and saying things that you never even dreamt of until you found him.

Despite your initial plans of not calling him back, you found yourself coming home from school the very next day and doing just that. You felt pathetic about it, using what little money you had scraped up from your part-time job just to have phone sex with a guy that was probably millions of miles away, and to top it off, he was probably also laughing all the way to the bank with the ridiculous amount of money you had already spent on these risque calls.

You shifted uncomfortably on your bed, pulling up your soaked panties and fixing your disheveled skirt.

“You had a good time, too, right?” He asks a bit hesitantly because of your sudden silence. He knew it always got a little awkward after you both came together, but you’ve never been this quiet after.

“Yes, Ethan. It always is,” you reply quietly, and he smiles from ear to ear on the other end, happy that you’re just as satisfied as him. You cleared your throat softly before speaking again. “Ethan, you don’t always have to pretend that you’re into it too. I’m fine with you just guiding me,” you say shyly, but it was the truth. You didn’t want him pretending that he was enjoying himself when he clearly wasn’t.

“W-what?” He asks, completely and utterly puzzled by your statement.

You giggle softly, finding it amusing how he tried to act like he didn’t know what you were saying, but it didn’t surprise you cause he’d always been professional at his job. “Ethan, I know you’re not really enjoying it, and that’s fine.”

He just laughs on the other end. “Angel, I think enjoying would be an understatement. I fucking love it when you call me. Love how sweet your moans sound in my ear, and you know what I love most?”

Your face feels hot from his words alone, but you’re still not convinced he’s telling you the truth, especially cause his job was all about pleasing people. He was probably just saying what you wanted to hear. “What, Ethan?” You ask him.

“Love hearing you cum for me,” he sighed softly, looking at the mess of cum all over his chest and stomach. “More than you know,” he whispers.

“Ethan, It’s fine if you do-“

“Angel, let me prove it to you, yeah?” He cuts your words, his voice sounding a little desperate to get you to believe him.

“How?” You question, not taking a moment to stop and even process what exactly is happening, only curious to figure out how he’s gonna prove to you that he’s telling you the truth.

“Do you have any socials? I would ask for your number, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he chews on his biting lip, hoping he wasn’t coming off as some type of creep, but this is the only way he could think of to prove it to you.

Your heart rate picks up as you mutter your social to him, hoping it wasn’t a mistake giving your account to some random stranger. Well, not exactly random, but a stranger nevertheless.

“That’s my Angel,” he said softly and quickly typed in your account, following you at light speed.

Without thinking rationally, you immediately accept his follow request and open up a DM from him, anxious to see what it says.

Ethan: Hi angel!

You smiled when you saw what he sent. It was a picture of his palm that read angel on it with a little heart drawn next to it.

But before you swooned over him too hard, that could have been anyone’s hand, so you weren’t so quick to believe him just yet.

You: 🤨.

You typed out your reply, and you hear him laughing softly on the other end.

“Still not convinced, huh, angel? Fine, tell me what you want. I’ll do anything to prove it to you. You have every right to be apprehensive.” Your timidness wasn’t at all surprising by now. After a few calls with you, he was well aware that he had to take things slow, which was fine by him.

“Uhh, maybe a picture of your face?” You say more like a question, and it comes out sounding more than offensive. “I-I mean, n-not like- I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, it’s just- ” you sigh, deciding to just give up on trying to explain yourself, and you hear him laugh once again as you whine in defeat.

“You’re so cute. Fine angel, my face you shall get” he opened his front-facing camera and put his hand in front of his mouth, palm open so you could see the word that he had written prior, and what better way to prove that he was l telling the truth than to show the residual cum coating his upper body from your guys not so quick session earlier.

Your breath hitched the moment you saw it, and your hands fumbled on your phone, trying to exit the screen, shocked by the image you saw. It’s not that you didn’t like it, but it was so unexpected.

So unexpected that not only did you accidentally screenshot it, but you hung up on him as well.

He heard the rustling on your end before everything went silent. “Angel?” He peeked at his phone, seeing that the call had been disconnected. He almost had a heart attack before he realized he could quickly get a hold of you because of your shared socials.

Ethan: Hope I didn’t scare you off ☹️

He anxiously awaited your text. Minutes passed, and you still hadn’t replied. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to pressure you into responding if you didn’t want to.

You clutched your chest, face completely on fire from the picture he sent, and you shamelessly eyed every single last inch of his body that was in the frame, and he looked so hot.

While you were having your fun, he was having a complete meltdown, especially cause he saw that you had saved the picture.

Were you sending it to your friends? Were you laughing at him because he looked stupid? Did you find it disgusting?

Ugh

You probably did. Why did he think sending you a picture of him covered in his cum would be attractive?

Speaking of, he got up and went to the bathroom, wiping himself completely clean. Hopefully, by the time he was finished, you would have responded.

That was wishful thinking cause when he looked at his phone, he could see that his message was left on read.

He had the right mind to just block you and save himself the embarrassment, but it kinda was too late for that already.

Ethan: You there? 😬

The ding on your phone finally brought you back to reality, and you quickly typed a reply.

You: Yes

You felt bad you just left him waiting, but how could you be calm and collected enough to type a coherent reply after what he had just sent you?

He sighed in relief now that you had finally replied.

Ethan: So, is that proof enough that I’m not faking it?👀

You cupped your mouth, head hanging low in embarrassment because you practically called him a liar earlier.

You: Yes, sorry for not believing you 😞

Ethan: It’s okay, my angel girl 😘 so I saw you took a screenshot of the picture.. does that mean you liked it👀

You: Screenshot?

You reply confused

Ethan: Angel, you don’t have to pretend you didn’t. It’s fine

Your eyes nearly bulged from your sockets when you saw his reply because you didn’t screenshot anything.

You: Ethan, I didn’t

You told the truth you’d never screenshot anything without his consent.

Ethan: You sure? 🤨📸

He took a screenshot of his screen, clearly showing the part where it said you had taken a screenshot.

You: No…

Ethan: 🤥 yes

He sent back, laughing hysterically because why were you lying over something so trivial? Sure, if anyone else had taken a screenshot, he would have minded, but it was just you, so he wasn’t mad about it. He even thought it was kinda cute, in a way.

You: You calling me a liar? 🧐

Ethan: I never said that. I said, “🤥”

You: That’s the same thing!!?

Ethan: No, it’s just 🤥

You: I didn’t.

You stood your ground, but that screenshot of you clearly saving the picture was not helping your case. It was clear evidence.

You: You know what? fine, I’ll screenshot my gallery and send it to you.

Ethan: K 😌 I’ll give you time to delete it.

You ignored him and went into your gallery, and low and behold, that picture was the most recent one, and the pieces slowly came together.

Fuck.

Ethan: I’m waiting 🤥

You: Umm… so about that

Ethan: You did, and it’s fine, Angel. I’m not mad. I’m glad you liked it enough to want to keep it forever 🙈

You: Hear me out, I took it on an accident.

Ethan: 🥱🤥

You: STOP 😩 When you sent the picture, I was fumbling with my phone and accidentally took it. It was never my intention to save it. I’d never save a picture of you.

Ethan: Never? OUCH 😔

You: No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant without your consent, of course.

Ethan: So you would? 😃

You: Yesn't?

Ethan: Yes or no?

You: I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it…👀

Ethan: So yes? Okay then!

Before you could reply, he had already sent you another attachment, one that made your face heat up by a thousand degrees.

Ethan: You can save that one, too, angel. I like the idea of you having me in your phone 🥰

You hesitated for all of a second to save it, not thinking about the fact that you’d have a random bulge pic in your gallery, but who cares? That would only be between you and him.

Ethan: That was fast. You’re making me blush🤭

You: And you’re turning me on 😶

Heeseung had to look at his screen again, a blank look on his face as he blinked a few times to make sure he was reading that correctly. That wasn’t the angel he knew. How the heck were you so shy over the phone and so bold over text?

Ethan: I can show you more, you know? That’s if you want it.

He’d be lying if he said his boxers weren’t becoming taut. He’d also be lying if he said his heart wasn’t racing in his chest cause it most definitely was cause he was literally about to bare it all to you.

You: More of what?🫣

Ethan: More of this

He took another pic. This time, his underwear around his thighs, his semi-hard cock resting in his palm while he turned the flash on so you could see the scribble of your nickname next to his cock, which had already grown more than an inch.

You: 😳

Ethan: Don’t get shy now. That’s exactly what you wanted, and we both know it, Angel.

You: I know, it’s just so….

You can’t believe a single picture of his cock could have you so turned on. You were heating up down there, and the faint pulse between your legs only amplified the longer you stared at it. He was so big and thick you nearly drooled at the sight on your phone screen.

Ethan: So???

He pulled his underwear back up while waiting for your reply.

You: Big 🫣

He smirked reading your text, and he swears you were the cutest little thing ever, so shy yet so bold he liked that about you a lot.

Ethan: That’s not even as big as it gets 🤫

You: Oh? So, just how big does it get, Ethan? 😝

Ethan: FaceTime me and find out 👀

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

Permanent taglist🔖 @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heehoonsnemo

Just a call away taglist🔖 @heeseungshim @rayofsunshineeee @fakeuwus

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut

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spideyhexx · 1 year ago

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okay i love ur coryo writings, and can we juuuust talk about how much of a sub pre-peacekeeper era coryo is??? and he's sweet then too, i think he has very genuine feelings for anyone at that time. he lets you cradle his face and everything, being the touch starved little guy that he is... ahh i just daydream about him in the academy era so much💝

thank you!!! been waiting to speak on this.

I think while he's still got some questionable tendencies while he's at the academy, he's less tainted by those thoughts. I think he's still not completely attuned to his own feelings, but he's a lot more accepting of them? And with you, he's falling very hard, he'd just about let you do anything to him if it means he gets to feel your touch or have you in his space.

so it makes sense that he ends up being submissive in bed. Coryo wants to be pleased and taken care of, but he also finds himself completely and utterly at your mercy. So if you decided he wouldn't be pleased one night, he'd take it with just a pout on his face, but fully give in to give you all the pleasure you asked of him.

You would cradle his face in your hands and give him sweet small kisses anywhere you can on his face, thanking him for being such a good boy. His cock would twitch against you and your smirk makes him tremble.

Coryo's hands would always get him in trouble. He would touch your breasts before you give him permission. "Please, baby, you know I just missed them," he would try to plead with, giving you his puppy dog eyes that he doesn't even need to try to do, it's just natural for him.

Sometimes, you would give in regardless if he misbehaved. You're too struck by how hard his cock is pressing against the zipper of his pants that you've made him keep on.

"I need your mouth, not your hand, please." Coryo grits his teeth as you fist his cock in your hand, nipping at his neck as he mewls in pleasure. He'd let out a fucking growl when you ignore his pleas.

"Mmm what was that? Is my good boy getting frustrated? Poor baby," your words and your mocking put him in his place so easy. "Don't get all pathetic on me, Coryo, take what I give you." Its funny how much power you have over him. And in all honesty, you would actually love how pathetic he'd be for you.

And then, when you finally let him cum, he keeps mumbling out a thank you, leaning his head against yours as you pepper kisses on his cheek.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

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weepylucifer · 1 year ago

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Disco Elysium if it was a Hollywood Blockbuster

(inspired by the trailer by @brainrotdotorg)

Harry has to have a glowup arc where he regains his faith in his job and ability to be a good cop. The police isn't criticized here apart from maybe some handwaves at "a few bad apples" rhetoric. In the climactic moment, the phasmid appears and tells him it is his duty and his destiny... to reform the RCM

Because we don't have time for a nuanced take on addiction in this 90-minute movie, the narrative just turns on a dime halfway through to portraying Harry's alcoholism as rugged and badass instead of pathetic, or he suddenly stops drinking when he gets his groove back, with no withdrawal effects shown. The whole thing about speed helping him be better at his job doesn't factor in; Harry drinks and does drugs because he's sad about Dora and there's nothing more to it. All he needed was to buck up and focus on being the best cop in all of Revachol

Klaasje is portrayed as a one-dimensional scheming femme fatale. Her backstory doesn't really come up. She's dumbed down so that Harry can triumph over her, and is also genuinely attracted to him for some reason, "I am Sherlocked" style

Ruby is either cut entirely, or she's genuinely a predatory lesbian and that's it. If the latter, she shoots herself in the head in front of Harry and Kim and they make a MCU-style "Well that happened" quip about it

No political quests! We don't have time for that. Actually, both communism and fascism are only mentioned once in a backstory dump as stuff that happened in a bygone era. If anything, the film ends up really riding for moralism by complete accident

The film makers don't really know what to do with Kim, so he gets reduced to a guy that stands around and delivers snarky one-liners

The Hardie Boys are in one short interrogation scene, not quite enough to make casual moviegoers care when half of them are gunned down

Fan-favorite characters such as Cindy, Cuno or the Speedfreaks can be seen once in the background of a group scene, but have no lines (you KNOW hollywood couldn't handle the Cuno). It's announced on the director's insta as "a little easter egg for eagle-eyed fans"

Joyce has a way more active role, but also her character turns into an utterly flat "milf girlboss" type who gives Harry and Kim direct instructions on what to do, Madame Director style. The movie writers pat themselves on the backs for being more progressive and feminist than the source material. Also she has nothing to do with the mercs, they just sort of... appeared. Don't think about it too hard! It's stressed repeatedly that they're "rogue agents" and it's really nobody's fault that they're there

Evrart is a corrupt mob boss and that's it. He will be played by a skinny actor in a fatsuit. He also doesn't help find Harry's gun, Joyce has someone retrieve it offscreen so she can gravely and meaningfully hand it to him just in time for the mercenary tribunal

The Deserter just kinda being a shitty sad old man would be too anticlimactic for our summer blockbuster, so he is rewritten to be some kind of evil mastermind. Maybe he even directly communicates with Klaasje and tells her what to do, again "I am Sherlocked" style

The tribunal absolutely does end with RCM backup triumphantly arriving to save the day, led by Jean who underwent a mini-arc offscreen about putting his differences with Harry aside because at the end of the day, they're both cops, and goddamn it, cops help each other. He dramatically takes the wig off and chucks it on the ground to signal his character growth, and everything

No homo-sexual underground thought. The Smoker on the Balcony is allowed to show up in one scene, where he flirtily waves at Kim and Harry. Kim nods at him. Disney's first gay character--

There's a moment where Kim talks to Jean, expressing doubt about Harry. Cut to Harry doing something goofy across the room from them. Jean briefly glances at it, shakes his head, turns back to Kim and says gruffly: "He's a loose cannon... but he gets the job done." This is supposed to be a good thing

#posts by me #i have more i could do this all night #remember those blogs that were like ''[x series] if it was written by moffat''?? i guess this is DE if it was written by moffat #disco elysium

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leifygreeens · 1 year ago

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brain rot hours 👀? you said nsfw was cool sooooooo what do you think shane sounds like in bed lol

This ask made my brain rot even worse so I did all of the bachelors LMFAO. This is kind of all over the place, and I veered off tangentially on a few of them, but I did my best to stick to the topic. I also went ahead and situated them in (what I think is, anyway) ascending age order, so younger bachelors are first. Some are longer than others but that does not reflect my feelings for them. No favoritism here, bay-bee. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you very much for your request hkjhlashfiloveu. :)

Warnings: Mentions of sub/dom dynamics, explicit language, GN!Farmer, praise/degradation/dirty talk, a few bits of dialogue, and mentions of oral sex. Enjoy!

Sam

Sam is fucking loud, okay?

Lead singer of a band and you really think he doesn’t have a set of pipes on him?

You’ve reserved your escapades to the farm only, because Haley and Emily would get an earful if you fooled around at his place, and you don’t need any incidents with his family overhearing his loud ass, either

He is loud, and he is shameless, and whether it’s moaning, whimpering, whining, or groaning—you’ll hear it out of him

Mans is versatile

Pathetic is one of the only words I can find to describe how he sounds in bed though if I’m honest

This guy definitely doesn’t have too much experience, so it’s easy to rile him up, and holy fuck if he isn’t sensitive as hell

He’ll make noise even if you're just kissing him

And he’s needy

“You’re too far away, come here” “kiss me more”

This boy has a filthy mouth on him

And he begs like a little bitch lol

“Please, I’m so close, it’s right there, just a little more, fuck please”

If you were expecting him to be a dom you’re on the wrONG BLOG LMFAO

Tie him up and treat him a little roughly, and this boy is drooling with fucking heart eyes, I promise you

But yeah, doesn’t matter if you’ve got your hands on him, if you’re blowing him, or if y’all are fucking, he’s gonna make noise no matter what

When he’s close, his voice gets higher and comes out faster, so every other breath he’s making noise

The only time he’s completely and utterly silent is when he comes

He’s the type to hold his breath when it hits him, and it only lasts a few seconds before he’s gasping and moaning again

And even if all of the attention is on you, and you’re not touching him, this man is gonna be loud

If he’s fingering you? Definitely gonna spill a few curses at how you feel on his fingers

If you let him go down on you? He’s moaning, and lord help him, if you start pulling his hair and forcing him this way and that??

Lights out, goodnight, he is officially gone.

Sebastian

Depends heavily on circumstance, I think

If you’re in control, he’s moaning and gasping, and his voice is so fucking pretty

A little scratchy from his smoking habit, if I’m honest, but it’s still a very nice voice

Especially if he’s the one in charge

And if he is in charge, he’s groaning, and hear me out—he laughs at you.

Not meanly! (kinda meanly) just, yanno

Some slight degradation

“Hah, does it really feel that good? I haven’t even done all that much to you yet and you’re already like this?”

Hnnnghghffsebastianjustonechanceplease

Probably a little insecure about his voice, but if he knows you like it, that’s all the information he needs

He just wants to make you feel good, so if there’s something he can do to make it feel better, he’s going to do it

That said, he mirrors you quite a bit

So if you’re loud, he’s gonna be loud (what do you expect from him, really? It’s not his fault you sound so good), and if you’re quiet, he’s gonna be quiet, too

He’ll never be completely silent, just because he doesn’t have that kind of self-control, but he’s definitely quiet

It also depends on how heavy you’re going

So if it’s rough, his voice will also probably reflect that: lots of groaning, heavy breathing, some curses here and there.

Soft sex will be quieter, but he’ll also be a little sweeter. There’ll be more praise, probably some “I love you’s” sprinkled in there, and he’ll try to muffle his higher noises into your lips or any other skin he can reach

Overall, I think sex with him will go one way or the other

Sub or dom? Whines or groans? Flip a coin and lemme know how it goes lol

Alex

He’s the kind of person who won’t make a lot of noise

he’s panting and breathing heavily, and that’s probably it

But he talks quite a bit

And we all know that deep down this boy is a hopeless romantic(hello, ten-heart event!), so his dirty talk def reflects that

Get ready for PRAISE. SO much praise

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” “you’re doing good for me, just like that,” etc.

If he’s really into it, especially when he’s close to cumming, he’ll stutter a lot or just give up halfway through his sentences lmao

Don’t misunderstand, it’s not that he refuses to make noise because he thinks it’s weird

He just prefers the way you sound, yanno? So he’d rather keep it down to hear you better

But if you let him know that you want to hear him more, he’d make an effort to let some sounds loose

But he wouldn’t fake them, and he’s not gonna suddenly start blowing out your eardrums

The first time he properly groans, he feels the effect it has on you

It could be the most pathetic, shaky, and quiet sound ever, but your reaction is immediate

Goosebumps over your arms, subtle trembling/shivering, bro, if you grab him a little bit tighter????

and now that he can see with absolute certainty that you enjoy his voice?

His confidence will sky-rocket, and you’ll get wayyyy more noise out of him from then on

He will take the opportunity to tease you about it after you’re done though

“Damn, you like my voice that much, huh?”

I am also a firm believer that he prefers positions with a lot of proximity and skin contact, so lots of missionary, back-to-chest, etc. (he also likes positions where he can show off his strength and stamina, but that’s neither here nor there)

He loves anything where he can press in close and have as many points of contact as possible

Which makes it way easier to dive low and spit romantic filth into your ear, you with me?

Lives for the reactions he can drag out of you with just his voice

It might be his favorite part about sex with you if I’m being realistic

It's nice to see tangible proof that you’re enjoying yourself because of what he’s doing, obviously, but the fact that he can have you reduced to such a mess with just his voice?

This man is absolutely gone on you, I swear

Elliott

Lordt have mercy

I think in terms of volume, he’d be pretty average.

Like he’s not going to drown you out, but he’s definitely not quiet

Having said that

Moans, praise, and sappy declarations of love are his modus operandi

Elliott is a poetic soul: he’s got a way with words, and a romantic heart

Intimacy is important to him, and the more connected you are, the sweeter he sounds

He doesn’t curse nearly as much as any of the bachelors, either

While the rest of them spit filth at you with a good helping of swearing tossed into the mix, he’s a little more classy and eloquent with how he goes about it

“You sound heavenly, my love,” “how was I so fortunate as to meet you,” “so good to me, my precious flower”

what a cheese lol elliott pls i’m begging i would give you everything

One hundred percent convinced y’all are soulmates

And it’s kind of obvious during sex

He hates not being able to see your face while you’re in bed together

Wants to be able to kiss you while he’s making love to you, and will absolutely moan into your mouth while doing so end me

But he’ll be at his loudest when you’re indulging his desire for intimacy

Hold his hand during sex. I dare you.

Cup his cheeks? Tell him you love him while he’s mid-thrust?

Lol if you’re at his cabin on the beach, you better hope Willy took his boat out for some ocean fishing because otherwise, he’ll definitely hear

But enough about volume

Elliott’s voice is smooth like butter, and fairly deep

listening to him fall apart feels like pouring warm honey down your spine

He sounds so good, and he’s not shy about it

Will only beg if he wants you both to come at the same time—otherwise everything is pretty neutral—no dom/sub dynamics, he just wants to make love to you

I wouldn’t say he’s vanilla by any means, but that’s a story for another time

Shane

If he’s in a Mood™, this man is nasty.

Point-blank, no bullshit.

He doesn’t moan, or whine, or whimper—you’d have to overstimulate the shit out of him to get a reaction like that, but unless you’re willing to deal with the consequences, I don’t personally recommend doing that lol yes I do

But for the sake of the ask, let’s say you don’t

Grunts and groans—that’s all you’re getting as far as sounds go

But not to worry, because dirty talk is his specialty

Will praise you while degrading you

“Look at you, drooling and drunk all for my cock,” “Wish you could see how pretty you are, baby”

Hnngf anyway

He’s at his loudest when you agree with him

Sound confusing? Here, have some examples.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” “no one could make you feel the way I do”

Say yes to anything like that? ^^^

And this man is yours.

He’ll get SO loud, and he’ll dive head-first into dirty talk like his life depends on it

Oh, you thought he was filthy before?

Lmao anyway yeah he’s possessive and likes it when you indulge him

But if he isn’t in a Mood™, and you catch him during a good moment, he veers a little more toward Elliott’s territory

Like definitely still possessive, but less vulgar about it, and not as cheesy

This guy has low self-esteem, and a lot of his insecurities stem from not feeling adequate for everyone in his life—including you

So if he’s feeling a little softer around the edges, and you take the moment to remind him that you’re in it for the long haul and have no intention of going anywhere

He’s groaning praise and loving filth in your ears

Definitely has a breeding kink I mean what I didn’t say anything

Anyway yeah lots of “so good to me,” “can’t believe I got this lucky,” “do you have any idea what you do to me?” etc., etc., etc.

Shane sir my husband my favorite chicken man just one chance please I beg

Harvey

A crier

Lol jumping straight into it LESGO

Pathetic little sobs because he’s so overstimulated and it feels just a little too good

Stutters quite a bit—he likes giving up control to you so he doesn’t have to think, but that often means he loses his ability to speak coherently

this man is so stressed all the time and he just wants you to help him shut his brain off

Is a blushing, sobbing mess

Probably hiccupping a little if it gets to be too much

His crying is probably due to a mix of embarrassment and pleasure if I’m being realistic

But I personally hc him as someone who enjoys feeling a little stupid and sex-drunk, especially because of how much you seem to enjoy seeing him get like that

Don’t get me wrong, when it’s casual sex and not in the midst of a scene, this man is just as loving as any, but there’s a certain empty-headedness he gets when he feels too good

Doesn’t really talk much, again, he can’t think straight long enough to string anything together

If he does manage to get anything out, it’ll be a lot of one-word compliments and simple begging—also he slurs his words quite a bit

“Feels s’good, please don’stop” “please, s’pretty,” “like that, right there—hnngmfuck!”

I am dead

Sex is probably one of the only times he’ll cuss actually

Now I don’t imagine him as a goody-two-shoes-pure-boy-do-no-wrong-innocent-mind

Definitely not

But yanno, he’s not swearing up a storm in his day to day, or accessorizing every other sentence with “fuck” and “shit” like a certain someone abby i’m lookin at you babe

But he’ll definitely lose his filter during sex

My brain has collapsed after this jesus christ

273 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

Note

also 🤗🤗 for the sfw/nsfw headcanons… how about nobubaga?

Nobunaga SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

warning: period sex, oral(f+m receiving), creampie, daddy kink, cockwarming, pegging, slightest mention of Nobunaga thinking you self harm(you don’t he’s just stupid)

A/N: anything for my moots!! 🫡 I’ll try to make a few positive HCs for him but it won’t be easy…

(If you’d like to see SFW/NSFW HCs for your fav HXH character, send me an ask!!)

SFW

-this man does not know what personal space is. You’ll sit on the couch, then he’ll sit next to you super close. You move? He moves with you. Doesn’t get that you want some space

-if you want someone that is completely and utterly devoted to you, he’s your guy

-if you’re alright with him being kinda pathetic

-he definitely has low self esteem. he’s quick to put himself down, and even ends up neglecting himself. he’ll need to be reminded that he is loved and handsome to you. show him what self care days are!

-okay I joke about his greasy hair a lot but to have such long, pretty hair he does actually have to take care of it. can it get greasy because he’s having a bad time or is too lazy to take care of it? yeah, but he usually does keep up with it

-he’s really good with hair, when he was a kid he was the one that cut everyone’s hair and styled it.

-he both likes his hair being played with and playing with your hair! also he will 100% learn how to style your hair, he’s pretty good with his hands

-pretty affectionate, he ain’t hiding his love for you. he may be a little shy kissing and hugging you in front of his friends in fear of teasing, but otherwise he’s a big PDA guy

-bad texter, but will call you anytime! he just doesn’t understand tone through text and almost always tends to seem angry or upset through text(this is the same for Phinks)

-he doesn’t understand memes. he’s not even really that old but god does he act like it. he’ll squint at your screen then be like “I don’t get it.” then will huff and say “it ain’t even funny. this is why I don’t have social media.”

-if you get a scratch and he notices, he gets angry and is like “who did this to you?” And then you have to explain to him you scratched your arm on the stove because last week he accidentally broke the handle

-also might say something like “baby… don’t hurt yourself… stop, for me.” and hold you as if you didn’t scrape your knee after eating shit in the driveway 30 minutes ago

-his attempts at romance are mediocre at best. he’s the type of guy that will buy you a head of lettuce thinking it’s a flower

-scattered flower petals around the bedroom he picked outside but it’s during allergy season so now you have to vacuum pollen off your carpet while the two of you are sneezy and choking on your fluids

-DO NOT LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN YOUR KITCHEN!! ANYTHING HE MAKES IS HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH AT BEST!! You’re 90% sure one of the things he made came to life just to beg for death

-also he’ll find some way to break at least SOMETHING. Scrubbed your nonstick pans with a fucking metal sponge thing.

-he likes to carry your things around, will follow you like a lovesick puppy while you shop, holding your shopping bags

-he knits! it’s not something he tells many people, but he picked it up from Machi when they were on a mission together and he was bored out if his mind. if you beg ask nicely he’ll make you a hat or mittens. wearing anything he makes you will make him swoon

-he’s a decent cuddle buddy, if you don’t mind being groped and grabbed the whole time

-he doesn’t smell bad most of the time, but goes days without showering at times. you’ll have to promise him sexual favors or allow him to shower with you if you want him to shower everyday

NSFW

-cries when he cums sometimes…

-switch. he’ll say it’s a dom lean but… you can decide that for yourself

-y’all… this man and period sex. once he learns that’s a thing he’s asking to “help with your cramps” every time you’re on your period. yeah he’ll go down on you, yeah he’s a messy eater.

-speaking of pussy eating he’s decent! he tries to make you cum at least once on his tongue because he’s really bad at about cumming almost instantly once he’s inside you. he can go multiple rounds don’t worry, but he feels kind of pathetic after. “Just feel too good, baby, can’t help myself…”

-he’s around 7 inches me thinks. I don’t usually include dick size in these but 7 inches just seems perfect for him?

-I feel like he’d have a daddy kink. do I like that? no not really. but I can picture it

-he fucking LOVES hearing you moan and make noise. he can be a little insecure with his lovemaking skills, so hearing you enjoy yourself gets him going

-give him a blowjob and swallow his cum. he fucking loves to watch you stick out your tongue and show him it’s covered in his cum

-he likes cockwarming but he’s also super impatient and will just end up bouncing you before bending you over onto whatever surface is closest to you

-again with him being impatient, he’s not the biggest fan of lingerie. he’s going to rip it off you anyways, and he’d rather not deal with the headache of you complaining that he tore your expensive set

-he prefers cumming inside your pussy! he doesn’t want to get you pregnant, it’s more of a possessive thing. he wants to claim you!

-he’s got pretty good stamina. the first few rounds he’ll cum pretty quick, but once he gets into his rhythm, he can last a while!

-tug on his hair… he will moan and just stare at you for a second. he won’t ASK you to do it again, but he’ll wear his hair down around you more often

-he wouldn’t let you peg him 😔 would he like it? probably, but he doesn’t want to “feel emasculated”. this is code for “I don’t want you to see me moan and whimper like a bitch while you pound me”

169 notes · View notes

happy74827 · 9 months ago

Text

Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}

WC: 2274

Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}

I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)

『••✎••』

Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.

So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.

You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."

"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."

"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"

Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.

"I'm not your therapist," she said.

"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."

You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."

Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."

“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”

Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."

"Well, at least you're self-aware."

“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.

"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."

"Just having a bit of a break," you said.

"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."

"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.

"Fuck off, Ro.”

Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.

"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"

"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Someone like me?"

“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."

"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."

Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.

"You think you're tough?" she asked.

"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"

"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"

"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"

"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”

Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."

"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”

"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."

“Guys-” Roman started.

"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."

"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.

"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."

Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.

"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."

You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.

So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."

That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.

"What the hell?" you demanded.

"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."

You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.

Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."

For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.

"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"

"What?"

"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."

"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”

“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"

"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."

"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"

"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"

"No, not particularly."

"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."

"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."

"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"

You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.

"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."

You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"

You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."

A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.

"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."

"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."

But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?

And what was Siobhan offering?

101 notes · View notes

joocomics · 9 months ago

Note

just watched Seungmin + Jungsu live (my biases omg 😭😭) and I am so unwell for them both it’s unreal. It’s 1 am and I’m thinking the thoughts…

I have a few so bear with me…. cuckholding Jungsu !! him having a fantasy of watching another man fuck you and of course what better man than Seungmin? so there he sits in a chair in the corner of your shared bedroom, watching another man fuck you from behind; your eyes are on Jungsu of course, pleading and watery. Jungsu is just clutching the armrests, resisting the urge to touch himself to the sight, biting his inner cheek and lip till it draws blood <//3 (but of course he’ll show Seungmin how it’s really done)

also! both boys crushing on you hard but you can’t seem to pick </3 they’re both so pretty and perfect and sweet to you. it’s too hard. so they both decide what better way for you to decide than having them both fuck your brains out <3? Taking turns putting you in any position they want, against the wall, at the edge of the bed, on the desk table… all the while fighting for your answer. doing everything in their power to get your love first. eventually they both are too impatient to wait their turn, opting instead to lean you against both of them and have their way with you, touching each part of your body while all you can do is mumble their names in a whine!!!!!

and lastly :3 roommate Seungmin who has the fattest most obvious crush on you + he’s a bit of a pervvvvvvvv. stealing your panties, catching glances of your cleavage or the shape of your ass each time you walk!!! but most importantly listening to you and your boyfriend Jungsu fuck whenever he’s over. hearing the bed creek and your little gasps and moans; wondering if he would be able to fuck you better— draw out sounds he hasn’t heard yet. but all he can do it palm his cock pathetically while he listens to you and Jungsu through the thin walls <//3

IM SO UNWELL FOR THEM SO SORRY FOR JUST BOMBARDING YOU WITH THOUGHTS. ANSWER WHENEVER U FEEL <3 Also I hope you’re doing well <3 make sure you’re drinking water and taking care of yourself pls

this is making me CRAZY… in the best way possible 🥲 dee, don’t ever worry that you’re bombarding me w/ thoughts i always have the best time reading them, your 🧠 is just so beautiful 🤌🏼 take care as well, lovely <33 when i receive more than one thought at once i love combining them together and this is what imma do again let me lose my mind completely

i’m imagining bf!jungsu who has such a high sex drive, but how can he not when he’s dating the most gorgeous and hot girl he’s ever laid his eyes on? he’s constantly being touchy with you no matter where you are, showing everyone who you belong to; marking his territory if you will. if another man is staring at you at a party he always finds out, and locks lips with yours, kissing you until you’re out of breath. he’s utterly madly in love with you, and since he knows the effects you can have on people it doesn’t take him long to catch on to the feelings your roommate!seungmin has about you. every time he comes over to the apartment you share with him he notices the way he shamelessly eye fucks you; the way his smile sits different on his face in comparison to the way it does when he talks to other girls at parties. he wants you. so jungsu always makes sure he gives you the most intense orgasms, one after another, that have you crying out loud while seungmin has no other choice but to listen from the other room. he overstimulates you to the point you cannot mutter anything else except his name, but after a while jungsu cannot help but wonder what would seungmin’s name sound like from your lips; what would it be if your roommate gets a chance to have his way with you after all. he found your panties in his bedroom once, so he must be really desperate to feel you… while seungmin jerks off to you and your boyfriend fucking almost every night, you’re totally oblivious of the new fantasy that’s been forming in jungsu’s mind - to watch you spread out for another guy. he says he won’t intervene, but the moment you cum from seungmin’s cock he forgets his words and flips you over. he has to remind you how much better your boyfriend feels like ~

#i have to stop here or i can go on all day about this 😵‍💫#💌: xhdream inbox #— jeongin-lvr #xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #jungsu hard thoughts #seungmin hard thoughts #o.de hard thoughts #jungsu x reader #seungmin x reader #o.de x reader #xdinary heroes x reader

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randombush3 · 2 years ago

Text

Completely and Totally Unattached

florence pugh x footballer!reader

part two to Good In Bed

summary: everything stays completely and totally unattached. why wouldn’t it?

words: 3470

warnings: there’s a sex scene, and maybe cocaine i can’t remember (what a concerning thing to say btw)

notes: THIS IS A TRILOGY. i thought about making this one way longer, but i’ve decided to split this part into two. don’t even ask about the game timeline because i don’t want to talk about it.

Everything is perfect for a while.

You smile when you see her and she starts to invite you over hours before any sex really happens; you wake her up in the morning with a coffee and a goodbye kiss and a face that makes her question the feelings that aren’t in the arrangement.

One evening, you find an invitation to a Tiffany event sitting menacingly on her coffee table. She eyes it with caution once you inquire, and declares she hates events and won’t be going. “I hate going alone,” she mumbles in stark contrast to the confidence of her previous announcement, “and Livvy is in Oxford that weekend.”

You wait for her to ask you instead but she doesn’t. Not then, anyway.

It’s a feeble, meek, pathetic text, but you see it before she can press delete.

FP: Could you come with me?

You scramble to unlock your phone, making the sleeping Katie leaning on your shoulder whine. To keep the air of secrecy alive, you cast a glance around the others on the bus. No one else knows you’re fucking Florence Pugh.

You: Yeah, of course

Florence gets herself together when you reply, and calls you. You’ve started to associate the number with more than sex, but it’s okay. It’s a friendship.

“Thank you so much,” she begins, voice uncharacteristically tender. “You don’t happen to know your measurements? Suit or dress?”

“Suit,” you answer easily. She is quick to imagine what that would look like. Though a bit outdated, you have a set of measurements typed hastily in your notes app. “I’ll text them to you.”

Then, the day of the event comes and you spend the night attracting the gaze of everyone in the room, and having them wonder when Florence Pugh decided to make friends with professional athletes. You beam at her the whole evening, and she fights her blush when Barratt West brings up the new designs for engagement rings.

“We’re just friends,” you tell him casually, as if the statement won’t pierce through her eardrums. She’s not sure why it bothers her so much.

And then it’s almost like an epiphany.

Florence Pugh loves the footballer she sometimes wakes up beside.

Almost an epiphany, because these feelings haven’t suddenly pounced on her. She’s just decided to acknowledge them.

She figures that all three rules are broken: Livvy had known the minute her best friend was checking her phone a little too often; you stay over; she loves you.

Nothing feels different. Even if she worries she’s been utterly exposed every time your bodies touch, you treat her exactly the same as you did the night before she came upon this realisation. She supposes that means you don’t feel the same way. She knows she shouldn’t carry this on.

She tells herself she should terminate the arrangement for another two days as a form of self-sabotaging procrastination, but Thursday night’s musings turn into drinks with Livvy on Friday.

“How’s Y/n?” her best friend asks her, prying because it’s fun.

“I don’t know.” You’re in Brighton for an away game and it’s taking up the whole weekend. It’s an abnormally long weekend, Florence tells herself. Time is going slowly for everybody. “I think I’m going to break it off.”

“What?”

“My unattached sex with Y/n is no longer that,” states Florence plainly. She hides the grimace that comes with saying it out loud, and swirls what’s left of her whiskey around in her glass.

“I told you she’d catch feelings,” Liv teases, nudging her friend. Florence stares at the green surface of the bar, tapping her feet against her stool. “Footballers aren’t—”

“She’s not the one with the feelings.” Livvy pauses, shaking her head; she doesn’t understand.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Livvy tries the sentence out, “she’s not the one with the…”

“Don’t.” Florence holds her index up to her friend’s face. “We both know now. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Have you told her?”

No.

Why on earth would she do that?

The answer is conveyed in the pointed look Florence shoots her.

Her and Livvy speak no more of the matter, continuing their night in the overpriced cocktail bar. It’s packed with the rich and famous, so it isn’t a hard task for Florence to befriend some producer or other. He extends an invitation for her to join him in the bathroom, cheeks rosy and eyes glazed over. She finds herself accepting, but only does the cocaine in front of her. He tries to kiss her but his lips feel wrong; rough when they should feel soft. It’s not a difficult puzzle to solve. She doesn’t really want to kiss anyone other than you.

Florence decides not to put a stop to your agreement that night.

The producer hints that they should get going, get out of here, go to somewhere more… private. It makes her skin crawl. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just not you.

She has never felt so embarrassed of her own internal monologue. She wants it to shut the fuck up. You like her sounds out mercilessly on repeat, echoing and echoing and echoing, until she’s scratching her scalp a bit too harshly. You’re still not back because it’s only Sunday.

You’re on the team bus. Asleep. She shouldn’t know that, but she grows curious of your whereabouts and checks Instagram. A teammate you often mention — teammate and best friend you’d drunkenly explained in attempt to not let her get to know you — is sure to house some video or other, and she’s correct. Katie McCabe has posted a picture of you fast asleep with a familiar green jumper bundled into a pillow.

She hates that she’s endeared. Instead, Florence makes a mental note to chastise your use of her cashmere clothing, and focuses on how annoyed that has made her feel.

With each passing minute she stares at the picture, she imagines her feelings for you smothered beneath the fabric, suffocated until they don’t exist anymore.

- - -

Much to your dismay, you are not loved enough to be woken with a kiss. The whistle blown in your ear is quite far from that.

“We’re here, sleeping beauty,” Katie follows with equal shrillness and volume. You press your face further into Florence’s jumper. It smells like her. “Get up, Y/n!”

“Fuck you,” you groan, yawning as you slowly stand up. “I was having a good dream.” Katie smirks. “A dream about kittens,” you clarify truthfully.

You join the huddle your team forms outside the bus. Most of the girls chat quietly, everyone exhausted from the hard fought win. A few of your teammates ask you to join them for a late dinner. Katie tells them that you have plans of your own before you can form a sentence.

A black town car parks in front of you, earning wolf whistles from almost everyone. “Someone fancies herself to be Ronaldo,” jokes Kim quietly. “Got room in there?”

The driver rolls down the window. It’s the middle of November in England, but he’s wearing aviators. “I was told to pick you up,” he says, voice gruff but familiar. There have been a few times where Florence has decided you can’t stay over and has sent you home in this black town car with the very same man. You didn’t realise she actually had a driver. You forget to associate the Flo that gasps your name like it’s a prayer with Florence Pugh.

“Thank you, Douglas,” you reply with a smile. The Arsenal badge you wear proudly makes him scowl. “I hear West Ham haven’t been doing well this season.”

“You’re lucky I’m contractually obliged to drive you to Miss Pugh’s building,” he tells you. You take it as playful, but it probably has some truth to it.

Thankfully no one else seems to catch the conversation, fawning over Leah and Beth’s joint appearance to collect their respective players. Katie sends you a wink as she gets into the car in which she’ll be the fifth wheel.

- - -

Florence thanks whoever is watching above that you got some rest on the bus.

She’s helpless the minute you walk through the door with a cocky grin. You don’t have time to comment on how desperate she must be if she’s sent a car, because you’re jumped and are carrying her to a stable surface before you get a chance to take your shoes off. She likes the idea of making out in the middle of her hallway, not doubting your strength (how can she? she’s seen you naked) and ability to be able to do so. However, Florence takes pity on you and grants you the opportunity to rest your arms before they’re put to very good use.

You have your joggers halfway down your legs by the time you get the two of you to her bedroom. She stands up as soon as you set her down on her bed. You undress quicker.

Your lips seem to cover every inch of her, but you focus on her shoulder as you pull her closer, hands wrapped around her torso. One hand shifts south, tugging the elastic band of her panties, warm palm soothing the trail of goosebumps your touch leaves. It’s soft and tender and Florence is not about to let herself do anything but fuck.

She grabs that hand and pulls it away. “No,” she says, and you stop immediately. “Get on the bed.”

Your haze of arousal clears, and you’re concerned. “You alright?”

Fuck you for caring.

“Yes,” she states impatiently. “Get on the bed.”

The victory is easy, and you sprawl out against the white bedsheets confidently. Your pose makes Florence want to absolutely ruin you.

She throws you the strap and tells you to put it on. You blush as she watches you, and try not to die when she rewards you by mounting you without delay (cause of death: too attracted to women).

You gasp as you cup the hips rocking into you, and Florence finds that unacceptable. She is not going to tolerate any ardent touches. How dare you remind her of how she feels.

“No,” she says, pushing your hands off her. “I’m going to ride you until one of us snaps, and you’re going to keep your hands away from me. Okay?”

The unexpected dominance isn’t not doing it for you, and the consequential look on your face finalises the control Florence has regained.

“More than okay.” You nod to punctuate your breathless stammer of a sentence.

Florence pulls out every trick she’s ever been taught about sex, employing every element of herself to complete the show she is giving you. And just like magic, it works.

She does eventually relinquish control of the top after an orgasm or two, sated by the way your muscles tense as if you haven’t allowed yourself to breathe in a long time.

You don’t know how it happens, but you find the groove of your usual dominance soon enough to have her asking for more as you press up against her in every right way possible.

Florence Pugh realises you might be a little too good in bed.

To console herself, she pretends each thud of the headboard against the wall is hammering the bubbling feeling of love far, far down.

The feelings survived the suffocation, and will survive this too, but it isn’t for lack of trying.

It’s late by the time you’ve both washed up, but you don’t make an effort to slip into her bed. She misses the days (nights) where you’d stare longingly at the pillows but never be granted permission to stay, and regrets ever giving in to those eyes.

You sit rigidly at the foot of her bed, accidentally staring at her, perplexed. She finds it all too endearing how your face usually lays your thoughts bare.

“What was that about?” you ask carefully, wrapping your tongue around the words slowly. You’re being cautious. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that has got to be the best thing I’ve ever experienced. It was so hot? You were so hot, and you’re always hot — I always find you hot — but that was a new level of fucking sexy, and I’m getting distracted. You just seemed determined. Are you, well, is everything okay?”

“Of course,” she brushes off.

You know it’s a lie. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.

“Flo…”

She hates it when you call her that. It makes her skin crawl. In a bad way. A bad way, most definitely.

“You’re really going to pretend to care?” she asks bitterly. This is apparently her plan B. “I’m fine.”

“Oh,” you reply, dejected, “okay. I was just—” You decide to leave it, ending your sentence there. She looks at you expectantly, and you climb in beside her, slipping underneath the covers as comfortably as one would in their own home. “I’m playing next Wednesday.” Florence nods encouragingly; she knows that. “And, uh, my brother was going to watch but he’s been asked to help out with a faulty set, so I have a spare ticket.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find—”

“Can you come?” She squints at you. You repeat the question. “Obviously you don’t have to, but it’s the Champions League so the game will be good and there’ll be food and I can actually set you up in the executive box, now that I think about it. So you don’t have to sit— ‘cause my ticket would be in… What?”

Head propped up by her arm, Flo smiles. “By all means, continue.” You frown. “As long as you win,” she agrees. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You feel a little used. “Goodnight, Flo.”

As Wednesday approaches, you become absent from Florence’s bed. It leaves her sexually frustrated and a bit hurt emotionally, but when you call her from Leah’s guest bathroom and explain everything she forgives you. Her anger is redirected towards your manager.

Jonas has created a new rule that only seems to apply to you. If it’s just for sex, players are heavily encouraged (commanded) to spend the night before the game away from their distraction. When announced, he purposefully avoided looking at you, perhaps allowing you to have a shred of dignity left. Leah offered her spare bedroom because it used to be yours when you first moved to Arsenal.

A harsh, impatient knock on the door ruins the conversation. “It’s late, you should be in bed,” Leah reprimands you. “Be responsible. Or I’ll tell Jonas.”

You are not in that man’s good books right now. “Don’t tell Jonas,” you grumble, flushing the toilet to make it seem like you had a reason for being in there. “Night, Mum.”

Unlocking the bathroom door, you traipse out with your phone volume as low as possible until the spare room is sealed and private. The joggers you’re wearing will be fine to sleep in, and you’re too lazy to change. Once Florence hears the rustle of your sheets, she’s quick to speak up again.

“Sleeping?”

You bite your bottom lip. You should be getting some rest, and tomorrow’s game is important. But there is something anchoring you to the sound of her soft breathing on the other end of the line. You don’t want to hang up. “So… what are you wearing?”

You’re not going to apologise for what’s about to happen at Leah’s place, even if your friend drinks two coffees the next morning instead of one. And Leah’s not going to talk about the name she hears you moan when she walks past your room at an unfortunate time.

Until she runs into you in the car park after you part ways to grab something you ‘left behind’ (it may have been a certain someone’s bum but the specifics are of little importance), and in turn walks right into Florence Pugh dressed to the nines. And then, from the car the actress just got out of, emerges Leah’s stammering teammate offering a half-hearted explanation because Flo really does look drop-dead gorgeous and you’re not quite over it yet.

Jaw set, Leah grinds her teeth judgmentally. “So this is your…”

“Friend,” Florence supplies, not caring if it’s futile and a waste of breath. She looks at you, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, Flo and I are friends!” Not a single person in this conversation believes that. “Sorry, quick introduction: Leah, this is Flo; Flo, Leah.” Your hands wave around the space between them, nervously trying to distract the piercing stares of one set of green eyes and another of grey. “She’s going to watch.”

The two women look each other up and down. Leah crosses her arms, Florence takes a step closer to you. “I’m excited,” the actress says, though it’s unenthusiastic and entirely provocative; a jab at the sport Leah clearly adores.

“We’d better get going, shouldn’t we?” you squeak, feeling Florence’s hand rest on your waist. “Leah?”

“Yeah,” she acknowledges, though she makes no effort to back away from the silent battle. Five more uncomfortable seconds and she stands down. “Let’s go.” Leah grabs your arm and you furrow your eyebrows, leaving Florence to find her way to her seat.

“What was that?!” you hiss once you’re out of earshot. “Have a pissing contest with her, why don’t you!”

“She’s messing with your feelings,” Leah states as if it is a fact taught in primary school. She’s about to continue, but Lotte slaps you both on the bum and tells you to hurry up.

Both her and Katie give you disapproving looks when they spot her in the crowd. You’re sure you see steam coming out of Leah’s ears at the sight of Florence being engaged in conversation with her mum. You kick the ball at her stomach to snap her out of it.

Florence has done her research. It’s a thing she does: research. Reading up on characters, accents, producers, interviewers, actors, and, most recently, you. She likes to think it’s not stalking if she sticks to Google, but amends that mentality once Google becomes too sparse for new information and your Instagram is filled with little insights into your life.

When the arrangement was new, she only cared about who you were, making sure you weren’t married or something ridiculous like that. Before today’s game, she added to her mental factfile with details of how you play. A few updated statistics from the ones she skimmed before ogling at your social media, but most notably a new article from Sky.

Will Y/n L/n leave Arsenal?

It seems that a rumour is being circulated around the WSL that you’re to be traded to Barcelona. You haven’t made an official comment, but the speculation is that you’re outgrowing Arsenal. Florence then went down a rabbit hole of how club transfers work, conveniently knowing that you’ve signed onto Arsenal for another two years. It settles the growing anxiety in her stomach at the thought of you being in another country for an extended amount of time. Moving doesn’t make sense, and you are quick to shut it down when she asks.

Amanda, Leah’s mum, is glad to have Florence to talk to. She’s always been a fan of gossip, and Florence indulges her by talking about what happened at the Oscars. “I love my daughter, I love that she loves football, but it does get tiresome,” Amanda tells Florence with a hushed voice as if she is slandering the entire sport. “I was always a bit of a netball girl, anyway,” she confesses. “Oh, who’re you here to see? I was going to ask.”

Florence remembers that this woman loves to gossip. “I’m keeping the seat warm for Y/n’s brother. He’s a friend.” Your brother was a colleague who has served no other purpose in the arrangement other than his rager of a birthday party in which Florence kissed you on his balcony and you snuck away from everyone else.

“Y/n’s lovely! She’s come a long way, what with her family situation.” Florence is intrigued. “We used to take her to training when those awful people looking after her wouldn’t give her the bus money. I was glad to hear when she moved out.”

This was not on Google.

Florence doesn’t like having her privacy invaded, and so she nods passively along, not asking any questions. Maybe she’ll bring it up with you later.

The whistle blows and the match begins.

Florence can’t help but cheer along with Amanda’s enthusiastic encouragement.

There’s a moment when you look up and see her grinning right back at you, beside the family of other players. She looks like she belongs there.

You want her to belong there.

And, yes, you get tackled because you’re distracted, but you realise you have fallen in love with Florence Pugh.

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