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s0dium · 4 months ago

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I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader

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kitorin · 10 months ago

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g.satoru - 1:19 am

"i can't believe you kissed him—"

it's the dead of night when gojo satoru's fuming, acting as a means of prevention to your long awaited (and well deserved) sleep.

you pull your shared blanket, covering the entirety of yourself. "shut up. not now."

satoru rips the blanket off you. "yes, now. don't try to run away from the consequences to your actions."

an effort to pull back the blanket becomes futile, as you decide not to bother. "you're overreacting."

"why him, why not me? majority of his face is forehead and he's built like a rugby ball. he doesn't even look like a man" he inhales sharply. "what about this face isn't perfect?" satoru gestures to it, hair still slightly damp from the late shower and blindfold nowhere to be seen. "this is basically cheating. why would you do this to me? shall i get rid of my bangs so i have a bigger forehead?"

"satoru, he's just a plushie." you pull the white softness of the cinnamoroll plush to your chest, fingers stroking it's fluff.

"lucky bastard..." a curse or two accompanies his words, as he wraps himself in the blanket, as far away from you as possible. "should've been me."

"satoru—"

"i bet my hair's softer."

"why don't you come here and prove that to me then?"

the blanket unfolds to reveal a pouting gojo satoru. "you even called it a he."

cinnamoroll settles on your bed's head rest, somehow balancing with his 'majority forehead face'. satoru shuffles closer to you, closing the distance between you two.

you shrug. "he's my son. my baby."

"i'm your baby."

"he's baby in the sense of an actual, cute baby. you're baby in the sense of an immature grown ass man."

he responds with an eye roll. "wow. okay. plushie's more important than me i see."

another shrug from you, biting down on your lip to swallow a snicker (it wasn't successful).

"love it's just a plushie—"

"i tried to tell you that initially." satoru faces you to pout, but it has no effect on this little squabble of yours, maybe only a giggle or two from you. "he's so cute, c'mon.

without much effort, satoru picks cinnamoroll up, staring, no, glaring at the poor dog. "you can't find someone cute after they stole your lover."

"he's my son. that would make him your son." the observation makes him stick his tongue out. "all i did was kiss him."

"me related to him? no thank you." satoru continues to inspect the plushie from the sky blue, plastic eyes to the swirly tail on its bottom. "i hate him."

"you look the same. white hair, blue eyes."

satoru scoffs, very pretentiously. "that shade of blue is so dull. mine's bright and shiny. therefore prettier."

you lean in closer, not to whisper to him but to the plush. "i guess you'll be fine with having satoru's good night kiss?"

his jaw drops—literally, betrayal scrawled on his features. "you wouldn't."

"learn to get along with our son then."

satoru huffs indignantly, but brings the plushie to his chest, hugging it tightly. "well he's nice to cuddle. and his big head doesn't look so bad anymore."

finally, you reclaim the blanket stolen from you. "we both know you love him as much as i do."

"ew, as if." but he knows very well you're correct.

[he ended up forgetting the goodnight kiss he was fuming about]

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

#silly drabble to cope with the angst i'm cooking (happy ending at least BUT STILL)#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #satoru x reader #fluff #gojou x reader

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cornyforjk · 2 months ago

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Drive you crazy | Day 1 | jjk

SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language only for now.

A/note: HI I'M SCARED BUT HI ALL THE BEST HAVE FUN . First chapter out and I am already head over heels for this Jungkook. I'd say to keep your hobi water ready anytime cause the spice never ends.

___________________♡____________________

"You'd be better off as a pornstar, why not start an only fans page."

The guy beside me whispered as I clenched my fist, a helmet covering his face. Well he was lucky the helmet was there to protect him, or else by now, his limbs would've fallen apart, bit by bit until he was screeching for mercy.

"Stay out of my way." My helmet was a barrier to the fiery glare I was sending his side. I heard him emit an audible but distressed sigh as his tongue clicked in disappointment.

I scanned him from head to toe, not as if I knew him, but my desire to call him a "gay stripper" grew stronger with each tap on the floor.

I close my eyes, collecting my thoughts that were scattered around an endless black hole. Echoes of heels clicking against the floor catching my attention, ear perking up I fix my posture, shoulders rolling back, clearing my parched throat.

A woman with huge circular glasses resting on the bridge of her nosewalked in. Her pencil skirt accentuated her broad hips, her blue eyes fixed on the notepad wrapped around her arm, and the silver metallic pen held her elegant hairstyle together.

She was the definition of what I call 'classy'.

I suddenly felt my shoulders slouch down when her blue icy eyes scanned me, her orbs slowly widening in astonishment. I raise my hand giving a small wave with a crooked smile.

Maybe that was a bit too crooked. Screw it! She can't see me.

"Ahh..." I suddenly squealed under her intense gaze that was scanning me over and over again, pushing the glasses that adorned her button nose back. She cleared her throat grazing over her notepad one last time.

"Lady, you know I am still here, right? Maybe you can do this goo-goo eyes after I'm checked in." The guy beside me commented, earning an eye roll which he couldn't witness. I stomp over his boots, almost throwing my whole weight on his foot.

"OUCH!" He grunts, turning my way, maybe or maybe not glaring like Donald Trump after he found out his steak was cooked medium rare and not brought alive.

"Fight me you ceramic bitch!" He shrieks, ready to throw hands. I hide behind the elegant woman for protection who just watched us bicker.

She cleared her throat again, catching me off guard. She turns my way. "Jungkook and Y/n?" She pursed her lips, narrowed cat-like eyes waiting for our nods.

"Jungkook...more like junk looks," I coughed out, wheezing at that lame pun, perhaps no one has the sense of humour of a five-year-old. The world is turning tables pretty quick.

"Ms Y/n, you aren't supposed to be here?" She waits for my reaction as I freeze on spot.

"What do you mean I am not supposed to be here?" My voice slightly rising, "I checked in myself as the new rookie in racing." I practically throw air quotes at her statement, panic wavering in my

voice.

The so-called guy 'Jungkook' choked, his broad chest heaving up and down as he laughed.

Did I say something funny?

"You are at the wrong location, I think there was an error in our system while registering you, we may have added your name to the wrong list." She ran her index finger across her crisp notepad, eyes moving back and forth like a hawk.

"No, no, no, no-no." I gasped, "do you know how long it took me to persuade my sponsor?! This is my only chance to race; if I don't enter, all of my years of preparation will be in vain."

She looked at me with sympathy. "Can't you make any changes to send me there?"

"I'm sorry...you won't be able to reach in time and we cannot let you go until the board takes a look at this major mistake and have you safely enter your designated place."

She tapped her foot on the marble floor.

Suddenly my head dropped, audibly sighing as my fingers tapped against my thighs. Just one opportunity is given...and it will all wash over like golden sand at the seashore.

"Okay, sad. Moving on, I'd like the Keys to my quarters." Jungkook arrogantly demanded, pushing his hand in front of the woman. She looked at him with no emotion, rolling her eyes, once again checking the name list.

Think Y/n! Think!

I felt my heart clench, the corner of my eyes collided with the water. My craving to have wind tangled in my locks while the engine roared at the starting line with determined racers kept increasing.

That desire in my heart burning stronger than any fuel.

"I can race here!" I exclaimed, earning a groan from the tall man beside me. The woman blinked her eyes, glasses almost falling off her snatched nose.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I can race on this track here in California, till then your board can sort out all their work." Adrenaline rushed in my veins like hope, secretly fist-pumping the air. Finally, this could work out.

"Listen up kiddo, this is California. Here racers make history. They don't sit on the track to have some pink princess tea party, so you can take that bag of yours and move your ass out of this place because you don't belong here." His words were foul, a snarl creeping on.

He was filled with bitterness, swiftly peeling off the helmet on his face. His action left me speechless.

His ethereal beauty was hidden behind the helmet; his soft, glowing skin was the centre of attention; his doe-like eyes were pools of overflowing emotions; his soft lips, the bottom one a little fuller, a mole on his cheek and one under his lip.

I would've stumbled on my face gazingat such charm if only he wasn't being a jerk.

"It's because women aren't usually seen racing here, in fact for the last 50 years no women had the guts to continue on this track." The woman abruptly spoke. I felt the uncertainty in her voice. She was trying to cover up for that jerk.

"but there is no rule against women racing here." I protested back.

"Yes there isn't but-" "Then I race here."

Jungkook's intense stare had my knees go weak. I could feel the sharpness and cold wrath all at once. An unspoken cold blooded war was rising between us.

"What do you think you are doing?" Jungkook exclaimed, his warm hand skimming on my shoulder, the grip crushing my meek corpse.

His jaw clenched and eyes obscuring, he glowered behind the lustrous locks covering his orbs that bled out of outrage.

outrage.

Staring into his eyes my body shook violently, I harshly pushed him away, disgusted by the warmth his hands held. "Don't touch me." My eyes were bloodshot red, wrapping my hands around my torso.

"I won't be outmanoeuvred by a jerk. Especially you, Jungkook."

___________________♡____________________

Teaser | Day2

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mariclerc · 2 months ago

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Falling for you | cl16

Summary: thanks to a debt owed by your father you have to marry the boss of the mafia.

Warnings: angst, fake marriage, mafia au, mentions of blood and gunshots, 5 years age gap, mafia boss!Charles with a soft spot for reader and a little bit of fluff.

Part 2, part 3, part 4

You knew that your father was not a good person, and he is someone who is quite bad and incompetent towards you, for him you are just a pawn in the middle of his game and not his daughter. There is never a lack of mistreatment and shocking looks with him, but the worst of all is that due to a debt owed by one of his businesses, so he decided to make a forced marriage between his 22-year-old daughter and the head of the Monegasque mafia in order to "solve his debts."

So here you find yourself, tied to a fake marriage with le diable de monte carlo (the devil of monte carlo) and he is not someone very nice, let's say, he is not someone you like and you can assure that he doesn't like you either.

Now you are in an opulent living room bathed in the soft glow of a fireplace, Charles sits by the fire, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand, he looks a little troubled... Across the room, you clutch a throw pillow on the plush couch with downcast eyes, an awkward silence stretches between you two.

He sighs. “We should probably talk.”

You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away. “Talk? About what?” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

He sets down his glass. “This whole... situation, the marriage... your father.”

You tense up, your father's betrayal and your forced marriage are fresh wounds. “There's not much to say, is there? He owed you a debt with his business, and... Well, here we are.”

“It doesn't have to be like this. I know this isn't what you wanted.” he says looking at you.

You let out a sigh. “Of course it's not! My whole life has been a series of things I never wanted, thanks to him! And now I'm stuck in a gilded cage with a... a...” you say with a slightly rising voice.

You struggle to find the right words.

Charles rises an eyebrow. “A what?”

You feel your frustration bubbling up. “A… a fucking pretentious and arrogant idiot who thinks the world revolves around him and his fucking business!” you finally say.

The words tumble out, surprising even you, Charles stares at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“So that's how you see me, huh?” he says chuckling. “It's pretty accurate I might say.” his voice is low and dangerous.

You take a shaky breath. “I… I don't know what I see! This whole thing is crazy. We barely know each other, and now we're married? It's all a damn fucking mess!” you say as tears form in your eyes.

You break down in tears, burying your face in the pillow. Charles hesitate for a bit, then rises and walks towards you, he sits beside you, a hint of gentleness in his movements.

“Hey... Look at me y/n.” he says softly, you sniffle and hesitantly lift your head, Charles meets your gaze, his expression is unreadable. “I know this is a huge mess... But maybe, there's a way to make it work... For both of us.” he swipe his thumb to clean your tears and he extends a hand hesitantly, you stare at it for a long moment, then slowly reach out and take it.

“Why are you being so gentle towards me all of a sudden?” you ask him shyly.

He shrugged. “Why not?” he whispered with a low voice. “Look, I may be a son of a bitch out there, but I can try to treat you nice inside of this big ass mansion.” he sighed. “I know we don't like each other and this sucks, but I don't think you deserve any more shit than you've already gotten.” he says softly.

You look at him perplexed, not knowing what to say to him, it is well known that he is arrogant and perhaps the most feared man in all of Monaco, but now he is giving you hints of a somewhat sweet side of him. Which is quite unexpected for you.

***

After that night a couple of weeks have passed, and the truth it's that he kept his word, outside he may be a son of a bitch, but inside the mansion he does everything possible to treat you well, as you deserve, but apart from that, it is the same monotonous routine and one or another event that you have to attend with him because of course, in front of the people you are his "wife", but you don't feel that way, you are simply with Charles to benefit your father and that's it.

The mansion is dark, the only light spilling from the city skyline outside the window, you're curled up on the bed, a book in your lap, but the words blur before your eyes and unease prickles your skin. Charles is at a late-night business meeting, and worry gnaws at you, he normally arrives late at night, but he must have already arrived home, usually if he arrives and you are asleep he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, it is his way of telling you that he has arrived.

Suddenly, a crash shatters the silence and you hear the front door splinting open, a panicked gasp escape your lips. You scramble off the bed, heart hammering in your chest, footsteps pound into the apartment and your phone fumbles in your hand as you dial Charles' number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Then, the gunshots erupt and you scream, the sound raw with terror, scrambling for cover, you fling yourself towards the walk-in closet, slamming the door shut just as rough voices fill the room. You huddle in the darkness, phone clutched in one hand, the other pressed against your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every creak of the floorboards, every muttered word sounds amplified.

Minutes tick by like hours and, finally, more gunshots, followed by a tense silence. Your legs are like jelly, your breath ragged, then, the creak of the closet door turning slowly makes your heart lurch, you squeeze your eyes shut, tears stinging your cheeks hoping for the worst.

A hand, rough but surprisingly gentle, reaches out and covers your mouth. A warm body presses against yours, a familiar scent of leather and cologne filling your senses.

“It's okay, it's me baby, shhh...” You hear Charles low and urgent voice.

You open your eyes a crack, relief washing over you as you see Charles' face. He looks grim, his eyes narrowed, but there's a flicker of worry in them as they meet yours, his hands are stained a shocking red, making you gasp.

He scoops you up cradled in his arms, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “Don't worry tesoro, it's alright. You're safe now.” he says soothingly. (darling)

He carries you swiftly through the darkened mansion, his movements sure despite the blood on his hands. You bury your face in his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart a stark contrast to the chilling scene you narrowly escaped. He flips on the light of the hallway, revealing the extent of the carnage: there are bullet holes in the walls, furniture overturned, blood spatters staining the pristine white tiles. You cling to him, trembling and Charles rushes you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He gently sets you down and reaches for the first-aid kit, his movements are efficient as he cleanses a small cut on your arm that you hadn't even noticed in your panic.

“Charles… what happened? Who were those men?” you asked with hoarse voice.

“Just some... business associates who overstepped their boundaries, that's all.” he says avoiding your gaze.

You frown, knowing he's not telling you everything, you reach out and touch the blood on his hand, your voice barely a whisper.

”Charles, is it… is it my father? Did he… he sent those guys?” you whisper terrified.

Charles meets your gaze, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let's just say, his people won't be bothering us anymore, I promise.” he says steely, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his hold both protective and fiercely possessive.

The silence after Charles' last words hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. You stare up at him, his hold on you a lifeline in the aftermath of the terrifying ordeal.

“Charles, I… I don't even know what to say.” you say with trembling voice.

He leans back a fraction, concern softening his features. “You don't have to say anything baby, not yet. Just… know that you're safe now. That's all that matters to me.” he says gently.

But the words tumble out before you can stop them, a flood of emotions breaking the dam.

“No, it's not all that matters. This whole thing… it's been terrifying, confusing. But… being here with you, even in the middle of this mess it felt different. Safe, somehow, and maybe… a little bit comforting.” you say as your eyes fill with tears again.

A flicker of surprise crosses Charles' face, quickly replaced by a warmth that takes your breath away. His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek, the feeling of his fingertip on your face feels like a soft caress.

“Comforting, huh? That's an interesting word choice for a situation involving gunshots and gangsters.” he says with a low and husky voice.

You manage a weak smile. “But it's the truth! And maybe… that's because… because deep down, despite everything, despite how we got here… I think I… I might be starting to feel something for you, Charles.” you say with a small and shy voice.

The air crackles with unspoken confessions Charles stares at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, chasing away the shadows of violence.

He smiles at you, the dimples making him present on his face. “Well, that's a relief, because believe it or not, tesoro, I feel the same way as you do... you know, being stuck in a loveless marriage with a cute pretty girl wasn't exactly on my agenda either.” he chuckled. (darling)

You laugh, a shaky sound that breaks the tension. He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing, and see where this… feeling… takes us?” he says with his voice above a whisper.

His eyes hold yours, a question and a promise all at once, your heart beats a frantic rhythm in your chest. There's a world of uncertainty ahead, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of hope.

“I think I'd like that.” you say while nodding and smiling again.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss was a little hesitant at first, then it deepens with a newfound tenderness. The taste of blood mingles with the salt of your tears, a stark reminder of the danger you narrowly escaped, but the kiss itself is a promise of something new, something hopeful. In the wreckage of your forced marriage, a seed of real love has begun to bloom between the two of you.

***

The following days after the break-in are a real-life nightmare for you, you constantly wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares and so on, but at the same time, there are moments of calm like the one you are experiencing now. You're curled up on the couch, a book in your lap, but your eyes keep drifting towards Charles, who's engrossed in paperwork at the coffee table.

Charles glances up, catching your gaze, he smiles, a genuine one that reaches his eyes, and sets down his pen. “Daydreaming again, I see, hm?” he asked you while smiling softly.

You blush, self-consciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… thinking about... How things have changed so much, so quickly.” you smile back at him.

He walks over and sits beside you, his arm brushing yours in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Not all changes are bad, are they love?” he says lightly.

You shake your head. “Definitely not, especially not the ones that involve delicious takeout and avoiding gangsters all day.” you let out a soft giggle.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “Speaking of avoiding things, how about a change of scenery? A getaway? Just the two of us, before things get too… normal.”

The way he says "normal" makes you laugh... The normal life with Charles Leclerc, mafia boss (or ex-mafia boss, you haven't quite figured that out yet) is anything but normal in your book.

“A getaway? Where did you have in mind?” you asked intrigued.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about Italy? We can go there and go unnoticed, plus it would be in a fairly quiet place where we wouldn't have to worry about anything or anyone, how does that sound chérie?” he says softly. (darling)

A mix of emotions washes over you – excitement and nervousness... But mostly, you feel a thrill of anticipation. Italy with Charles, on your own terms, feels like a new beginning.

“Italy, huh? Sounds… interesting.” you sighed. “When would we leave then?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow? Pack your bags, tesoro. We're leaving the chaos behind and heading for sunshine, good food, and maybe a little bit of… romance.” he smiled and you could swear his eyes were shining.

Your heart skips a beat... Italy with Charles, a chance to explore a new side of him, a side free from the pressures of his past life. Maybe, just maybe, this trip could be the start of something truly extraordinary.

“Consider it packed! Let's go and see what Italy has in store for us.” you say with a bright smile on your face.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his kiss a promise of adventure and a deeper connection waiting to be discovered, the weight of your past may linger, but as you break away from the kiss, you know with a newfound certainty that your future, unlike your forced marriage, is something you'll write together.

***

Rolling hills bathed in the golden light of the setting sun stretch out before you, lavender fields shimmer in the distance, and the air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers and fresh herbs. You stand on a terrace overlooking this idyllic scene, a glass of chilled prosecco in your hand, Charles leans against the railing beside you, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“This is perfect. I can't remember the last time I felt this… peaceful.” you sigh contentedly.

He reaches out and takes a strand of hair that's escaped your messy braid, tucking it behind your ear.

“Me neither, maybe all we needed was a little sunshine and a whole lot of beautiful countryside to escape the chaos.” you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his.

The past few weeks in Italy have been a revelation. You've explored charming towns, tasted incredible food, and most importantly, discovered a side of Charles you never knew existed: a man who appreciates quiet evenings on the terrace, who laughs easily at your dumb jokes, and whose eyes hold a tenderness you haven't seen before.

You smile softly. “It's more than the sunshine, Charles, it's the feeling of starting over! Of leaving behind the expectations and the dangers... Here, we can just be us.”

He pulls you into a gentle embrace, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Just us, and that's all that matters... Though, maybe a little less danger in the future would be nice.”

You laugh, the sound echoing across the quiet landscape.

“No promises, Mr. Leclerc. But I wouldn't mind a little less excitement for a while.” you said teasingly.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Speaking of Leclerc… this whole marriage situation. It's obviously not ideal... What do you... what do you want to do?” he speaks in a more serious tone.

You take a sip of your prosecco, considering your options... The truth is, being Charles' wife has opened your eyes to a world you never knew existed: It's thrilling, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying. But one thing is certain - you don't want to lose him.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing? Let's start over, for real this time... Just Charles and y/n, seeing where this… feeling takes us.” you say softly while smiling confidently.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, brighter than the setting sun. He takes your hand, his touch sending a spark through you.

“Now that's an offer I can't refuse, so... Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Leclerc… Hold on tight, because the journey is exciting.” he said while grinning.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the Tuscan hills. In the distance, a church bell tolls, marking the end of the day. As you raise your glass towards the vibrant orange sky, you know that this new beginning, forged in the heart of Italy, holds the promise of a future brighter than any sunset.

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the warm breeze.

Charles takes a long sip of his prosecco, then sets the glass down on the railing, he turns to you, his gaze intense.

“So, Ms. Y/n Leclerc. This new life… it doesn't start tomorrow... It starts right now, with you.” He says with a low, husky voice.

His words send a shiver down your spine, he steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch is warm, sending a delicious warmth through your body.

“There's something about this place, about you… it makes me want to be a better man, you know? The kind of man who deserves a woman sweet like you.” he continue speaking quietly, looking into your eyes.

You lean into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “You already are a good man, Charles... A complex man, yes, but you're trying to be such a good one.” you say with your voice barely a whisper.

He dips his head, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow on his beautiful face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, a vulnerability that you have only been able to see on this trip.

“Then let me show you just how good I can be amore.” he said with his voice husky with desire.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss both passionate and tender. It's a kiss that speaks of new beginnings, of unspoken promises, and of a love that has blossomed amidst chaos and found its strength in a shared desire for peace.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you know that this kiss isn't just a moment in time, it's a declaration, a commitment to write your own story, together, under the warm Italian sky.

The stars begin to twinkle overhead, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine, Charles pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively and you lean your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. You know that this is the true beginning of something quite special between the two of you, something that you long for and so does he.

***

After a couple of days, you and Charles stroll hand-in-hand through the villa's sprawling gardens, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filling the air.

“I can't believe we actually own a place like this! It's so amazing and beautiful!” you say while smiling.

Charles squeezes your hand as you spot a vine laden with ripe figs and reach up to pluck one, Charles watches you with a fond smile.

“Careful there piccola mia, don't get too carried away.” he says teasingly. (little one)

You toss the fig into your mouth while closing your eyes, savoring the sweet, juicy flavor. “I can't help it Cha! Everything here is so delicious and sweet.” you say giggling.

Charles steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I'm glad you like it... But I think there's something even sweeter here.” he says leaning in.

He dips his head and kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer towards you.

“I'll take that as a compliment!” you smile.

He pulls away, his eyes still filled with warmth.

“A compliment? More like a promise chérie, a promise of many, many more delicious things to come... And I have a few ideas on my mind.” he says while smirking. (darling)

You playfully swat at his arm, but he just laughs, catching your hand and holding it tightly, together, you wander through the gardens, picking figs, grapes, strawberries, and juicy tomatoes. Charles playfully gives you nicknames based on the fruits and vegetables you pick.

“You're my little figgy, picking all the sweetest fruits.” he says while tickling.

You giggle, trying to swat away his tickling fingers. “Stop it Charlie! I'm not a figgy, I'm a tomato girl!”

Charles pretends to pout.

“A tomato girl? How disappointing, I was hoping for a little fig girl, someone sweet and juicy.” he says in a dramatic way.

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. “Oh, please. You'd be lucky to have a tomato girl like me!” you chuckled.

Charles leans in and kisses your cheek. “Lucky? Oh, baby, i'm the luckiest man in the world because I have you by my side.”

You blush, your heart fluttering in your chest. As you continue to wander through the gardens, picking fruits and vegetables, you feel a sense of peace and contentment washing over you... This is more than just a gateway, it's a chance to start fresh, to build a new life together as a married couple, away from all the chaos and danger of your past. And with Charles by your side, you know that anything is possible.

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ariaste · 2 months ago

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If you could sit the vampire polycule/diabolicule down in a row on a sofa to watch one (1) movie with the intent of causing the maximum amount of psychic damage and/or drama, what movie would you pick for them? I'll go first: Moulin Rouge. Hear me out.

Louis is upset because he's a pretentious snob (affectionate) when it comes to Art and he's complaining that it's just a ripoff of the opera La Traviata. He's correct but he doesn't need to say it, he is allergic to camp and he's harshing everyone's vibes with his barely-under-his-breath scoffing.

Daniel is ruefully identifying way too heavily with Ewan McGregor's character. Daniel is sitting here with his mouth firmly shut like, "Nobody call me out for being exactly Like That when I was 20, nobody look at me, nobody read my mind, nobody make eye contact with me, god this is cringe. Look, he's even got the drug use going on." (This is show!canon that we're talking about so thankfully Daniel doesn't have to also cope with the "AND he's embarrassingly into a hot redheaded theater nerd, god just kill me now, nobody Perceive me please" vector of embarrassment). Daniel is also not having a good time with the creepy older men skeeving on this theater nerd sex worker once he thinks the words "Hm, Marius vibes"

Daniel and Louis also feeling kind of mutually overstimulated from how their heightened vampire super-senses are reacting to all of the Colors and Flashing Lights and Whippy Camera Movements etc. They have matching headaches and are feeling slightly nauseated.

Everyone is feeling some degree of slightly triggered, emotionally, about either Paris In General (Daniel), or Niche-Theater Life In Paris (Armand, Louis, Lestat). Big mixed feelings also about tuberculosis, a disease that makes people cough up blood.

Armand and Lestat are profoundly NOT allergic to camp, unlike some people on this wretched sofa. Armand and Lestat cannot be overstimulated by Colors/Flashing Lights/Whippy Camera Movements/etc, bc their vampire neurodivergence goes in the opposite direction. They have not blinked or moved in 90 minutes except to breathlessly clutch each other's hands. Lestat is muttering feverishly under his breath like "armand. armand. armand. is it maybe time for us to found another theater together, do you think???? armand??? what if we just. are you doing anything after this. how much cash do you have on hand right now." his ADHD hyperfixation on a new-old hobby is going BUCK WILD. He has to recreate this except EVEN MORE. Armand is watching Satine Suddenly Die At The End, just like how in all of his silly little plays someone also Suddenly Dies At The End, and he is deciding that this is maybe god's perfect movie. This is the greatest film either of them has ever seen. They think this is Cinema.

Armand and Lestat will have never agreed with each other for so many consecutive minutes as they will when the credits roll and Louis starts monologuing about how much it sucks to the point of VAST OFFENSE AND HURT FEELINGS on Armand and Lestat's part

the whole mess devolves into a screaming fight between the three of them while Daniel both refuses to referee and also won't stop making bitchy comments once he twigs to the fact that nobody else seems to have noticed that he was Going Through Some Cringe Nostalgia. The night is ruined, no one is happy, Louis takes Lestat floating the idea of founding a new theater with Armand since "you clearly don't understand art, LOUIS" as one of Lestat's top five greatest betrayals. Armand is not giving a straight answer about whether he is on board with the theater idea or not, which upsets everyone equally, unlike if he had said yes or no clearly and at least gotten one ally locked down. Louis appeals to Daniel to oppose the theater idea; Daniel does a bad job of doing so because he chronically believes that maybe having some hobbies will Make Armand Worse, which is a thing he's into sexually. Everyone goes to bed mad. The passive-aggression for the next week could be cut with a knife.

#interview with the vampire #loustat #devil's minion #vampire polycule #iwtv

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graphedpaper · 4 months ago

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Renter Problems 3

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school as the arrogant douche who occasionally spread rumours about you. He's blown up recently as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. For an unknown reason, he's obsessed with the idea of you being his girlfriend, and after you announce you will be moving out, he decides to imprison you in his house. You learn he's even more abusive than ever, especially with his new influence. Details: Physical and verbal abuse, NSFW, manipulation, fem reader, kidnapping, non-con, oral Warning: NSFW, Non-Con

"I'm back!" A voice that sends terror to your nerves calls up towards the bedroom. He sounds happy... energized, even. It causes you to relax your tense muscles.

Your face is sticky with dried tears, and fresh tears on top of that. You're starving, and you've had to go drink water from the bathroom sink just so you wouldn't dehydrate. Your voice feels gone and you were too scared to try and escape with the threat of an alarm.

So pathetic. You might just be letting this happen to you. You might like this after all, being a victim.

No, no. Keep strong.

You shake your head of the dangerous thought. The betrayal of your own mind.

You tried, you did try. The door. You tried knocking it down so many times. But it was solid and felt like a 3 meter thick stone block.

He unlocks the door. He walks towards you.

Please. Please don't.

"I'm so fucking exhausted, shit." He sits down on the edge bed next to you and lies back.

You flinch away. Your empty stomach sinks five meters and you regret flinching from him. He could get angry again, and he might-

He glances at your cowering body from the corner of his eye. You weren't scared then, so why so scared now? Can't you see he's trying to be nice? It irks him, truthfully. He's not a fucking monster for God's sake.

"So, you're not going to ask me about my tiring day at work?"

"Why are you doing this." You ask him, your words flat to the wall as you gaze at the small bumps of the dried white paint to avoid looking at him, heart hammering.

Jacob could just ignore that. He could shut you up, train you. But he's a nice guy. He's chill, he's a sweetheart. He's a harmless flirt! (That's how the latest news articles had described him as. How could anyone not fall at their knees?

"Because I like you." He replies. And it's a truth of sorts. He does like your body. He likes how you look, and your voice. He doesn't like how you act as of late though, like a pretentious whore.

"Jacob, please, I don't like you in that way. I have... I have a life, I have plans. I- I have to go to college in a few months, please!" You cry out, losing all composure.

He laughs out loudly at your cries. "Y/n, what life? Your own parents don't even think of you as their child, you have no friends, and you have no house!"

He sits up and roughly grabs your face.

"Stop. Whining."

His hands feel tight around your jaw, like he could crush it. His hold on you forces your lips to pout slightly and you feel humiliated.

He quickly lets go and gently pats you on the back, like he's cheering up a sad child or something.

"Sorry," He says after a bit of quiet. "I just feel like you could at least pretend to care."

Insane. That's the only word that comes to your mind. He's insane and nobody except you knows. Your friends at their fancy university, they don't know, your parents, they don't know, no one knows.

You stare back at him. His wavy hair sits slightly messed from his tantrum, his doe-like eyes that dig into your own. It's deceptively sweet and trustworthy. But he also had a darker side to him, you could feel it, not from the way he sat, or analyzed his every surrounding, not even his need to control everything. No, no, it was an instinctive scream that rang echos in your soul to run away. He was not a sweet boy, he was a dangerous man, and you needed to get away. In fact, he'd never been a sweet boy. At best, a playground bully. Appearances were deceiving, and that gave you chills.

Is that why he had imprisoned you like this? Because you had broken free of his control? Then perhaps you could free yourself by aligning back with his wants, whatever that was. You could pretend. You could pretend to be his girlfriend.

"Umm... So you had a long day?" You try. You're fearful for a negative reaction.

But almost immediately, his face brightens up.

"Yeah, I had to film 3 interviews today and everyone was fucking disgusting. They're so fake, I could see right through them. Every one of them, they're hideous." He rants, as he comes closer to you slowly.

"Unlike you, you're breathtakingly perfect." He winks at you.

He reaches over to hold your hand and you let him. You have no energy, really.

"Y/n, I have so much stress pent up inside me." He tells you. His eyes brush your body in a way that makes you feel like throwing up. Throwing up what, you don't know, because you haven't had food in almost a day.

"You do?" You ask slowly, unsure what he means by that.

A cord of tense atmosphere wraps itself onto both of you, and it holds you two there. The air feels thick.

"Yeah, I mean, I just really need to release the stress."

He spreads his legs just slightly, and your heart stops at what he's suggesting. His jeans have a bulge in it, that wasn't there this morning.

As you sit on the edge of the bed with your legs tucked in under you, you feel a sweat arising from the deepest core of your body, the type that forces you to run. To run away from this.

But you can't.

"No- please- Jacob, no, please, I'm a virgin," You back away into the headboard as you begin to sob.

He comes closer to you and you want to puke. Really.

"I thought you cared about me. I thought we agreed that in order for this relationship to work we need to care about each other?" He demands.

Your stomach grumbles. Jacob smiles at this, having already planned everything.

"You're hungry right? You haven't eaten at all? I got food and it's downstairs." He says.

"Yeah- yeah I'm hungry." You reply, shaking.

"Then, do this for me and I'll let you eat." He holds your handcuffs and drags you close to himself.

You freak and you thrash, trying to get away, but he holds onto your tied wrists tight. "Jacob, please, I'm so scared, I don't want to do this. It's too early." You beg him.

"You're a virgin?" He asks, and you're confused. You already told him, so why's he interrogating you like this?

"Yes." You respond, hesitant.

"Ok, doesn't matter, you'll still be one at the end." He says, in a relaxed tone. You're left to ponder what he means by that. It's a contradicting statement, to have sex and still be a virgin.

Jacob sees your confusion and smirks. "What, like you've never heard of being a blowjob?" He says mockingly. "Get down on the floor."

You gasp at his crude words and try to shrink away, off the bed.

"Kneel down, or I'm going to cut your fucking finger off." He threatens. His threat still fresh in your mind, you force your own body to move down onto the floor.

He releases the hold on your handcuffs and you kneel down on the floor. It forces you to look up at his open legs.Jacob undos his black leather belt.

"Now, pull my zipper down." He orders, hand on your shoulder.

You try to, with your cuffed hands, but it won't work. The hands which are bound render you incapable of unzipping his pants.

"Jacob-" You begin.

"You have a mouth, right?" He interrupts you with a patronizing smile.

The absolute humiliation of this, the way he treats you like an animal leaves you furious. His sincere suggestion of you to kneel and use your teeth to undress him. You still do it though, because what choice do you truly have? You lean your face into the intersection of his pants and hold your breath in fear. You take his pant zipper in between your teeth and drag it down, like a dog. His underwear looks like it'll burst, and maybe he knows that, because he quickly pushes it down to reveal his hard-on. His dick slaps his lower abdomen from the release of the constricting fabric. It's almost painfully red at the tip.

It's big, and maybe scary isn't the right word to utilize in describing this scene in front of you, but all you feel is white-hot fear.

"Well?" He asks.

"I don't know how." You tell him.

"Just put your mouth on it, no teeth." He replies.

But you just can't force yourself to do it. You shake your head no and tears well up in your waterline again. Jacob smiles, in a knowing way, and he reaches over to the nightstand drawer. You freeze and analyze every microscopic movement of his body. He opens the top drawer while still holding onto your hair, tight.

Jacob didn't really want to do this to you. Well, maybe just a little. Okay, he wanted to do this a lot.

He grabs a sharp knife and puts it to your neck. However small, it's still a blade, which causes you to instinctively jolt. You scream and try to move your neck away.

"Do you really want to do that?" He asks, still having your hair in a strong grasp. "One wrong move and it cuts into a very important vein."

You must think he's so sick. What would you do if you knew he was getting turned on from this? That's why he loved you so much, you were the only person he could really do this to. You were a nobody from his past, but you were a nobody from his past.

"Jacob please, please, I'm not ready." You let out a sob, as the blade broke the soft skin of your neck. Your body shakes in terror.

You feel your breathes quicken and your chest tightens up. Jacob notices how your small body is heaving rapidly, and his gaze softens, a little.He lifts off some pressure from the knife and pushes your head onto his cock. You're tired, you're starving, you might die. Your fogged-up brain lets your body be lead like a marionette as you let his tip press into your plush red lips you don't fight back.

"Suck it with your tongue." He orders.

And you do, you cautiously lick the tip of his length with a few swirls, tasting him. It's repulsive.

"Oh fuck." He moans, throwing his head back slightly.

So he likes that.

You hope he'll be happy with your tentative licking, but he becomes greedier and greedier with each second. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth until you start to gag and cough. The foreign object in your throat keeps you from breathing and you desperately want to throw it up. But his hands have a strong hold on your head.

"Oh god, yeah, oh, you're doing so good- oh, baby, you-you sure it's your first time?" He moans out, panting and he begins to thrust himself in shallow ins and outs.

He doesn't expect an answer, this is all his fantasy after all.

You press on his legs to push him off, and he finally removes his cock. You lump over and you cough. He forces back into your mouth after a few quick breathes though, he's searching for his release and it's coming soon. Tears are just a part of your appearance now, as he thrusts into your throat you can feel your mind going somewhere else.

He starts to become rougher and his legs tense.

"Fuck, shit, oh fucking fuck!" His face is in bliss, a contrast to your own.

He goes deeper and faster and he manages to make out one last sentence.

"Swallow, don't you dare spit it out."

A thick, hot, but salty liquid floods your mouth, and you wince at the gross substance that coats your tongue, but you brace yourself and swallow.

Jacob stares at you and pats your head, as if that makes up for it.

You collapse of exhaustion on the floor and Jacob gets up to change into his sweatpants first. Then he puts the knife away and brushes his hair slightly.

Finally, he scoops you up, and sees that you're unconscious. You look tired but peaceful, like a fairy, or a dying angel. Your eyes are closed as your lashes curve just a little bit upwards, your lips in a relaxed position. Your skin is radiant, and Jacob finds himself smiling at your beauty.

He gently puts you on his bed, and covers you with a thick blanket.

"Sleep well. I'll get you breakfast tomorrow, I promise."

If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy the rough draft version on wattpad. Yes, I know, wattpad stories suck, but that's the place it's at for all the public to see. There are far more chapters, so I just wanted to let anyone curious know, since re-editing these chapters take some time.

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mt-oe · 7 months ago

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𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙃𝙤𝙩—bandmate mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I'm so so sorry for not being able to keep up with requests that well. My program is taking a lot of my time and beating the shit out of me (esp. u immunology and serology >:c).

Anyways, here's a sort of prequel for my headcanons because band au Mizu is so yummy.

Enjoy! Mwa mwa:*

warning: not proofread, she/her for mizu, will refer to her as a boy (bc she canonically appears like a man), implied afab reader

"But you're so good at playing the guitar, and you have the charisma too. You should definitely join our band. Even our manager is amazing. She—"

"For the last time, Ringo. I don't want to join your stupid band."

Mizu and Ringo were already getting ready to go home after finishing their term-end project for their elective, which just so happened to be music. She didn't really think it through when she enlisted and just picked whichever she thought was the easiest. Ringo, however, just picked the same elective as Mizu.

She carefully placed her electric guitar in its case, zipping it up and securing the locks before slinging it over her shoulder. "I have better things to do and joining a band is a waste of time," she added as she walked up to the door.

Ringo followed after her, a smile still on his face despite the rejection. "You never know. This might even be your calling," he chimed as they exited the room, making her groan out of annoyance. They headed into the parking lot where Mizu's bike was parked. "We have an audition in a week if you want," he said, waiting for his friend to put on her helmet.

Once Mizu was finished putting on her helmet, she hopped on and leaned forward, pushing her weight to retract the center stand. "Not interested," she groaned out, slightly muffled behind her helmet. Her foot kickstarted the bike on before she revved the engine up a bit.

"Well if you decide to change your mind, just send me a message." Ringo stepped back a bit to give Mizu some space to move. She grunted in response and drove forward, leaving her friend waving and shout goodbyes at her.

What's so great about joining a stupid band anyway?

It's probably just filled with pretentious kids pretending to be as good as their idols but can't even memorize which strings their hammer ons should be.

Another groan escaped her lips the more she thought about the offer. It was annoying. Yet, a somehow, a small part of her wanted to play even more. The desire ringing at the back of her head like an itch she couldn't scratch off.

What if she did join?

What if it was as much fun as Ringo always said it was?

A sigh escaped her lips at how bothered she was by her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about this? She can always play her instruments at home. A crowd wouldn't make a difference, she thought as the wind whizzed past.

Her thoughts continued to race as she drove home. This band thing was stupid. Maybe she shouldn't attend the audition after a—

"Hey goofy boy!" a voice called out.

'What? Me?' she thought, lifting her visor to look around for the source of the voice. Across the stoplight, she saw another woman waving at her enthusiastically. It was almost ridiculous to look at. She raised an eyebrow, looking at her sides and behind her to see if you were talking to someone else before pointing to herself inquisitively.

"Yes you! Across the stoplight! C'mere!" you yelled, signaling her to stop in front of the cafe you were standing in front of, not really caring if other people were looking at you with how silly you were being.

Her blue eyes narrowed at you, clearly suspicious of your intentions. And yet, the way you were smiling and calling her over made her feel...something. Once the light turned green, she drove over to you, pulling up at the lot in front of the cafe.

You walked over to her, letting out a sigh of relief as she kicked the side stands on. "What do you want?" she asked in a low voice that clearly indicated that she didn't trust you even one bit.

"That.." You pointed to the guitar case on her back, making her raise an eyebrow cautiously. What did you want with her baby huh? She was so ready to throw hands.

"What model? And how long have you been playing?" you asked, still pointing to her guitar. Mizu looked over her shoulder being sighing. This was a waste of time. "I'm not inclined to tell you that," she replied, getting ready to kick her side stands off.

You snorted at her cold reply before leaning closer until she was face-to-face with you no matter how much she pulled away. The proximity allowing her to take in your features better and you were quite...pretty?

No. Wait.

Let's focus on how much of nuisance you were being.

Before she could even kick off her side stands, you already blocked her foot with yours. "Join our band," you said in a serious tone, showing her a business card before placing it in her jacket, smile still on your face.

Mizu groaned and rolled her eyes. "No. Now get your foot off before I kick it off," she replied. Yet, you kept your foot in the way of her stands, making her eyebrows knit together. "You look really goofy riding that bike of yours with a huge ass guitar case on your back," you said, eyes glancing at her guitar case before staring into her eyes intently. "You have talent, don't you?"

The smile on your face despite how serious and forward you were being was unnerving. "So what? I'm not going to join your band," she said in a low voice. Indeed, she was quite stubborn, but nowhere near your level. This motorist was the diamond in the rough you were looking for. "Goofy boy, join me in the café. It's my treat."

There was no way she's going into that café just for you to give her your sales talk and convince her to join your stupid unknown band. Not in a million years

—was what she thought.

Yet here she was, helmet off and sitting in front of you with a cup of matcha latte, watching you take a bite out of the cake you bought for yourself. After taking a slow sip, she sighed and narrowed her eyes at you. "I thought we were here talk about your band," she scoffed.

You smiled at her yet again, fork still in between your lips. "You're not going to talk right away, right? So let's take our time." A small 'tch' escaped her lips as she leaned back against the chair.

"Fine. I'll talk," she replied, staring at you up and down. Now that she was able to sit down and relax the tiniest bit, she was finally taking her time to look at you. And you weren't an eyesore at all. In fact, you were really fucking cute.

She's still not joining your band though.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you placed the fork down, resting your elbows on the table and intertwining your fingers together. "What model?" you asked, eyes darting to the guitar case beside your table.

Mizu glanced at it as her hands wrapped around the handle of her cup. "A les paul," she replied before taking a sip. Your smile widened before you took a sip from your cup as well, setting it down when she set hers down. "How long have you been playing?"

"Long enough," she replied, glancing at you, rolling her eyes at how you stared at her with curiosity, as if coercing her to tell more. "Fine, fine...before I started high school. I think. Maybe even longer."

You hummed in satisfaction and took another bite out of your cake. "Any other instruments?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow back at you. "A bass. A mustang."

Silence washed over both of you as you continued to eat your cake, making her feel a bit nervous. A small clink was heard as you put your fork down after taking your final bite. "What's your name, goofy boy?"

"Mizu," she replied before taking her drink into her hands. She downed it in one go, placing the cup down and picking her guitar case up. "This is pointless. I'm leaving," she said in a low husky voice, getting ready to stand up.

It was clear to her that she shouldn't have given so much time to you. She wasn't even interested in joining. Maybe if you weren't so cute, she wouldn't have tried to hear you out.

Before she can even stand up, you beat her to it, pushing her back down on the chair gently. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as you leaned forward again.

"I'll make you a star."

Huh?

Her clear surprise and confusion made you giggle. What the hell were you talking about? You pulled away and placed your hands on your hips, giving her a confident smile.

"Talent recognizes talent, Mizu. It may not be now, but I'll make you a star," you beamed.

Mizu blinked before scoffing. "That's ridiculous," she sneered before standing up and putting her helmet on. "For the last time, I'm not fucking joining your stupid audition."

Was what she said.

But here she was, a week later, sitting down inside the studio hallway. Her eyes watched as the auditionees chatted amongst themselves. Those who were done with the audition complaining about how strict the judge was, who she learned was just one person.

Her nerves were sending jitters to the tips of fingers, her throat tightening up slightly in anticipation. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. Just as she opened her eyes, she jumped slightly at the sight of a familiar pair of feet in front of her.

"I knew you were going to change your mind," her friend's voice chimed.

Looking up, she made eye contact with Ringo who was beaming at her, drumsticks tied to his stubby hands. "But how did you know where our studio is?"

This was the band Ringo was talking about? Oh boy.

She grunted and handed him the business card you snuck into her jacket. "The address is written there," she said with a sigh. He let out a small "oh" before his eyes widened even more. "So you've met her before," he replied cheerfully, handing the business card back.

"Who?" she asked, a serious yet curious look on her face. He looked confused for a moment before he replied, "Our manager. The one who handed you that card?" She wanted to ask more questions, but then a voice suddenly called for the drummer. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta go. Bye!"

Upon Ringo leaving, Mizu sat back down and closed her eyes again, resting her elbows on her knees.

Some time later, all the auditionees had finished and yet, it seems that all of them had been rejected. "This is a waste of time. I should have left earlier," she muttered to herself.

Just as she was about to leave the studio, her name was called, leaving her with no choice. Slowly, she entered the room only to be greeted with—

"You came!" your voice beamed.

Her eyes scanned around the room to see you sitting down on a chair, holding some papers, as well as the other band members presumably. "And you're the manager apparently," she said plainly. A chuckle escaping your lips as you nodded. "You can get ready whenever you want to."

Once her guitar was plugged in and ready to go, she looked up at you again, waiting for any further instructions. Despite her mind telling her that there was nothing to be nervous about, her gut was squeezing and churning from anticipation.

Should she do her best? Or should she fuck this up?

Your eyes watched her carefully, observing how she handled her guitar. "Play any song you'd like," you said, leaning forward in your seat as you set the papers down on a chair beside you.

No. She didn't want to be in this stupid band. She's not going to do her best.

Why the fuck would she do that?

This wasn't even worth it.

Nononononononono—

She looked down on her guitar before beginning to strum the familiar intro of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Despite her bobbing her head slightly, it was clear through her body language that she wasn't even trying at all.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared until all that was left was an unreadably neutral expression. Once she was done, she looked at you with a bored expression. "Well?"

You sighed at her, giving her the same bored expression back, making her smirk a bit. "Guess I'm not in, am I?" She unplugged her guitar, getting ready to put it back in the case before your hands stopped her.

"Sit back down. We're not done," you said in a serious tone, facial expression neutral yet your eyes told her that you were daaaaaaaamn annoyed with how little of an effort she put in. The look in your eyes, they way you were gripping the neck of her guitar, did something to her. "I don't owe you a performance," she replied.

You glared at her lightly before snatching her guitar from her hands, causing her to glare at you. She tried to grab her guitar back but you kept evading her as you plugged it back in. Once it was plugged back on, you pushed towards her, making her stumble back a bit from how harsh you did it.

"Now sit down and play. Talent recognizes talent, Mizu," you growled at her. The scene causing everyone in the room to go quiet. It was clear to them that you were pissed. "If not, then sell that guitar. You're wasting it."

After all, the only thing you hated more than the equipment suddenly breaking was wasted potential. And Mizu was wasting a LOT of potential.

Your words struck a nerve in her causing her. With a loud screech, she pulled the chair towards her and sat down. "Fine. If it gets you to shut the fuck up."

She looked at you with one final glare as she leaned back, hands beginning to move against her guitar.

She began playing Hotel California, immediately skipping to the guitar rift at the end of the song.

By the normal person's ear, it wasn't anything special. There were more impressive sounding songs out there. But to you, you knew how difficult it was to get the tone of the song right with how slow it was compared to other rifts. If she made a mistake here, a wrong pluck, a wrong drag, a wrong vibrato, the mistake would be so painfully obvious.

And yet, here Mizu was, playing it perfectly with the same angry look on her face. She was damn mad at you for touching her guitar, for pushing her towards your stupid fucking band. And yet, she couldn't help but want to impress you.

Did she really not want to be in the band?

Why was she trying so fucking hard then?

Like her body was moving on its own.

Like her hands were itching to play more.

As she ended the song, she looked down at the ground. Suddenly, the sound of clapping caused her to perk up and look at you. The sight causing her breath to hitch a blush to dust over her cheeks. That was when she knew the answer to her question.

It was you and your proud little smile.

That cute fucking smile.

All the annoyance and anger you held at her melted off during her little performance. You knew you saw talent. The moment you saw that goofy looking motorist with the awkwardly large hard guitar case at the stoplight, talent already hit you like a damn truck.

Although she knew you were satisfied with her performance, she couldn't help but want to try more. She'll try. She'll damn try for the hottest fucking manager she has ever seen. Her earlier hesitations of whether she wanted to join the band or not disappearing.

Call it a gay agenda but she was going to secure this fucking spot. She'll be best fucking guitarist you have ever heard or seen.

Just as you were about to congratulate her, she raised a hand up to cut you off. "Wait—fuck—that was too easy. I... goddamnit. Wait, I'll try doing something harder," she said in a panicked slur.

Her hands immediately went back to her guitar, eyes narrowing in thought. If an impressive guitar rift was what she needed...

Suddenly, she began playing the guitar rift for Free Bird. Eyes glued to her guitar, palms sweating a bit as she hit every chord, every pluck, every fucking bend.

You couldn't place your finger on what it was, but somehow, it felt like she was playing more passionately. Like she was putting her all into this one song. Was it the way she was bobbing her head? Or the way she moved her guitar during every vibrato? Maybe the way her body moved with the music?

Once the song ended, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. You couldn't help but giggle at how flustered she looked, making her blush again.

"Am I in?" she asked, looking at you with hidden desperation in her eyes, making you giggle even more. Her eyebrows furrowed as you continued to laugh, not really answering her question. "Well?"

A gulp went down her throat as you stood up from your chair and picking up the papers you previously held. "Mizu," you giggled out, "You were already in from the moment you tried again."

...

Well that was embarrassing.

You handed her the contract and a pen, humming as she read the content before signing. Looking at her signature, your smile widened. This flustered looking guitarist was exactly what you were looking for and you just hit jackpot.

"You won't regret this, Mizu. I swear." She glanced at you, scanning the big smile you had on your face before looking down at her guitar and unplugging it. "I better not."

Suddenly, you lunged forward at her. Her eyes widened when you suddenly took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Talent recognizes talent," you repeated, leaning closer to her, grip tightening with every word.

"I'll make you a star."

She'll be your star.

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x fem!reader #bes #Spotify

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glaciertea · 3 months ago

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Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Bonus: Honeymoon

Notes: Something I wanted to do as my brain wouldn't leave me alone about it. A nice wedding as reader now becomes Mrs. O'Hara~

CW: Wedding day shenanigans and a slightly nervous reader and Miguel.

Bonus One: You Slow Down Time, in Your Golden Hour

Word count: 6.4K

You stared into the full-body mirror, nervousness, happiness, and other raging emotions swirling within. You never felt like this, but here you, trying not to sweat your pits as Ronnie turned you over to look at her.

“Careful, I don't want to stick you.” She muttered, sewing a small tear right on the side of your dress.

“I'm sorry, Ronnie. I didn't mean to zone out on you.”

She waved her hand, digging through a sewing kit and getting right to work. “Nah, don't be. It's a big day for you. I don't blame you for being all up in the clouds and jittery.”

You reared your head back at the mirror and beamed harder. You couldn't believe this momentous event was happening; you simply couldn't.

You were getting married.

You were getting married to your star, your forever, your everything: Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the engagement ring, you peered at the shining stone. Ronnie grinned, finishing up the last final touches on it. “And here we are.”

Staring at yours and Ronnie's reflection, you both dawned the same sparkling smile, eyeing the dress in admiration. The dress was beautiful. The flowing skirt embroidered with tiny stars and daisies, the slight puffy sleeves, the V-neck showing just a bit of cleavage.

It was wonderful, considering that it is an expensive dress as well.

Ronnie was given this dress by some model who, in a pretentious manner, gave it away along with other clothing because ‘she didn't want to be caught dead with them.’

When Ronnie did research, the clothes were worth tens of thousands of dollars, having her to hoard them away from the public eye.

“But now, since this is technically a very special occasion, I want you to wear and have this.”

You recalled denying her over and over. You couldn't accept a very extravagant item, especially if it was one of her most prized possessions. Yet Ronnie's persistence refused to give in.

She badgered you and even got Miguel to jump on the bandwagon when he saw how it complimented your figure. Even taking notes on the little designs adorning it.

You did give in by the third week, when Ronnie was standing in front of your apartment one morning holding the dress up to her chest. You were grateful for Miguel being up that early, or you would've tossed her out of your window. She threatened to sneak in and put the damn thing on in your sleep, and you didn't want to take her up on that offer.

Then you got an actual good look, and the rest was history.

“Doing okay?”

“Hm? Uh, yes. Think the jitters are getting to me.” You raised your arms when Ronnie instructed you to do so.

“You're not planning on trying to pull a runaway bride on us, are you now?” She inspected for any other tears or loose strings. “Because if you are, let me come. I don't want to be there when Miguel inevitably freaks out more than usual... Or maybe I'll have Peter record it.”

You couldn't say you were baffled by your friend's train of thoughts, but it still never managed to have you taken aback because of how thoughts chugs along up there.

“No, Ronnie. Besides, my body wouldn't even take two steps before I'm sprinting right back to the altar. I love that man too much, and cold feet aren't an option.”

“That man does seem to have a magnetic pull.” She pinned a part and placed her hands on her hips. “And there we go. You are all ready to go.”

“I'm getting married, holy shit, I'm getting married, Ronnie. What the fuck, what the fuck? Are they ready? Is he ready? Please tell me I have more time to get my shit in order.”

Your boss pulled out her phone before swatting your hand away from your hair, scolding you for trying to mess it up. “I worked on that.” She punched in several numbers, and you listened to the phone ring.

“Do you think he's nervous? Or is it just me? I think it's only me; it has to be me? Right, right?” You crossed your arms and tapped your foot rapidly. “What if he's calm and I'm the nervous one? It's only me!” You started to pace the room, fanning yourself to not get overly sweaty.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up, and Ronnie heard shuffling, then a frantic voice speaking in Spanish at a hundred words per second in the background.

“Calm- Miguel, calm down; it's—yes, I know... No, she won't have cold—go, go sit down! Just relax. Hi, Ronnie. Is she ready to go?” Peter's held a strain in his tone as Miguel continued panicking in the back.

“About to ask you the same thing. Is he freaking out as much as she is?” Ronnie looked at your worn state, then back at her phone.

“I'm trying to get him to calm down. He said he's scared if she gets cold feet or if he gets it. I told him he would turn and run straight back to the altar if he tried to do a runaway groom. And he agreed.”

Ronnie snickered and sighed out. “Sounds about right. But she's ready; they're both wrecks, so that means they're good to go.”

“I don't think that means they are ready, Ronnie.”

“They are. Find a way to get him in the car, and we will see you two in five.” She hung as Peter tried to sputter one more thing, but Ronnie wasn't having you and Miguel drag this day on.

“What did he say? He's not ready? Good, grand, I get to relax here for a bit longer.”

“Nope, he's ready. Let's go.”

You and Ronnie had a showdown. You were wanting to do this, but there was something gnawing at your skin and bones. You couldn't figure out why you were so anxious. Leading up to this day was all fine and dandy. Everything was in order, and you both agreed on how the day would go with relative ease.

Like how you both originally wanted to do a Catholic ceremony, but you didn't necessarily have the right resources. With your mother and father watching the celebration by phone, due to your father's chronic fear of flying, you two didn't really want to go through all those steps. When Miguel explained the steps, your head was caught in a whirlwind, and even with your own research on how to minimize it, it made your head throb. So you settled on simple vows and allowed the officiant to do their thing.

And the guest list was a breeze to make, even if you both knew the consequences. It made sense for Peter to be the best man and Ronnie to be your maid of honor. You didn't mind Peter's wife tagging along too; you both needed some balance between the two. Short and simple. The way you two wanted it.

Then the next thing you slightly dreaded: your mom and dad.

When you announced the news to your parents about the engagement, they immediately video called wanting to interrogate Miguel. You tried to prevent any form of physical call, only wanting to stick to messages, but Miguel eased you to the idea that talking to them would've been a better option. You did give in, but it was an immediate regret.

“Why are you so big? Do you do steroids?”

“What the hell, dad?”

“Don't talk to your father that way. Now, what's your income salary?”

“Mom!”

“What? I need to make sure he can provide.”

“Occupation?” Your dad stepped more into frame.

“I'm, uh, I'm retired, sir.”

“Doesn't answer my question.”

“Geneticist, sir.”

“Yeah, I don't like him. No scientist needs to be that built.”

“I just searched how much a geneticist could make, and he's retired at a young age? He's good-looking man, smart, and in shape? Good pick. I like him. When are you having children? Keep him because I want beautiful grandbabies!”

You wanted to evaporate into the air.

“You like him for all the wrong reasons. What are your intentions with my daughter? Do you want kids? Where did you meet her? What are your political thoughts? How much has she told you about us? Why haven't you called us to tell us you've been seeing this man-?”

You hung up and slumped your body on the table.

“Now I see why you only message them instead of calling.”

You gave it a few more days for them to settle down, and it helped. It didn't take long for your mom to love him, to the point where she preferred to talk to him more than you. Your dad did eventually warm up to him, more so when he learned that Miguel was actively trying to seek out your brother to surprise you at the wedding. Your dad accidentally let it slip a couple days before the wedding, stating Miguel is now his new son and how Barkley was a coward for hiding away.

Miguel confessed that he was struggling to find him; even with his old fancy HQ gizmo, it was as if he never even existed. He did feel undoubtedly terrible, and you hugged him, thanking him a million times for going out of his way for a surprise that would've been amazing.

To help bring the mood back up, you treated him to his favorite restaurant and then came back to the apartment and proceeded to ride him until you both were seeing stars.

Needless to say, you pushed everything to the back of your brain to solely focus on Miguel, the wedding, and nothing else.

Everything was running smoothly, minus MJ not being able to show up due to catching a virus, so there wasn't going to be any middleman that you and Miguel craved. And Ronnie wasn't helping by forcibly dragging you out to the car. The glimpses of passersby didn't help as Ronnie gave them all a thumbs-up that this wasn't a kidnapping, and you were safe before gently shoved you in the passenger side. Your leg bounced the vehicle, wishing that the botanical garden was halfway across Nueva York.

“You're going to tilt the car if you keep moving your leg like that.” She slid in and started up the engine and pulled off the curb.

“I'm sorry, Ronnie. I don't know why I'm feeling this way.”

“Marriage is a big thing. Committing your life to someone who is willing to go through the ups and downs with you and vice versa. Well, unless you're my cousin.”

Your face bunched up at that. “Why do you say that?”

“She's been married about seven times in the span of five years. She was more worried about the weddings than the actual guy she was getting with.” Ronnie said. “Always keeping up with her needs, barely inputting what the man may want. Every time you saw the groom, they always seemed so dead, tuned out, or going along with it to prevent her from blowing up over the simplest of issues. Kind of sad, so seeing someone excited to be with the person they truly love is refreshing.”

Your lips curled upwards. It was joy that was amplifying all those emotions that were raging inside. The one that was outshining the rest.

Ronnie parked and hopped out of the car and dashed to your side and opened it for you. She moved her head around like a vulture, scoping out for the others. Only a few cars preoccupied the other spaces, but she didn’t see the car Peter was taking. You stepped out with her help and pointed out that the officiant was here.

“Hey, we got fifty percent. I see that as an absolute success so far.” Ronnie took your hand, and you two made your way under the pergolas. “You know this would be a gorgeous shot.”

“I'll make sure to tell Peter. I hope he remembered to bring his camera.” When scouring for a photographer, you learned that Peter was one, and he recommended himself to do all the pictures and photo edits.

You accepted his offer but didn't know how the payment was going to work with him being from another dimension. You questioned if it was like another country where you could exchange your currency for theirs. Or if future money would affect the past. They assured you that it should be okay, and if it doesn't, you and Miguel would pay in babysitting Mayday.

“Where the heck are Peter and Miguel? I swear if he did do a ‘runaway groom,’ I'm going back for my bat!”

You had to pause and grab her by the shoulders to not freak yourself out. “Ronnie,” you began through a tightened jaw and forced smile. “Let's go in and meet the officiant. Remember, if one of us shows up first, we can quickly make sure things are in order. Two, Ronnie. Please. Don't.”

The woman was a bit shaken by your calm yet frightening demeanor. She nodded her head, taking the time to realize stressing you out wasn't the best idea. You continued on as she watched you pull your phone out and dial for your parents. You were immediately met with bombarding questions and what took you so long to call. Your eye spasms, and you were forced to give them a stern talking and practically told them to behave themselves, or you will have Ronnie keep them silent throughout the entire ceremony.

You greeted the officiant, who was settled on one of the splattered painted benches. She thankfully gave an update that Miguel and Peter were on the way, leading you and Ronnie to the entryway to get checked in. There was an employee there if anything went awry or you simply needed help.

“I need to freshen up, please. Ronnie, stay here if they come. Can you show me where your restrooms are?” Your hands fidgeted with the puffs on your sleeves. The officiant decided to go with you in case you needed more assistance.

Ronnie mingled with your parents, her and your mom squealing how you were marrying a “hunky hottie,” while your father didn't make a peep. Ronnie's phone vibrated in her back pocket. She grabbed it and cupped the screen. It was Peter. She excused herself from your mom and dad and muted them so they wouldn't start raising questions on why the groom isn't there yet.

“Where the hell are you two?” Ronnie hissed.

“We're in the parking lot. Had to help Miguel from sweating up his dress shirt too much.” There were two doors being shut. “Where is she? Is everyone here and ready?”

“Yes, now hurry up—you slow bastards!” Ronnie hung up and hurriedly called the officiant to make her way back.

When she got there, your boss handed the phone to the officiant and made her way to where you and the employee were.

“Can I talk to her alone, please?” You smiled at the employee.

“Of course.” They shuffled out of the restrooms and into the outside.

“Letting you know now, I'm not afraid to tackle you down if you try to run.” Ronnie checked behind to make sure the counter was dry and leaned on it.

“Did you manage to get a glimpse of him?” You peered at your reflection, giving yourself a final inspection, inside and out.

“Nope. I think I was making my way here when they came in.” She inched over and rested her hand on your shoulder. “You look lovely, by the way.”

The corner of your lips quivered up. “Thank you, Ronnie.”

“Of course.” She laced her arms around your torso, weary about not wrinkling your dress. “You know I have a sixth sense?”

You huffed a laugh. “Do you now?”

“I sure do. And it's saying that life with him will be a path that's full of wonder and wander. Full of winding and unwinding roads. You know all that good crap.”

“I wouldn't say it like that.”

“And you're going to march down to that archway, talk about how much you mean to one another, and get married.”

“I was going to do that from the start; it was never going to change, Ronnie.” You scrunch your face. “Was this a motivational pep talk?”

“In a way. I was buying time so they could get into position.”

You sighed out, ready to touch your hair to relax, when Ronnie smacked your hand away from it once more. One more look at the mirror, and you dazed into your own eyes, then smiled.

“Okay, I'm ready.” You linked arms with Ronnie and headed out to a welcoming sunbeam.

Miguel was steeled to the ground. His palms were sweaty, but he didn't want to wipe them. He eyed Peter, who gave him a thumbs-up, and then the officiant, who simply offered a smile.

The flowers decorating the arch were the same from the first time he shared a kiss with you. He fiddled with the marigold pinned to his shirt and made sure it was not damaged. Checking in the direction you were supposed to come, his mind drifted to subconscious thoughts, praying that nothing was off or if his breath smelled (he made sure to brush and gargle three times).

Before he could go any deeper, you and Ronnie emerged in full view.

Miguel couldn't breathe. He stared as you made your way to the archway, the sun, and the flowers, always adding on to your already mesmerizing glow. Every step was elegant, and his heart pounded the closer you got to him. There was no one else in the world besides him and you.

You didn't want to seize up, but Miguel in his suit and the floral around him brought you back to the first time you ever came here. The first time he was open with you, the first time you shared your kiss. The start to where you are now.

Extending his hand, you happily took it and drifted as close to him as you possibly were able to. You saw Ronnie take back your phone and make her way over to her side with a skip in step. Taking his free hand, you rubbed the back of it to soothe you both. “You got this. Lo conseguimos.”

“Gracias, mi Luna.”

“You two ready?” the officiant asked.

You signaled for her to begin.

“We are gathered here today on this lovely day, surrounded by one of nature's many beauties of the earth, to celebrate the love and the bringing unity of Miguel and Y/n.”

Miguel felt his eye twitch and wiped at it before going to the other.

You tried to stop the tears from leaking, but they did anyway. Time was slowing down, the officiant's words getting lost and fading into the back. It was only him.

“Eres hermosa.” Miguel mouthed.

“Eres hermoso.” You mouthed back.

The shared fondness ran deep. You wanted to stroke his face, so you squeezed his hands tighter. Miguel didn't want to wear his sunglasses because he wanted you to see every emotion. You didn't want him to strain himself, but he was insistent. With that, you checked the weather almost every day for a partly cloudy day to wed on.

You gazed up to a perfect blend of the sky blue and the white fluff lazily covering the sky from time to time.

You zoned back in when the officiant began the declaration.

“I would say take each other's hands, but you both already have that filled.” The officiant cheesed. “Now, do you promise to choose each other every day, to love each other in word and feed?”

“We do.” You and Miguel nod.

“Do you promise to recognize one another as equals and support one another in your goals and wishes for the future?”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to always share your thoughts, feelings, and concerns with the other and be open and honest at all times?”

“That means no ‘thinking’ you're okay or insisting. You have that habit.” Ronnie sputtered out before pressing her lips into a thin line when all eyes were on her. “Uh, sorry. Pretend I didn't say anything.”

You huffed out a strong gust of wind and shook your head at your friend. Miguel chuckled and stole a quick kiss on your temple. “I'm here for you.”

“I know, thank you.” You grinned, and you both proudly said, “We do.”

“Miguel, you may now share your vow.”

“Mi Luna, where do I begin?” He shook your hands. “When you came into my life, it was something I never was expecting; it was a path that I thought I couldn't cross, and yet you proved it otherwise. When you allowed me to open up and gave me that space to be myself, it was all so unfamiliar. But whenever the sun and moon drifted into the horizon and the skies, or were hidden by the weeping clouds, you were there with your compassion and understanding.

You made each day feel simplistic; each minute I am around you is an eternity of peace and love that I never want to end. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance to want to learn and grow; thank you for showing that there are people who want to be by my side,” he paused to acknowledge Peter, Ronnie, and the direction of the HQ. “That there have always been others who have been there.”

You brushed the corner of your eye, trying not to smear your makeup.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, mi vida. Thank you for letting the marigolds and lavender pop up. Thank you for showing me these connections and values that lie beneath, waiting to grow. Te amo y nada cambiará eso jamás.”

The officiant gave you the say to recite your vow.

“You big, loveable oaf.” You laughed and sniffled. “That night we crossed paths; I wouldn't have known what was going to happen. I had days of questioning and wondering, asking myself, ‘Is all this real? Is this amazing man before me actually real?’ And yet, the more and more we got to know each other, the more I felt like I've known you for most of my life. I thought of the future with you. I want one with you. You bring in this tenderness and sentiments that always bring these connections whenever you're around.

“The day you asked me to be your wife was a dream that fell from the light. I had to stop myself from pinching myself because if it were a dream, I wouldn't want to wake from it.”

The night he proposed is something that'll forever have a fond place in your memories.

He brought you to the park after cooking up some cinnamon waffles and playing one of the early albums you got for him. He insisted it was only for nostalgic purposes and that he only wanted to do it on the fly. You held your suspicion, and it didn't ease it when he took you out to the botanical garden and the restaurant you first ate at for dinner. You probed him with question after question until Miguel had you relax. Giving in, you leisurely went along and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

The last stop was the park. The moon was out, and a few stars were stagnant in the sky. You sat on a bench and snuggled up next to one another, loving each other's presence when Miguel made you close your eyes. He stopped you from interrogating and had you comply. You listened out for any sounds when Miguel's voice sounded far away.

He sat across the other bench and stared right at you with those hypnotic eyes. You laughed and pointed to your own and uttered, “Crimson?”

He smiled and placed his hands in his pockets before making his way to you. He stood there for a few seconds, the orange from the streetlights and the ivory moon competing to be his spotlight. And that's when he got on one knee, and you immediately started to sob. You couldn't recall the speech (he had to retell it when you had to sedate your mind), but you remember saying ‘yes’ repeatedly.

“I love you, mi Estrella. I want to walk on that path with you. Even if it gives us twists and turns, I want to remain by your side through it all.” Your hands were getting wet, but neither of you cared.

“You have shared your vows, the promises and love that will still flourish and blossom onwards. We witness and bless your vows for the lifetime of your marriage. May I have the rings?” The officiant turned to Peter, who handed them to her. “Thank you.”

She gave you and Miguel the rings and eyed the etched crescent moon on the inside. And on his was a star. The officiant gave the ring exchange speech to be repeated. You noticed his hand trembled when you looked up to see tears rolling down from his cheeks. Even if it was tiny, the smile was radiating, and you couldn't help but return your own beaming one, drops streaming down to your chin.

“I, Miguel, give you, Y/n, this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith, in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.” He placed the ring on your finger, fighting the urge to kiss your hand.

The officiant looked at you and had you recite.

“I, Y/n, give you, Miguel, this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith, in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.” You slipped it on and gave a quick peck to his ring finger. “I'm sorry. I, uh, I couldn't control myself.” You tittered.

“That's okay.” The officiant winked. “Before these witnesses, you both have sealed your pledge with these rings. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may now kiss the- oh.”

Miguel swept you off your feet into a kiss that he put his all into. The sun warmed your skin, and so did Miguel. Your hands grazed his cheekbones, his nose, whatever your thumbs could touch.

You were officially married, and the butterflies fluttered inside.

Going to sign your name on the certificate, you caught Miguel staring keenly at the paper.

“Mi Estrella? ¿Estás bien?”

“Yeah, I'm just... in disbelief I get to have someone as you as my wife. That I get to have this chance at a better life.”

“Of course you deserve it, Mi Estrella. And I will never stress that enough.” You scratch his back when Ronnie yells for you to come over.

“You have other people to blab to.” She hoisted the phone to your face, to your mother gleaming in the camera and your father having a fixed glare.

“We are so proud of you!” Your mom clapped before shoving the phone in your dad's face. “Stop looking like that! You'll add more damn ridiculous than what you need. Say something to our daughter.”

“I'm glad that you are my son. Visit. Soon.” You knew that was more of a demand than a request.

Miguel draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you in closer. “Thank you. And we will, we promise.”

“Come on, you lovebirds. Let's get some pictures!” Peter waved his camera around, and Ronnie clapped her hands.

Peter had you two posing around the garden. He was really good at it, having you both feel relaxed and natural surrounded by nature's landscape. The officiant even took group photos of you four, and Ronnie had taken many bad selfish or gorgeous off-guard ones; there was never an in-between with her. You were given the opportunity to freely roam the garden and reminisce about the beauty when you first came here.

You didn't think it was possible for your heart to swell more, but it was proven.

“I'm proud of you, you know?” Peter patted Miguel's back. “Still ways to go, but you'll get there. Especially with her on your side.”

They glanced over at you and Ronnie chattering away with the officiant, and Miguel was in awe at you. You always managed to hold a presence that made others feel warm, even if you weren't trying.

“Thank you, Peter. Thank you.”

The three flocked to Peter and Miguel, and you immediately shuffled over to Miguel's side and held his hand.

“So, we're getting food, right?” Ronnie patted her stomach loudly. “Because I can go for something right about now.”

“We did book a small section for the Asian street food restaurant.” You chimed in. “Would you like to join us? It'll be on us.” You asked the officiant.

“I would love to join, but I have another wedding to head to tonight. And I'm going to need all the rest for that one. But thank you for the offer. I wish you two nothing but these best.”

You all said your farewells to her, thanking her one final time, and watched her leave.

“Alrighty. Any more pictures you guys want to take?” Peter held up his camera.

You shook your heads in unison, your own stomach growling, indicating you're ready to chow down. You all made your way to the cars and down to the restaurant. Being greeted and checking in, you four were seated in a private booth area with barely any noise from the rest of the establishment.

Ordering an array of foods to share, Ronnie recommended for everyone to order a drink to make a toast for you and Miguel. You agreed and got a nice fruit cocktail, and Miguel stuck to a simple glass of red wine.

“This is the part where Peter and I give our thoughts and stuff.” Ronnie raised one of her rounds of shots filled with sake. “I'm going first, so Peter, you have to try and find a way to follow mine up.” She downed the drink and wiped her lips.

“I admire you both. The dedication you give to each other is insane. The way you two interact makes it seem like you have already been together for so damn long. I will never forget the day you walked into my little shop; you were so uncomfortable as hell.”

“You ogled at me for almost a minute.” Miguel piped up.

“She did what?” You almost gave yourself a crick in your neck to look at Ronnie.

“But the moment my great employee, my amazing friend, came up to the front, I could immediately tell how smitten you were for her.” Ronnie grabs another shot. “Even though you were wearing your sunglasses, you didn't need to see to know. Then, as the days went by, the further love between you was wild. You two made each other comfortable and wanted. An absolute.” She downs the drink.

“Basically, what I'm trying to say is, you two are in love, and no matter what you'll face, no matter how big or little, or how the outcomes may come out, you will see the light within each other.” Another glass.

Your heart fluttered, and Miguel reached for your hand. “Ronnie, thank you; that was beautiful. You're going to make me cry.” You had to get a napkin to dab at the corners of your eyes.

“Thanks. Cause I certainly know there will be lights being seen on your honeymo-”

“And now it's my turn. Certainly don't know how I could top that, Ronnie.” Peter shakenly laughed. “I'll try to make it short and sweet, because I'm starving.” He bought his wine glass close to his face.

“Miguel, I could talk about the first time you let it slip about missy over here or how you were freaking out on what date to take her on.”

You giggled at that and nudged the abashed man.

“But I'm going to say what I haven't said before: you are making your future with a person you love; continue to write your story and look back whenever you need that pick me up.” He tilted the glass toward you. “And I know you're going to let him tell his story, one page at a time. I'm so proud of you, and I will never stress that enough.”

“Gracias, Peter. Gracias Ronnie.” Miguel said.

“Thank you two for being here for us.” You added in and beamed.

Clinking your drinks together, the first round of food was brought out, and you guys began to chow down. You and Ronnie watched in astonishment with how much Peter and Miguel tore into the meals; even a couple of staff members were wide-eyed. Peter stayed until desert, heading back home to not keep his sick wife and child abandoned too long. Bringing you both in a bear hug, you said your goodbyes when you had to excuse yourself to answer a phone call from your parents.

Miguel kept his eyes on your figure when something jostled him out of it.

“Heya, business partner.” Ronnie plopped right by Miguel, checking to make sure you were out of earshot. “How is he doing?”

Miguel gave a side glance and leaned back with his arms crossed. “I'm not even going to entertain what you're about to say.”

Ronnie gave a hardy laugh and pretended to wipe some tears away. “Miggy, Miggy, Miggy, always the ones with the great jokes.” She sighed out and patted his back.

The man creased his brows at your friend. He still doesn't understand how you two get along, but he tries not to question it. He decided to wait and see what she had up her sleeve for her to be acting this way.

“Yes, Ronnie?”

The woman cleared her throat and sat up straight. “Right, no need to butter you up; you're happy and married to the love of your life, my girl. You know, Y/n.”

Now Miguel was severely lost. He had no idea where she was heading, and frankly, it frightened him some. Anything was possible when it came to Ronnie, but he was going to give that ear.

“Ronnie?”

“Okay, for real, jumping to the chase.” She sipped her cocktail and smacked her lips. “I saw the way your eye twitched when the officiant said her name. Like, sort of, how should I say? Realization?”

Miguel had to keep his composure. He swore he played it off well. “I was trying not to get too teary-eyed from the start.” To Miguel, that sounded like a reasonable explanation; no need to go further into details. And yet, he knew this was Ronnie he was dealing with.

“Okay. Fair.”

He was shocked; it actually worked for her.

“So why the hell were you looking at the certificate with a thousand-yard stare? And don't tell me it was because you were in awe and got to marry her.”

He blinked.

“Yeah. I overheard that. So tell me… why?”

Miguel was begging you to come back any minute. He was in a frenzy, needing to find some sort of new response. No matter what he pulled out, they all were ridiculous. A voice being cleared jolted him back into reality.

There he was met with a very smug Ronnie.

“You never knew her name.”

Miguel didn't say a word. The silence screamed out, and that's when she slapped the table.

“I knew it! It made sense why you would never say her name. I thought it was this endearing thing with the nickname, but no! That was never the case.” Ronnie glanced back and went right back to Miguel.

He was embarrassed. His face hidden behind his face in full fledged shame. “Do not tell her. I'll never be able to live it down if she finds it.”

“Oh my God, holy hell. You went through hell and back; you're living with her; you put a ring on it, and you never once bothered to try and learn her fucking name?”

“Ronnie, por favor! I beg of you, please don't bring it up.” His voice was at the lowest it could go; his cheeks flushed.

“Oh, I won't.” Ronnie said.

Miguel exhaled greatly and leaned back in the booth. “Gracias, Ronnie. I feel like an idiot for never bothering to learn. No puedo creer que realmente hi-”

“Unless you do something for me.” She folded her hands on the table.

“I should've known. I should've known better.” Miguel mumbled and dragged his hands down his face and sighed loudly. “Are you seriously about to blackmail me? You know that's illegal.”

“You call it blackmailing; I call it investing in a long-term business.” She swept her hand in the air, stars in her eyes.

Miguel wondered if it wouldn't be too bad if you knew he didn't exactly learn your name. He started to weigh the pros and cons when Ronnie tapped the table.

“I will give details on what I would like in return soon enough. I do want you to enjoy your day with your lovely wife.” She gestured to you strolling back in with a giant grin and sparks when you saw Miguel.

“So what were you two chatting about?” You slid next to Miguel and snuggled your body on his.

“How good the meal was and how you two are very much made for each other.”

You were slightly lost, but chalked it up to Ronnie being Ronnie. After leaving the restaurant and Ronnie stealing one more photo of you two on her phone, she drove you two back to your apartment, where you and Miguel slumped on the couch.

“So, Mr. O'Hara?” You scooted over to him.

“Yes, Mrs. O'Hara?” He wrapped his arm around you.

“How about we get out of these clothes?”

“Mhm.”

“Take a nice, long, steamy shower.” You rubbed his chest.

“Mhm?” He took your hands and kissed them.

“And get some rest?”

“Yes, please. Having to endure Peter and Ronnie's nonsense was a lot,” he smiled and put his lips to your ring. “But I would do it over and over, knowing I would get to marry my moon and relive this day.”

“Wouldn't you rather do it once so we can make new memories for the future?”

He chuckled. ��Is that your way of saying you wouldn't want to be stuck in that loop?”

“... Maybe.” You gave a cheesy smile and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you dearly, mi Estrella.”

“Y te amaré por siempre, mi Luna.”

#Spotify #tales the songs weave #miguel fanfic #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #long fic #bonus

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scoobysnakz · 11 months ago

Note

heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel au #dilf miguel #older Miguel

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meanbossart · 6 months ago

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Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

#ask compilation #ask

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oh-allie · 7 months ago

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shakespeare and swooning

alhaitham x g/n reader

synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?

fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, OOC alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind

warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)

you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.

multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.

is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..

... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.

you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!

you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.

why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?

"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.

"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"

"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.

"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"

you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.

"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."

"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.

he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.

"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."

"what"

HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??

"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.

"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.

"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?

"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....

"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"

"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.

he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.

and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.

or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.

"... you called me unpregnant."

a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)

#al haitam x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #DONT LET THIS FLOP GANG IM PUTTING A LOT ON THE LINE POSTING GENSHIN FICS #shakespeare made up the word unpregnant #GUYS PLZPLZOLZ LIKE AND REBLOG SO I CAN SAY it popped off!!#WHEN PEOPLE ASK WHY I POSTED A GENSHIN FIC....#genshin x you #genshin impact x you #al haitham #al haitham x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #al haitham x gender neutral reader #was listening 2 when will my life begin when writing 😇#alhiayham is my fancast for rapunzel !!!!#i started writing this in november of 2023 😇#allies fics #crackfic #crack fic #wait guys hear me out #crackship layla x alhaitham #IS LAYLA A MINOR WAIT #if she isnt then WOOOOWWWW CUTIE..!!!!

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azurlily · 1 year ago

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i saw that request for resident lover is open soo... may i ask for some cassandra smut? i NEED this woman her way with me

Yall are down bad, but I am too so no worries. I fully intend to write smut for Alcina and Miranda later. If anyone would like to request a special kind of smut with them, I'd be more than happy to write it. - L and W

I also have a dark one-shot(maybe more) for Cassandra's BAD end. I'm so down bad for scary Cass, and I think her turning to the dark side, but still loving you is perfect. - L

THIS HAS NOT BEEN SPELL CHECKED! Made by Lune and Wora.

"Cassie, I know you said you had some big birthday gift for me, but considering we're not in the theater and instead in your room, I'm slightly worried..."

You heard rustling around the room, and you hear a loud and pretentious scoff. You smirk, knowing you've offended your girlfriend in some way.

"I'll have you know that my entire life doesn't revolve around theater. It revolves around you; you're my world. As for your gift, if you don't like this, I don't know what you'll like!"

You can hear the cheery happiness in her tone; she's more excited about this than you were.

Previously, Cassandra had told you she was doing something a bit different for your birthday. All you had to do was stand in the bedroom and wait. With your eyes closed of course!

You make a snarky remark back and based upon the fact that Cassandra doesn't answer you assume she's ignoring you. You continue to hear rustling and even some groaning on her part. What could she possibly be doing?

"Alright, you're allowed to look!"

You smile and open your eyes only to see something that's absolutely engraved into your mind and while stay there until the say you die.

Cassandra is wearing a lacy red and black lingerie set. The base itself is black, while the design is a crimson red, adorning Cassie's skin elegantly. Cassandra can make just about anything look good, and she's proving that right now. Cassie has her arms behind her back and the most lovestruck and mischievous look on her face.

She looks like she's going to eat you, and you would let her. In the state you're in right now, you'd let that woman do anything to you. And you'd thank her for all of it.

You stare so hard that Cassandra begins to blush bashfully. You haven't spoken a word, and at first, Cassandra worried that you didn't like it. That was until she saw the awestruck look in your eyes. You're mentally preparing yourself.

"Are you just going to sit there, my star? If so, I just might have to take care of myself if you won't... And to think I was going to let you top tonight, what a shame."

That snapped you out of it quickly, you look up at her like a love sick puppy and shake your head.

"No, no, no, I-I want to take care of you Cassie. I want to-"

You're cut off with a finger to your lips. Cassandra pulls her finger away and leans down, she gently kisses you on the lips. It felt amazing, you two had kissed many times, but this? This was different in some way, some way you couldn't properly explain. Nor did you want to.

Explaining would mean you'd have to start thinking, and you didn't want to do that. You wanted to become a girl shaped pile of mush that let Cassandra do whatever she pleased to her.

The taste of Cassandra's lips were intoxicating; espresso and chocolate. They melded so well together, and being able to taste them on your girlfriends lips made them taste even better together.

Cassandra pulls from you with a devious look on her face.

"I guess you can try to top me next year, star. After seeing the look on your face-"

Cassandra's voice gets lower, her eyes darken and she shifts your chin so your looking her in the eyes.

"-I fully intend to take good care of you and your body. Now l hope those clothes aren't important because I will be ripping them off."

Cassandra quickly mumbles something about buying you more later before grabbing your shirt and making good on her words. She rips your shirt in two. She almost did the same to your shorts, but you talked her into letting you strip.

Of course, Cassandra being the impatient person she is, once you were down to just your bra, she grabbed you and pulled you onto the bed. The look in her eyes made you wonder if you were going to survive the night.

"Hands on the headboard, you know the deal."

Her voice change sent shivers down your spine. The usually velvety smooth voice has gotten dark, rough. Cassandra not only looked at you like she was going to eat you, she sounded like she was too.

Cassandra's hands begin to explore, one on your stomach kneading and pressing her hand into it. The other playing with your chest, she runs her fingers over your nipples softly before giving them a hard pinch.

You yelp and she laughs melodiously, it sounds so sweet. You'd revel in the sound of her voice more, but what her hands are doing is far more important.

The hand that was previously on your stomach has found it's way into your underwear. Cassandra has a finger pressed against your puffy clit, and the rest of her fingers are cupping your pussy.

Feeling her touch your bundle of nerves, you buck into her hand. That results in a harsh slap to your thigh. You whimper, but otherwise keep quiet.

You know what you want, she knows what you want. You hoped that it was only a matter if time before you got it, but that was for her to decide.

Cassandra pulls rips your panties off of you and spreads your legs. She wants you on full display, she wants to see the embarrassment on your face knowing she got herself all dolled up for you.

But you don't get to touch her, meanwhile she can rip your clothes off and treat you how you deserve to be treated. Cassandra looks at your face, you look absolutely debauched.

"Mercy is a wonderful thing, my star."

Cassandra dips her head down between your thighs, she uses two fingers to spread your folds apart and begins sucking on your clit.

You whine loudly and squirm, you begin moving too much for Cassandra's liking so she grabs you by your thighs and all but presses you into her.

Cassandra mounts both your legs onto her shoulders. The look in her eyes isn't one of love, it's pure lust.

Cassandra moves one of her hands down onto your cunt, she presses two fingers into you. You're already so fucking wet, these will surely fit. And she's right, they practically slide in, god you wanted this.

Cassandra enjoys it for a moment, getting onto a rythm of sucking on your clit and pumping two fingers inside you at the same time.

Meanwhile you whined, at first you were begging- for what you did not know, but now you're spouting unintelligible words that you aren't sure go together.

Cassandra's tounge always brings you to the edge the fastest, and paired with her fingers and the lingerie. You were bound to have quite the fun night. Because you've learned the hard way that Cassandra enjoys forcing one orgasm after the other.

She enjoys seeing the dumb and fuck out look on your face when shes done. The tear stained cheeks and the bite marks and throbbing hickeys all turn her on in a way she doesn't understand.

Cassandra can feel you tightening around her fingers. She stops sucking on your clit and begins sucking your tits. Meanwhile, the other hand holds onto your thigh. Cassandra lets go and presses against your stomach, gently applying pressure.

Cassandra breaks away from your tits, deciding to stake her claim elsewhere. She moves to your neck and begins sucking small hickeys before getting impatient and biting down.

"C-Cassie! A-ah, oh fuck-"

"You can pull your hands down, and I won't make you beg to cum. Although that is one of my favorite activities..."

You wrap your arms around her back and dig your nails into her skin. Your body is melting; it has to be. This is too much all at once, and yet you just want more and more.

"Ah-fuck... my star. That's it press against me as much you n-need."

Cassandra talks you through your orgasm and you whimper and whine the entire time. It's just so much, and as good as this feels you know this isn't even close to the end.

As you ride out the last of your orgasmic bliss, you feel Cassandra pull her hands away. When you open your eyes you see shes moved off the bed and is standing there with a dark red strap.

"You're choice star, either you sit on my face and I eat you until you see stars...or I rail you over the bed. Both will be happening, but you get to choose which one first!"

Cassandra had that charismatic look in her eyes, the one that held darkness and need. A need you could fill so very easily.

"So what will it be, little star?"

I regret being a co-writer to this monstrosity. - W

Anyway we hope yall like this to some extent. Also of course if you haven't played Resident Lover(a free sapphic game based off of Resident Evil: Village) you definitely should. The people that made such an amazing game are @resident-lover .

#wlw #lesbian #women are hot #cassandra dimitrescu #Cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident lover spoilers #resident evil fangame #resident lover #Cassandra is so hot #wlw nsft #sapphic #lesbian nsft #nsft

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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has rockstar!gojo been done yet because i have some things to say

"whatcha drinking there?" a second weight sinks onto the couch and you eye the figure warily from the corner of your vision. you can't see his face well but you think it's a guy; he's got bright white hair, round-rimmed sunglasses, and a half-closed black button up.

"not sure; it was ordered for me. something sweet and dangerous, fruity enough that you can't taste the booze," you answer, crossing one leg over another and propping an elbow on the back of the couch. your body was buzzing with warmth in the stale air of the house, and you'd lost sight of your cousin who begged you to come to the party with her. it was a wealthy colleague's 20something-eth birthday and she wanted to pretend to be in a higher tax bracket for the night. though most of the other people at the party radiated predatory vibes, the other occupant of the couch didn't, keeping a respectful distance from you as you continued to try to make out his face.

"i know a little something about being sweet and dangerous," he drawls and you catch the corner of his mouth turn up in a smug grin. despite the cheesy line, he still keeps a polite space between you two. you scoff at the contrast between the flirty words and the chivalrous body language, taking another sip.

"oh, goodie, another perv ready to slip something into my drink and take me god knows where until i'm a tragedy on the local news," you deadpan and, to your surprise, he laughs. his laugh is boyish and light; it sounds like sunshine. your heart and mind are at odds with each other, one telling you that he might be a good one and the other cautioning against sweet-talking men at parties.

"have people actually tried that on you tonight?" when his laughter dies back, his voice drops its teasing lilt for something almost...concerned? you shrug, leaning your head in your hand. he mirrors your position and you unconsciously scoot a little closer to him. to hear him better, you reason.

"eh, you know how it is."

"say the word and i'll have them out of here before you can blink." it's your turn to laugh at his pretentious arrogance, but you lock eyes with him over the rims of his glasses. they're electrically bright and calculatingly lethal, like clear blue water during high tide.

"what, you gonna tell your security team to kick them out?" you joke, continuing to nurse the remaining alcohol in your hand. you don't expect him to hum and raise his eyebrows thoughtfully; something in your head whispers that he might not actually be kidding. he was an enigma compared to the others that approached you. he hadn't tried to touch you, get your number, or look down your shirt. odd, yes, and admittedly intriguing.

"i could do that, if you want me to. i don't like it when creeps bother pretty people." he flashes another sly grin and his hair falls to the side as he tilts his head. he was pretty cute, but you were still skeptical.

enough. get down to the nitty gritty. "what do you want?"

"hmm?" his sharp eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what do you want, if you're gonna call me pretty? you want my number, or my socials, or to take me home or something?" you stare at him expectantly and his eyes narrow ever so slightly like he was offended. maybe he wasn't used to people outwardly asking him if he was going to toy with them.

"truthfully, all i really want is to try your drink, and possibly get your name."

"oh," is all you're able to manage after any more biting words disappear from your vocabulary at his honesty. it was off-putting how nice he was, but you decide to humor him and hold out your glass. there's barely any liquid left in it, but he downs it in a blink.

"oh, shit. that's really good."

"right? i wish i got the order because i wanna be able to get that wherever."

"if you do get the order, send it my way too because that is delicious." from what you could tell, it was mostly vodka, with a little bit of strawberry or cherry punch on ice. there was another flavor you couldn't place, something fresh and earthy. maybe mint?

"i'll ask my cousin, then. hopefully she isn't too shit-faced to relay what she told the bartender." he laughs again, that breathy chuckle that made your heart skip a few beats. "how do you know the birthday girl?"

"friend of a friend of a friend."

"i see. this place not really your scene?"

"it is, sometimes. depends on the people present."

"what's your usual scene, then?"

"concerts, mostly." he runs a slender hand through his hair and you fight the urge to stare at its elegance. his voice was smooth and melodic and you leaned closer to him until it was the only thing you focused on. you're close enough to see his fingernails, painted alternating shades of red, blue, and purple. he looks at you like you're the best thing at the party and the rest of the noise fades into the background. "i like when music connects people. it's the closest thing we have to invisible strings tying everyone together, you know?" so he's the poetic type.

"mhmm. do you play any instruments?"

"i sing, sometimes. my band plays in this area."

before you can ask his name or give him yours, a tall man with his hair pulled back and a woman with a short bob steals the stranger away. he glances back at you apologetically, murmuring something about it being a pleasure to meet you. at the end of the conversation, you were left with an empty glass and an unshakable feeling of disappointment.

the subtle ache in your chest whenever you thought of him lasted several more days than you would have liked it to. you texted your friends about it numerous times for cathartic reasons but nothing worked. you wanted to figure out the mystery behind his identity and it was driving you out of your mind. the unrelenting feeling of restlessness was replaced by dread when your cousin dragged you to a concert in some underground venue, insisting standing as close to the stage as possible. you agreed on the condition that she order you another glass of the drink you had during the party.

despite the loud screams echoing through the chamber and the bodies knocking against your arms, the music wasn't terrible, especially when you had a few more drinks. as the night progressed, you found yourself constantly drawn to the lead singer. intuition said you'd met him before, even though it was impossible considering that he was one of the most popular musical artists on the planet. music officials called his innate talent and musicianship the most powerful of the time, earning him the nickname of "honored one." he had a reputation for being a rulebreaker, constantly voicing very blunt opinions regarding the older, more conservative artists of his genre. he was also rumored to be a player, always hopping around from lover to lover and never staying with one too long. it drove the fan accounts on twitter absolutely mad.

even if he was a heartbreaker, he was a professional nonetheless. he certainly knew how to put on a show, sweat dripping from his spotlight-shining hair and licking his lips enticingly while he sang sweet nothings to the audience of swooning fans. his crowd work was admirable and you found your face heating up when he crouched down in front of you between songs. his voice was raspy and overtly flirtatious, but it still bothered you that you'd heard it before the show and couldn't pinpoint where.

"hey there, pretty. you likin' the show?"

"mhmm, the 'drenched in sweat' look is really doing it for me."

"well, i used the last of my water to uh, baptize those ladies over there," he remarks, gesturing with the mic to a group of teenage girls that were shrieking at the top of their lungs. "mind if i get a sip of what you're having?"

"as long as you don't turn it into a super soaker."

inches away from you, you realize his eyes are a vibrant shade of blue and they crinkle at the corners from your joke. he laughs, boyishly happy and contagiously bubbly. you'd seen those eyes and heard that laugh weeks ago, on the night your cousin brought you to that party. in that moment, the realization collides with your body like a semitruck and your legs nearly give out. everything makes sense instantly: his voice, his hair, the way he called you "pretty."

you'd been flirting with gojo satoru.

and he was right in front of you, asking for your drink again in front of hundreds of people.

after a tense moment of stunned hesitation, you carefully hand him your glass and watch his face wash over in realization when he takes a sip. despite the screams from the crowd at the intimate interaction, all you could hear is his voice.

"oh, shit." he stares at you so intensely your heart does a backflip before slamming into your eardrums. the way he's looking at you tells you all that you need to know, all that you wanted to know ever since the night of the party. "that's...that's really good." he observes you for half a moment longer before he remembers what the hell he was doing. he stands to continue the show, but he flashes a knowing grin like he was telling you a secret.

"welcome to my usual scene, pretty."

your cousin is shocked, to say the least, when a security guard finds you after the show and requests your presence backstage.

how did this turn into 1.6k words i meant for this to be a drabble lol but anyways hope you enjoyed it

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk au #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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