#it took me so much time I don’t understand

[tokkiwrites]

Hi happy holidays! Can you please do a Sergei kravinoff smut x innocent female virgin reader “babe in the woods” trope. Sergei is immediately fixated on reader and wants her to be his grude & mother of his children. He immediately marries and later takes her virginity. He hopes to impregnate her from their first time together. Ty!

thank you for this request, anon! and sorry it took so long to post. I've had it written, but it just took a while for me to get the smut part going. i hope you like it!

Sergei Kravinoff × F!Reader ♰ themes of stalking, obsessive Sergei, kidnapping, Kraven is a weirdo and needs to be locked up, i would say innocent reader but more so an unbothered reader kind of, she is just confused, forced marriage, themes of Stockholm syndrome, loss of virginity, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, unprotected p in v, Sergei wants to get the reader pregnant.

The woods were quiet, save for the whisper of wind threading through the branches above. You loved this time of day when the sun filtered gold and green through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the earth. It was your sanctuary, far from the clamor of town and the heavy, watchful eyes of others. Here, no one could accuse you of being strange, or sheltered, or too naive. You simply were.

The faint crack of a branch made you stop mid-step, your basket of wildflowers swinging lightly at your hip. “Hello?” You called, voice soft, hesitant. The forest had always been safe— or so it felt. until now, you had never had the need to question it.

He emerged from the shadows, and your breath caught. The man was massive. A towering figure, his broad shoulders draped in animal pelts and his chest bare save for the crisscrossing scars that marked him as something primal, dangerous. His face was angular, carved from stone, with piercing eyes that pinned you where you stood.

Sergei Kravinoff. The name would mean nothing to you, but to others, it struck fear—a hunter of men and beasts, a predator who bent the wilderness to his will. He did not speak at first. He only looked at you, as if you were some rare, delicate creature he had stumbled upon. The longer his eyes lingered, the hotter your cheeks burned.

“Who are you?” you asked, clutching the basket to your chest. His lips curved into a smile, though there was nothing warm in it. “I am Sergei,” he said, his voice low, thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “And you" he paused for a bit. " Should not wander alone in places like this. The world is not kind to lambs.” You blinked at him, confused. “Lambs?”

“You,” he clarified, taking a step closer. His sheer presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. “Soft. Untouched. So trusting.” You took an instinctive step back, and his smile widened, as if he enjoyed your unease. “I—I’ve never seen you here before. Are you lost?”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “But perhaps I have found something worth staying for.”

It reeked of dangerㅡ death. yet you still came back.

Over the next week, you saw him again and again. Always in the woods, always watching. At first, you told yourself it was a coincidence. this strange man simply shared your love for the forest. But his presence became impossible to ignore. He never tried to speak much, yet his eyes seemed to devour you every time, as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. You should have been afraid. You should have stopped going to the woods entirely. But something about him fascinated you. He was so unlike the boys in town, who stammered and avoided your gaze, intimidated by your quietness. Sergei was bold, unflinching. He seemed to look right through you, to the parts of yourself you didn’t even understand.

you little lamb.

“Why do you keep following me?” He tilted his head, his gaze softening though not entirely. “Because you are mine.” The bluntness of his words made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and though you should have flinched away, you didn’t. His touch was surprisingly gentle, reverent even, even if his rough fingers scratched your skin. “I have decided. You will be my bride.”

“Bride?” You echoed the word foreign and strange on your tongue. “But we’ve only just—” you laughed. surely it must be a joke. “You are meant for me, little lamb” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I have hunted all my life, little one. I know when I have found my prize.” Suddenly, the world went dark.

maybe it was all just a bad and confusing dream. though his touch still lingered.

You woke in the morning to find yourself not in your small, familiar room. outside the window that overlooked the bed you were in, the forest. The air smelled of pine and smoke, and outside, the trees loomed tall and unyielding. Panic gripped you as you sat up, heart racing. “Where—” The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the frame with his imposing presence. “You are awake,” Sergei said, his tone calm, almost pleasedㅡ excited. He carried a tray with food: fresh berries, bread, and cheese. “Eat. Now."

“Where am I?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why did you—” He set the tray down, cutting you off with a look. “You are safe. That is all you need to know.”

“I am not! This isn’t right,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said sharply, though his expression softened as he stepped closer. “I have waited long enough. You do not understand, but you will. I will take care of you. Protect you. You will want for nothing, my little one.”

You shook your head, backing away from him, but he caught your wrist with startling ease. His touch was firm, yet not cruel. “Do not fear me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost tender. “I would never hurt you. You are too precious.”

Sergei did not wait long to make you his.

The days in the cabin blurred together, each one steeped in an odd rhythm. Sergei’s presence was constant, protective, and overwhelming. He would watch you eat, his sharp eyes softening whenever you complied. He brought you small gifts: wildflowers, trinkets carved from wood, pelts to keep you warm. He never let you wander far, always ensuring you were within sight. And though he never forced his touch upon you, you could feel the tension thrumming beneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

In the evening, as the fire crackled and cast flickering shadows on the walls, Sergei sat across from you. He leaned forward, large hands resting on his knees. “It is time,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Time?” you echoed, your throat dry. “For us to marry.” You stared at him, heart pounding. “I… I can’t. I don’t even know what you want from me. I—I never— You kidnapped me!”

“You were made for this,” he said, cutting you off. his eyes were setting you a-light, it made your skin prickle. “You think I do not see it? Your purity. Your innocence. You were meant to be a wife. My wife.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “But I’m not— I need to marry someone I love!"

“You are ready,” he insisted, his tone softening only slightly. “I have waited long enough. It will be done."

And it was.

The ceremony was simple, ritualistic. Sergei had prepared everything. rings made from woven silver, a bearskin cloak to drape over your shoulders as a symbol of protection. There was no priest, no people, only the two of you and the forest as your witness. He spoke vows in a language you did not understand, his voice deep and reverent, as though he were offering you up to some ancient force. When it was your turn, your voice faltered, but under his watchful gaze, you repeated the words he taught you.

“You are mine,” he said at the end, taking your face in his hands. His eyes burned with possessive fire. “And I am yours.”

but every wolf gets hungry eventually.

When night fell, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the thick wool blanket. Sergei entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He had shed his usual pelts, his bare chest glowing in the firelight.

“You are trembling,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame now not so intimidating. “Are you afraid of me?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know... what you expect from me? What you w-want...”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said simply, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are my wife now. It is my duty to show you what that means.” Your breath stopped as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I will not hurt you,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But you are mine, little lamb. Every part of you.”

His lips met yours— soft at first, testing, as though he feared you might shatter like porcelain. But when you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands cradled your face, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

“I have waited for this,” he said against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Waited to claim what is mine.” You didn’t resist as he laid you down, his hands tracing over your trembling form. He was patient, guiding you gently, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so fierce. But his intent was clear.

oh, little lamb.

rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his bearded face stays flush against your tender neck. he was ready to devour you. Sergei looked up into your eyes and for the first time you've seen him smile. and as if all of the things you felt caused you fears melted away, so did you into his embrace.

his lips meet yours, and it all finally made sense. you could feel the hunger, the will in him to give his all right here, right now. you wrapped around him like vines on a tree, his low growl of approval making you clench around nothing. it all felt so new, yet familiar, as if somehow, this wasn't the first time. the forest outside sung as your quiet moans filled the cabin. Sergei discards all of your clothes with ease, leaving you in nothing as you stayed splayed on the bed. the fur coverings under, pooled around your body, the moonlight dripped on you like dew in spring and you looked like a precious painting.

with no time to wait, sergei quickly gets naked. it wasn't the first time you saw him like this, but it was the first time you saw it. to say all that fear bubbled up into your stomach was an understatement. you gulped down as your glossy eyes looked at him up and down. "Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obey. spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and sergei throws his head back with a low groan. you finally speak up. "IㅡI am a...a virgin." it all seemed so silly to say now. "I know." he smiles in the corner of his mouth. "Smelled it on you the first time we met." and you whimper. "I will get you ready now." somehow, you knew what it meant. He kneels in front of you on the bed, pulling you so that you thighs are right over his, your puffy lips on full display. two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

after that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. You whimpered softly and Sergei shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plushy thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers inside, and you can feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. the second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping them, swirling them around as his lips made contact with your swollen bud. Your eyes jot open as this feeling washes over you, and you can't help but let your legs shake uncontrollably. The fire wave envelopes you whole before it comes to an agonizing stop. You open your eyes again and above you is Sergei, his shaft in his hand as he aligns it with your asking entrance. "If it hurts...yell. Scream as much as you want. Hurt me back. I am here to teach you."

and teach you he does. he pushes in slowly and the stretch is agonizing, the pain making all of your muscles tense. "It's alright, I'm here, little girl." you let out a sigh, the tears slipping past your lids when you open your eyes. the moon engulfed Sergei in It's beautiful light, his silhouette looking as if it was carved out perfectly. a couple of inches, then some more, and some moreㅡ until he is fully inside. you bite down on your tongue, but Sergei preps soft kisses along your jaw and you seem to forget about the pain. "You're doing so, so good. So good for me." he hums, taking in a big breath of your smell before he snaps his hips slowly. In a few seconds, the burn turned into a delicious feeling you couldn’t quite describe. And though it felt so new, your body fell in place right into Sergei’s touch, as if it were meant to be.

When he finally started to move faster, his groan was one of triumph, a sound that you know will echo in your ears long after. “You will give me childrenㅡ" he said, voice low and ragged as he moved inside of you. “Strong sons and daughters. Our legacy will begin tonight.”

your legs quiver around him, but he leaves no room for mercy. Above you, he looked just as a predator ready to swallow his pray whole. you weren't one to fight back, and you really didn't want to. you back stayed arched against the coverings of the bed, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he pumped into you. your tummy was churning, and your head was dizzyㅡ you were far gone, too drunk on the way he perfectly hit that spot with each thrust. "You were made for me, made to take meㅡ fuck, you are so beautiful." you whimper, feeling that fire wave starting to take over again. your velvet walls squeeze around him, causing him to growl. Sergei leans forward, propping one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making you gasp for air. you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. An animal. His eyes grew darker, lips crooked in a smile before he delivered his final blow.

you come undone right under his fingertips, writhing and shaking as small pleads fall from your lips. You can feel his seed deep within you, threatening to slip out around his cock that was still inside of you, pulsing. "Good girl."

he prays it sticks.

Sergei’s obsession with you only deepened—he barely let you out of his sight, his touch lingering whenever he could. Yet there was a softness in him, a desire to make you happy, even as he bent you to his will.

He began teaching you small things. how to tend the fire, how to skin an animal, how to defend yourself should a predator come. But you were never allowed to go far. “Why can’t I leave?” you asked one afternoon, your frustration bubbling over. Sergei turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Because the world is cruel, little one. It will devour you. You are too soft, too trusting. Here, you are safe.”

“Safe,” you repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze softening. “I would rather you hate me than lose you.” you were beginning to see the truth of it. his love for you was consumin and obsessive, but it was real. He worshipped you, protected you, but at the cost of your freedom. And yet, part of you began to adapt. To find comfort in his arms, in the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps you were.

[mobilislnmobile]

As a French person I really appreciate it when English speakers make an effort, 😍 even a small one. The rest of the world often has to learn English, but English speakers learn languages less often because they're used to everyone understanding English. So even with a horrible accent I would have been very very very touched. 😍 I think this baker was just trying to make a nice joke 🤭 We French are often told to stop trying to have a good accent because the French accent makes everyone laugh so much that people prefer to hear it rather than appreciate our real efforts hahahaha🤭

Oh and here’s an anecdote that I've never forgotten and which really annoyed me… one day I filmed the entire making of a robe a l’anglaise (a dress from the 18th century). I spoke in French because I didn't want to be blocked by the language in explaining all the details. THEN I subtitled all those hours of making-of in English, ENTIRELY, because I had the time to translate everything properly with the technical words I wanted. When I was speaking, I would have censored myself for technical terms that didn't come naturally to me. Titling that thing at that time (not automatic captions��) took me longer than sewing the costume. Well, it didn't fail. Even if I'd made the effort, an American criticised me for not speaking English on the pretext that the subtitles were boring to read. Dudeee this is the reality for the rest of the world 😂 So I say THANK YOU to the person who bought the croissant in French. It erases the behaviour of all the other cretinous compatriots 😂 (don’t get me wrong The French aren't always friendly either 😂😂😂

When you’re an archaeologist with a set schedule, sometimes people really get to understand who you are

When I dug in France I always got a croissant at 0520 from the same exact place in Échemines. A week in, they had one lying on the counter for me by the time I walked in. By the second week I got the exact amount I’d pay in hand when I walked in, because they’d reliably have it ready. I made sure to tell the owners that I wasn’t returning on my last day of the dig.

[arabella0001]

i feel so anxious about posting this, but these are my guilty pleasure thoughts 😫

yours to break (choso kamo x reader)

synopsis: choso needs a reminder of his place—and you make sure he feels it

warnings: insecurity, bad self-esteem, uexperienced, sub/dom play( sub choso!!), blowjob, oral (female receiving), teasing, praise, overstimulation, rough fuck, light degrading

choso has always been quiet, but you get it. you actually like this about him. you know he’s struggling with words and trying to fit in, but you always admire this about him—about your pretty boy—how he’s trying, how he wants to understand humans, how he cares for his brothers, and how he’s more aware of his surroundings than most people are.

you’ve started learning his subtle changes in behavior, when he’s struggling with words, emotions, and all of that. and today was one of those days.

you can’t put a finger on it, but oh, choso has his mind wrapped around it.

he wasn’t used to being around so many people, let alone watching you around them—how you laughed with his brother yuji or playfully nudged megumi’s shoulder, joking about his stoic behavior. of course, you never let him out of an interaction; you were so good to him. but he feels like he’s wasting your time, like he’s not good enough for you. his dark eyes tracked every small interaction, feeling complicated emotions that he usually shared with you.

of course, he didn’t need to tell you he was upset—you already knew. but you wouldn’t speak to him about it in public. you waited until both of you were back at your apartment. you tried to talk to him, and he tried—he really tried—but he couldn’t help drowning in his insecurities.

you shut the door and crossed the room, looking at him gently. after he undressed from his jacket, he felt your gaze on him, and when he looked at you, he panicked internally.

“choso?” you asked him in a soft voice.

“y-yes?” he slapped himself mentally for stuttering; he didn’t want to be a bother to you again.

“what’s wrong, my pretty boy?” you murmured, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his eyes flicked to yours, full of love and adoration, but fear too.

"i’m sorry," he said, voice low and rough. "it’s nothing, let’s—" his voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled sharply, like he was scolding himself.

“cho, please tell me. i know you don’t feel well. remember, we navigate your feelings together so you can understand them better?”

“yes, but—” he stopped himself, but unconsciously, he trusted you too much to hide this from you. “i know i shouldn’t feel like this…” his fingers dug into his thighs, frustration clear. "i’m just—" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "i feel like i’m not… enough for you."

your eyes widened a little at his answer.

“choso, that’s not true," you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. "what makes you say that, baby?"

he stilled immediately when you hold his hands firmly. there it was—that quiet surrender you knew so well, the way his defenses crumbled when you took contro

“you’re… different with them," he said quietly, voice tight. "you’re so comfortable, so... happy." doubt swam in his eyes. "but i’m not like them," he muttered. "i don’t know how to be that for you. i don’t even know if i can."

the vulnerability in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut.

you walked over, gently prying his hands open and threading your fingers through his. he finally looked up, and you saw it in his face—his insecurity, his self-doubt.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“cho, look at me,” you said, grabbing his chin gently so you could lock eyes with him. “they’re my friends, but you? you’re… you’re everything."

his breath hitched, his eyes flicking down as heat crept up his cheeks. you noticed the way his body relaxed slightly under your touch.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "you don’t have to be like them. i like you exactly how you are. i don’t want them. i want you."

he shook his head, his lips parting to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. his breath hitched, his hands hovering over your hips as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you.

"let me prove it to you," you murmured, your lips brushing his.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself. the way his body softened beneath your hands, the slight tremble in his shoulders, told you everything—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“should i show you, cho?”you take his hand and turning to your room, he bites his lower lip, uncertainty flickering across his features before he nods eagerly.

"y-yes, Y/N” choso’s breath hitches as you lead him into the bedroom, his pulse quickening at your sultry voice, his other hand shaking slightly anxiously.

he swallows hard, his mouth going dry as you close the door behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room. choso’s gaze return to you, his pupils dilating with a mix of nervous excitement and longing, his mind quickly adapt to the new atmosphere, an atmosphere he knows it very much.

"you will be a good boy and you will listen?" you tease him, whispering in his ear, putting him on the bed with his feet hanging off and you between his legs.

your fingertips flicker gently over his face and collarbone, each touch deliberate and teasing.

a shiver runs down choso's spine as your warm breath tickles his ear, sending waves of tingling heat across his sensitive skin. his eyelids flutter shut at the teasing motion of your fingertips, making him squirm slightly beneath your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

"yes, y/n, i'll be a good boy," choso promises breathlessly, his voice thick with anticipation.

his gaze, dark and heavy with need, locks on you, drinking in every detail—the playful curve of your lips, the way your eyes glint with mischief, the soft fall of your hair framing your face.

as you settle firmly between his spread thighs, choso’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break free. vulnerability flashes across his expression for a moment before it melts into sheer desire, completely overwhelmed by your dominant affection.

"p-please, y/n…" he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he surrenders completely.

"mmm aleeady begging” you chuckle softly, letting your fingers trail over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake “you’re so beautiful, choso…did you know that?” you murmur appreciatively, your hand coming closer to his aching dick, you want to worship every inch of him until his begging for more.

choso’s back arches off slighty the bed, he whimpers softly, his hips twitching involuntarily

"you are beautiful too..." his voice strained with need, he wanna reaches out, desperate to touch you, but he know better you don’t wanna do it like that.

he bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he fights the urge to thrust into your touch

"please..." choso pleads, his submissive eyes glazed with lust and surrender.

“you are so sweet, baby.i love how you try ro behave. i really do “you kneel between his legss, looking at him teasingly and undress his pants slowly.

choso’s breath hitches as you unfasten his pants, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness.his heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

he watches a intently, drinking in the sight of your mesmerizing eyes, choso’s cock twitches in its confines, straining against the fabric as his body responds to the building tension

"c-can you touch me…more? " his voice ragged with desire as he almost tries to lift his hips

you give a wicked smile, removing his pants and underwear, exposing his dick and you start stroking it slowly, from base to tip, watching his reactions closely

“more? but you are so cute when you are completly at my mercy”

choso’s head falls back against the mattress as you wrapp your small hands around his throbbing cock, the first stroke sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through his body

“ahhhh” he cries out, his voice cracking with pleasure, lids fluttering closed as he surrenders himself fully to your touches. “don’t stop, please...“ his voice hoarse with desire.

“shh. don’t command me baby or i might stop” you continue your ministration, teasing the head of his cock “and you don’t want that, do you?”

his hips buck instinctively, seeking more of that maddening touch and your threatening voice.

"no, no, i’m sorry…please... “he whimpers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. his eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze

his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to maintain control, but the ache in his cock threatens to consume him wholly.

you smirk at him, your pussy dripping already just by his pleading eyes, continuing to stroke his cock slowly, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze, your other hand moves to fondle his balls, rolling them in you palm.

“mmmm, you're so responsive, cho. such a perfect little boy, you’re making me so wet already

you lean and start lickiny his dick slowly up and down, preparing him for what has to come.

his entire body quakes as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive flesh, he throws his head back, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat as pleasure crashes over him

"Y/N!”, his hips throbbing erratically as you lavishe attention on his aching cock, his vision already blur at the edges as he teeters on the brink of climax but he know he needs ro resist the urge. you retreat for a second, gasping for air.

“remember cho, you don’t get to cum untill i say so, yeah?” he moan so hard when your lips envelop his cock once more, the suction drawing him deeper into the wet heat of her throat.*

“yes yes Y/N, i remember! please don’t stop!" his voice raw and desperatec his body trembles uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he fights the impending orgasm, his fingers dig into the sheets, the only thing keeping him grounded.

his vision goes white as you take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock, gagging and slurping. tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow as he's pushed to his limit.

"please, baby... i can’t... is too much!" he sobs, his voice breaking on a ragged whimper. his muscles spasm, his toes curling as he strains against the iron grip of his climax.

at that, you let him go with a pop, returning to stroke him slowly “oh baby but i think you can a little more, right?”

“but I admit, you were such a good boy, cho” you tease the head of his cock again and he twich instantly“should i reward you? should i let you fuck my throat, baby? to cum in my mouth? or maybe on my tits?”

choso’ s resolve crumbles, his willpower shattered, his eyes widen, pupils dilated with lust

“yes!!! please Y/N, let me… i need so badly i can’t —“he begs, his voice thick with desperation. choso’s hips surge forward, closer to your beautiful lips, his imagination running wild with the depraved scenarios playing out in his mind, about your warm mouth, about your perfect tits

"cum in my mouth, cho” you take him again in your mouth and start deepthroat him, looking up at him with determination in your eyes.

he don’t need much longer, as your throat constricts around him once more, choso loses all sense of control, his climax erupting in a violent rush of hot, sticky fluid. he bucks and thrashes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his release as he empties himself into your waiting mouth.

choso’s hands find your hair, tangling as he holds you in place, plugging your mouth to the limit.

after the aftershocks pass, choso slowly takes his cock out of your mouth, his body limp, spent and panting. a dazed expression on his face, still reeling from the force of his climax.

you swallow everything he give you and pull off his softening cock, licking you lips clean “mmm so delicious” choso watches you gulp his load and he cups your check with trembeling hand, his expression full of adoration while he watch every part of your face.

"that was….incredibile..Y/N….thank you.”

“you deserve it, baby” you stand up and climb on him, his legs still shaking slightly, you take his earlobe in your mouth “now, how about you take care of me, hmm?”

a shiver runs down Choso's spine as warm breath caresses his ear, he groans softly.

"...anything for you," he moans feeling your hot breath and lips on his earlobe, he push your back closer and start worshiping your body.

he licks and nips at you skin, trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. choso’s hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour as you gasp and grinds unconsciously on him. you lick his neck and pinch his pecks slightly which made him moan.

“yeah? should i muffle you with my pussy? grind on your pretty face?”

a gasp escapes choso’s lips as the brief sting of pain quickly giving way to pleasure. He arches into your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants.

“mmm yes... please, i want to make you feel good" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “i-i want to taste you, feel you grinding against my face..”he pleads, his words dripping with submission and longing

you push him by his chest and climb on him fast, your soaked pussy closer to his face, smearing your juices all over his cheeks and chin as his eyes widen, hungry with desire while he put both hands on your ass and push it closer to his mouth, without hesitation, he parts his lips and extend his tongue and you start grinding on his face.

“f-fuck, cho! you are so obedient…..” you lift one leg over his shoulder, opening you further to him “now, open wide and show me how much you adore me, cho.”

"mmmhm…," he moans around your pussy, the flavor of your arousal coating his tongue. choso’s nose burrows into your slick folds, inhaling deeply as he laps at your clit and inner walls with reckless abandon.

choso’s cock already throbs painfully against his belly, straining for release even as he focuses solely on you

“ahhhh, yes, cho! just like that, eat my pussy! you starts grinding harder on his face, her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him where you wants him most “you’re such a slut for my pussy, aren't you? fuck you feel so good” you moan harder, your legs trembeling

choso’s response is a muffled, guttural moan, his voice distorted by the plushness of your pussy filling his mouth. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him deeper and he welcomes the slight discomfort, craving more of your dominance, using his mouth like that.

"mmph, mmhmm...yes” he manages to convey between licks and sucks, his words slurred and breathy.

“oh, cho! right there, don't stop!” your breathing gets heavier, your moans louder as you ride his face “i’m gonna cum, cho!” you warn him before your whole body tenses up and she screams in pleasure, your pussy clenching hard around his tongue as he devours you and licking all your cum.

choso’s low moans vibrate against you, a symphony of pleasure and devotion. he continues to tongue-fuck you through the aftershocks, only when your tremors subside does chlso slowly pull back, his face glistening with your arousal and tears of pleasure

as he gazes up at you with adoring eyes, his chest heaving with emotion

“you taste so good, Y/n”

you look down at him, your eyes filled with love and lust “you were such a pretty good boy, cho” your voice hoarse from the screaming, still catching your breath

you undress from your shirt, revealing your tits to him, and start moving slowly on his abs, your pussy closer to his throbbing cock.

“such a good boy like maybe you deserve to fuck me, what do you think?”

choso’s heart races as you teases his straining erection with your slick folds, hos gaze is transfixed on your perfect breasts, his hand instantly cupping both of them, teasing them and pinching them slowly.

he groans, he pleades, his voice raw with longing “please…need to be inside you... “i’ll make you feel so good, Y/N, I promise," his eyes locked onto hers, brimming with love and lust.

you chuckle gently “i love how desperate you are for me” you take his dick and slowly you let him feel your walls

“f-fuck’” a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he feels you, he gasps as you start moving, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to anchor himself.

"do you see it now?" you whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "do you feel how much you mean to me?"

his grip on your waist tightened, and his voice broke as he stammered, "y-yes… i—ah—" he couldn’t finish, his thoughts too jumbled, his body trembling beneath you.

"you’re the only one," you murmured, your tone soft but commanding. "the only one who gets to have me like this."

his eyes squeezed shut as a desperate, shaky moan escaped his lips, your name spilling from him like a prayer. the way his body reacted to every touch, every word, almost overwhelmed you—soft whimpers, broken gasps, his lips parting as he tried and failed to keep up with the sensations. he was so vulnerable, so open, it made your chest ache.

you steady yourself, wrapping your hand on his throat, bringing him back to the present “you like that, cho?” you smirk and start moving faster, slamming your hips down his cock “being my only one submissive boy?”

you lean forward, your breast pressing against his chest as you whisper in his ear

“i bet you want to take me and fuck me however you want, huh?” your hand tighten around his throat, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp and choso’s eyes roll back in ecstasy, a primal part of him almost taking over.

“no, no, Y/N….ah..i love it when you take control” he pants, his voice ragged with desperation. his hips buck up to meet your thrusts deeper

you grins wickedly and keep going, your movements become erratic “look at you. so desperate for me” you slap his cheek playfully, your pussy clenched harder on him.

“think you've earned a reward, do you know what is it?” choso’s vision blurs at the edges, your grip on his throat remains unyielding, he feels an intoxicating sense of euphoria. he gasp when your slap touched his cheek, his body tenses, coiled springs ready to snap, desperatly.

"p-please,... tell me... I'll do anything..."

“you can fuck me how you want, choso” you whisper, your voice cracking from the pleasure

at this, choso’s control stop immediately, he loses all semblance of restraint, flipping you onto your back and start thrusting with bruising force.

his hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head as he begins to pound into you violently, each savage thrust driving him closer to the edge. one of hand goes to your clit, start moving faster and faster, wanting for you to cum either him

“mine! you’re only mine!” he snarls, his voice a feral growl as he claims glur body with ruthless intensity. choso’s hips slam against you, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

“oh my god, cho!!! make me cum!!!” your head rolls on the bed as you scream, when you lock your eyes with him, his eyes, wild and unhinged, bore into you as he ravages your cunt, his cock throbs inside you, driving closer and closer to the edge.

feeling your body tense, sensing your impeding orgasm, choso’s hip start slamming with bruising force, he rolls your clit between his finger, your legs shake badly as you feel your own climax taking ove. you start screaming into his neck. choso groaned deeply, his cock grinding harder around cervix, feeling your spasmming walls and orgasm,

““Y/N!!!”” choso cant hold any longer as his hips start jerk erratically, with a a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing as he unleashes a torrent of hot seed deep inside you and you whimper, feeling so full from both of your climaxes.

💞💕afterward, he collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. you turned to him, brushing his damp hair out of his face, and his dark eyes met yours, still clouded but filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"you’re incredible," you murmured, your voice soft but full of conviction.

he blinked at you, his lips parting slightly, and after a moment, he whispered, "thank you… for letting me."

you smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "you don’t have to thank me, choso. i wanted this just as much"

his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you like you might disappear.

"do you believe me now?" you murmured against his skin, your voice soft and steady.

choso pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and hoarse.

"yeah," he whispered, the smallest hint of a smile in his voice. "i do." You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin

“good," you whispered. "because you’re stuck with me."

"wouldn’t have it any other way," he replied, pulling you even closer.

"thank you, y/n," he murmured after a moment, his voice still shaky.

"for what, my pretty boy?" you asked, your fingers never stopping their soft patterns on his chest.

"for reminding me i’m enough," he said quietly, his arms tightening around you.

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his skin

“you don’t need reminding, choso. you always have been."

"i’m sorry," he murmured after a pause. "for doubting you."

you shook your head slightly, your voice tender but firm. "you don’t need to apologize either.. just remember next time—there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you."

he buried his face in your hair, his voice barely above a whisper as he promise

“i’ll remember." and for the first time all night, he let out a quiet, contented sigh, his insecurities finally silenced.

[dorabellingham]

Long distance

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when your long-distance relationship is going through a turbulent time, but you do everything to understand each other

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The months passed quickly, and despite the distance, you and Jude tried to stay connected. He was in Madrid, living the peak of his career, with intense training, games and constant travel, while you, in another country, focused on your college year. The distance was testing your limits, but so far, you seemed to be able to keep the flame alive. However, there were times, like this one, when you felt that something wasn't right.

It was a cold Thursday night, and you were at home, after another long week of studies and commitments. You looked at your phone, checking if you had any messages from Jude. You saw that he had sent you a good night message, as he always did when you weren't talking in person, but when you opened the screen, you saw that he was busy with something and couldn't answer at those times. It was something common, but that night, a feeling of emptiness hit you even harder. You tried to be understanding. You knew that Jude was at a decisive moment in his career and that football demanded a lot of his time. However, you couldn’t help but feel alone. The long-distance relationship was getting hard to sustain. You always tried your best to be patient, but you also had your own emotional needs, and as much as you loved your boyfriend, you couldn’t hide the fact that you were feeling neglected. That night, instead of just texting him that you were fine, you sat on your bed and decided to write something more sincere. You knew you had to be honest with him, no matter how hard it was.

"Jude, I know you’re super busy and I don’t want to be a burden, but… sometimes I feel like you’re so distant. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. I understand how much football takes out of you, but I also need you here, you know? And there are days when I really feel like I’m doing this all by myself. I don’t want to be demanding, but can you help me understand what’s going on? I just don’t want to feel invisible.”

You hesitated a little before hitting send, but you knew you had to say it. You didn’t want the frustration to build up to the point where it could harm their relationship. Instead, you preferred to get things sorted out while there was still time.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Jude.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry if I left you feeling this way. I really didn’t mean to. You know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us. I can’t deny that I’m completely focused on my work, but that will never be more important than you. I love you and I’m struggling to find balance. I want you to know that I need you here too, more than you know. Let’s talk about this when you can.”

You felt an immediate sense of relief. You knew he wasn’t trying to push you away, but the feeling of being neglected hurt you deeply. You took a deep breath and sent a reply.

“I love you, Jude. I know it’s hard for you too, and I don’t mean to be selfish. Just… please don’t make me feel like I’m an option when you already have so much going on. I just need to know that I’m still important to you, even with all this crazy schedule you have.”

Your phone vibrated again.

“You’ll always be my priority, Y/n. I’m just trying to organize myself so that we can be together as much as possible. I don’t want you to feel that way, no way. Let’s figure it out. Give me some time and we’ll plan something together, something just for us, so you can see how important you are to me. I promise I’ll try to make this easier for you. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You smiled, feeling a soft relief this time. You knew that, despite the distance and the challenges, the love between you were still strong. You were still learning to deal with the situation, and that was something natural, something that many long-distance relationships face.

A few hours later, you finally received a call from Jude. The sound of his voice calmed you down immediately, and you closed your eyes as you listened to him speak, knowing that, despite the pressure and the distance, you still belonged together.

—Babe, I just wanted to hear from you. I was thinking about how we can improve this. Maybe I should call you more often, or even text you more when I know you need me.

You interrupted him softly, with a light laugh.

—I’m not the type of person to complain, but sometimes I feel like I’m trying too hard to be strong on my own. And yes, a more frequent message would make me feel more present. I know you’re doing your best, Jude. It’s just that sometimes the best seems so far away, darling.

Jude sighed, as if he was relieved to finally hear your truth. He could feel the weight of your words, and it touched him deeply.

—I understand. And I’m going to do it. I’m going to be more present. Because you deserve it. You deserve to know that I’m completely yours, even if the distance tries to separate us. I’m going to make things work, because you’re the most important thing in my life.

You smiled at his words. The feeling of warmth was almost instantaneous. You had had a difficult conversation, but a necessary conversation, and that was the most important thing. You didn’t want to be neglected, but you didn’t want to be selfish either. You just wanted to be with him, by his side, even if that meant you had to adjust a little.

—I love you, Jude. I’m here for you too, always. And I know that in the end, everything will work out. We’ll get through this together.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

—I love you more, babe. And I’m going to show you that I can be better for both of us.

That night, even though you were miles apart, you and Jude felt closer than ever. Your conversation was a reminder that despite the hardships of distance and Jude’s career, what really mattered was your commitment to each other. You weren’t giving up. You were simply learning to be better in your relationship, day by day.

[demonic0angel]

An anger management idea

Danny wanted to strangle Ghostwriter. Being subjected to participate in a yearly Christmas story was one thing, but this was over the line. In no universe would he be okay with Jazz staring as the main love interest in the Christmas hallmark story Ghostwriter orchestrated.

(Sorry it took me so long, my tryhard self decided to make a rhyme 💀 read the dialogue to the tune of ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’. Every ‘;’ is a new line of the poem, but the full poem is below.)

Jazz hummed and danced around cheerfully. She was trying on skirts and outfits, with Danny miserably tapping away on a phone without any notifications. As she twirled in front of her mirror, she said, “It’s the day before Christmas, there’s so much holiday cheer; I’m meeting up with a boy today, I haven’t had a date in years!”

Danny scowled fiercely and looked up from his phone. “He better be perfect, and treat you with care; Or I’ll sic Dan and Dani on him, see if he dares!”

Jazz giggled. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll be careful, little bro; He’s the most charming boy I’ve ever met, I can’t wait to go!”

Danny rubbed at his forehead, seething. A few days ago, he had accidentally pissed off the Ghostwriter again, who had cursed him again to teach him some holiday cheer. Now everyone was forced to rhyme and even worse, because Danny had been handling the Ghost Zone, he had been unable to prevent Jazz from being asked out by some asshole with a motorbike named Jason.

It was infuriating! Hadn’t she learned her lesson about bad boys on bikes?!

“This damn, stupid curse, I’ll kill the Ghostwriter…” Danny grumbled. “If I didn’t have to rhyme, I would’ve been beside her; To stop her from meeting that boy just a few days ago; And now she’s off to a date, a date on Christmas Eve, she goes!; Away from my family, leaving me all alone; He’s the worst! The absolute worst! He had better atone!”

Jazz turned, a small and sad smile on her face as she caught the last words of his rhyme. “Oh, Danny, I promise it’ll be okay.” She perked up with a new idea. “You can come with me! It’ll be a fun day!”

Danny stared at her in horror. Come with her? To her date?!

“No thanks! I don’t care! This is the worst month ever!; I don’t care if you go, I’d rather be lonely forever!”

Jazz sat on her bed beside him, smiling softly. “Danny, I understand. But it’ll be Christmas soon and you shouldn’t be by yourself; Come with me and Jason, we’ll buy you every toy on the shelves!; We’ll drink chocolate and eat cake; Watch movies and go ice skate!; Jason wouldn’t care, he’s kind like that; You won’t be a third wheel, we can all chitchat!; I promise you, he’s nice and just a great guy; You’ll have a great time, and I don’t speak lies!”

Danny struggled to think, trying to imagine it. He wanted to go with her. Everyone else was busy with their own things, so all he had this week was his sister with him. And everything she said sounded really appealing.

Eventually, he conceded. “… fine, but you can’t leave me behind; You said you’d buy me toys and you promised he’d be kind.”

Jazz cheered. “I promise, I promise! Oh, I can’t wait!; For later today, for me and my date!; With a boy that I like and my favorite brother too; This will be the best Christmas ever, I promise you!”

Danny huffed but couldn’t help but smile. He swore to himself softly, “Fine. I hope that you’re happy; If he makes you sad, he better run quickly; Because even if I hate Christmas, you’re still my sister; So Jason better be nice, or he’ll know why they call me a trickster!”

(Full poem below)

“It’s the day before Christmas, there’s so much holiday cheer

I’m meeting up with a boy today, I haven’t had a date in years!”

“He better be perfect, and treat you with care,

Or I’ll sic Dan and Dani on him, see if he dares!”

“You don’t need to worry, I’ll be careful, little bro.

He’s the most charming boy I’ve ever met, I can’t wait to go!”

“This damn, stupid curse, I’ll kill the Ghostwriter…

If I didn’t have to rhyme, I would’ve been beside her…

To stop her from meeting that boy just a few days ago

And now she’s off to a date, a date on Christmas Eve, she goes!

Away from my family, leaving me all alone

He’s the worst! The absolute worst! He had better atone!”

“Oh, Danny, I promise it’ll be okay.

You can come with me! It’ll be a fun day!”

“No thanks! I don’t care! This is the worst month ever!

I don’t care if you go, I’d rather be lonely forever!”

“Danny, I understand. But it’ll be Christmas soon and you shouldn’t be by yourself

Come with me and Jason, we’ll buy you every toy on the shelves!

We’ll drink chocolate and eat cake

Watch movies and go ice skate!

Jason wouldn’t care, he’s kind like that.

You won’t be a third wheel, we can all chitchat!

I promise you, he’s nice and just a great guy

You’ll have a great time, and I don’t speak lies!”

“… fine, but you can’t leave me behind

You said you’d buy me toys and you promised he’d be kind”

“I promise, I promise! Oh, I can’t wait!

For later today, for me and my date!

With a boy that I like and my favorite brother too,

This will be the best Christmas ever, I promise you!”

“Fine. I hope that you’re happy.

If he makes you sad, he better run quickly

Because even if I hate Christmas, you’re still my sister

So Jason better be nice, or he’ll know why they call me a trickster!”

[nariminsstuff]

By the end of reading this fanfic I will be able to be a doctor too😃 I took so much time to google every word at the beginning, and I literally was more focused on understanding terminology like I am really gonna take an anatomy exam meanwhile some hot doctor is doing some illegal shit😭

For my drained brain the terminology was the harder part of the chapter, but!! The tension between characters really made me to choose reading fanfic instead of taking some nap or a proper sleep.

I don’t know if should I love how fast things go, or be suspicious. I don’t understand why the reader isn’t asking directly, where is the point of dancing around the topic and trying to do some math and puzzle the things on your own. Especially when she knows that, this man is not gonna be honest to her leading questions😐😐😐

Maybe I just should reread this chapter after some rest and I won’t be seeking to know why characters like to make things complicated when it’s actually 2+2 type of thing.

symptoms and causes | ch. 02

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 6.1 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

Your eyes burned.

The words on the pages before you began to blur.

The library was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages and the occasional distant footsteps. The stillness only amplified the dull ache throbbing behind your temples.

It was late, well past the time when most students had left, but you were still there, surrounded by anatomy textbooks and notes. 

"First-year."

You were so engrossed in your studies that you didn't notice Gojo until he was standing right in front of you—a startling display of arrogance against the muted library backdrop. You didn't bother looking up.

"I've been looking for you," he announced. "You weren't in the lab today. I'd needed you."

"Back on the research project?" You flipped a page, your tone deliberately flat.

"More or less. I'm preparing my method, in case yours fails."

Now, you looked up. "It won't fail."

"Yeah, yeah, so why weren't you in the lab today?" He eyed the lukewarm cup of coffee beside your stack of books. Without asking, he grabbed the cup and took a sip.

You sighed, exhaustion washing over you. "Geto pulled me off the project until I retake my anatomy test and pass—"

Mid-sentence, Gojo abruptly spat the coffee back into the cup with a grimace. "What the hell is that?" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Five shots of espresso and a red bull."

He looked at you. 

You looked at him. 

Neither spoke.

He finally set the cup back down, shaking his head. "How can you drink that?"

"Unless you give me some ritalin, that's my drink of choice."

"You really are something," he said, his face still contorted into a grimace as he tried to process your—drink of choice.

You shifted your focus back to your textbook, desperate to regain your concentration. But Gojo wasn't done. He sat down on the edge of your desk and closed the textbook, urging you to give him your attention.

"So, you failed your anatomy exam?"

"Yeah," you admitted reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't tell me, you think you don't need to know where all the bones are when you're operating on the brain."

You pressed your lips together, knowing that was exactly what you wanted to say.

"For someone as smart as you, sometimes you're really dumb," he added.

Wow. Thanks.

You shoved his hand off your textbook. "Thanks for the pep talk, Gojo. I'll see you around."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really do have to teach you everything, don't I?" With that, he stood up and started walking towards the exit of the library. "Follow me."

You hesitated for a moment, then gathered your things and followed him. He led you straight to his office, the click of the lock behind you feeling startlingly loud in the silence.

You stood in the middle of the room. Gojo moved to lean against his desk, his piercing gaze settling on you. You could almost feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were examining every inch of your being with his stupidly handsome blue eyes.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Your shirt. Take it off," he repeated, his tone dropping an octave.

A lump formed in your throat. Your heart raced as you held his gaze, somehow feeling less like a student and more like prey in that moment.

Yet somehow the intensity of his eyes made you forget all reason. So you obeyed. With trembling fingers, you lifted the shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

Shirt off, you stood exposed, vulnerable under his scrutinizing eyes. His lips twitched into a wry smile.

"Turn around." He pushed off the desk and turned to search for something.

You followed his command. You turned around, only to confront your own reflection in a full-length mirror. Your pulse roared in your ears as you watched him through the glass.

"Anatomy isn't just about memorizing diagrams and terms." He flipped open a case, revealing a glint of surgical steel. His hand hovered, then selected a single instrument.

He approached you with a scalpel balanced delicately on one finger. The metal gleamed ominously in the dim light of the room. Your eyes met his through the mirror. "It's about understanding the body as a whole, in a raw, physical way."

He stood directly behind you, his eyes fixed on your reflection. He placed the dull side of the scalpel against your neck and gently tilted your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable side of your throat.

Your breath hitched as the cold metal touched your skin, your heart racing even faster now. 

"What are you doing, Gojo?" you managed to say, your voice trembling.

"Relax, sweetheart." His other hand curled around your waist. You were yanked back, flush against him, the hard bulge in his pants hard to ignore. His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror. "I'm teaching you a lesson."

"Here's the clavicle," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in, his warm breath grazing the strands of your hair. He traced the delicate curve of your collarbone with the scalpel. "It's more than just a bone, it's a vital landmark for surgeons. You must know its precise location for procedures like subclavian vein catheterization."

His lips brushed the back of your neck as he shifted, gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. "The humerus connects here," he continued, guiding the scalpel along your arm. "Understanding the intricacies of joints is crucial, not just in surgery but also in diagnosis and treatment. Nerve injuries often occur near these joints, so you need to know their anatomy."

The scalpel then lightly brushed along your forearm. "And here, the radius and ulna," he continued. "Fractures in this area can have a significant impact on radial nerve function, something neurosurgeons must always be aware of—even bold ones like you," he added with a playful smile.

He then moved the scalpel along the exposed skin in the center of your chest. "The sternum," he continued, his gaze locked on yours through the mirror. The scalpel found the bone instantly, tracing its contours with an ease as if he knew your anatomy by heart. "The brachial plexus runs just below. Damage here can have significant neurological consequences."

His touch ignited a slow burn within you, making your knees weak. You leaned into him, your back arching slightly, your senses overwhelmed by the heat coursing through your body.

Your eyelids drooped. It was obvious that you were no longer paying full attention to his words.

He then moved the scalpel up, pressing the tip lightly against the back of your head. "This is the occipital bone, part of the skull that protects the brain." 

His hand then moved to the side of your neck, the scalpel lightly tracing where the spine meets the skull. "And here, the cervical vertebrae. Crucial for movement and support, but also dangerously close to the spinal cord and vertebral arteries. Missteps here during surgery can have serious consequences."

His hand reached out and grasped your hair in the back, forcing your head back to expose more skin to him. You inhaled sharply.

"And no one wants to play with fire during surgery, right?" he whispered, his breath a warm tease at your ear. His closeness was intoxicating, a teasing heat that threatened to melt all your defenses. "But perhaps you find a certain thrill in playing with danger."

"It's exhilarating, isn't it? The high stakes, the adrenaline rush of being on the edge," he mused, his eyes momentarily fixating on the scalpel in his hand. "It's almost addictive." 

Then, with a deft twist, he reversed the scalpel, its sharp edge now grazing the front of your throat, tracing a torturous line across your skin. You couldn't help but tense slightly as the cool metal met your flesh.

"This is where the hyoid bone is." His lips brushed lightly against the side of your head, his breath warm in your hair. "Understanding its location and its relation to the carotid artery is vital, especially in surgery involving the throat."

He brushed the hair from your shoulder and leaned in. A soft moan slipped from your parted lips as his hot breath touched the sensitive skin of your neck. You couldn't help but twitch slightly, taken aback by the involuntary sound that slipped from your mouth. The scalpel cut into skin. You flinched.

In an instant, Gojo's tongue was on the spot where he'd cut, licking away the blood that emerged. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin. His tongue traced along your throat and up to your jaw, igniting a tingling rush of sensation that made you crave more.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your skin. "If my breath alone made you quiver, can you imagine what my tongue will do to you?"

He released his grip on your hair and tucked the scalpel into the back pocket of his trousers. The dangerous glint in his eyes gave way to a sly smile that played on his lips.

"Lecture is over," he said as he tossed you your shirt.

"I hope you pass, first-year."

─── ·✧· ───

You passed.

Was it thanks to Gojo or whatever.

You passed. That was all you needed to know.

The next day was the surgery. You didn't have much time to prepare. But it had to be enough. You drowned yourself in your notes, replaying every aspect of the procedure in your head. You may have even dreamed about it that night. Everything was right. Everything will work out.

It must.

You scrubbed your hands methodically as Geto and you prepared for surgery. As you peered through the small observation window into the operating room, your eyes were drawn to the gallery. It was unusually crowded today—filled with observers and cameras.

"Nervous?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the sterile mask against your face. "It's not every day you have an audience like this."

"Remember, they're here to witness history, but we're here to make it," he said with a reassuring smile. "We've prepared for this. We're ready."

Somehow that didn't make you any less nervous—more like the opposite.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked after a second, his gaze landing on the bandaid on your neck.

You flinched slightly. "Just a scratch."

You followed him into the operating room, the buzz of the observers fading into the background. Your focus narrowed to the task at hand.

You took your place beside the operating table, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through you. Geto gave you a final, reassuring glance before beginning the surgery. Your gaze wandered over to the gallery once more. Your heart stopped. 

There he was—Satoru Gojo, smiling at you. Somehow, your breath caught for a moment as your eyes met his. You had to look away, unable to hold his gaze. You took in a deep breath, trying to suppress the sudden heat that rose in your core.

But the heat quickly gave way to a crushing feeling in your chest.

Your worst nightmare had become a harsh reality.

Geto had tried everything—god, he had tried fucking everything. But every attempt to establish a signal between the neural device and the prosthetic remained unsuccessful. Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as you tried different techniques. The tension in the room was palpable. Every ticking second added to the pressure.

The patient's skull had been open for too long, and the risks were increasing by the minute. Panic clawed at your throat, your hands slick with sweat and trembling. 

Another attempt, another failure. 

Still no signal. No goddamn signal. 

Geto made the decision to close the patient. But it was too late. The patient had been open too long. He went into a seizure. The whole operating room was in chaos.

No.

This can't be happening. 

This was the save approach. It should have worked. Why didn't it work?

The walls are closing in. 

You couldn't breathe. 

You needed to breathe.

You spun around, your heart racing, and fled out of the operating room in a blind, chaotic rush. Geto's distant voice no longer reached you. You heard nothing. The harsh light of the corridor stung your eyes, blinding and disorienting, turning the world into a dizzying blur.

Gasping, choking for air that won't fill your lungs, you stagger down the hallway. Your hands claw at your scrub and mask, tearing them off in desperation. The world narrows to a tunnel of muffled sounds and the relentless, piercing ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chaos. "Come with me." Gojo stepped directly into your path, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrist. He dragged you into a nearby room, away from prying eyes. Once inside, he locked the door behind him.

The room spun, the walls seemed to pulsate. Gojo's face blurred in and out of your vision as he pulled you close to him. "Breathe," he said as he cupped your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Tears streamed down your face, sobs wracked your body. You wanted to throw up.

"I—I can't," you choked out between gasps for air.

"You can, sweetheart. Please breathe for me. I'm here."

"I killed him... I killed that patient," you gasp, the confession slicing through you like a blade, each word a fresh wound.

"No, you didn't. It's not your fault," Gojo insisted, but his voice was distant, hollow against the backdrop of your inner chaos.

"I killed him... I'm a murderer," you repeated.

Without warning, Gojo enveloped you in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth flowed through his touch. "No, you're not," he whispered, his hand caressing the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "You did everything you could. It wasn't your fault."

But his words felt like they came from another world, a world where logic and reason still rule. In your world, there's only the crushing weight of guilt, the relentless echo of a life that has slipped away under your hands.

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest. "We never should have done this, we weren't ready."

"Don't say that. It's not your fault. You've done nothing wrong."

"You don't understand, I should have... I could have..." your voice broke, sobs wracked your body. Guilt was a suffocating blanket. It smothered reason, smothered the reassurances that tried to seep through.

Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes searched for yours. "Look at me," he urged gently. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your doing."

But the guilt was a relentless tide, washing over you again. "I was responsible... I should have seen this coming," you whispered.

Gojo's hug tightened, as if he was trying to shield you from your own torment. "Stop it, sweetheart, please," he pleaded softly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. But I'm here. Every step of the way. We'll get through this together."

As your sobs continued to wrack your body, his hold remained unwavering. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, offering a silent promise that he would stand by your side, even in ugly times.

─── ·✧· ───

The weight of the day still hung heavily in the air.

Gojo's hand rested gently on the small of your back as the two of you made your way down the long, sterile hospital corridors toward the exit. In his other hand, he carried your belongings.

The hallway was filled with hushed tones of hospital staff and the distant hum of medical equipment—a stark contrast to the chaotic events that had unfolded in the operating room earlier. You desperately need a break from the hospital environment for a while.

As you turned a corner, you noticed a faint wisp of smoke wafting from a nearby balcony. 

"Wait," you said, halting Gojo with a gentle tug on his arm.

On the balcony stood Geto, leaning against the railing with a lit cigarette in hand. He appeared lost in thought, his gaze distant and fixed on some distant point.

"I'll wait for you," Gojo offered before you could even ask him.

Stepping outside, a gentle breeze brushed against your cheek. Geto turned as he noticed your presence. He looked tired and somber, but you couldn't help but feel that you looked even more fucked up.

"Did you cry?" he asked gently.

You didn't need to confirm it, did you? He could clearly see it.

You moved to stand beside him, the wisps of smoke from his cigarette curling around you as he took a drag and exhaled a cloud of gray. Your eyes flickered to his hands, noting the faint tremor in his fingers, before dropping to the floor where at least fifteen cigarette butts lay scattered.

"How much did you smoke?" you asked.

He turned his gaze to you, sidestepping your question. "You want one?"

"They're no good for you."

A weary chuckle escaped him. "Everyone has their vices, right?"

You watched him quietly as he took another long drag from his cigarette, the glowing ember briefly illuminating his face before he stubbed it out against the railing.

"I wanted it to work so badly," you admitted.

"I know. Me too. But that's our job, isn't it? Sometimes we lose, and sometimes we win," Geto said, leaning back against the railing. "Just do me a favor and don't dwell too much on the surgery. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things in the OR don't go the way you want."

"How do you cope with that?" 

He flicked the last bit of his cigarette over the railing, watching it fall. "Some days it's easier, some days it's harder. But you'll find your way. We all do." He reached for another cigarette, his movements methodical, almost automatic.

Yeah, he clearly found a way to deal with it.

"You good?"

"Better than ever," he replied, offering you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

He wasn't very convincing.

He reached for a new cigarette and placed it between his lips, then brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. His thumb flicked the flame to life. His hands trembled slightly as he took a deep inhale. The smoke curled around him like a shroud, masking whatever emotions he was holding back.

"You know, he'll want to try his approach," Geto continued.

"Hm?"

"Satoru, will you help him?"

"I don't know," you answered.

Geto ran a hand through his hair, loosening strands that had escaped his usually neat bun. "He was here today too—watching you." He let out a huff. "He's really bad at hiding it. Doesn't even seem like he's trying."

You watched Geto in silence, unsure of what he was getting at.

"He will want you to help him," he continued as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"You don't want me to help him?"

"I want you to stay away from him," Geto's response was immediate.

"Why so?"

"He'll get you in trouble, I know that."

"Isn't he your best friend?"

"That's how I know," he said, exhaling a stream of smoke directly in your direction, the familiar acrid scent filling your nostrils.

Silence fell between you for a few moments. His gaze was suddenly so cold.

"It's late. You should head home," Geto finally said, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth. He then shifted away from you, leaning against the balcony's railing. His eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon, lost in whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

Without a word, you turned and walked back towards where Satoru was waiting. His hand immediately found its place on your back again as he guided you towards the exit.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Geto's eyes continued to follow your figures until you were out of sight. In a sudden movement, his hand twitched, crushing the remains of the cigarette he held. The crumbling embers fell from his fingers.

─── ·✧· ───

Your eyes burned again.

You sat at a large wooden table with Maki, Yuta and Toge, each of them absorbed in their exam preparations. Books and notes were spread out before them. The library was quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional turning of a page or a soft whisper. 

Maki was leafing through a thick medical textbook, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Yuta, sitting next to her, jotted down notes on his laptop, pausing occasionally to reread a section or ask Maki a question. Toge quietly muttered words from his notes.

You, however, found it hard to focus on the study material in front of you. Your mind was elsewhere, still caught up in the surgery. The question of why the surgical approach had failed haunted you, gnawing at your thoughts. You were so engrossed in your search for answers that the words in your textbook seemed to blur together, meaningless. 

From time to time, one of your friends would cast a concerned glance your way. "You okay?" Maki mouthed silently across the table.

You nodded, offering a small, unconvincing smile, and returned your gaze back to your textbook. But your eyes weren't reading the words; they were seeing surgical diagrams, replaying the operation, desperately searching for a clue, a misstep, anything that could explain the failure.

Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if you want to talk about it..." he began softly.

Talking about it was the least thing you wanted to do.

You needed answers.

Not talks.

Abruptly, you stood up. "Just need another textbook."

Wandering through the aisles of the library, you found yourself in a quiet corner. The book you needed was on a high shelf, just out of your reach. You stretched on your tiptoes, fingers grazing the spine of the book, but it remained stubbornly beyond your grasp.

Suddenly, you sensed a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, a hand reached over your shoulder, effortlessly retrieving the book.

"Funny, and I thought if someone had a pharmacology exam coming up, they would need a pharmacology book. Yet here you are, gathering the next neuroanatomy book."

You didn't need to turn to know that it was Gojo. His presence was unmistakable.

"Stalking me now, Gojo?"

For a moment, you both remained frozen, his hand still above your head. He was close, closer than you would wish he was.

"Just keeping an eye on you," he replied, reaching for the book on the shelf. As you turned to face him, you found Gojo standing close, the textbook in his hand. "This won't give you the answers you seek," he said, offering the book to you.

"But I sure will try." You took the book from him. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, sending an unexpected shiver through you that you tried to ignore.

"Don't do that."

You clutched the book to your chest. "Do what?"

"Blame yourself for the surgery. You weren't wrong in your approach. I would've done the same based on the data."

"Yet, you didn't. You wanted to take a different approach with this patient."

He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "It was more intuition than data," he said, scratching the back of his neck."Sometimes, data and statistics only tell us part of the story. The human body isn't a machine. It's unpredictable."

You looked at him. "So, you're saying I should screw data?"

He shrugged lightly, the hint of a smile returning to his face. "I'm saying that being a good surgeon isn't just about knowledge. You're young. You'll learn."

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes searching yours as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, exposing the bandaid still adhering to your neck. His thumb gently stroked along it. He parted his lips, the question in his eyes clear even before he voiced it. 

"Help me with my neuroprosthetics approach," he proposed.

You tensed, your mind racing. "I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"I have exams."

"And here I thought I was your best study partner," he countered with a light, teasing tone.

You quickly added, "And I need to unpack at my new place." It was true, but even as you said it, it sounded like another excuse.

Gojo's response was immediate. "I can lend a hand with that."

"Geto will hate me."

"He's already upset. What difference does it make now?" 

"I also have this really important thing..." you started, but Gojo cut you off.

"Come on, you're just finding excuses here," he said with a huff.

There was a brief silence before he continued, softer now. "I need you on this."

"I don't think you do."

His gaze intensified. "Believe me, I do."

You averted your gaze, unable to hold it. "I'm afraid—afraid of making another mistake."

"You're with me. You won't. I'll make sure of that."

He moved even closer. His hand came to rest against the shelf above your head. With his other hand, he gently cradled your chin, lifting it so your eyes met his. "You don't need to fear anything when you're with me."

In that moment, with his hand so gently holding your chin and his eyes locked onto yours, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The library, the books, the worry about exams—all of it faded into the background. There was only Gojo, his closeness, and the sincerity in his eyes that you wanted to believe.

"If anyone sees us like this, you're really fucked," you breathed out.

"Lucky for me, you have a thing for unpopular, heavy neuro textbooks hidden in the very far corner of the library," Gojo quipped, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Seems like a safe bet."

Your lips twitched into a light smile, and you rolled your eyes.

"Come on," he pressed. "Say yes."

You could tell he wasn't going to back down—Gojo had that determined look in his eyes, the one that said he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You let out a weary sigh. "Okay."

Satisfied, Gojo released your chin and leaned back. "Give me your phone," he said.

Raising an eyebrow, you hesitated for a moment before understanding his intention. You handed over your phone, watching as his fingers moved over the screen, adding his number.

"There," he said, handing the phone back to you. "Call me if you need anything."

─── ·✧· ───

It was late at night in your small apartment. 

The only sounds were the occasional hum of traffic from the streets below and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat at your desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus on studying. But no matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn't sink in. Your mind kept drifting.

With a sigh of frustration, you closed the textbook and got up. You paced around the room for a moment before finally throwing yourself onto the bed. Lying there, you stared at the ceiling.

Maybe it was the stress or maybe it was curiosity, but you reached for your phone. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you finally worked up the courage to type a message. You hit send before you could change your mind.

[1:24 AM] You: Haven't had the chance to thank you yet.

[1:24 AM] Gojo: That's quite an anonymous start. Who's this?

[1:25 AM] You: You get a lot of late-night texts from unknown numbers?

[1:25 AM] Gojo: Oh, I might have been expecting one in particular. How's the studying going?

[1:26 AM] You: Can't seem to focus tonight.

[1:26 AM] Gojo: Stop it. I can tell you that you are dwelling on things again without having to see it.

[1:27 AM] You: Hard not to.

[1:27 AM] Gojo: Need a distraction?

The message pops up, almost too quickly. Yeah, you needed a distraction, but more from him than anything else. You pause before answering.

[1:30 AM] You: It's late.

[1:31 AM] Gojo: Since when has that stopped you? Must have been imagining all those late nights in the lab.

Another pause as you consider his words.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Send me your address.

[1:33 AM] You: Planning to come over?

You sent the message before you really thought about it. The payback was immediate.

[1:33 AM] Gojo: Oh, sweetheart, quite bold of you to ask your own professor to come over at this hour, don't you think? What would people say?

[1:34 AM] Gojo: I'll pick you up with my car and we can get coffee, my treat. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need.

[1:36 AM] You: Just a drive, nothing more?

[1:36 AM] Gojo: Just a drive, nothing more.

[1:37 AM] You: Okay.

You send your address.

─── ·✧· ───

Lost in thought, you scrolled through social media. Then your phone buzzed with a call from Gojo. You answered, still slightly surprised each time you saw his name light up your screen.

"Look down," Gojo's voice came through.

You walked over to the window and peered down. There, on the street below, stood Gojo. He leaned nonchalantly against a sleek black car, its polished surface reflecting the dim streetlights. He was looking up, a confident, almost playful smile on his face as he spotted you at the window. For a moment, you just watched him from above.

God, what are you doing?

He's your professor, for fuck's sake.

You're supposed to work with him. Not whatever you're starting here.

Yet, as he smiled up at you, all good reasons seemed to leave you.

You grabbed your jacket and made your way out of the apartment. As you descended the stairs, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Gojo was here, in the middle of the night—for you. Your heart raced.

You stepped out onto the street, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat on your skin. Gojo pushed himself off the car and stood upright as you approached.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Wherever you want."

Gojo's smile widened. He opened the passenger door for you. "Then let's go."

You got into the car. Gojo started the engine and pulled away from the curb, the city lights beginning to blur past. There was no destination, no specific purpose, just winding through the streets under the city's neon embrace.

The dashboard's soft lighting cast a gentle glow on Gojo's features. He wore a crisp, white button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, lean forearms. The shirt was just tight enough to hint at the well-defined physique underneath. 

The faintest shadow of stubble along his jawline gave him a rugged edge, contrasting with the sharp, clean lines of his attire.

"You're staring," Gojo remarked as he caught your gaze.

"Geto would kill us if he knew," you replied.

"Worried about him, huh?"

"I just—I owe him a lot, feels like I'm betraying him."

Gojo chuckled. "You say that like we've already fucked."

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarified.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he said with a sly grin before shifting gears. "Or maybe you want us both? At the same time?"

You blinked, taken aback by his boldness. "Ha?"

"Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind, first-year," he teased. "But just so you know, I'm not really one to share."

God, this man really has too much confidence for his own good.

"You're quite bold to say something like this to your student," you pointed out.

"And yet here you are, in your professor's car, in the middle of the night. Seems boldness is a trait we share."

Suddenly, Gojo's attention snapped to something outside the car. "There's a McDonald's up ahead," he said, a spark of spontaneity in his voice.

Before you could react, Gojo expertly turned the steering wheel, guiding the car into a sharp turn. The sudden change in direction caught you off guard, making you flinch and clutch your seatbelt.

Gojo quickly placed his hand on your thigh. His touch, firm yet tender, sent a rush of warmth through your veins as his thumb brushed soothingly over your skin. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Didn't mean to startle you."

As Gojo smoothly guided the car into the drive-through lane, his hand remained on your thigh. When it was your turn in the lane, Gojo ordered two coffees and a selection of pastries.

"You really do have a sweet tooth, don't you?" you said as you took the beverages and treats and placed them on your side.

He glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Yeah, makes me wonder why I'm so drawn to you."

You ignored his comment.

He drove off, searching for the perfect spot to park and enjoy the spontaneous snack. Finding a quiet spot, he parked the car and the two of you settled in, the rich aroma of coffee filling the interior.

The warm summer night embraced the city, its gentle caress making the decision to keep the car windows down an easy one. The balmy air flowed in, carrying with it the faint sounds and scents of Tokyo at night.

"So, when do you want to start with the new approach?" you asked between sips of coffee.

"After your exams," Gojo replied. "I want you to be able to focus without any added pressure. This project can wait until you're finished."

"Speaking of which," he continued, "what's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?"

"What?"

"What's the primary use of ACE inhibitors?" he repeated, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"They're used for hypertension and congestive heart failure," you answered after a brief pause.

"Good. How do antipsychotics like haloperidol work?"

"Too easy, Gojo. They're dopamine antagonists, so they block dopamine receptors, particularly in the brain's mesolimbic pathway."

"Now, explain the pharmacokinetics of metformin," he said, taking a bite of his pastry.

"Metformin decreases hepatic glucose production, reduces the absorption of glucose in the intestines, and enhances insulin sensitivity."

"And what about beta-blockers?"

"Beta-blockers work by blocking the effects of epinephrine and norepinephrine on beta-receptors. This results in a decrease in heart rate, cardiac output, and the release of renin from the kidneys, which lowers blood pressure."

"Perfect. Now, what's the mechanism behind the antibiotic resistance of MRSA to methicillin?"

You raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment. "MRSA develops antibiotic resistance due to a mutated penicillin-binding protein that methicillin can't effectively bind to. This mutation is encoded by the mecA gene."

Gojo chuckled. "I think we can dive right into the research project. You're more than prepared for this exam."

You couldn't help but smile.

After finishing the coffee and pastries, Gojo gathered the wrappers and empty cups. "I'll just get rid of these," he said, stepping out of the car.

You glanced at your fingers, noticing they were still slightly sticky from the pastries. In search of something to clean them with, you began rummaging through the car, eventually opening the glove compartment in hopes of finding some tissues.

To your surprise, the compartment was filled with an array of blisters and pill bottles. Specifically, painkillers and a few other medications whose names escaped you. You reached for one of the bottles and read what it said. Hydrocodone.

You held the bottle in your hand, a frown creasing your brow. Of course, Gojo was a doctor. But why would he carry such a stash of strong medication in his car? There must be some reasonable explanation for that, right?

Your stomach churned, uneasiness settling in.

As you were still processing the discovery, you heard Gojo returning. Panic seized you for a moment, and you hastily shut the glove compartment.

Gojo slid back into the driver's seat, his demeanor as easygoing as before. "All set," he announced, starting the engine. "Ready to head back?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. 

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the earlier conversation replaced by a thoughtful silence. The streets of Tokyo passed by in a blur of lights and shadows. As Gojo's car finally pulled up outside your apartment building, neither of you immediately moved to get out.

The memory of the medicine in the glove compartment still lingered in your mind. Breaking the silence, you turned to Gojo. "You okay?"

Gojo's eyes flickered with a fleeting hint of surprise. "Yeah, I'm good. Why you ask?"

"You'd tell me if something was off, right?"

There was a brief pause as Gojo seemed to consider your question. Then, reaching out, his hand gently cradled the side of your face. The touch was tender, and you could feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. Without even realizing it, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes locked with his.

Gojo's thumb traced a soft path along your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, as if you were caught in a spell, completely captivated by the man before you.

You couldn't deny the growing attraction and connection between you, even if you weren't entirely sure what it meant. But at the same time, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something he wasn't telling you.

"Of course," he finally said, though his response was quick, almost automatic.

His gaze then subtly shifted, settling on your lips. You could almost feel the weight of his craving in the intensity of his gaze. His thumb lightly brushed across your bottom lip, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

Finally, he withdrew his hand, though the lingering warmth of his touch continued to dance on your skin. "You should get some rest," he said, his voice carrying a soft, husky undertone.

You took a sharp inhale, just now coming back to your senses.

"Thanks for tonight, Gojo."

"Anytime."

You lingered for a second longer before finally opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. It felt stark against your skin where his touch had been. As you walked towards your apartment building, you couldn't help but glance back. Gojo was still there, watching you until you were safely inside.

You forced a last smile before heading inside.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: this chapter was partly influenced by my upcoming pharmacology exam haha. anyway, thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts !! :) if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss

[stellamancer]

notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.

takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.

wc: 944

“Your birthday was a couple days ago?” 

Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”

“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.” 

There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…” 

You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?” 

Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.” 

The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…

You cannot deny it. 

Not when you know what you do of the top brass.

“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”

He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud. 

“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on. 

“Nope.” 

You blink at him. “What.”

“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”

Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…

“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”

He’s not wrong, but… 

Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you. 

“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.

“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!” 

“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it. 

Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.” 

“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.

“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Could even be sentenced to death for it!” 

Your hand doesn’t move.

Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—

You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended. 

“What do you think?”

You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact. 

“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…

Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”

You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give? 

“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.” 

You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish. 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.” 

[authenticbunni]

There is no mental fighting/struggle

Girl you is lost. Manifesting is not that complicated at all. You just have to simply decide.

Before you scroll, I know you’ve seen people say that all the time, and it just never wrapped around your complexed mind. I used to have that problem too, I feel you. I have a complexed mind, and even though most people say you don’t have to know everything, I did so I can wrap it around my mind and knowing more actually helped me de-complex my mind. Now that I understand it I’m going to explain some reason as to maybe why you’ve been struggling to just decide.

I’ve put it into two parts if you don’t feel like you need to read everything. Accountability and 4D = 3D NOT 3D = 4D

Accountability

I think where you go wrong is not realizing everything in your life that you’ve ever interacted with or did is from your thoughts. You’re still in a mindset of “how could this have happened? This is not my fault? This is not my doing?” Now that’s human, people always try to blame, don’t beat yourself up. But when you’re trying to manifest and blame every single thing in your life on everyone else, you’re never going to manifest because you can’t take accountability. If you can’t take accountability of your own life, how can you even have full control over your own life.

That was a really hard pill for me to swallow, when it came to taking accountability for the doings in my life. TRUST ME! When I had to move away from Florida, when I had a brutal falling out with my bf. I had to realize that was my fault. Both of those were not in my favor or desires, but I thought so much about those outcomes that it eventually happened.

Once you take accountability you realize the only thing you’ve been struggling with is you. The only thing you’ve been fighting off is you. The only struggle you’ve been going through is you. You have accepted those thoughts into your mind, and now you’ve become them. Now, don’t get panicky or feel like you gotta do a whole bunch of stuff to get past this. Just simply let them pass. Know that these are just thoughts and you have the power to accept and decline them with ease, because you’re subconscious mind always follows your lead without thinking twice.

4D = 3D NOT 3D = 4D

What I mean by the equation is. Your imagination controls/creates your reflection. Your mind is your true reality, and your 3D reflects that. Your 3D does not make you, you make you

4D = reality

3D = reflection (of your 4D)

Stop separating the two, they are always in the same equation. Your 3D is as changeable and flexible as your imagination. I didn’t realize this until I actually saw it happen.

Back to the brutal falling out with my bf. Prior we were just friends but he was pretty regular, talking here, having conversations. But due to dwelling in negative thoughts, in less than I think 1 or 2 days he completely took a 180 and flipped the switch. He hated me, and never wanted to talk to me. During this is completely shock on why this would happened because “I thought I was doing everything right” after a few I realize I was more strong on thinking he hated me, saw me as a nuisance. (Okay that’s enough, I don’t wanna talk about it tm cuz I’m manifesting him back) but that was the work of my manifestation.

As of right now that’s all I can think of, I might make another post or add on to this post. But yeah, those are the reasons I think people have a hard time with. If you feel like this wasn’t enough details for you, that’s fine I’m glad I at least helped u a lil bit 😋.

[archivequinn]

Can you please do an eddie angst? I love your fluff. I'm in the mood to read angst.

I've never tried angst before, but I hope you like it!

Summary: You and Eddie are breaking up.

On a cold winter evening, the wind was fiercely rattling the window frames, the city was shrouded in darkness, but inside the house, it was warm and filled with excitement for Eddie’s arrival. You read the postcard he had sent once more: “I’ll be there tomorrow night, princess. Wait for me. I miss you so much.” The words, written in Eddie’s messy handwriting, made you feel as though you could hear his voice. You had been apart for a month; such a long separation was unusual for you, and tonight would be a reunion where everything would fall back into place.

Finally, you heard the sound of an engine outside the door. Your heart began to race, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It felt as though your feet weren’t touching the ground. You ran to the door, your hands trembling slightly.

Eddie was there. His face looked tired, but the sparkle in his eyes and the scent of the wind clinging to him spoke volumes. He seemed like a man who had let go of all his burdens and was now overflowing with you. Smiling, he took a step toward you. “I’ve missed you so much…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. Then he opened his arms and hugged you tightly.

His breath brushed past the side of your neck, warming you like a gentle breeze, and the rhythm of his heartbeat mingled with yours. The hug lasted so long that it felt as if all the troubles in the world had disappeared in that embrace. Tears welled up in your eyes; his warmth, his scent, his presence enveloped you completely. “Eddie…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He whispered back, “I know…”

You went inside. Eddie’s eyes wandered around the room, as if he was trying to recall a memory from a long time ago. “I even missed the smell of this house,” he said with a slight smile. Hats and scarves piled in a corner, the small details seemed to remind him of your shared story. He took you in his arms again, pressed his lips to your forehead, and closed his eyes. In that moment, time truly seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you; the noise, chaos, and confusion of the world were nothing more than a distant echo.

Finally, Eddie pulled back slightly, though his hands still rested on your waist. Looking at your face, he began to speak excitedly. “I have so much to tell you!” he said, his eyes gleaming. He talked about his adventures on the road, the places he had seen, the excitement on stage. “One time, a light bulb burst in the middle of a performance, and the whole set almost fell apart, but I shouted so much that people thought it was part of the show!” His laughter lit up the room, but a growing unease was building inside you.

During dinner, you noticed that Eddie kept glancing at the clock. At first, it seemed insignificant—maybe he was tired, or something was on his mind. But the peace of the evening gradually turned into tension. Finally, Eddie leaned slightly toward you, taking a deep breath. He put his fork down and placed his hands over yours.

“Listen,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. In his eyes, there was both happiness and deep indecision. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He paused for a moment, biting his lip as if weighing his words. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued. “I’ve received a new offer. A big tour… but I need to start immediately. I have to leave in a few hours.”

He looked at you, and you tried to understand the turmoil in his eyes. “This has been my dream. You know that, don’t you? You’re proud of me, right?” he said, his voice fragile like shattered glass.

“Of course, Eddie,” you replied, forcing a smile.

Eddie’s words trailed off, and there was an intensity behind his gaze. You looked into his eyes, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled with the weight of your emotions. “How long is the tour?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie took a deep breath, placing his hands on the edge of the table, his eyes cast downward. “A year,” he said. His voice wavered, and the strong, energetic man you knew now seemed like a boy struggling to find the right words. “We’ll be apart for a year.”

Those words felt like they had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. You felt a heaviness in your chest, struggling to breathe. When you looked into Eddie’s eyes, you saw both determination and fear. “Eddie…” you began, but couldn’t continue. The words collided in your mind, replaced by the sorrow you felt.

“Eddie, how can we handle such a long separation? A month was already so hard; a year… it feels impossible,” you said, your eyes filling with tears. You hadn’t expected them to come so quickly, but you couldn’t hold them back in front of Eddie.

Eddie reached out and held your hands. “I know. But I have to do this; I’m doing this for us. You’ve always been with me in this dream. I can’t do it without you,” he said, his voice cracking. In his eyes, there was both a plea and a deep guilt.

“Eddie, you say you’re doing this for us, but how meaningful can it be without us?” you asked. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you forced yourself to keep speaking. “You’re everything to me. But to not see you, to miss you, to think of you every day for a whole year… it will destroy me.”

A look of pain appeared on Eddie’s face, as if you had taken a piece of his heart and placed it in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, lowering his head. “I can’t do this without you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible. But then he raised his eyes to meet yours, a flicker of hope dancing within them. “But maybe we can figure it out together. I want you to come with me. Let’s go on this tour together. I want to live my dreams with you by my side. Please, think about it.”

The moment you heard his proposal, your heart clenched with both joy and sorrow. The thought of being with Eddie, waking up every morning to his smile, warmed you for a brief moment. But then reality reminded you of itself. “Eddie, no… I can’t do that,” you said, your voice cracking. “I have a life here. A job, a routine. Leaving everything behind to be with you sounds like a beautiful dream, but… that’s not how things work in real life.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, as if your words had deeply wounded him. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” he asked, his voice fragile and desperate. “I don’t want to live this dream without you. But if you’re not with me, living while missing you this much will tear me apart.”

“Eddie…” you said, your voice choking amidst sobs. “You mean everything to me. But sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes the realities of life overshadow our dreams.”

Eddie remained silent for a moment, as though your words echoed in his mind. Tears streamed down his face, completely breaking the strong mask he usually wore. He reached out for you, but you stayed where you were, your eyes locked on his. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking like shattered glass. “But how can we make this work? We have to find a way… I can’t do this without you.”

You brought your hands to your face, wiping away tears that only returned immediately. “I know you’ll never stop loving me,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I’ll always love you, too. But maybe loving each other isn’t enough to change our situation right now. And maybe… maybe this is the best we can do for now.”

Eddie took a step back, the desperation and heartbreak on his face resonating throughout the room. He closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as though searching for words but saying nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he took a trembling breath and opened his eyes to look at you again. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you,” he said. “I never want to say goodbye to you.”

In that moment, time seemed to stop. As you gazed at each other in silence, everything felt both unbearably heavy and inexplicably light. Eddie wrapped his arms around you once more, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you into his very being. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sobs. “I’ll always love you.”

In that embrace, as you felt each other’s heartbeats, you both wished this moment could last forever. But you knew; even if this wasn’t a goodbye, nothing would be the same after this.

Eddie held you for a while longer, but the embrace no longer carried warmth—it carried a weight. You both knew this was the final connection before you let go of each other. Eddie’s breath was uneven, and each time it hit your shoulder, your heart broke a little more. His hands moved gently over your back, as if trying to etch the feeling of this touch into his memory.

Finally, he pulled back slowly. His eyes were red, yet they still held a deep resolve. He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Princess,” he said, his voice low and trembling, “I want you to take care of yourself. Promise me, okay? Wrap your scarf if it’s cold, don’t catch a chill at night. Don’t forget to eat properly. And… please, no matter what, try to be happy.”

You could only nod. You wanted to speak, to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The tears streaming down your face silenced you. Eddie’s eyes carried the pain of a farewell that would last a lifetime. He looked away for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor.

He reached for the chain around his neck, a guitar pick hanging from it. It was his favorite pick—the one he used on stage, the one that reminded you of him more than anything else. His hands trembled slightly as he removed the chain. He held the pick in his palm for a moment, looking at it before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve carried this with me everywhere. But now, it needs to stay with you,” he said.

He placed the chain around your neck, his fingers lingering on the pendant for a moment before pulling away gently. “Always keep this with you. If you ever feel lonely, let this necklace bring you back to me,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. Your hands instinctively reached for the necklace, and as the coolness of the pick touched your palm, the knot in your throat tightened even more.

“But Eddie,” you said, your voice muffled by sobs, “Will we ever see each other again?” The words spilled out desperately, tears streaming uncontrollably down your face.

Eddie paused for a moment, looking straight into your eyes. The depth in his gaze carried a thousand words he wanted to say, but only a few made it past his lips. “I promise you,” he said, his voice broken but resolute. “No matter where I am, I’ll always think of you. I’ll always write to you. I’ll send you a postcard from every place I visit. Even if you forget me, those postcards will remind you of me.”

Those words gave you a small sense of solace, but your heart only grew heavier. Eddie took your hands in his and held them tightly. “But no matter what, you’ll always be here for me,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “You’ll always be with me.”

Eddie slowly released your hands and let his eyes roam over you one last time. It was as if he was trying to etch every detail of you into his memory, knowing he might never see you again. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Then he turned away. For a moment, he hesitated, as though he wanted to turn back and say something, but he kept moving forward. His steps were heavy but determined. You stood frozen in place, tears filling your eyes as you watched him go.

When Eddie reached the door, your breath caught, hoping he might turn back. But he didn’t. He opened the door and stepped outside. The air was freezing, the cold wind brushing against your face as you whispered after him, “Eddie…” But your voice was swallowed by the wind.

The door closed slowly. You ran to the window for one last glimpse of him. Outside, as snowflakes fell, you saw Eddie’s back. He was leaving. His steps quickened, as though he was afraid that stopping would make him turn around. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, his head bowed. And you stood there behind the glass, tears streaming down your face, feeling your heart shatter.

Eddie didn’t look back. But you knew; you could feel that he was crying too.

credit for divider: @/strangergraphics taglist: @multyfangirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @t-folklore13

[nemesyaaa]

i'm not a fan of Taylor Swift not gonna lie but the way your work make me want to listen to the song in question is concerning...like omg i need to go through the lyrics because it was written with beauty and angst. its really doing something to me. i loved it, nini <33 (so much. ) 🥹‼️

your chest heaved as you felt rafe sliding in and out your walls, your arms gripping onto his back for support. he was relentless, soft grunts fill your ears. he takes your hands in his, intertwining fingers as the car moved with every thrust. he lets go for a second, brushing a stray piece of hair that moved onto your face, a soft smile placed on his lips. — you can't write smut and make me want to kms just after that....😭😭😭

he kissed down your neck and torso, kneading your breasts, sucking on your already hardened nipples. he moans, sending vibrations throughout your body. your hands find his hair, pulling on his dark blond locks. he whimpers, pushing his lips onto yours, taking you by surprise. — rafe's moaning ‼️‼️‼️‼️

a moment of silence emerges from the both of you. “…i’m not…I…I forgave rafe. a long time ago, mom.” a shadow of a smile graces her face, “good, that’s good. i’ll be seeing you more often then—” “no, you don’t understand, I just…me and rafe…I don’t know if its just me, but, whenever I get out of this town, I feel so…free from him. and then I come back home, something in the air shifts. it feels like…I still belong to him. like he’s behind me, breathing down my neck. I feel trapped here.” she sighs, putting down her coffee mug on the table, wrapping her arms around you. “i’m sorry honey,” she takes another deep breath, “are you sure you’ve really forgiven him?” “i’m not, that’s the thing.” she nods, standing up. “I understand, take all the time you need to sort your feelings. I know you’re not telling me the whole story, so i’ll wait until you’re ready.” she grabs her coffee mug, walking to her bedroom. you look down, seeing a tear drop melt into your hot chocolate. — I just took the whole paragraph because i adored the lines especially the one who started with “ no you don't understand ” | also I TRULY understand what reader's feel so it's even hard for me 😔😔

“rafe, it was a mistake, we should’ve…I should’ve never slept with you. I was so close, so close to escaping from you—” “that’s too bad, y/n. you knew damn well what you were doing,” he bends his knees to your level, whispering in your ear, “and you liked it. I know you did. I know you missed feeling me in you.” your breath hitched, and he pulls away, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “and you liked when I did this to you, no?” he softly chuckles, “yeah, I haven’t forgotten what you liked…haven’t…stopped thinking about you at all, honestly.” — god, he's so toxic. and i like poison...

“i’ll see you next year, yeah?” rafe says, turning around and getting in his car. — i hate it (just like I hate him). 😙😙 But i feel like it's a realistic end so it's perfect

‘tis the damn season - rafe cameron x reader

summary - hooking up with your hometown ex boyfriend should’ve never happened, but it did.

warnings - smut, mdni, piv, car sex, angst, implications of a toxic relationship, not proofread, still not the best at smut i fear.

your chest heaved as you felt rafe sliding in and out your walls, your arms gripping onto his back for support. he was relentless, soft grunts fill your ears. he takes your hands in his, intertwining fingers as the car moved with every thrust. he lets go for a second, brushing a stray piece of hair that moved onto your face, a soft smile placed on his lips.

he kissed down your neck and torso, kneading your breasts, sucking on your already hardened nipples. he moans, sending vibrations throughout your body. your hands find his hair, pulling on his dark blond locks. he whimpers, pushing his lips onto yours, taking you by surprise.

he snakes his hand around your waist, maneuvering you to go on top of him. the moonlight hits his face just right; this must’ve been how he saw you earlier, eyes hooded, mouth slightly agape, and head tilted back.

your body felt colder from the air, but you felt so warm on the inside. you felt a pair of rough hands place themselves on your hips, guiding you to move up and down. “you can do it, I know you can.” he praises, thrusting up to help you. he hits deep, and hard. you mewl, wanting him to do all the work. “‘m not gonna let you go if you don’t put in the effort, baby. c’mon, ‘m almost there, I know you are too,” he rasps, gripping your hips roughly. you gulp, moving up and down feverishly. “that’s it, doin’ so well for me, huh? letting me lay back, while I get to look at your pretty face. I know, I know, I can feel you tensin’ up, let go when you need to. i’m here, i’ll always be here.”

that last sentence runs a shiver down your spine. before you know it, rafe is spilling inside you, providing you extra warmth. you collapse on his chest, sighing blissfully.

“you should visit more often, not just come by during the holidays,” your mother softly speaks up, handing you a cup of hot chocolate. “I know, but you know why I can’t.” you sigh, taking a small sip. “y/n, you can’t still be hung up on him,” she sits down on the couch with you, “listen, I know rafe doesn’t really give you fond memories, but you’ve gotta let go. you grew up here, this is your home. no matter where you go, I hope you always find your way back to us.”

a moment of silence emerges from the both of you. “…i’m not…I…I forgave rafe. a long time ago, mom.” a shadow of a smile graces her face, “good, that’s good. i’ll be seeing you more often then—” “no, you don’t understand, I just…me and rafe…I don’t know if its just me, but, whenever I get out of this town, I feel so…free from him. and then I come back home, something in the air shifts. it feels like…I still belong to him. like he’s behind me, breathing down my neck. I feel trapped here.” she sighs, putting down her coffee mug on the table, wrapping her arms around you. “i’m sorry honey,” she takes another deep breath, “are you sure you’ve really forgiven him?” “i’m not, that’s the thing.” she nods, standing up. “I understand, take all the time you need to sort your feelings. I know you’re not telling me the whole story, so i’ll wait until you’re ready.” she grabs her coffee mug, walking to her bedroom. you look down, seeing a tear drop melt into your hot chocolate.

“are you really gonna do this to me?” rafe’s deep voice emerges from behind you. you turn around, and he has a slight smirk plastered on his smug face, a complete juxtaposition of what he looked like a couple nights back. you see your breath; and his too, not even when breathing you can get away from him. he owns every part of you.

“rafe, it was a mistake, we should’ve…I should’ve never slept with you. I was so close, so close to escaping from you—” “that’s too bad, y/n. you knew damn well what you were doing,” he bends his knees to your level, whispering in your ear, “and you liked it. I know you did. I know you missed feeling me in you.” your breath hitched, and he pulls away, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “and you liked when I did this to you, no?” he softly chuckles, “yeah, I haven’t forgotten what you liked…haven’t…stopped thinking about you at all, honestly.”

“well you should” you try to sass back, but he just tsks, shaking his head, “why should I? you clearly haven’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“i’ll see you next year, yeah?” rafe says, turning around and getting in his car.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 9

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

Inumaki's POV:

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours now, and I don’t understand why I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve always had issues with sleeping—insomnia’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember—but I thought it was getting better. This past week, for the first time in years, I actually slept well. It was odd, sure, but I wasn’t complaining.

But tonight? Tonight, it’s back to the old ways.

Back to no sleep.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I glanced over at the clock.

4 a.m.

Great.

Should I even bother going to school later? Maybe I should just skip. But then… I wouldn’t see y/n.

Fuck.

The thought of not seeing her tomorrow... or today, technically... made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to think too much about. I let out another frustrated sigh and turned my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind running through all the reasons why texting her at this hour would be a terrible idea.

She’s probably asleep. You’ll wake her up. She’ll think you’re being annoying. Just leave her alone.

But then again… what if she’s awake too? What if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her right now?

Before I could overthink it anymore, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hesitating over the keyboard. I typed out a message and stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to hit send.

This is stupid. She’s not awake. You’ll look like an idiot.

But my thumb pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

Hey… you up?

I tossed my phone on the bed beside me and ran a hand over my face, already regretting it. But now all I could do was wait.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping she would respond. It’s not like I can sleep, so maybe talking to her would help. But at the same time… I kind of hope she doesn’t even see my message. Because… what if I’m being too much?

What if she sees it, rolls her eyes, and thinks I’m just some guy who can’t get a grip? Someone who’s bothering her at 4 a.m. for no reason?

I sighed, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen as it sat on the bed next to me. What was I expecting? That she’d magically be awake, texting back right away? And if she did… what would I even say?

Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?

Yeah, right. That would go over well.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration bubble up in my chest. Why was she in my head so much? Why couldn’t I just… let it go? Ignore it? Pretend I wasn’t thinking about the way she looked at me earlier, or the way her voice shook just a little when she was mad?

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side and staring at the phone again. One minute passed. Then another. The screen stayed dark, and the silence stretched on. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better if she didn’t answer.

Because if she did… I wasn’t sure what I’d say next. Or worse, what I’d admit.

But then, to my surprise, my phone buzzed.

I blinked, staring at it for a moment as if I’d imagined the notification. The screen lit up, her name glowing back at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated before picking it up, as if seeing her response would somehow make this real.

WARNING: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & HEAVY FLIRTING/TEASING

A/N

things are getting veryyy spicy now 👀

hope you enjoyed this little tease

im so sorry this took so look... it was very unexpected ive just been extremely busy and honestly haven't had the energy to write much

yes this is very short butttt i kinda just want some of yalls opinion on this... like would you actually wanna read the smut (next part)

ik its late ASF BUT ENJOY IT PLEASE OR ELSE ILL CRY FR

TAG LIST <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh @hansl0ver @miowxh

[fanficlolsblog]

UNHEALTHY OBSSESION

back to my main masterlist

pairing: yandere!jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a brief encounter with jenna ortega at a meet-and-greet, y/n is surprised to receive a follow request and a message from her. what starts as a seemingly innocent exchange soon spirals into a possessive obsession, with jenna constantly messaging, showing up unannounced, and isolating y/n from friends. as y/n tries to distance themselves, jenna’s behavior grows darker, her obsession tightening like a trap, until y/n realizes that escaping her hold might be impossible.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, stalking, emotional manipulation, psychological distress.

w/c: 1k+

you never thought much of celebrities. sure, you admired them from a distance, but you always told yourself they were just people, just names you’d heard. so when your friend dragged you to jenna ortega’s meet-and-greet, you felt out of place. she was beautiful, magnetic, but she was just a name on your friend’s lips, a face you knew from magazines.

that changed when you stepped up to meet her, the last in line. your friend had already gone ahead, gushing over the quick selfies she’d taken with jenna. you tried to keep your cool, gave her a polite smile, kept your distance. but when jenna looked at you, it was as if the whole room went silent. her gaze lingered, a little longer than it should, and you saw her eyebrows lift, just slightly.

“you seem… different,” she said, her voice soft, almost a murmur meant just for you.

you laughed nervously, shrugged it off. she held your gaze, eyes searching yours like she was trying to memorize your face. the brief exchange left you feeling strange—giddy but unsettled. it was probably nothing. you left, pushing the moment out of your mind as you rejoined your friend.

but that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed. you glanced at it, frowning. a follow request on instagram—from jenna ortega.

your heart skipped. it had to be a joke, right? or maybe her team managing her account? but you hit accept, curiosity outweighing logic. almost immediately, a message popped up.

jenna: hi, y/n. i hope it’s okay i reached out. i… couldn’t stop thinking about you.

you blinked, staring at the message. it felt surreal, like a scene out of a movie. you hesitated, then typed a casual reply, something light, just to see if she was serious.

you: i didn’t expect you’d remember me.

jenna: i remember a lot about you.

from there, the messages kept coming. every day, multiple times a day, jenna reached out, asking about your life, your interests. she was kind, thoughtful, curious. her questions were endless—what was your favorite color? your favorite food? did you like to read? what was your dream vacation? the messages were warm, personal, and slowly, you felt yourself getting drawn in, almost hypnotized by her attention.

but things began to shift. her messages came faster, more insistent, like she needed to know where you were, who you were with. if you took too long to respond, she’d send another message.

jenna: you’re not ignoring me, are you?

you tried to laugh it off, tell yourself she was just lonely, maybe a little over-enthusiastic. but one evening, while you were out with friends, your phone buzzed.

jenna: i thought we agreed you’d tell me when you went out.

you frowned, fingers hovering over the screen. you hadn’t agreed to anything like that. but before you could type a response, another message popped up.

jenna: you don’t understand how much i care about you. you have no idea what it’s like, thinking about you all the time.

you typed a careful reply, trying to brush it off as a misunderstanding. but it was hard to ignore the chill creeping down your spine. things were moving too fast. she was everywhere—your notifications filled with her likes, your friends disappearing one by one, as if she’d somehow driven them away without a word.

then, one night, she showed up.

you were at your favorite coffee shop, the one you’d casually mentioned to her in passing, and she walked in like she belonged there. she didn’t look surprised to see you; if anything, she seemed pleased. she took the seat across from you, leaning forward, her fingers brushing against yours as she murmured, “i just wanted to see you.”

you tried to smile, tried to pretend it didn’t unnerve you, but her stare was intense, unblinking. she looked at you like you were the only person in the world, her fingers tapping idly on the table as she asked you about your day. every detail, every minute, like she needed to know it all.

from that day on, she’d show up without warning, always knowing where you’d be. and when you tried to confront her, her expression would shift—soft, almost hurt, like you’d wounded her.

“why are you acting like this, y/n?” she’d ask, voice trembling just slightly. “i’m just trying to keep you safe. you don’t understand how much you mean to me.”

you’d try to explain, tell her it was too much, but she’d look at you with those deep, unflinching eyes, and somehow, you’d find yourself apologizing, as if you were the one overreacting.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things at first—a book you’d mentioned, a necklace in your favorite color. but one night, you came home to find a box on your doorstep. inside was a single rose, delicate and freshly cut, and a handwritten note.

you have no idea what i’d do to keep you close, y/n. don’t push me away.

you tried to distance yourself, but jenna’s grip was tight, suffocating. she flooded your phone with messages, each one more desperate than the last, her words dripping with both devotion and a hint of menace. you stopped posting on social media, hoping it’d make her lose interest, but instead, she started showing up more often, as if your silence made her crave you more.

one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. you told her, face-to-face, that you needed space. she laughed, a soft, unsettling sound, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table between you.

“space?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “y/n, you’re all i think about. i go to sleep thinking of you, wake up dreaming of you. don’t you see? no one will ever care about you like i do.”

you swallowed, trying to hold her gaze without flinching. “jenna, this isn’t… normal.”

she tilted her head, her smile fading. “maybe normal doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice chillingly calm. “maybe it’s just you and me, and maybe that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

you stood up to leave, feeling her eyes follow you, the weight of her stare burning into your back. as you walked away, you heard her say, quietly but clear enough to make your blood run cold:

“you’ll come back to me, y/n. you always do.”

and as you stepped outside, feeling the night air prickle against your skin, you knew she wasn’t finished with you. this wouldn’t be the end.

[yandere-kokeshi]

May I request Horangi, Alex, Rodolfo, and Alejandro having a sweetheart female darling who loves baking for him when he gets home? Like deserts from his home country, and or tries to?

— Yandere headcanon of Horangi, Alex, Rodolfo, and Alejandro with a female darling who loves to bake for them

Warnings: Yandere behavior

A/N: This is so cute!! I enjoyed writing this so much. Please enjoy <3

Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin:

Kim thinks it’s the most adorable thing ever. It means an enormous amount of endearment toward him that you are not only willing to cook for him but also engaging with his culture. He loves it so much, maybe a bit too much.

It took him a bit to get used to coming home, smelling the freshly made bungeoppang, making him feel a type of signature way that he never could fully understand nor grasp. But he accepted it. It made him warm, ridiculously warm inside, and he craved it more each time.

Looks forward to coming home and finding out what you’d be making him. It makes him giddy inside, smiling from ear to ear that you participate so hard in making him well-fed. He often sends silly messages when he can, copying and sending some images or recipes of nice sweets before asking the sweet question, “Make this for me?”

Kim really enjoys watching you cook, especially if you two FaceTime while he’s away, or it’s just from the counter that he’s leaning on. Seeing you focused, pounding the batter, and engaging with muscle memory makes him chuckle under his breath. However, he’d love to help if you’d ask, his big, burly hands gently covering yours as his head leans on your shoulder, practicing on the dough.

Alex Keller:

Alex loves it to death. The fact you’re willing to make sweets for him, yelling at him to sit down for dinner as soon as he comes home, makes him have the biggest smirk. Though, it’s even better for him, as he has the biggest sweet-tooth and isn’t afraid to eat as much sweetened food you give him.

Extremely extra. When he finds out he can spoil you back with cooking items, especially clothing—but specifically for him. Would take you to find matching aprons, oven mittens, and themed pots for the seasons he’d feel like you would like..

Farah won’t escape his constant earful of you and how you cook for him and how she should taste your cooking. Because of that, she often leaves recipe books and online recipes to share with him—letting him send them to you with a cute reply of, “How about this?”

Deeply wants you to invite him to participate or even help you. As much as he enjoys your cooking, he wants to equally more time with you. The thoughts of both of you handling cookie dough, kneading it, and laughing like dorks put his mind at ease.

Rodolfo “Rudy” Para:

To be honest, Rodolfo is a bit sad that you put so much energy into ensuring he’s feeling spoiled. A part of him is guilty he can’t reciprocate in the same way—but he’s so thankful. So, when he comes home to your baked goodies, he often gives gifts to you as a form of “thank you.”

It’s often bouquets of flowers, freshly tipped-cut at the bottom, so you don’t need to worry about them. Or sometimes new clothes, pants, and socks are always acceptable to him. Plus, it’s even better with the idea that the two of you can match.

Loves trying your new foods and ingredients, incredibly supportive when you aren’t sure what to add first, especially if you aren’t sure if it was well-made. Even if it wasn’t, he’s too much of a sweetheart and swallows it down. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you if it was bad.

He really enjoys watching you bake and helping around in the kitchen if you allow him. Rodolfo loves bonding in any form of presence, so if he can help, you can betcha he will. Even if it’s helping by pouring the chocolate in a pan or mixing cinnamon in the bowl of arroz con leche (Mexican rice pudding).

Alejandro “Colonel” Vargas:

Alejandro is always happy to come home to your fresh foods, especially regarding his food customs. He’s smiling ear-to-ear, prepping your face with kisses regardless of the batter on your face as he begins to fill his face full of sweets you’d make him.

He lives for a part of domestic moments with you, even though he’s better with a knife and cooking with more specific ingredients. His ma would be more than happy to share her cooking specials—coming over to help you bake, teaching you her ways of cooking, and praising you when the two of you are done. It flutters his heart that you and his ma are close.

He enjoys your baking, seeing the amount of thought and care that went into what you made. He doesn’t mind if it’s messy or even a bit burnt; he’s eating it all with a ginormous smile.

Alejandro’s men, including Rudy, never hear enough of you—him sharing photos of your baked pan dulces and sopaipilla’s. They often drool at the look of them, which makes him laugh. He’s darn lucky to have you, isn’t he?

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 7: You finally find, you and I Collide.

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - Ellie turns 16, and the night goes even better than you and Joel had planned.

A/N: GUYS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH SCREAMING AND GIGGLING TOOK PLACE WHEN I WROTE THIS CHAPTER. TRUST YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, dirty dirty thoughts, masturbation (f+m), language

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Planning for Ellie’s birthday was challenging, but not because of the actual party. No. It was because of how much time you were spending with Joel.

It was really testing you, especially when he’d do things like turn up at your house with flowers or a pastry - jus’ a little thank you for all the help, y’know - he’d tell you, or when he invited you to his house and you’d turn up to him freshly out of the shower, hair damp and skin glistening, the water droplets clinging to him and just begging to be licked off.

Or like right now, as he was almost curled around you showing you the chords to a new song on the guitar.

For Ellie’s birthday, you of course suggested singing something for her; and it wouldn’t just be a simple ‘happy birthday’ (although you did plan on embarrassing her with that at some point during the event), it would be a version of one of her favourite songs - Take On Me.

Joel told you she listened to it all the time on her Walkman and even asked him to teach it to her, but she just couldn’t grasp all of the bar chords it required.

You could though, but still with some difficulty, resulting in Joel having to put his hand on yours to guide you through the motions, resulting in you practically in his lap as he manoeuvres this, and resulting in you being so flustered you can’t help but mess up the chords over and over again, causing the cycle to continue.

“Can we take a minute?” You ask, trying not to huff in frustration as you strum yet another muted note, fingers not quite strong enough for it when your brain is so muddled from the proximity with him.

“Sure, darlin’. Wanna do somethin’ else?” He smiles softly. He’s so at ease with you now, and it makes your heart flutter knowing you managed to secure a little bit of Joel’s affection and companionship for yourself. Lord knows it makes about half the female population in Jackson envy you.

You nod, and the two of you discuss the actual event. You decided on the Tipsy Bison, and easily secured a day there considering Joel’s relations to the 2 in charge, and your status as a performer there. Joel will help get Ellie there at around 5, and you and her friends will surprise her.

For decorations, you’ve made a ‘happy birthday!’ banner and a few hanging streamers. You also put in an order for a chocolate cake at the town bakery - Ellie’s favourite flavour according to Joel.

About 2 hours later, you’ve managed to get through the song a few times with him, and he’s left you with his handwritten sheet music to practice. As he uses the bathroom, you war with yourself in your mind because, you’re staring at the music right now and getting giddy thinking about the fact that he hand wrote the entire song out for you, and you’re blushing because his handwriting looks so good. You know it’s stupid and keep trying to snap yourself out of it, but your heart keeps thumping in your chest, telling you how special this all is and how much all this time spent together must mean.

He comes out of the bathroom and you can’t help but ask if he wants to stay for dinner. He says yes, of course, and you start cooking up some venison.

You sit down and pour some whiskey for the two of you - a risky move, which you’re fully aware of, but you don’t actually mind at this point. What happens, happens, right? You use this same logic when refilling the glasses.

He’s courteous as always, complimenting your cooking, thanking you for the help with Ellie’s birthday yet again, and offering to wash up afterwards.

“No, no, you’re my guest, Joel. Just sit for a bit. I know I’m exhausted after today.” You sigh, picking up the plates.

“All the more reason I should be cleanin’ up for ya,” he argues, and you just roll your eyes, moving to the sink.

You settle into a peaceful silence. It’s late, you’re ever so slightly drunk, and you’ve had a really long evening. It’s so quiet, in fact, that you let your thoughts wander, and don’t realise he’s coming up behind you until he accidentally nudges your hip, making you shriek and almost drop the mug you were washing.

“Shit, Joel!” You gasp, before dissolving into laughter at how much you overreacted.

“Sorry, hon.” He smiles lazily, making your heart flutter. His thumb tweaks your nose and your brows furrow. “Dunno how you got soap on yer face.” He mumurs, and you blink at him before coming back to your senses.

“Oh! Thanks, sorry.” You squeak, turning back to finish the washing and to hide your blushing face. He comes up next to you to help with drying everything off and your heart is about to burst from your chest by this point because you’ve just realised how domestic you’re both acting right now, how domestic this entire evening was. Talking with him on the couch after drinking coffee together, playing guitar before cooking, eating, and washing up, all together. There wasn’t a moment of discomfort or tension, and you realise just how wonderful he really is. And you realise how badly you want to kiss him, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He’s zoned out looking at something through your kitchen window, thankfully, so you can look at him a little more clearly. You just want to grab his gorgeous face and kiss him with everything in you. It’s been months of waiting, building all of this tension until you can finally have him. Maybe the alcohol is getting to you, but you’re about to actually act on what you’re thinking when you realise your hands are covered in soap and so are his, and that it’d probably be weird to grab him and get soap all over him, making you sigh and shake your head.

The two of you chat some more about the birthday party before he leaves, and you practically run up to your bedroom, throwing your clothes off and then throwing yourself into the bed.

You hated the apocalypse for many reasons, and one of them was the fact that you still hadn’t managed to find a sex shop with any toys still in working condition. Your fingers would have to do - and right now they were actually working just fine as you worked yourself up, tracing slow circles around your clit and hissing when you finally start applying direct pressure to it, your other hand cupping your breast and teasing your nipple. You close your eyes and imagine it was his calloused fingers roaming your body currently, imagine his lips all over your skin and on your cunt.

Your gasps get higher, louder, and when you finally tip over the edge, it’s his name which floats past your lips. Your entire body trembles as your hips buck from how hard you fuck yourself on your fingers by this point, wanting this orgasm to last as long as possible, your mind conjuring up downright sinful images of you and Joel in this very bed and making you so horny you can barely think.

You finally come down from the high, panting and trembling, and stumble to the bathroom to clean up before falling asleep.

-

Joel’s night doesn’t play out too differently from yours. The whiskey you’d so dangerously decided to supply him with clearly played with his mind, resulting in him getting hard towards the end of the night after bumping into you. He had to touch you in some way, and came up with the weak excuse of something being on your face - there was, but it really wasn’t necessary for him to touch you and get rid of it. He had to restrain himself from cupping your cheek and kissing you right there. Your fucking doe eyes, your parted lips and flushed cheeks were making his efforts to keep from getting hard futile, and he hopes he didn’t seem like he was running away at the end, since he was actually just trying to hide his boner.

He’s thankful Ellie’s already in the garage when he gets home, because he’d genuinely crawl into a hole and die if she saw him in this state - drunk, dishevelled, and horny. He runs up to his room and locks the door behind him, always a little paranoid, before pulling his boxers down and letting his head fall back against the door when he finally wraps his hand around his cock. The precome which falls from the tip already provides some lubrication, but he spits on his hand before continuing to pump himself, imagining what he could’ve done tonight, what could’ve happened in that kitchen.

He could’ve cupped your cheek, pulled you closer and kissed you hard. Your tongues would clash together and you’d melt in his arms as you let him dominate. When you parted from the kiss, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy, you’d look up at him through your eyelashes and-

“Fuckk.” He moans, breaths coming quicker as his mind jumps to the main event of this little fantasy, knees almost buckling as he quickly squeezes the base, trying to stave off his release just a bit longer.

It seems to work and he continues letting his mind wander.

You’d look up at him, wide eyes peering into his as you asked to suck his cock. He’d never make you - in fact, he’d probably just eat you out instead before fucking you - but if you wanted it he wouldn’t deny you.

He’d nod and you’d sink to your knees in front of him, getting to work fast and wrapping those plump lips around his tip, starting to bob your head. His hand matches the pace that your mouth is at in his mind and he groans, hand working over himself even faster and faster until he finally comes, spurting release onto his hands and stomach as his brows draw upward and he gasps your name.

-

July 28th finally rolls around, and you get out of bed unbelievably excited. You love Ellie, and you can’t wait to give her the best surprise ever.

The entire plan works perfectly, and she arrives just after 5 with Joel to the surprise at the Tipsy Bison. After everyone greets her, they sit to listen to your performance.

“Now, before we begin, I just wanted to say a few words for the girl this song is dedicated to,” you start, smiling as your eyes meet Ellie’s, she’s sat at the front of the crowd of course. “Ellie, you are the most wonderful kid I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You never fail to make my day better, and you always make me laugh - even with that terrible joke book of yours.” She rolls her eyes playfully and there are a few chuckles from the group - clearly she submits everyone she’s close with to the torture of her puns. “We’re all so grateful to have a friend like you, and you deserve the best birthday ever. Hopefully we did a good job.” You chuckle. A few cheers from the crowd, Ellie already beaming before you start playing the song.

When you do begin the song, she actually squeals from excitement, bouncing on her feet. You didn’t know her to act so excitable, especially in public, but it just makes you even more proud since you’d clearly done well by surprising her with this song.

Talking away,

I don’t know what I’m to say

I’ll say it anyway

Today’s another day to find you

Shying away

You don’t want the mood to be too low, although you smile softly at the sight of Ellie and Dina holding hands and murmuring to eachother about something, clearly having a little moment together.. but this is meant to be a party.

So, your strumming gets faster, singing louder and increasing in speed too, as you get some cheers from the crowd, a grin spreading across your face when you hear Joel’s encouragement too. Some people sing along, and people eventually start swaying and dancing. You take a little pause afterwards as people socialise, putting a song on the jukebox and setting your guitar down, sipping some water.

Ellie comes up to the stage with Joel, her smile so wide it prompts your own. You love making people happy, especially kids, and especially this kid.

“That was so fucking awesome! Thank you so much!” She beams, coming up to you and hugging you tight. Your brows raise and you hug her back, meeting Joel’s eyes. He has that look in his eyes you’ve noticed a lot more recently. You refuse to believe it’s the look of love, but.. what else would it be, really? It’s definitely some sort of affection for you, seeing you bonding so well with his surrogate daughter.

“That’s okay, honey. I’m really glad you liked it.” You say, and she thanks you again before requesting another song by A-ha, and you nod, recalling how to play it thankfully, before she leaves to go talk with her friends.

You sigh happily as you watch her go, beyond pleased with the outcome of the party, almost forgetting Joel who still stands before you.

“You were amazing, sweetheart.” He says, still smiling, making you blush when you thank him.

“‘s all thanks to you, Joel. You taught me the song.”

He hums, hands in his pockets. “But you played it up there, and you did it so well.”

“I guess…” You mumble, still a shy reciprocant of praise even after playing and performing in Jackson for all these years.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a real star.” He says, voice a little softer now, just intelligible over the music. You meet his eyes, so earnest and warm as they gaze into your own, and your breath catches.

“Thank you.” You say at last, smiling bashfully.

An hour later, some alcohol in pretty much everyone’s systems (even Ellie’s, after much pleading with Joel, arguing that 16 is basically 18 and that it’s the apocalypse anyway, man!) and your singing session over, the jukebox takes over and plays songs randomly. You sigh wistfully when ‘Collide’ plays, reminding you of that night not so long ago with Joel. The first of many perfect nights spent with him. He seems to have the same thought as he meets your eyes across the room.

Thank fuck for the alcohol, you think, when he comes up to you and boldly asks for a dance. There are people still on the dance floor, mindlessly chatting and dancing, so it wouldn’t be too obvious or embarrassing, you figure, nodding and taking his hand. You almost shudder at the feeling of it - have you even held his hand until now..? You don’t think so. But you still manage to control yourself.

That control flies out the window when you actually start dancing. The song isn’t exactly made for slow dancing, but you’re still close, and you know you’re close enough for him to see you blushing. You don’t really know what possesses you, because after a few murmured words, looking up at him as you dance, you’re taking his hand and somehow dragging him outside. Nobody even notices, and you’re thankful for it, unsure of how to navigate things after you finally do it.

You finally kiss him.

You get outside of the Tipsy Bison, soft orange light painting your faces, a cool breeze in the air. You exhale shakily, thinking of what to say before looking back up at him. All logic and thought fly out of your mind when you meet his eyes. They’re glowing in the sunlight, yet his pupils are so dilated as he looks at you. You can’t think straight and all your mind - no, your heart - is telling you to do is to just kiss him.

So you do, and it feels perfect.

Months, months of torturous waiting for this moment, and it’s actually fucking perfect.

He’s stunned for a second before he’s kissing you back hungrily, a hand tangling in your hair and the other wrapping around your waist, spinning and pinning you back against the wall. You moan softly as he presses into you, forgetting himself briefly.

The soft sound brings him back, though, and he parts from you, forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. You giggle, adrenaline high, and he smiles, huffing a little laugh.

“Well, shit.” A voice comes from your side, and you squeak, eyes shutting before you turn to see Ellie. She’s grinning as you squirm, the cheeky little bugger.

“Ellie-” Joel begins, suddenly sobering up, worried that Ellie won’t be comfortable with this at all.

She is though, laughing to herself before muttering “fucking finally” and heading back inside.

“She’s not wrong,” you murmur, still smiling, “that took us way too long.”

He nods, agreeing before kissing you again, a little softer this time, but it still makes you weak in the knees.

If he wasn’t drunk, and it wasn’t Ellie’s party right now, he’d definitely ask to take you home.. But he can’t tonight. You don’t ask either, probably in the same thought process as he is.

That doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the evening together, chatting with friends here and there, but being inseparable otherwise.

It definitely doesn’t stop you both from darting back outside at least 5 more times during the night to make out like a pair of horny teenagers, either.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

Next Chapter

Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @dendulinka6 @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @roryfuckedurmum @s0meoone @joyfulllittlething

[haikyu-mp4]

Made me a fool

“Did you hear about Kita? He took in a farm hand and a GIRL at that.” – @nanami2ndbureau for my Gossip Event.

word count; 479 – f!reader, part 2 of this

Many of the others in the village wondered why Kita kept you around. It was no secret that even though you worked hard, you were not that good at it. When you made tracks for the rice, Kita usually had to go over them again. When you watered stuff, Kita had to add more soil or drain the pot. When he asked you if you wanted to make some lunch for the two of you instead, he had to run inside when there was a smoke signal from the kitchen window.

His back ached more than it did before if he’s honest.

But every time, you would give him a sheepish smile, raising your shoulders as if preparing for him to yell at you. And he would let out a long breath before once again showing or telling you how it’s supposed to be done.

Yes, he kept you around because you’re gorgeous. You made him a fool.

“Hey, it’s getting late,” Kita noted after checking his wristwatch. Then his eyes went to the horizon, where the sun had long since set. “How about you stay for dinner?”

You perked up, taking a second to mentally confirm that this was the first time he asked such a thing. “I could make dinner for you! After messing up so much in the greenhouse, it’s the least I could do.” Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your head and looked away.

Lucky, because Kita’s eyes widened significantly at the horrifying thought of you making him dinner. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to!”

And once again, he fell victim to you.

While you cooked, Kita hung around, nervously eyeing every move you made and hiding behind small talk. Kita realised then that you two talked a lot. He knows so much about you, and he only likes you more every day.

The thought distracted him for long enough that when he zoned back in, you were guiltily looking over your shoulder while smoke burst from the pan. “Kita…”

He sprung into action, reaching out to put more oil in the pan, letting it soak into where the food was burning. Then he shooed your hand away, taking the pan and working the food with one hand, while the other rested on the small of your back.

Your cheeks were burning, and you wished you could blame the cooking. “I always mess things up, I don’t even understand why you keep me around.”

As he moved the pan to the cool part of the stovetop, he sighed heavily. “Honestly, me neither.” Your shoulders sank and you looked up at him with glossy eyes. Kita looked at you, glancing at your pouty lips and back to your eyes. “I must really like you.”

Let’s just say you spent the whole night there and eventually stayed practically every night.

Teamwork makes the dreams work.

masterlist

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 22: Shivering Certainty

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under), Judge Turpin (Sweeney Todd) Relationship(s): Turpin/Mary (OC), Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: implied smut

Based on The Eternal Summer

AN: Inspired by Truly Madly Deeply, because I watched it and knew immediately who else would grieve a moustachioed Alan so hard that his ghost popped up :D Part 2 tomorrow!

Read on Ao3 or below:

At first, Mary thought she must have been going mad.

But it was real. He was real.

She reached out hesitantly to place a hand on his chest, and sure enough, he was as warm and solid as she’d ever known him.

“Elliott…” Mary gasped, looking up at him with eyes wide in wonder. “I don’t understand… how…?”

“I don’t know either, darling,” he replied, and Mary thought she might cry to hear his voice again, the voice she thought had been silenced forever. “All I know is I was in your arms, and then… I was here.”

“Oh, Elliott!” Mary sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. “How I’ve missed you!”

Elliott wrapped his arms around her tightly, and for the first time in a very long time she felt safe again.

“Shh, it’s alright, Mary… I’m here now…”

She sobbed profusely into his chest, neither of them caring that his shirt would no doubt be soaked by her tears. Elliott stroked her hair soothingly, even rocking her slightly, and he managed to coax her to sit down on the edge of the bed as he comforted her.

“How long has it been?” Elliott asked once he thought she seemed to have calmed enough to talk.

“F - five months,” Mary replied, sniffling as she raised her head to look at him. “The worst five months of my life.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

“It is! I couldn’t begin to describe… losing you was… oh, it killed me, Elliott. I might as well have died with you that day.”

“Don’t say that,” said Elliott sternly, cupping her face with his large hand. “Don’t you even think that, you hear me? I need you to live a long and healthy life for me.”

She nodded emphatically.

“I will, El. I almost… I did almost join you, but…”

“What?! What are you talking about? Did someone try to hurt you? I swear, if it was William —”

“No! No, he’s - he’s been so good to me ever since… since I tried… stupid, really… a bottle of arsenic, or so I thought… the apothecary must have watered it down…”

“Are you mad, Mary? What good would that have done anyone?”

“I know, El, I know! I’m so glad it didn’t work, because… well…” She sniffed, but she was smiling through her tears. “Gosh, how many times have I wished I could tell you…”

“Tell me what, darling?”

Mary wiped the tears from her face and took Elliott’s hands in hers.

“Elliott, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot up, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless. Mary giggled.

“I’m certain he’s yours. I can just feel it. I’ll never tell William that, of course, I daren’t think what he might do if he believed he wasn’t his, but… he agreed that we can call him Elliott for you.”

“…Mine?” Elliott repeated. “Do you really believe so?”

“Yes, yes, I do, he’s yours, El, I just know it!”

Elliott sunk to one knee on the floor and placed a gentle hand over her belly, as if worried touching it might harm the tiny life growing inside her.

“Do you know how much I fantasised about this?” he said softly, looking up at her reverently. “Marrying you and filling you with my child… oh, Mary, if only I could give you more, we’d have a litter of children…”

He leant forward and placed a soft kiss to her belly.

“I suppose he’ll be Elliott Turpin,” he said with amusement. “Not a name I ever thought I’d come across.”

“Oh, but El, what - what happens now? I mean… do you - will you stay?”

“I don’t know,” Elliott said as he sat back on the mattress with her. “I’d like to. But there are limitations. Don’t ask me how I know them, but I do.”

“Such as?”

“Nobody else can see or hear me, I don’t think. And I can’t leave this house. I don’t know whether it’s because of you or something else, but I can’t follow you outside.”

“But you… you’re solid, I mean… I’ve heard stories of apparitions, but never a ghost that you could touch.”

She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. He was warm, his facial hair prickled against her skin… he was as real as if he were alive.

“Do you breathe? Eat, sleep? I can touch you, but…” Her eyes flickered down to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Elliott smirked. “Perhaps you should test it.”

Tentatively, Mary leant up and pressed her lips to his.

Yes, she could kiss him! She could kiss him, she could hold him… and he could kiss her back. His moustache rubbed against her skin just as she remembered, and when her lips parted for him, his wet tongue could explore her mouth just as he’d done before.

Elliott wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, being careful not to place any pressure on her belly between their bodies.

“It seems you can most definitely kiss me,” Elliott murmured with a satisfied smirk. “And it seems I can kiss you too.”

Mary shivered slightly as a cold breeze came in through the window, and Elliott immediately took his jacket off to wrap around her shoulders.

“How are you enjoying the Australian winter?” he asked with amusement. “Is it odd to be cold in August?”

“A little, but English summers aren’t always hot, so it’s not that much of a change really.”

“Perhaps you should get under the covers.”

Mary looked up at him coyly. “Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr Marston?”

“Oh, I don’t need trickery to get you into bed,” Elliott said with a mischievous grin. “That belly of yours is proof enough of that.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, and carefully guided her onto her back so he could kiss her on the bed.

“What would your husband say if he could see this, hm?” Elliott purred as he kissed her neck, his body weight shifted to one side to avoid her belly. “Oh, hello, darling, welcome home. By the way, I snogged your dead cousin in our bed today, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Stop it!” Mary giggled. “If he knew anything of this, he’d have me sent off to the asylum instantly. Gosh, how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing you’re there?”

“You have a spare room, don’t you? Tell him you want to sleep alone because of the baby, then sneak into bed with me. How scandalous would that be, hm?”

Elliott took the skin of her neck between his teeth and teased her with a soft nibble.

“El! Be careful, you can’t leave a mark!”

“Can’t I? He’s left enough of his own. Who’s to say the mark’s not from him?”

Even so, Elliott didn’t try nibbling her again, opting instead to leave gentle, loving kisses over the top of the bruises she had from Turpin.

He moved down her body, his kisses travelling across her collarbone and then down her clavicle, until he reached her swollen breasts.

“Mmm, look how full they are… all ready to feed my son…”

He cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs ghosting over her nipples through the fabric of her dress, and Mary squirmed slightly with sensitivity.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Elliott said softly. He placed a delicate kiss to each nipple, then said, “Are you leaking yet?”

“Not yet. But they’re sensitive.”

“And getting bigger, too, that’s for sure… fuck, Mary, you really were made for this. Pregnancy suits you.”

“I wonder, El… if you seem to be able to do everything you could as if you were alive… can you…?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her patiently.

“Can I what?”

“You know,” Mary said with a blush.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was lying, and they both knew it, but he wanted to hear her say it. If they’d had more time - oh, the things he would have done for her - but the first thing he’d have taught her would be to ask for what she wants. She was too kind for her own good sometimes, too selfless, never doing anything for herself. But he wanted to give her the world, and she needed to ask for it.

Elliott shifted himself up the bed so he was face-to-face with her again, and planted a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Tell me what you want, Mary.”

“Make love to me,” she breathed, melting under his touch as one hand explored her body, tracing a route down her hip towards her thigh.

Elliott smiled.

“Anything you wish.”

Turpin arrived home late that evening, as he’d been playing cards with some of the other judges in Perth. He was a little drunk, but not debilitatingly so. The house was dark and quiet, so he surmised Mary must be asleep in bed.

She must have been very tired indeed when she went to bed, because she’d left the curtains drawn, but at least it gave Turpin some moonlight with which to admire his sleeping wife’s form.

He spotted something strange about her nightgown, so he pulled down the covers to reveal… she was wearing a man’s jacket, he realised with a frown.

He didn’t recognise it - it certainly wasn’t his! The worst case scenario immediately springing to mind, Turpin took her by the shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position so he could remove the jacket from her and, hopefully, find out who it might belong to.

The movement caused Mary to wake up, and she blinked her eyes open, looking around sleepily in the semi-darkness.

“Whose is this?” Turpin demanded, holding the jacket up to her. “This jacket is certainly not mine, so whose is it?”

“Elliott,” Mary mumbled. She looked around, blinking, as if she thought he might be around.

Turpin sighed. Elliott. Of course it was bloody Elliott’s. The man was five months dead, and still he lingered like a ghost haunting his wife’s heart.

“Go back to sleep, Mary,” Turpin said. “I’ll put this away.”

Mary wanted to protest, but what could she say?

Instead, she closed her eyes as she laid back down on the pillow, tugging the duvet back over her to stop herself from shivering.

A few minutes later, the mattress sagged as Turpin joined her, wrapping an arm around her to hold her close to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his tone hard to interpret, somehow both a comfort and a firm reminder.

Yes, he was here - and Elliott wasn’t. Mary remembered falling asleep in his arms, having determined that he most definitely could still make love to her as a ghost.

That had happened, hadn’t it? She hadn’t gone so mad with grief that she’d imagined her dead lover returning to her?

No, it must have happened… how else would his jacket have ended up around her shoulders?

She shivered in the cold night, and her husband held her closer, doing his best to give her what warmth he could from his body.

Elliott had been warm too… he must have been real. He must have.

But where was he now?