#its. ice. in sunglasses. what more do you want

[polar-equinoxx]

You so prettyy <33

- Mav

[nctsworld]

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.  

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.  

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again. 

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.  

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow. 

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else. 

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles. 

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck. 

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market. 

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm. 

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually. 

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh. 

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark. 

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

[hrrtshape]

FAME DR — random things i catch myself doing

⋆   checking my reflection in every reflective surface – not even trying to be vain; it just happens. windows, sunglasses, the back of my spoon in restaurants… gotta make sure the hair’s doing its thing!!!!!! can you blame me?? after scripting that im the most beautiful person in the galaxy world universe planet earth the extraterrestrial covering???

⋆  getting waay too into my own fan edits – i know, i know. i know !! but i can’t help it. cause why are some of these people lowkey bob ross’es…….. and god knows those iwishutalktalkwishutalktalkwishutalktalk edits slap!!!!!

⋆  making a mental list of all the celebrities i want to befriend – every awards show, it’s like, “ooooooooo, gotta chat with her next time. ye. ye,” or “could we handle being besties? or would she be too busy? would i be too busy??” 

⋆  doing my own mini-paparazzi test runs – i’ll walk down my hallway pretending it’s a red carpet, testing aaallll thé best angles and smiles for when the cameras flash. “which look is more it girl chic baddie mysterious diva core? do i give a little smile or keep it ice-cold? attitude?? fuck. what i do.”

⋆  googling my own name with random keywords – like “[…] + scandal” just to see what wild stories fans are spinning, or “[…] + best outfits” to remind myself that I AM…indeed.. that girl

⋆  pretending i’m on vogue’s “73 questions” while i do mundane stuff – loading the dishwasher or folding laundry, and all of a suddem i’m answering fake questions about my favourite ice cream flavour like the world is (definitelly….definitely…) watching.

⋆  using my awards as high-key decor – casually arranging grammy’s, oscars, tony’s and emmys’ on my living room shelf, so they’re visible for any.. unplanned photos. they might as well count as conversation starters.

⋆  accidentally stealing lip glosses from every makeup artist I work with – it’s not intentional! but I end up with an ever-growing collection of shades that accidentally find their way into my purse. oops ? the 11 year old kleptomaniac in me never left, i guess. 

⋆  tossing air-kisses to fans out the windows – dramatically waving out the window to invisible crowds like i’m on a royal tour. it’s mainly just for me, but I feel like the main character every single time.

⋆  practising my award speech in the shower – just in case, you know ? i’m running through all the thank yous and shoutouts, making sure the delivery is tear-worthy but not too dramatic.

⋆  catching myself using my best “signature” autograph – even when signing random receipts, i go full-on with my signature. i know it’ll end up on ebay one day, so i make it flawless every time.

⋆  overthinking my outfit to do something minor – even stepping out for two minutes has to look like it’s casual yet unbelievably chic. what if a fan spots me or a candid photo gets out? the pressure’s real.

⋆  choosing my airport outfits as if It’s a NYFW – the airport is a runway for the weary and jet-lagged, so i’m showing up in my finest oversized hoodie and designer shades, ready to be “spontaneously” photographed.

⋆  taking a nap between interview segments – there’s a tiny couch in my dressing room for a reason, and you better believe i’m getting that beauty sleep between each round of the press circuit. besides. it’s very convenient that i scripted i look angelic after waking up. so, yes! 

⋆  listening to my own songs on repeat (in private) – yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe it’s a little narcissistic, but when I’m alone, my music is basically my personal ‘bop-makker’ playlist. 

⋆  bringing little sweet treats to red carpets – you don’t know hunger until you’re in an all-day event in a tight dress with no food in sight, so yes, i stash some of those bombastic granola bars in my clutch.

⋆  updating my pinterest boards – 24/7 adding new aesthetics, vintage looks, moody photoshoots, and iconic glam shots for future eras. the grind never stops !! besides, it’s xtremely fun to find archival gowns that i could just be like… “yeah, i want it.” 

⋆  taking a pic every time i feel iconic !! – at the end of the day, it’s all about those little moments of mine. how could i not capture myself looking iconic with my hair blowing in the wind, or that one perfect winged eyeliner and i won an oscar. this is MY MOMENT. 

⋆  signing a signature with something xxxtra 4 fans – if i see a fan with my merch, i’ll randomly sign it and add hearts, sparkles, whatever i can just to make it extra special. just please don’t put it on ebay again with a doubled price 

⋆  giggling over my own wikipedia page – homemade margarita blender and a straw in it in hand, reading. yes. i do that. unemployed at heart. also sometimes raising an eyebrow when i encounter something false. like, no…i haven’t been dating dev patel. i mean, i wish ! 

⋆  humming my own lyrics while shopping — as if some people wouldn’t recognise them !! just a little “oopsy, did i just sing my grammy-winning chorus in the cereal aisle?”

⋆  leaving my phone on loud because it could be beyonce, for all intents and purposes — ready for all incoming calls. for interviews. for mysterious dinners. for my situationship to text me. for that movie role. but also probably just mom, calling to check on me.

⋆  breaking into runway walks — from the kitchen to the bathroom, because i !!!have!! to practice those killer strides. preferably in slippers.

⋆  complimenting my own acting in movies — like……“damn, i’m talented. i’m pretty good at this, huh..” lowkey shocking myelf during certain scenes, because yes, i went *THERE.*

⋆  collecting little trinkets from world tours — coasters, matchbooks, hotel room keys (should’ve probably given those back, now that i’m thinking about it), because each one is a time capsule from the adventure.

⋆  randomly testing my oscar acceptance expressions in the mirror — gotta know how much to cry, smile, or look truly humbled when the time comes !!!!

[hemmingsleclerc]

I'm really loving the dad max content, your style of writting is amazing

I don't know if it's possible, but could you do something where Olivia is hanging out with Checo's kids (Chequito, Carlota, Emilio) and causing chaos in the paddock

I think it would be cute and fun

Lost in the Paddock┃MV1

Omg I love this idea I just imagined it and laugh!😭💕

summary:where max and checo lose their children in the spanish grand prix

It was a sunny morning in the paddock and the excitement for the Spanish Grand Prix was growing. Max’s daughter, Olivia, and Checo’s children, Chequito, Carlota and Emilio, were full of energy and looked at everything with curiosity. The sound of the engines echoed throughout the place, but the children were more interested in playing hide and seek.

As their parents prepared for the race, the four quickly came up with a plan to explore the paddock together. Unbeknownst to their parents, the mischievous group ventured out, carefully checking all the places.

The paddock was a maze of trailers, trucks and equipment, a perfect playground for the kids. Olivia, being the oldest, had convinced the others to follow her and explore the secret corners that she had already seen before with her father. Unbeknownst to their parents, the little ones had wandered too far and were soon lost in the maze of racing equipment.

Meanwhile, Max and Checo finished their conversation and turned around to find that their children were nowhere to be found. Panic set in as they frantically shouted their names. Max's heart almost burst out of him as he screamed his little girl's name while Checo was just as bad or worse than him.

"Olivia!''

''Chequito! Carlota! Emilio!" echoed through the paddock, but there was no response. The two parents exchanged worried glances and quickly ran out of their garage in search of their children.

Meanwhile, the children had managed to find their way to the center of the paddock, laughing and laughing as they explored the different areas of the different teams. Chequito, Carlota, Emilio and Olivia were in their own world of fun, oblivious to the chaos they were causing.

They managed to reach a place where photos of their parents were displayed on a wall. ''Look! There's my daddy!'', ''Ours too!'' Suddenly, a great idea had occurred to Olivia, what better idea than to leave a nice message for her dad and for everyone to see it, so carefully she took out of her small backpack the markers that her mother had given her on her birthday and with a huge smile, she began to draw hearts on the wall, among other things, while her other three companions saw her laughing.

Meanwhile, Max was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown himself while Checo was madly asking anyone who crossed his path if there was any sign of his children.

Charles, Daniel, Lewis and Carlos had joined the search for the little ones to cover more space and narrow down the possible places they could be.

''Via!Your favorite uncle is looking for you!'' Daniel shouted

''Carlota! Emilio! Checo jr!, Come here! We have a special surprise for you!'' Charles said

''Kids! Roscoe wants to play with you!'' Lewis' turn

Just as concern was reaching its peak, a track official informed Max and Checo that a group of children matching their descriptions had been seen near the merchandise area. With a sigh of relief, the parents rushed to the scene, their hearts pounding in their chests.

There they found the quartet, happily surrounded by team merchandise, trying on oversized caps and sunglasses while devouring different flavored ice creams. The children looked up with innocent smiles as Max and Checo approached, a mix of relief and exasperation on their faces.

Max and Checo shared a look that conveyed relief and amusement at the same time. When the chaos calmed down, the parents couldn't help but smile at the getaway their children had made. With a laugh of relief, they escorted the boys back to the Red Bull Racing garage, ready to focus on the race ahead.

Max lifted his little girl in his arms while he covered her face with kisses.

''Were where you all this time angel?, and who bought you those ice creams?''

''!Uncle lando and uncle oscar daddy!'' Olivia exclamed

''They also bought us these cool caps dad!'' Chequito said to checo

''Yeah, you're not wearing those mclaren caps on our watch kids, redbull ones are better''

As the paddock returned to its normal bustle, Max and Checo were grateful to have their children back safe and sound.And listen to all the mischievous they got up to in their absence.

[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 1

featuring: nanami and toji (pt. 2 with sukuna, geto, and gojo coming soon!! i was going to include it all in one but wanted to feed you guys because its been soooo long!)

thank you so much to @luvxoxo for the request!! i loved writing it and hope this is what you had in mind!! for anyone that has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!!

so sorry this took so long! i promise i'm back 💗

Nanami

you decide to take yourself on a little shopping spree after surviving this week (or most of it anyways). today’s entitled customers pushed you over the edge, with the workday ending with a screaming match and the bakery closing early. after running it for the past five years, you hadn’t gotten a customer as rude as the one you got today. upset about their iced tea having too much ice, they proceeded to throw the entire glass on nobara, one of your employees.

after trying to call your boyfriend, kento, and his phone going to voicemail, you started to lose it. practically glaring a hole through your phone, you waited for the voicemail beep. when it went off, so did you.

“kento i’m so fucking annoyed right now. i hate everyone and i just need to go shopping. don’t wait for me for dinner, i’ll be at the mall.”

angrily speeding out of the bakery parking lot and to the mall, you slam the car door as you take out your credit card, ready to spend your entire life’s savings on retail therapy. you weren’t even sure how much you had in your bank account, but you were ready to test it.

you walk into onitsuka tiger and begin pulling things off the rack. after eying their newest runway collection in your favorite youtuber’s videos, you have your heart set on their winter coats and midi dresses. you also need at least two of their shoes in different colors.

too bothered to try anything on, you walk to the counter with everything in your arms. people glance over their shoulders at you, watching you periodically drop things on your way to the cashier. you grumble and bend down to pick the clothes up, still too annoyed to care about anything besides your shopping. as you approach, you spot a familiar blondie talking to the cashier.

he turns around with a concerned look in his eyes and a gigantic onitsuka tiger bag in his hand. he walks towards you after glancing behind him to thank the cashier. “sweetheart… i listened to your voicemail... are you okay? do you want to get some wetzel’s pretzels and talk about it?”

while you look at him, confused, he takes all the clothes from your hands and walks around the store to put them back. “we can get the cinnamon kind you like” he tries.

“ken, I was going to buy those.” you snap, mildy infuriated.

he pulls your resisting body into a hug and kisses your forehead. “honey, you spent almost the entirety of your bank account on those three pairs of gentle monster sunglasses last week” he chuckles.

you glare at him. saying “no i did not,” knowing full well that you did. your ‘entire life’s savings’ was currently at a grand total of 50 dollars.

he takes your hand and brushes your fisted knuckles with his thumb as hands you the giant bag in his hands. “text me next time you run out of money, okay? i want to provide for you.”

“but you never spend money on yourself, ken.” you say, slowly looking through the bag. in it is every single thing you had in your hands earlier and more. the black denim dress, long brown coat, navy blue shoes, and much, much more. you look up at your boyfriend, eyes watering at his gesture.

he shakes his head, “you and what you want matter more to me than anything else.” he runs his hand over the back of your head, fingers gently caressing your hair. “i know this week was especially hard for you so i had these waiting here for pickup since wednesday. you just beat me here.” he chuckles. “i know this doesn’t make up for those shitty customers, but i hope it makes you feel better.”

you hug him tightly, “how did you know?”

he kisses the top of your head, “i’ve been looking at your pinterest boards for inspiration”

you pull him in for a kiss, “genuinely, honey, I don’t know how i got so lucky with you.”

“i’m the one who’s lucky, sweetheart.” he says.

Toji

you walk through the mall with your boyfriend, squealing with excitement as you spot the new jellycat diner. “TOJI! look!” you point happily. “which one should i get? should i get the pizza? no wait, maybe i’ll get the hot dog… no WAIT-“

he chuckles, “doll, didn’t your paycheck just come in? you can probably get a bunch.”

you look at him with giant puppy dog eyes, “wanna buy it for me?”

he scratches the back of his neck, “uhh… i might’ve spent my entire paycheck at the casino… sorry, ma”

“oh my god, ‘ji, how are we supposed to eat?” you rub your forehead, “you promised no more casino.”

he pulls your hand closer to him, “i know… shiu wanted to go for his birthday and i got carried away. i’m really sorry, doll.”

you huff, “if you go again, i’m going to shoot you.” stomping off without him, you pick up the two jellycats you want and bring them to the counter. “just these two, please!” the cashier bundles them up for you and motions for you to swipe your card.

“your card declined, could you try swiping it again?” the cashier asks.

you internally panic. “sure!” you say, swiping it again. you’re starting to doubt the fact that you cashed your paycheck in. unfortunately for you, your card declines three more times and you end up walking out of the store embarassed and empty handed.

after listening to toji’s endless apologies on the way home, he promises to make it up to you when he receives his next paycheck. you nod, deciding to forgive him before heading out to dinner with your best friend, shoko. with the amount of money in your card, you’re pretty sure that all you can afford is an onigiri from 7/11.

as you pull out of the driveway, you think you hear the whirring of your ancient sewing machine, but you’re not quite sure. you’re not even sure if that thing works anyway.

when you return home, toji’s nowhere to be found. knowing that he didn’t have plans to work today, you wander through the rooms of your apartment, calling his name. when you get to the dining table, you spot a half-crumpled post-it and concerningly ugly plushies that you think are kinda ugly-cute.

as you get closer, you realize that they kind of resemble the pizza and hotdog jellycat plushies you almost bought at the mall. their drawn-on sharpie eyes stare back at you as you take in their half-sewn and half-glue-gunned appearance. they have hot glue strings and threads poking out of the sides, but you’re falling in love with them nonetheless. you laugh as you think about toji giving up on using the sewing machine halfway through. hugging them tightly, you read the post-it toji left on the table.

"hey doll, i’ll be back in a bit, just finishing up something real quick. love you" it reads, with a hastily scribbled heart.

fifteen minutes later, toji walks through the door, hair tousled and the real jellycat pizza and hot dog plushies in one arm and chinese takeout in the other.

he grins, “hey doll.”

you run up to him and throw your arms around his neck. “did you make these?” you ask, referring to his handmade plushies.

he grimaces a little, “yeah, they’re kinda ugly, huh?”

you laugh and shake your head, “no, ‘ji, i love them, thank you so much”

he hands you the jellycats in his hands, “i got the real ones for you too because i can’t fuckin’ look at my ugly ones”

when you look at his hands, you see that they’re covered in glue gun burns and bandages. you run your hands over the sewing machine and glue gun damages asking, “i thought you didn’t have money?”

“i pickpocketed people on the street.”

you look at him, “toji, please, for the love of god, tell me that you’re joking.”

he just laughs, “yeah sure doll, i’m just jokin’” he says, knowing you don’t believe him in the slightest.

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[skrrts]

Heart Receipt (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x jung wooyoung ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, fluff, coffee shop, he has a crush on you ✧ word count: 1,8k

you never were one of those people with daydreams of running into a hot guy while working a job that was anything but romantic. if anything, you are quite comfortable with your single life and you definitenly have no interest in the one customer who always ends up flirting with you. that doesn't mean wooyoung is discouraged by your rejections so far, he just gets more creative.

a/n: just a small, random oneshot with woo trying to ask you out

During high school, you always failed to see the temptation of why meeting a guy at a coffee shop would be the great goal of romance. Why exactly would anyone want to date the person who likely knew their darkest secret when it came to the consumption of a liquid that could be deemed a drug of in its own right?

Now that you worked part-time in one of those shops, you found confirmation in questioning just why you thought this would be a great idea.

From the grumpy business woman who always lacked time in the morning and blamed you for the long row of customers ahead of her up to those teenagers who wasted ten minutes to try and figure out which drink would go best on TikTok today only to leave the beverage half full at a random corner for some other guest to kick it over by accident. Not to forget the brooders, who ordered the cheapest drink just to have an excuse to use the free wifi for several hours.

Sunday shifts were your favorite, just because there wasn’t a whole lot to do, not during Summer when people spent the time close to pools rather than giving into their coffee aesthetic needs or only bought a cup to leave right away, attempting social events you gladly missed out on.

“There he is again,” Mingi whispered, trying casually to put cups away and not stare but he was bad at it. If anything the newest addition to the coffee shop was a master in gaining attention and you felt whenever his shift was on, more girls were showing up just to giggle at him from the distance.

This guest, however, really was attention personified. From the bright burning red hair up to that outfit which always made others question how somebody could look so good while dealing with the heatwave outside.

He pushed the sunglasses up by the time he entered and his gaze was instantly on you. There had been a few encounters before, cheeky remarks, complimenting you although you tried really hard to look extra grumpy.

Why was that? Maybe because you had a hard time believing anyone would take an interest in a random person selling coffee. Maybe you worked those kinds of jobs too often, where nice people always turned out hoping to get a drink for free once you gave in. 

“You guys are so diligent, even working on Sundays,” he smiled, glancing from you to Mingi who was keener on interacting with the guy.

“Well, we get some replacement off days, so that’s fine. What brings you here on a Sunday?” While your co-worker wasn’t part of the staff for long enough to know that for certain, he wasn’t wrong. This guy was usually here on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which sadly were your usual shift days.

“Best friend just left with the love of his life for an endless road trip they did not want to bring me to,” he pouted a bit but then grinned when he saw your frowning reaction. He likely was wondering what it was that you always seemed a little grumpy around him. 

“Is there anything you would like to order today?” you asked professionally, already mentally preparing the order he always went for when he looked up, looking at the Summer menu: “Mh, I think, I will try one of those strawberry coffee shakes today. What’s your favorite?”

You lurked over to the menu: “I guess, I’m more of a basic iced coffee person.” You already were busy to start when he clapped his hands together: “Then, I will also take one of those.”

If not for Mingi happily accepting his phone payment and you being busy to make the order, you’d likely question it. Well, if anything you should have known.

By the time you were done, the redhead took a seat in the corner, although the coffee shop was practically empty, the few guests who decided to stay were bold, sitting outdoors in the hot sun. 

“Here you go,” you placed them on the table, offering the usual polite bow and meant to flee back, maybe enjoy a few free minutes when he cleared his thought.

“I don’t think I manage to drink both. Maybe you’d like the iced americano?” His voice was playful when you turned around and realized that had been his intention all along.

“I do not really drink coffee with random guests,” you declined.

“I am Jung Wooyoung, in the last steps to receive my Bachelor of Science in Health and Fitness and I think you are cute, so I hoped maybe, you’d not mind having a coffee with me.”

Now, this was straightforward considering he had been coming here for weeks now. You heard Mingi giggle somewhere in the background as he innocently put clean cups back into the cupboard. 

So what to do? A hot guy asked you to have a coffee with him while being clocked in and you literally acted like the grumpy barista for weeks. Looking at Wooyoung, you’d not even be surprised if it was more encouraging to him.

For a moment, you stood there, fingers holding the tray a little too tightly and maybe, he could read your mind.

He was turned around to face you properly, his playful demeanor softened and he placed the sunglasses aside. “I promise, the interest is sincere. Honestly, this is the first time I am trying something like that… I usually just flirt a little and then people react or not, but you were really professional. I kind of liked it, so I came more often and well, it’s true, I almost know nothing about you but I watched you a little, so I thought maybe, we could… get to know each other a little better.”

There was a hint of red on your cheeks considering his honest confession and for a moment you hesitated before pulling the second chair back and sat down.

“I… most flirty customers do so hoping to get something in return, so I was a little … reserved,” you admitted and he chuckled.

“Oh, I can imagine that. Y/N… is it okay if I call you by your name?”

You offered him a small nod and picked up the cold coffee, sipping on it.

Wooyoung smiled brightly, doing the same with his as he looked at it: “Oh, this is pretty good! I should have tried it sooner.”

You were amazed how quick he could change, from casual to flirty, and now, almost cutely excited about such a simple thing as a drink. 

“It’s a classic at this café, we bring it back every summer, well it is what they say anyway. I only have worked here for about a year now. I’m also currently wrapping up my degree if you want to know,” you admitted and mumbled something about what exactly you were doing.

His face brightened up: “That sounds really cool!”

Your fingers curled around the cool glass, trying to keep your hands busy as he spoke so openly that you suddenly felt too shy to speak more about yourself.

“So, you said your best friend went on a Road Trip?”

Wooyoung seemed excited that you paid attention to what he said, nodding: “Yup, he is one of those guys who met this perfect girl during high school and I’d not be surprised if he’s getting married before he is 30 and they will have a little house on the beach with a dog, a sassy cat, and two kids.”

While he smiled as he told you about this friend, there was a small, short moment of sadness reflecting in his eyes. You could imagine it was difficult with your best friend suddenly gone.

“Sounds like you are not one of those house and dog people,” you tried to sound playful and it seemed to be a success.

This time, he looked at you curiously like it was your sign of interest in him: “Admittingly, I’d just like to find somebody who’s relaxed and in no rush. Right now, I just want to graduate and then slowly get the hang of things. You know, figure it out as we go but I can be a little restless, having somebody tugging on my jacket, scolding me to think would be nice.. I mean, I also would give plenty back! Do my best!”

“Sounds like you,” Mingi suddenly called out behind the counter and you turned around, glaring at him.

“Excuse me?”

The barista laughed: “Just saying, you are more of a down-to-earth, focusing on all one by one.” 

You muttered something when you turned around and held back a gasp because, Wooyoung was leaning forward now, chin resting against entwined fingers.

“Personally, I think it’s quite appealing,” he smiled cutely and you rubbed over your cheek again.

“Ah, I mean… you know,” you mumbled, uncertain what to say. 

“I think you are very pretty and I like you aren’t so easy to impress. I will do my best and show you that as chaotic as I am, there is more to me if you let me?” he promised and finished his drink. 

This was so strange, what were you supposed to do? You took a final sip from your coffee before chewing your lip, pulling out your phone, opening the contact option and shyly moving it over to him. 

“Well, I actually have next weekend off and they said it won’t be so hot anymore,” you mumbled and Wooyoung seemed excited. He took the phone and typed in his number, saving his contact with his name and a cat with a heart. Okay, that was cute.

“Text me any time, I promise I will get back to you quickly unless I’m stuck in a lecture or at work.”

The smartphone was handed back and you slowly stood up as new customers just arrived: “I’d like that.”

Fuck it, let’s try being a cliche coffee shop loser then.

“Looking forward to it then,” he smiled and you gave him a hesitant smile back before returning to the counter to help Mingi with the orders. Wooyoung waved cutely at you when he left a few minutes later and you had to dodge the knowing grins of the other barista.

When you were done and moved over to clean up the place Wooyoung and you were sitting earlier, you noticed he drew little hearts on the receipt, saying “Excited to meet you soon. xoxo, Woo.” 

He really was a bold one, you glanced over your shoulder, making sure Mingi was busy before hiding the receipt in your pocket and pulling out the phone.

text to Wooyoung🐈❤️: Grumpy Barista here text to Wooyoung🐈❤️: How about Saturday, 07:00 PM at the cinema bar?

It only took a second for your phone to buzz in your hands

text from Wooyoung🐈❤️: looking forward to seeing you there 😘

Ah you certainly got yourself into something now.

[alwaysmicado]

Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

series masterlist | main masterlist

The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up. 

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings. 

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special. 

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again? 

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration. 

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–” 

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up. 

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is. 

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken. 

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out. 

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?” 

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself. 

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone. 

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance. 

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.” 

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.” 

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. “Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.” 

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead. 

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.” 

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him. 

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes. 

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?” 

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.” 

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?” 

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.” 

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again. 

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.” 

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry. 

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.” 

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.” 

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.” 

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity. 

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be. 

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.” 

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile. 

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?” 

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’m not sure that’s true.” 

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare. 

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now. 

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back. 

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you. 

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life. 

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence. 

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you. 

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own. 

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone. 

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart. 

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night. 

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness. 

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile. 

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.  

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?” 

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow. 

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.” 

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him. 

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack. 

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease. 

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight. 

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident. 

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble. 

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer. 

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot. 

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his. 

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black. 

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great  view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist. 

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm. 

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed. 

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him. 

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips. 

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his. 

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him. 

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up. 

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy. 

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him. 

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning. 

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants.  And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand. 

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?”  “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.”  “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really. 

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors,  reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids. 

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy’s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction. 

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?” 

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings. 

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

previous | series masterlist | main masterlist

tag list: @dugiioh @eviestevie-14 @koshkaj-blog @jupiter-soups @mattmurdockstateofmind @missladym @paleidiot @pattwtf @runningmom94 @serenadingtigers @staywildflowahchild @the-orange-tabby-cat @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods @yassspose let me know if you want to be added

[muli-wam]

This moment Could Last Forever

summary: you and Gojo have been best friends since high school, but its only now, over ten years later, that you two realize your feelings for eachother.

Cw: reader has social anxiety, smut, fingerings, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy🤪), language, lmk if I missed anything PLEASE

word count: 3.7k

A/n: MY FIRST FIC WAS A FLOP BUT I WAS JUST TESTING THE WATERS OKAY? Anyway.... this was rlly spontaneous, lmk if I flopped again 🤧

♡°•.☆•°.♡•°.☆•°.♡°•`.☆•°.♡•°.☆•°.

"Don't move, cutie. You're only making this harder for yourself y'know," he whispers against your ear.

"S-satoru, please… have mercy," you plead, whimpering and squirming, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Not until I hear you say it…" you feel him smirk against your neck, his hot breath fanning you whilst sending shivers down your spine.

"F-fine. I give up. You win, now let go of me!" You grunt while kicking him off of you while huffing.

Satoru chuckles while sitting back on the edge of the bed. "Looks like I won. Again," he sing songs while throwing you an evil smirk.

You pout before standing back up on the bed. "C'mon. Fight me again," you get into your defensive stance with a pillow ready to swing at any moment.

You challenged your best friend Satoru to a fight since you were sick of his cocky ass always claiming he's "the best" and that "no one could beat him".

You decided then and there that you would prove him wrong. After the first round, you claimed he got lucky. That you were just testing him to see what he would do.

By the time the second round finished, you ended up on the floor, aka the death zone. If any of you two touched the floor, you were out. You didn't lose hope though and decided to try harder.

The third round ended, you lost. You also lost the fourth, fifth, and sixth round. By that time your hair was flying in all different directions, strands sticking straight up from the friction caused by the pillows.

And now you are here. Totally and utterly defeated.

"No, I'm not fighting you again. You're gonna end up in the exact same place like all the other times. You're not gonna win," Satoru stands up from the bed and walks over to your desk to drink out of his bottle of water.

Your eyes trail from his hair to his lips that were slightly puckering to take a sip, droplets of water sliding down the column of his throat. You become entranced by the way his Adam's apple bobs every time he swallows,  that you didn't even notice him calling your name.

"Hey, are you still with me?" Satoru asks while waving his hand in front of you.

"O-oh yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?" You fix your eyes on him, your cheeks heating up and you let out an audible gulp while pushing the hair from your face.

He smirks slightly from your flushed look before continuing, "I was asking if you wanted to hang out at the park. Maybe get some ice cream, I dunno, I'm just bored." He huffs.

"U-uh yeah sure let's- let's go."

You try to tame your hair as much as you could in the mirror before getting your shoes on and following satoru to the car.

You watched satoru walk, taking  confident strides to his expensive car, and opening the passenger door for you. You notice the way his sunglasses sit on the bridge of his nose, how the sleeves of his t-shirt stretched tightly around his bulging biceps.

You drooled at his hands, your eyes following the veins that traced their way down his forearm to his fingers.

As he's pulling out of the parking lot to your apartment you notice the way he lifts his hand to sit at the back of your headrest while he's reversing, giving you a better view of his arms.

Why are you thinking like this all of a sudden? You think to yourself while looking out the window, watching the trees and building speed by.

You've never felt this way about your best friend but for some reason you're noticing his features more than you already do. I mean yeah, you've seen him but you haven't really seen him.

Anyone with eyes can see that he is incredibly attractive but you've never looked at him that way because, well, he's your best friend.

You think back to your previous predicament on the bed. He had you laid on your stomach while he rested on top of you with his bicep wrapped around your neck, not too tight, obviously, but tight enough have you struggling.

You were so caught up in trying to beat him that you didn't seem to realize how suggestive your guys' position would look to anyone who were to walk in.

You think back to the way he sensually whispered into your ear, it made you feel tingles just thinking about it. How his bulge was seated right on your ass, with one leg between yours. Your heat was pressed right against his upper thigh and you're able to recall the feeling of his hair tickling the back of your neck.

You turn your attention to Satoru, his fingers thrumming against the steering wheel to the tune of the song that's playing on the radio.

You seemed to be so caught up in your erotic thoughts that you didn't realize you two had arrived at your destination: The ice cream shop.

The same ice cream shop that you, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami and Haibara used to go to every day after training back when you all were first years.

It's been years now though. You six have all changed. Most for the better, and one for worse. But that's a subject that you were least concerned about at the moment. Not when Satoru was smiling brightly at you, always so charming.

"You ready!?" He exclaimed before unbuckling his seat belt and hopping out of the car, jogging over to your side to open your door for you. Such a gentleman, you think to yourself. Or so you thought you thought to yourself.

"I know right? M'so considerate, huh?" He closes the door behind you while walking ahead of you, swinging his arms dramatically and holding his head a little too high. Satoru seemed to get a huge ego boost from your previous statement.

You groan, "You should maybe stand up normally, y'know. You might fall back and bust your head from how big it is."

Satoru turns back and lets out a dramatic gasp while looking at you with wide eyes over his glasses.

"Take that back," he says in mock offense.

"Nope," you say while skipping past him to the window to order your ice cream.

You glance back to see Satoru sulking and dragging his feet as he walks up to you. He stands beside you and hunches down to lean his head on your shoulder.

You order [your favorite ice cream] before nudging Gojo, "y'gonna order?"

"I can't," he cries.

"I've been wounded," he stands straight while clutching his heart, peaking one eye open to see if you're paying attention.

You look at him, and then to the worker, and then back at him. At this point you might as well faint because your social anxiety is through the roof and Satoru is not making it any better.

"Satoru just- ohmygosh, can I also get cherry amaretto ice cream with whipped cream and extra sprinkles please?" You say to the worker who looks sick of their job already. Satoru beams at you for getting his ice cream order perfectly and it seems his mood is up again after his ego had been bruised from the big head joke.

You paid for the ice cream using your Satoru's card, and you two made your way over to a park bench to eat your cold treat.

"Is it true?" Satoru asks, sounding serious.

"Is what true, Satoru?" You say with a mouth full of ice cream.

"Is my head really that big?" He whines while looking at you straight in the eyes.

You're slightly taken aback by his shift in demeanor again. Also by the fact that he was so affected by your joke.

"No, Satoru. You know I was just joking," you pause before continuing.

"Did that really affect you? I'm sorry if it was too much I-" you start to ramble before Satoru cuts you off.

"No, I just wanted to see if you cared. HAH you were actually scared for a second huh?" Satoru throws his head back while laughing.

"I already know my beautiful head is not big. You're just intimidated by my beauty," Satoru sighs while showing off his features.

You drool at his defined jawline before coming back to your senses and poke the middle of his forehead, causing him to almost fall back with a yelp.

"Yeah, yeah in your dreams, bighead." You chuckle before continuing to eat your ice cream.

♡°•.☆•°.♡•°.☆•°.♡°•`.☆•°.♡•°.☆•°.

"I'm woRking latEee, cause I'm a sinGerrr," Satoru sings while dancing around the living room, holding a fake microphone .

"You're not Sabrina Carpenter," you laugh at him dancing around, jumping off the couches.

"Uh, girl I know you're not talking. I hear you in the shower. It is nawt pretty." Satoru says with an attitude.

You roll your eyes, "I don't even sound bad," your face heats up slightly.

"Mhm, yeah keep telling yourself that," He smiles sarcastically before plopping himself next to you on the couch. You lean your head on his shoulder, watching him scroll through Instagram before getting bored.

You look up at him from your position and study his features. His milky white hair that sits perfectly no matter how much you try messing it up. His piercing blue eyes that reflect the glow of his phone, which in turn makes them shine brighter.

You trail your eyes down to his nose and notice the slight ridges and the way it curves. You go down to his soft pink lips that were slightly parted, shiny from the sheen of spit covering them due to him licking them.

"I feel you staring," he mumbles, eyes still locked on his phone.

"I- sorry…" you scoot slightly away due to embarrassment.

"Didn't say I didn't like it…" He locks his phone before turning his gaze toward you.

"Of course you liked it," you would have said, but for some reason your snarky remark got caught in your throat.

You stared wide eyed at him while he leaned his head back on the couch, still looking at you.

"C'mere" he nods to you, patting his lap.

"I- uh-" you curse your brain and mouth for not letting you speak. You look at him and his lap, not knowing what to do. Your body seems to move by itself as you plant yourself on his lap, steadying yourself by holding his shoulders.

The tension in the room was palpable. You could feel Satoru piercing gaze on you, making a tingling feeling bubble in your core.

"Don't think I haven't noticed your stares. I mean c'mon I have six eyes." He smirks at you while putting his finger on your chin to turn your nervous gaze towards him.

"I-i don't know what you're talking about," you stutter, eyes looking anywhere but him. How did he get you flustered so easily? You felt like you were burning all over, the feeling of guilt and arousal washing over you.

"Now don't lie to me, pretty," he started.

"I mean I can't say I haven't felt the same way you have been feeling as well,"

Your eyes widen at his statement. What? So the feelings are mutual? So you're not alone when you feel more than "just friends" with Satoru?

I mean throughout your guys' entire friendship it was never "bestfriends" with him. You both sat between friends and lovers but never went beyond that.

It seems you are just realizing your feelings now though. You never paid attention to the way Satoru’s looks made your stomach get all fuzzy or the way you would blush when Shoko teased you about having a crush on him.

You always brushed it off. Only viewing him as your best friend.

Satoru trailed his hands up and down your waist, pulling you closer to him. He trailed his hands up, up to your face, his fingers burning your skin in its wake.

He cups your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek while you rest your arms behind his neck. His touch drives you mad and makes you dizzy.

"Is this okay?" He whispered gently, afraid that if he spoke any louder it would ruin this long awaited moment for him.

You nod your head while running your fingers through his soft undercut. Satoru leans in closer to you, his hot breath fanning your face as his lips meet yours in a searing hot kiss. His hands roam your body, groping your thighs, back and waist while you pull and tug at his hair, both kissing with passion.

His lips feel like a cool summer day, wind blowing in your hair, with the sun shining on your face. Euphoria seeping its way into your very bones. Fireworks and sparks going off in your brain, like this moment could last forever.

Your fingers thread through his locks, pulling him even closer. You lift yourself up using your knees to close whatever distance was left between the two of you.

Satoru cradles your head in his hands, detaching himself from your lips to try and catch his breath. He rests his forehead against yours and looks at you with eyes pooling with lust and desire.

"I need you," Satoru whispers breathlessly.

"Then take me," you sigh.

"Take me. I'm yours." Satoru doesn't hesitate to crash his hips on yours for a second time, this time more feverishly, his tongue exploring every crack and crevice of your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, swallowing satoru’s grunts and groans as he squeezes your chest, trailing his hands under your shirt to feel your bare tits against his palms. He fondles and gropes you while laying you down under him on the couch, all while continuing to kiss you.

"Y'sure you want this?" he groans against your lips.

You nod frantically, pulling and grabbing at his slutty compression shirt, trying to take it off him.

"If I do this- if we do this…" Satoru starts.

"Then you belong to me." He gasps as you palm his election through his pants.

"Got that?" He grabs hold of your hands and holds them above your head. You nod while babbling, already drunk on him and you two barely even did anything.

"Mhm, m'all yours Satoru. Forever,"

He lets out a throaty groan before continuing his assault on your lips, trailing his way to the column of your throat, leaving hickies in his wake.

Satoru breathes out a satisfied sound when he pulls your shirt over your head, admiring your tits while cupping them in his hands.

"So beautiful," he whispers to himself before diving down to suck and bite at your nipples. He trails his lips down to your heat, pulling your pants and panties off at the same time.

He lets out another throaty groan before diving into your wet cunt, teasing the outsides of your folds with his tongue while licking and sucking up your sweet nectar like it's his last meal.

"Sa-satoru please…." you moan, trying to grind your hips up on his face.

"What do you want, baby? Hm?" He says while still nose deep in your cunt.

"M-my, my- fuck!" You cry out in frustration as you feel Satoru purposely avoiding your clit. Your body feels on fire, like it's crying out, begging for release.

"Your what, baby? What do you need?" Satoru smirks against your pussy, still keeping up his teasing on your puffy lips.

"Fuck S'toru my clit! Please just," you don't finish as you firmly grip his scalp while guiding his head to your bundle of nerves, grinding your cunt on his face.

You sigh in relief, the feeling of your high already creeping.

"Yes, baby yes, grind on m'face. Make yourself feel good," he groans against your cunt, sticking his tongue into your tight cunt as far as it would go.

He brings one hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles while alternating between licking up your juices and sucking your clit.

You cry out in pleasure as you feel yourself get closer, your moans getting louder and breaths getting heavier.

The sound of your wet cunt was masking Satoru’s desperate moans. You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you were barely able to acknowledge the couch shaking from Satoru’s needy ruts against the cushion.

"Y'gonna cum, baby? Y'gonna cum all over my face?" Satoru detaches his face from you, using one hand to rub your clit and another to finger your hole. He pumps his large digits faster, bringing you to the brink of release.

"F-fuuuckk Satoru- Mmmhmmm I'm gonna cum," your body slightly shakes as you feel yourself teetering off the edge, pleasure wracking itself throughout your entire body.

Satoru encourages you as you get closer, lifting himself up to your face while working your pussy on his fingers.

"Fuck m'cumming, m'cumming, I'm gonna CU-" your voice echos throughout the entire room as you grip anywhere you can reach, clawing at the armrest of the couch and satorus hair.

Your vision goes white as you cum, your brain turns into mush by the intensity of it all. You convulse and clench around Satoru’s fingers as he kisses your neck while whispering praises in your ear.

"Yessss, good girl. Did so good f'me," satoru whispers against your neck.

you slowly come down from your high before looking Satoru in the eyes.

"That was good," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"Can I fuck you now?" He says bluntly as you shy away from his gaze.

"Y-yeah," you stutter slightly but still ready for whatever he had in store for you two.

"Good, becuase I wanna fuck you so bad," he says in a needy tone.

Satoru unties the drawstring of his sweats before pulling them and his boxers down his thick thighs.

He groans as his cock springs out and you look at it with wide eyes. It was huge.

It was long, and girthy with heavy, swollen balls hanging below. A thick white happy trail led to the base, framing his cock.

He brought his hand to cup under your chin, "spit." He commanded.

You balled up a glob of spit in your mouth before letting it slowly drool down into his hand.

Satoru lets out a silent groan as you drool into his palm before bringing his hand down to pump his cock, using your spit to lubricate it.

"Ready?" He asks before lining his cock up to your entrance, dragging it up and down your cunt.

"Please fuck me, Satoru," you whine.

He slowly pushes himself in, inch, by inch, pulling back slightly before pushing in even further.

You two moan in unison from the feel of each other.

"F-fuck baby. Y'feel so good, oh my FUcking good," Satoru moans while giving you a sharp thrust, causing him to bottom out.

"Mhmm, Satoru, y'so deep," you say as you bring your legs up to wrap around his waist. It feels like he's in your throat from how deeply seated he was.

You feel his balls press up against your ass, satoru kisses and licke up your neck, panting heavily.

"M'gonna move now, okay?" He lets out a wobbly breath before drawing his hips back and quickly thrusting to the hilt again. He continues that pattern, getting faster and faster each thrust, causing your whimpers and moans to get louder.

Satoru whines against your neck, a sheen of sweat building on his forehead.

He lets out a broken "Fuck" before pistoning his hips into yours.

You moan in pleasure as you feel him bring his hand down to rub at your clit.

"Oh my gosh Satoru, yes," you say breathlessly, bringing your hands up to weave through his hair while crashing his lips against yours.

He continues hammering his hips into yours, his sensitive balls slapping against your thighs.

"That feel good? Huh? You like when I fuck you like this?" He breaths against your lips while moaning from your cunt clenching around his dick.

You not Dumbly as he continues babbling, "yeaaaah, bet you dreamed about this, huh? Bet you-fuck-bet you thought about how my cock would feel inside your tight cunt- FUCK," He pistons his hips faster, his thrusts getting sloppier by the second as his high was rapidly approaching.

"I know I dreamed about, fuck, about this… fucked my hand every night to the thought of you riding me, yessss, m'bouta cum," Satoru runs his hands all over your body, whispering hotly in your ear.

You seemed to be getting off on his words because you let out a pornographic moan as you felt your high approach even faster. "S-satoru I'm gonna cum," you cry out in pure bliss as you clench around his cock tighter, scratching and grabbing at his back.

"Cum for me, baby, come for me, fuck iloveyousomuch," Satoru whispers while fucking into you faster, rougher, wrapping both arms around you as he fucked his cock into you harder.

"Yes I'm cumming, yes I'm cumming, yes, yes, yes- AH," you scream as you orgasm washes throughout your entire being, hitting you like a ton of bricks as Satoru cums at the same time as you.

"FUUuhhhk, my girl, my- my life, mmmmmm  I love you," He moans while fucking you both through your highs.

You hold the trembling man in your arms, kissing and nipping at his neck while whispering 'I love you's' in his ear.

You both catch your breath, as he strokes and caresses your body, you doing the same to him.

You both were too tired of exhaustion, decided to speak on your feelings in the morning when you both were fully aware. The only words heard from you both was an "I love you," as you fell asleep in eachothers arms, both of your hearts pressed against each other while beating at the same time.

♡°•.☆•°.♡•°.☆•°.♡°•.☆•°.♡•°.☆°•.

[mojogojocasahouse]

Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***

[wreckedandpolemic]

thinkin’ lots about your mouth - matty healy

(mdni) in which your boyfriend (yes, boyfriend) has an oral fixation, and you give him exactly what he wants. part of the regret me universe and summer75 2024. 1446 words.

warnings: mild temperature play, handjob, gagging, praise, degradation

Matty, you’ve noticed, has something of an oral fixation. If his mouth isn’t moving a mile a minute, there’s something between his lips, whether it’s a cigarette, his lower lip or a necklace. Or, today, an ice lolly. He’s lounging by the pool, licking and sucking pornographically on it, lips stained red as a bead of juice trickles from his lip.

You’re sweating from something entirely besides the weather, watching him push the lolly as far down his throat as it’ll go and locking eyes with you. He pulls it out of his mouth and lifts it in a toast, grinning proudly and licking the juice off his lips. Heat prickles in your belly and you wander up to him, perching at the edge of his sun lounger and lifting your sunglasses to stare into his eyes. “Little show-off,” you tease, but it comes out soft, fond, a little fragile as you map the edges of your new dynamic with him.

After your little outburst the last night of tour, Matty had confronted you and begged for the two of you to make a real go of it; try an actual relationship after years of denying you felt anything for each other. Obviously, because neither of you are capable of being fucking normal about the other, letting a relationship develop naturally, you immediately moved in with him. It still holds an element of unreality, feels like a vacation, like one wrong move could shatter the tenderness blossoming between you. He finishes the lolly, smacks his lips obnoxiously and grins over at you.

“Always need that pretty mouth filled up, huh?” you smirk, nudging Matty forward so you can sit behind him, resting your head on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. A gentle smile crosses his face as he tips his head back to bare his neck, curls brushing your bare shoulders. “You gonna be a good boy for me, baby?” you ask, trailing one hand down his stomach and feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He nods, grinning dopily like he can’t believe how gentle you’re being. “C’mon, darling, words,” you add, brushing over his cock through his shorts just to feel his hips jump.

“Yeah,” Matty gasps, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, m’a good boy. Your good boy, only f’you,” he promises, and your heart flutters a little. It’s hardly the first time he’s said those words, not even the first time he’s meant them, but it feels different now. Now that, after so long, he’s really, truly yours.

You press slow, lazy kisses along his neck, cupping his jaw with your free hand and turning it towards you. “All mine,” you grin, your words finally free of the bite that usually accompanies them, the bitter untruth finally dissolved into sweetness on your tongue. His lips are still cold when you kiss him, gloriously soothing in the summer heat with the sugary taste dripping into your mouth.

Leaning down, you reach into the cooler that sits on the floor next to you and pull out another ice lolly. Unwrapping it, you do the kind of disgustingly couple-y thing you never could have dreamed of even a month ago, licking slowly across its surface before lifting it to Matty’s lips. His tongue comes out eagerly, lapping at the treat as you palm his cock slowly. “Please,” he murmurs, low and reverent. “Feels good. Want more, want you to touch me,” he pleads, hissing when you press the ice against his neck.

“Such a sweet boy, askin’ so nicely. You gotta keep quiet, though, princess. We’re outside, anyone could hear those slutty little noises you make.” Matty shivers and you slowly trail the lolly down his chest, leaning down to lick the melted sugar off his neck. “Those are just for me now, right?”

Biting into the lolly, you let the ice melt on your tin for a moment as Matty whimpers, “Yeah. All f’you. M’yours.” You grin proudly, catching his lips and slowly pressing the ice into his mouth as you draw sticky, red circles across his chest.

Your cold lips meet his neck and you slide your hand under his waistband to free his cock, slowly stroking him and savouring the way he twitches helplessly. “So sweet,” you murmur. “S’okay, princess. Fuck my hand if you wanna.” His hips jolt, his cock drooling precum against your fingers as you kiss and bite at his neck.

“Thank you,” Matty gasps, instinctive and syrupy-sweet in your ear. You dig your nail into his slit in reward and he whines, a sweetly pathetic little sound that falls straight between your legs.

“Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet, remember?” you murmur. “S’okay, princess. Such a dumb little slut, can’t think about anything but how bad you want it, huh?” You kiss the corner of his mouth, just because you can, a little giddy with the feeling. “Let me help you, yeah?” You drop the ice lolly, letting it melt on the hot stone, and stroke across his flushed cheek.

Matty nods eagerly, and you slide two fingers into his mouth, drool pooling under his tongue, still cool from the ice. He moans softly around your fingers, sucking gently, almost absently, as you jerk him off. Hips stuttering, he gives a garbled whine that might be your name, the sound stoking fire between your legs.

Despite the gag, he seems determined to make as much noise as possible, whimpering pathetically as you stroke and squeeze just the way he likes. “God, just can’t help yourself, can you, darling? Sound so pretty, baby. You can take a little more, right?” Matty nods as best he can, and you press your fingers a little deeper. The obscene sound of his gag sends a pulse of heat washing over you, and you speed up your motions over his cock in reward.

“Such a good boy,” you croon softly; the sweetness of the words on your tongue is unfamiliar but far from unpleasant. Kissing his neck, you taste an intoxicating combination of sweat and sugar, licking eagerly over his damp skin. You can feel Matty getting closer, cock leaking precum stickily over your fingers as he fucks into your fist with abandon.

He’s moaning helplessly around your fingers, trembling at your touch and drooling messily under your fingers. “Aw, baby. You waitin’ for permission?” Matty nods frantically, something like Yeah, m’your good boy spilling from his lips, red and spit-slick. “God, so sweet. Trained you so well, haven’t I? My little slut.” You play with him a little longer, teasing his head and squeezing him gently. “So gorgeous. Go on, princess. Cum for me.”

At the last second, you slide your fingers free, wiping his spit against his chest an instant before his orgasm rips through him. A moan tears free from Matty’s throat, high and loud, cum splashing over your fingers as his body quivers with effort. Grabbing his jaw, you turn his head and kiss him as he comes, swallowing his moans as he comes over his stomach. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning dopily. “Felt s’good.”

“Made such a mess,” you croon, lifting your hand to his lips. Without even needing to be instructed, Matty takes your fingers in his mouth, cleaning them off with a greedy moan. “Dirty boy,” you giggle, getting to your feet and sliding back down into his lap. You grab his hand and slip it into your bikini, gasping as he finds your clit instinctively and brushes a slow circle. “See how wet you make me? I need you,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, his responding shudder endearingly pathetic.

“Lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me,” he groans, cock twitching between his legs as your smirk only grows.

Matty draws sloppy figure-eights on your clit, pleasure spiking in your core and dripping against his fingers. “Mhmm,” you moan. “Been such a good boy, Matty. Gonna let you fuck me, if you want.” He nods so hard you’d almost think his neck was going to snap. “So eager, princess. I don’t wanna do all the work again, though. Come fuck me into the mattress?”

It’s almost comical how fast Matty scrambles to his feet, tugging you inside by the hand and frantically pulling at your bikini. He slides home with a sweet little moan, and you tangle your hands in his hair and kiss him, hungry and content. You lose yourself in each other’s bodies, a tangle of limbs and hands and messy kisses. “That’s it, baby. Makin’ me feel so good. My good boy,” you moan against his lips.

“All yours, promise m’yours.”

[papercorgiworld]

Summer vibes and slytherins

Tom II, Mattheo, Blaise and Enzo

Spending the day at the beach with your boyfriend, based on this request. Short, but extremely fluffy. Warning, this isn’t just fluffy… it’s cheesy.

I’m not a crazy summer vibe person, but I do like a beach day, so I did my best. Sorry it’s so short but I hope you like it, dear anon. Also, me writing something called summer vibes while drinking homemade soup from my Christmas mug on a rainy day with my marauders blanky wrapped around me just felt like a crime. But it was fun!!! So here it goes, happy readings!

You were spending your summer in the muggle world. The place where you were staying and weather were beyond perfect, but it doesn’t feel right without your boyfriend. Early in the morning you write a letter, telling him that you miss him and asking him to join for a day or two. While you wait for a reply you decide to head to the beach, but instead of answering your letter he decides to surprise you.

Tom II

You smile as you spot an overdressed Tom walking your way. It can’t be? Really? A bright smile makes its way onto your lips and Tom looks at you questioningly. “I didn’t expect you to come.” You explain with amusement. “Why not?” He asks dryly as he tries to keep himself from staring at your perfect figure. “Because you’re… you.” You answer with a sweet smile as you wrap your arms around his neck. He knew exactly what you meant by that and huffed softly. “Yes, but I’m your boyfriend, so I might not like this.. summer, beaches, fun… but I’m here for you.” Your smile grows wider as you meet his eyes. “Kiss me.” You say, barely containing your excitement that he’s here for you. “More demands.” Tom jokes, before leaning in to kiss you tenderly.

”You want to join me surfing?” You ask, pointing towards the water and Tom watches the water with a weird half smile, before turning to you. “Okay, here I’m drawing a line. How about I’m in charge of ice cream and you go do the water thing you do.” You pout for a moment, but you know not to push it and peck his lips. “Fine, but will you watch me?” Tom nods happily. “Sure, that’s like my favorite thing to do.” You feel yourself get all giddy and go stand on your tippy toes to peck his lips on last time before heading into the water. With loving eyes Tom watches you, fighting the urge to curse every muggle that looks your way.

When you get out of the water Tom is holding your favourite ice cream and adoring you as you happily skip over to him. A view, a feeling, a moment to hold onto forever. “You used a spell to keep this cold for me didn’t you?” You say as you take the freezing cold ice cream. He nods. “You’re my girlfriend, no half melted ice cream for you, only the best for you.” You look up at him with starry eyes, before eying the book he was holding in his hand. “Shall we settle somewhere and enjoy the sun?” He reaches for your hand and you both walk in search of a secluded spot to relax.

Mattheo

You came running out of the water with a bright happy smile on your face when you recognised your boyfriend. Hands tugged in the pockets of his shorts and dark sunglasses following your figure, curly hair messier than ever due to the wind, no mistaking him. “You came?” You place a hand on his chest as you lean in for a summer kiss. “As soon as I got your owl.” He says with a cheeky smile and leans in for another kiss. “I missed you.” You whisper, lips still close to his. “Yeah, I got that from your letter.” Mattheo chuckles and you drop your head in embarrassment. “But I’m here, princess. So what do you want to do?” Your eyes wander the beach as you think. “Let’s go surf!” You suddenly suggest and enthousically tug Mattheo a few steps in the direction of the water.

”I’m not a surfing kinda guy.” Mattheo jokes, stopping you and wrapping his arms around you. He pulls your beautiful body against his bare chest and you giggle as he pulls you closer. “You’re just afraid you’ll embarrass yourself.” Mattheo catches your lips with his to shut you up. “I know how to surf, don’t underestimate your own boyfriend.” You laugh, not believing him, but enjoying the little argument. “Have you ever surfed before?” You ask between giggles and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. “No, but I know how to.” You frown at his words. “I’ll prove it to you, little lady.” He says before guiding you both in the direction of the water.

Once out of the water you walked to your boyfriend while shaking your head. “You cheated! You used magic!” Mattheo shrugs. “How is using magic cheating?” You cross your arms and Mattheo closes the distance between you two so he’s towering over you. “Muggles are just primitive in their way of surfing.” You groan at his silly argument, but before you can object to Mattheo’s ridiculousness he wraps his arms back around you and captures your lips for an intensely passionate kiss. “You’re just jealous of my excellent surfing skills.” Mattheo can’t resist teasing before again locking his lips with yours, kissing you so tenderly that you’ll surely keep quiet for a while.

Blaise

You watch the waves when you suddenly yelp as you feel two arms wrap around you. Blaise laughs loudly at the sound you make and you turn around cursing him, but can’t manage for long as you quickly start smiling, adoring your boyfriend. “You’re here.” You whisper and he stops laughing. A soft smile appears on his lips as he wraps his arm around you pulling you against his chest. “Of course, you don’t think I was missing you?” You look up at your boyfriend with shiny eyes. “You missed me?” He laughs and shakes his head at your silly question. “Are you seriously asking me that? Obviously your brains have been cooked by the sun. Let’s get that silly head of yours cooled down in the water.

A goofy, innocent smile tugs on your lips as you realize how ridiculous your question was. You spot someone surfing in the distance and jump as an idea comes to you. Blaise looks up, a little startled by your sudden excitement and you grab his hand. “Let’s go surf?” Blaise laughs, before realizing that you’re serious. “Wizards don’t surf.” He states dryly and you drop your shoulders, frowning at his bizarre statement. “What? Why wouldn’t wizards surf? It’s fun.” Blaise lets his head fall to the side and wants to protest, but you interrupt him. “How about I teach you the basics.” You say as you seductively move towards him in an attempt to convince your boyfriend to join you surfing.

After watching him fail again and again you can’t keep a straight face anymore and he’s getting slightly frustrated, but he doesn’t quit. You watch him struggle and eventually somewhat master the skill of surfing. Exhausted, you both walk along the beach, feet sinking in the sand and his hand tightly wrapped around yours. While he watches the waves you watch him with admiration, when he notices he raises an eyebrow and you smile looking down. “I’m just impressed.” Blaise chuckles and tugs your hand, pulling you closer so he can sling his arm over shoulder. “I’m a quick study and you were an excellent teacher, except for the laughing. It’s not okay to laugh at someone who’s learning a new skill.” You let your head rest against his chest as you smile. “Sorry about that. How about I make it up with some ice cream.” He looks down at you and squeezes your arm. “Now we’re talking.” He whispers and places a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

Lorenzo

You frowned as you recognised your boyfriend in the distance. Is that my Enzo? Enzo owned the summer vibe, that perfect summer tan combined with his smile and beach outfit. You noticed girls chatting him up as he waited to get ice cream. You purse your lips and cross your arms as you watch him. When he finally turns around he spots you staring at him. He curses himself, now that his attempt to surprise you had failed. With ice cream in both hands he walks up to you and leans in for a passionate kiss. “Surprise!” He quips and you laugh, before kissing him again with even more passion. “All this because I got you ice cream?” Lorenzo jokes referring to your intense kiss as he hands you the cold snack. You nod as your tongue catches some melting drops and he laughs. “The ice cream and maybe because I you missed a little… and I need those chatty girls to know you’re mine.” Enzo wiggles his eyebrows. “I can’t believe you spotted me. I wanted to surprise you.” He pouts a little and you chuckle. “So what’s up next, sunbathing? I can help you with the sunblock.” You giggle, but you knew Enzo probably wanted to do something a little more active than sunbathing. “Surfing?” You ask, still focused on your ice cream, but then you look up at your boyfriend. “Can you even surf?” You ask, baffled by the fact that you didn’t know despite dating him for this long.

“Of course I can surf! There isn’t a fun thing in the world that I haven’t mastered yet.” His smile is filled with summer enthusiasm. He holds your hand as you guide him to get a surfboard, shamelessly adoring your figure. When Enzo makes his way to the water you immediately notice his surfing skills are on the rusty side, but he manages to keep up with you for quite a while. In an attempt to do some tricks to impress you the waves beat him and you hurry your way to your boyfriend. However, you can’t help but slow down to admire his build and messy wet hair as he resurfaces. With a toothy grin he welcomes you into his arms. “I did that on purpose.” You laugh and kiss him.

“Maybe a bit more sunbathing?” You tease and he narrows his eyes at you before kissing you. “How about you become my personal surfing instructor and I’ll be a very good student.” Your boyfriend’s hands move over your sides, over your hips and rest on your ass as he carefully studies your face, waiting for an answer. You look up to him through your lashes. “I sense a hidden agenda.” Enzo’s hand caresses your cheek. ‘Maybe? Or maybe I’m just very eager to learn all the right moves…”

[hyunniesgirl]

Call it what you want

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Hyunjin were never on the best terms but when you're cheated on and your ex is trying to get you back, Hyunjin does everything he can to prevent it from happening.

Genre: enemies(ish) to lovers, smut, fluff

Words count: 4,038

A/N: all my gratitude and appreciation to my bestie @baby-yongbok who proofread this chapter for me 🩷 thank you so much for the help girly!!!

Warnings for this chapter: gaslight, drinking, mentions of violence, sexual tension, insecure thoughts(if there's anything missing let me know)

Chapter two: Drunk

Previous chapter: shameless

Next chapter: the most precious thing

+18 minors do not interact!!!

You couldn't sleep a wink thinking about the whole situation. ‘Is there something wrong with me?’ Is the only thing that comes to mind when you think about your love life.

You're just so angry and not just because you were cheated on. You can't believe you got so worked up after kissing Hyunjin and his reaction was nearly nonexistent? NOTHING?

Of course you didn't expect it to be the best kiss of his life, he was doing you a favor after all but you got pretty excited and he didn't even get flustered? That's kinda offensive.

After your break up, Eric tried talking to you at school so your friends came up with a system so he wouldn't bother you until you felt ready to face him. You found out after a week that someone filmed Ryujin and Changbin beating the shit out of your ex after you left the party and that made you feel pretty satisfied, it's nice knowing that your friends have your back. So that's the reason he doesn't try getting close to you when your friends are around. Now you are never alone, you always have one of your friends in one of your classes and because you're finishing your course you could choose some electives that overlap with theirs. And luckily most of your class courses are with Chaeryeong.

The problem and the reason why you're so mad is that Hyunjin is sticking around too much, more than he ever did. He is always around the exact friend that's having class with you and you're starting to think that he's doing it on purpose. You’ve had to deal with seeing his disgustingly handsome face every fucking day and it’s been nothing but torture considering the kiss and all of its aftermath. Almost a month has passed since you and Eric broke up. The day after you told him to fuck off, you unblocked his contact just to inform him things were over between you two if it wasn't already pretty obvious.

After communication class you were pretty exhausted, so you and Changbin went to the cafe in front of the school so that you could repay him with a drink of his choice for going out of his way to help protect you from your ex. That's when Hyunjin comes barging into the shop. Why does he always look like he's glowing? He's wearing perfectly fitted clothes as if they were custom made just for him, his hair falls in glamorous waves, it's longer than most men wear but it's just right for him. Long story short: he's hot. You have to admit it and it's really annoying, actually. Why does the guy you dislike have to be so stunning?

"Hey", he says, taking his sunglasses off, bumping fists with Changbin and nodding at you in an attempt to greet you.

"I'm going to order, I'll get yours", he says, seeing the pager light up and buzz on the table.

He asks for a large Iced Americano and the attendant gives him your order. He sees that there's some writing on the coffee sleeve of your drink.

"Hey, saw you and thought you're cute. If you want to hang out sometime, call me: xxx xxxx-xxxx" Hyunjin scoffs, his jaw clenching. He tears the paper apart and throws it in the trash before heading back over to you and Changbin.

"They forgot to put a cup sleeve on mine", you say pouting as you take the drink from Hyunjin's hands. He finds you so cute it's difficult not to smile.

"I can get an extra when I get my order", he suggests and you frown, a strange urge to accept his kindness but you're too proud for that.

"No need, it's not that hot." That’s a lie, it is really hot, but you don't want to accept his help.

"I'm going to meet Chaeryeong, so you can wait for the drink with him, Binnie." You say as you put your bag on your shoulder and wave goodbye. Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you leave, watching you until you are out of his sight.

Chaeryeong was not far, so you thought it wouldn't be a problem to go alone looking for her. When you hear Eric's voice calling for you, you pretend like you didn't and just walk faster looking around for your friend, until he grabs your arm forcing you to look at him.

"Babe, I was calling you, didn't you hear me?", he asks and for a moment you think you're crazy. Didn't he cheat on you? Didn't you break up? Why's he acting like nothing happened?

"What do you want?"

"I missed you", he says, getting closer, giving you puppy eyes and caressing the arm he is holding.

"Don’t pretend like everything is okay." You shake your arm out of his grip. "We broke up, I don’t want to talk to you anymore."

"What did I do that was so wrong?" He asks, His expression void of embarrassment

"What did you do? Are you fucking joking right now?"

"Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?" He asks, pouting. "It meant nothing to me, if you just let me explain-"

'Is he trying to look like the victim while I’m the jealous girlfriend? Doesn't he have a conscience?' You knew this would happen, you knew he would try to talk his way out of this. You take your phone out of your pocket and show him the picture you took of him at the party. His eyes grow wide.

"I’m not going to let you gaslight me into thinking I'm crazy." He tries to take the phone out of your hand but is stopped by a very angry Changbin.

"I see I should have beat you more", he spits, coming in between the two of you. "Get her out of here"

Hyunjin comes over to you, he puts a hand on the small of your back and leads away from the both of them. You're worried about your friend, he could get into trouble if they fight, so you can't help but to take a few glances in their direction until you are too far to see them.

You feel tears running down your face and you can’t seem to stop them. You’re so angry, so hurt. If Eric had only admitted what he did, you wouldn’t hate him so much, but he’s just pretending you’re overreacting and trying to get his way. Everyday you try to push aside the hurt you’re bearing, the feelings of insecurity and anxiety. You have to convince yourself that you did nothing wrong, that he’s the one at fault. You’re afraid of falling in love again, scared of having to go through all of this heartbreak and pain again. Love shouldn’t be like this, love should be light and carefree.

"I can’t believe he showed up when you were alone", Hyunjin says, pulling you out of your worried and anxious thoughts. You look around and notice how far you are from Changbin now.

"I expected it" You say, sighing as you wipe your tears.

"He’s such an asshole, trying to deceive you like that." You scoff, feeling mad. He's not that different.

"Do you think you’re better than him?" You ask and he looks at you, frowning.

"You lead girls on over and over" You continue. You’re trying to hurt him. You want him to feel the hurt that you felt. You know it’s not fair, but it has not been fair to you either. Why do you have to be the only one feeling miserable? He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, sighing before answering.

"I never give false hope to other people", you take a deep breath, you really thought he would lie to you, say he doesn't know what you’re talking about.

"I never accept the confessions of the girls who have feelings for me", he continues, "and the ones I occasionally go out with know I won't date them, it's not my fault that they think they can change me or whatever they choose to take that risk." He sounds hurt, exactly the way you wanted, so why do you feel even worse?

"I don’t see how I’m like him." He finishes, making you feel like your chest is sinking.

"I-"

"We finally found you!" You hear Changbin’s voice and you look towards the sound, he and Chaeryeong look tired, they’re breathing heavily and sweating.

"We searched for you everywhere, why didn’t you answer your messages?", Chaeryeong asks, hugging you.

"I didn’t realize how much time had passed." You say as your eyes stay locked on Hyunjin. He’s avoiding your gaze again just like he did at the party, looking to the floor and making your chest ache even more.

"I’m sorry for worrying you", he says, "I gotta go"

You see him walking away, not glowing so much anymore. You wanted to call his name and apologize, say you shouldn’t have snapped at him like that, but you’re too proud for that. Too proud to apologize to one of the people that came to your rescue when you needed it the most lately. You suck. You really do.

•••

Hyunjin didn’t come around for the next week, your friends even complained about how distant he was. It couldn't be because of your conversation, right? He wouldn't be like that because of something you said. He didn't like you, it doesn't even make sense for him to care about what you say. When the weekend rolls around and you barely see him you feel weird, if you didn't know any better you would think that you're missing him and that wouldn't make sense.

Chan was cooking for the night, your Saturday had been awfully boring, so when he proposed a dinner at his house you accepted right away. His cooking is so good you're salivating with just the smell of onions and garlic. Changbin and Minho are playing Just Dance while Seungmin and I.N. are playing pokémon. Chaeryeong is by your side, complaining about a class you're not into, while Jisung and Felix are helping Chan. The only ones missing are Yeji, who's coming with Ryujin and Hyunjin, that you were informed is not coming.

"Why can't Hyunjinnie come, again?" Changbin asks while waiting for their points to be calculated on the game.

"He said it's school stuff but I bet it's because of a girl", Jisung says and you feel that weird ache in your chest once again.

What does it matter to you if he's with some girl? You not only rejected his request to be friends, you also said some pretty bad things to him. You deserve it if he never looks at you again, you still can't believe you said that to him, just because you were feeling bad doesn't mean you get to treat people that way. You sigh to your own thoughts receiving a suspicious look from Chaeryeong.

"Nah", Minho answers, "he's been hooked on the same chick for quite some time now".

You look at Minho, frowning. You didn't know Hyunjin liked someone. So why was he kissing someone else at the party? Weirdly enough, you swear you saw Minho eyeing you.

****

The moment that Chaeryeong introduced you to them, Hyunjin knew he was done for. Everything about you was appealing to him: the way you smiled talking about the things you liked, how you fixed your hair after the wind messed it up, the way you bonded with all the guys and tried finding things in common with every one of them so that you all would get along.

He couldn't help but stare, your voice was so sweet and your eyes sparkled when you laughed. He tried to be subtle but everytime you joined their group he had the same reaction like a fucking teenager that can't talk to a pretty girl. So when you began acting distant only to him, he felt bad and offended, he didn't think he did anything to make you dislike him. After a while he became distant too so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable, eventually you both started doing things to annoy each other. He only started bothering you so that you wouldn't just ignore him, he wanted you to acknowledge him even if it was in a bad way.

Hyunjin never disliked you the way you thought he did, when you started going out with Eric he was absolutely heartbroken but he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn’t with him.

So he put his feelings aside and started going out with other girls, maybe if enough time passed he could like someone else. You didn't see it, but his eyes were always on you. Always looking at you to make sure you were happy. He was right behind you when you found Eric at that party, after you walked away he could see your faltering steps, that's when he saw you fainting and caught you just in time. He told the guys about what happened before carrying you out of the house and taking you to his car, trying to be gentler than he ever was even with his paintings while adjusting you in the front seat.

You frowned even when you were unconscious, he couldn't even imagine how hurt you would be when you woke up. So he waited and waited till your eyes opened and he was relieved to see you were alright. He thought it wouldn't be good to drop the act at that moment, you could think he was pitying you. After you left the car he was sure you would cry your eyes out all alone and he couldn't do anything because the two of you weren’t close. So he urged your friends to message you asking to come by but they already had done that and you had rejected their offers. Of course you did, you like to look tough, someone that doesn't need others, but anyone that knows you a little better sees you're a softie.

When you showed up at the studio while he was painting he couldn't believe you actually came looking for him. He was so surprised to see you that he clumsily dropped the paints he was holding. He was planning to get closer to you, close enough so you would like him and when he knew you were over your shithead ex boyfriend he would go for it. Even if you didn't want to go out with him at first he would keep trying to woo you… Of course, he didn't want to force you to like him, he would wait for you to discover your feelings.

Everything went down the drain when you asked him to kiss you. Every bit of his self control just disappeared and when your lips touched his he was sure that you were it for him, the way just touching your soft lips made him feel like he was on fire, your hands wandering through his hair felt like the death of him. He could feel himself getting hard when the door opened abruptly, you silently left the closet and he fixed his pants so as not to show what was happening there. Hyunjin was embarrassed, if just one of your kisses could make him feel that way he could only imagine what it would feel like to actually have you. He couldn't stay there much longer, it was impossible to look at you without approaching you to get something more. But you weren't even looking at him, if you could just glance at him it would be enough, if you just looked at him he would be satisfied. Your eyes were staring at the floor, you didn't look pleased at all.

Did you regret kissing him? Was it that bad you couldn't even look at him? No one ever complained about that, so he thought he was good. Did he ruin everything?

He got out of the room, Hyunjin just couldn't be there for another second looking at your face full of contempt. He went downstairs looking for one of his friends and found Chan taking shots of tequila with a group of his juniors.

"Hey, wanna join us?" He asks and Hyunjin nods, maybe with one or two drinks he would feel better.

Hyunjin shouldn't have mixed drinks, he couldn't walk straight and his head was spinning. To make things worse he could swear he saw you coming in his direction so he went the other way to avoid you, he was afraid to say something stupid. That's when he found Chaeryeong, he asked her to help him get some water because he was not sure if he would be able to walk to the table where the drinks were. The moment his friend looked away someone grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. He wasn't sure of what was happening or if he was just imagining. He put his hands on the person's shoulder and stepped away feeling dizzy. Minho was close by so he dragged Hyunjin out of the party and gave him some water while he got some fresh air.

"Y/N", Hyunjin was babbling and Minho rolled his eyes.

"What is it?" He looked at his friend seated on the grass with his head between his legs, "Are you still hanging onto your crush on Y/N? Didn't you say that you would give up when she started dating?"

Minho asked those questions but he already knew the truth, his friend had never really stopped liking Y/N.

"Kissed her", Hyunjin grumbles rolling his tongue.

"What? When?"

"During that- that game" Hyunjin trips over his own tongue as he tries to answer.

“Dare…truth.. that one.” He answers, looking over at Minho with glazed eyes.

"And how did it go?" He asks, curious.

"Good, it was so so good I could die"

"Well, if you die you won't be able to kiss her again", Minho jokes seeing drunk Hyunjin pout with tears in his eyes.

"I wan kiss her again though" Minho laughs.

"Of course you do" He sighs bending down and slipping Hyunjin's right arm around his shoulder and lifting him, "Let's go home now so you can think about how to kiss her again"

Hyunjin could barely open his eyes when he woke up the next morning, he was really thirsty and his head felt like it could explode at any minute. However, he had one thing on his mind: Win you at any cost.

So he called all of your friends and asked which classes they picked this semester casually asking if any of your other friends were attending that same class. That's how he found out your schedule and sure, that sounds pretty stalkerish of him, but that's the only way he could get close to you without raising suspicion.

When you told him that he was the same as your ex he wanted earth to swallow him whole, he was so mad at himself for making you feel that way and he was hurt that you thought of him in that way. He couldn't look at you anymore, he was too hurt for that. He avoided you for the next week, afraid to meet your gaze and be faced with indifference or even worse, disgust. He didn't even attend the dinner Chan was doing because he couldn't bear to be in the same room with you. That's until he got drunk enough to make his liver beg for mercy, he couldn't even think straight anymore, so he went on a walk for some fresh air and he walked and walked until he was under a really familiar vertical garden.

•••

You got back from dinner after midnight, you are already in your pajamas ready to go to bed when you hear a "clank" coming from somewhere. You can't figure out the source of it so you ignore it until it happens again, you realize that the sound is coming from the door at the balcony. You get close trying to see what is causing the noise, You look down and notice a couple of rocks on your balcony. ‘Who the hell is throwing rocks at my window in the middle of the night?’ You open your window ready to curse at the culprit, when you look down you see Hyunjin looking at you with puppy eyes.

"What are you doing?" You ask and he smiles.

"I wanted to see your face" He answers simply.

"What are you talking about? Why would you want to see my face in the middle of the night, Hwang?"

"I like it when you say my surname" He giggles, "And the answer is: because you're beautiful" You blush wanting to die, why are you blushing? This guy is drunk for sure, bothering you in the middle of the night. So if you know that, why are you blushing? And why do you want to smile?

"Now that you got to see my face you can go home" You say, trying to close the window.

"Noooooo", he screams and you are sure he woke up half of the neighborhood. "I WANNA SEE YOUR FACE UP CLOSE"

"Shut up" You look around to make sure there's no one turning on their lights to see what's happening and when you look at him again Hyunjin is climbing the fence where the flowers are tangled in your vertical garden.

"What are you doing?" You whisper yell at him but he ignores you, continuing to climb until he's on your balcony.

You cross your arms in front of your chest looking at him, he's taking deep breaths but looking really proud of himself.

"I could have opened the door for you if you wanted to come up" You say.

"Oh" He says and smiles shyly, "I'm sorry, I wanted to be romantic" You feel your face hot before you can ask what the hell he's talking about. He looks totally disheveled, messy hair, clothes that look like pajamas and glasses he only uses at home or when he's tired and doesn't want to wear his contacts.

"Care to explain why you’re here?" You smell the alcohol on him so you can already guess.

"I already told you, I missed your pretty face", he answers, pouting like a child that has to answer to their mother after doing something wrong.

"No, you said you wanted to see my face and then said I'm beautiful, you didn't say you missed me" You pick at his words trying to think of a way to send him home without your friends knowing about this situation because you know that if they find out you're done for. They're gonna pester you for the rest of your life asking why Hyunjin would come after you while drunk and to be honest that's a question that you would like to know the answer to too.

"Ah, you're so smart, that's why I like you" He says walking and looking around your room.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, maybe having him here while drunk isn't so bad.

"Yesssss, and you're pretty and nice and really funny and good at everything you do", you smile without even realizing, what is this guy doing to you?

"Okay, now you have to go home, alright? I have to sleep"

"Let me sleep with you, I'm really good at it" You choke on the air you inhaled, coughing violently.

"What?"

"Humm, I'm good at being the big spoon and I don't take much space in the bed and you can even sleep on my chest and I'll hug you" He's saying that and has the audacity to blush.

You decide to call the guys that lives with Hyunjin, you're not scared of their questions anymore because you're too afraid you're actually going to accept his proposition. You try Minho, and Changbin but no one's answering. Shit. You look back at Hyunjin and see him lying down on your bed.

"For god's sake, Hyunjin" You try shaking him to wake him up with no success. You sigh, what are you going to do now?

----------------

All characters in my writing are from my own imagination and don't represent nor reflect in any way the people in real life.

Taglist:

@hhwangsmoon @inara-a

[rekino2114]

After seeing the adorable beach date headcannons with Makima and Power, may I ask for more beach date headcannons? (This time, with Quanxi + her girlfriends, Asa, Yoru, and Fami?)

Beach date headcanons with quanxi,asa,yoru, and fami

A/n:You have no idea how much I like that you colored the girls' names, as you probably figured out I really like color coding stuff so my weird brain thanks you

Quanxi(and her harem)

Quanxi wasn't that excited to go, she doesn't really care what you do as long as she gets to spend time with the people she loves, but her girlfriends on the other hand were all very thrilled as it would be their first time going to the beach

You probably had to go when few people were around cause 4 fiends just hanging out would probably scare people (cosmo especially)

Quanxi mostly stays out of the water, sunbathing while looking at you all playing in the water (I'm imagining her with sunglasses over the eyepatch) she joins you when you ask and does have fun, she just prefers being outside

If there's one thing she hates is people hitting on any of you, and when you're at the beach, it's going to happen, thankfully she still keeps her swords near her just in case

"Come on quanxi, get in the water"

"Yeah, y/n's right, come on its nice"

"Hm, well if you really want to, sure I guess it'd be nice"

"That's great"

"Halloween! Halloween!"

Asa mitaka

She was very happy and quickly said yes when you suggested going, the beach is kinda like an aquarium after all right?....except it's outside.....with people...staring at her.....in a bikini......maybe she should have thought about this a bit more

While she was pretty nervous to just be there just looking at you having fun with a smile on your face put her at ease and made her enjoy the date more

Asa's not the best at swimming, so she mostly stays near the shore where the water is low while telling you random facts about the fishes and animals she sees

She'd like it if you bring one of those floating air mattresses so she can lay on it and just feel the fresh breeze on her face while relaxing, she really loves calm moments like this especially when you're with her

"So how are you asa? Did you have fun? You looked pretty nervous at first"

"Yeah, sorry about that, I was just kinda overwhelmed, but I really had a great time.....e-especially because of you"

"Awww that's so sweet, thanks asa"

"No t-thank you"

Yoru

She did not see the point at first. Why couldn't she just hang out with you somewhere else? The sand would get all over her, and she'd get stared at by creeps, not to mention how hot it would be, even if reluctantly she agreed cause she didn't wanna see you sad

After being there for a while, she discovered it wasn't that bad. She found out she particularly likes making sand castles actually (she tried to make one in the shape of a tank, but couldn't)

When she's in the water, yoru likes to randomly transform the small animals she sees into a weapon. She doesn't even use them. It's just for fun

She keeps sunglasses on during basically all of the date both to hide her eyes and because she thought it made her look cool

"Hey y/n! Y/n! Look what I made isn't it so cool?"

"Oh I'm sure it's-......uh"

"Hm what......w-why is it gone?"

"I think the water destroyed it"

"............I'm killing the ocean devil for this"

Fami

One word:ice cream (or is it 2?). She literally went there just because of the ice cream. She also packed like 3 backpacks full of food even if you were staying there for a short time

She'll just be sitting in the chair eating a tub of ice cream while watching you swim. She joins you later, but only after she's finished

If you or anyone tells her about the myth that you have to wait 30 minutes after eating to swim she'll just be "OK and?" And not care at all

She might have had a coughing fit after trying to drink the ocean water.....more than once

"Fami, please get in, the water isn't cold"

"Yeah don't worry, I will after I finish eating"

"But isn't that like your third tub of ice cream"

"Yeah I have to try every flavor, but don't worry, I'll join you soon"

".....if you say so"

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Five: Scooby Squad SS: 7 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.3K & 1.2K Content Warnings: Nothing?

Previous Next Masterlist

As the clock barely strikes 7 a.m., Minho's sleek car glides to a stop outside the house, its headlights piercing through the gentle morning mist. The front door groans open, and Hayun, Jeongin, Jisung, and Felix emerge into the crisp air, wrapped in layers of clothing, still bleary-eyed from the early start. Hayun, clad in black cargo pants and an oversized, snug sweater, shields her eyes behind dark sunglasses, attempting to shield herself from the glaring morning sun. Her black-and-white high-top sneakers shuffle against the ground as she readjusts her ponytail.

Jisung, still squinting at the car, rubs the sleep from his eyes. "We barely know this dude, and we’re just letting him drive us around like it’s nothing?" he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

Felix stretches his arms above his head, yawning as he grins. "None of us have our licenses, Ji. It’s not like we have a lot of options here." He glances over, his tone teasing. "And let’s not forget—you and Hayun failed the test, what, ten times between the two of you?"

Jeongin snickers from beside him. "Five times each. Truly impressive."

Hayun shrugs nonchalantly, pushing her sunglasses up higher on her nose. "We decided to call it quits after that. Clearly, the universe was sending us a message—driving just wasn’t meant to be."

Jisung nods in agreement, stifling a yawn. "Scams. Driving tests are scams."

As they approach Minho’s car, Jeongin speeds up, a mischievous grin on his face. "Shotgun!" he shouts, claiming the front passenger seat with a triumphant bounce, ignoring the groans from the rest of the group.

Minho, sitting in the driver’s seat, looks half-asleep himself. He glances at Jeongin as he gets in and gives a nod. "Morning," he mutters, voice gravelly.

"Morning!" Jeongin chirps back cheerfully, far too awake for the hour.

Felix, Hayun, and Jisung squeeze into the backseat, with Hayun stuck in the middle, sandwiched awkwardly between the two. She leans back against the seat, crossing her arms as she tries to get comfortable. "Great. Human seatbelt again," she mumbles, rolling her eyes but smiling faintly.

Jisung pulls out his phone, already typing in the address to his family home. He leans forward, handing it to Minho. "Here, throw this into the GPS."

Minho enters the address, and the robotic voice instantly chirps, "Take the next left."

Hayun, her sunglasses doing little to hide her exhaustion, speaks up. "Please tell me there’s a drive-through on the way. We need coffee if we’re going to survive this hellish hour. It’s... seven. In the morning."

Felix nods in agreement, his head resting against the window. "I second that."

Jisung sighs dramatically, rubbing his face. "It’s almost a two-hour drive, and I want to get there early. I’m not risking running into my dad when he gets back from the university. He’ll lecture me for hours about prioritizing the podcast over my degree, and, worse, he’ll probably start making weird hints about setting one of you guys up with me."

Hayun groans, sinking deeper into her seat. "Please tell me he hasn’t started that again."

Jisung shakes his head, clearly exasperated. "Oh, he has. Just wait until he starts dropping hints about you and Felix."

Minho snorts at that, the first sign of life behind his sleepy expression. "At least we’re missing the traffic."

Hayun pulls her sunglasses off briefly, massaging her temples. "Yeah, but at what cost?"

Minho chuckles softly, glancing at her through the rearview mirror before turning back to the road. They pull into the drive-through of a nearby coffee shop, and the car comes alive with caffeine orders.

"Iced Americano for me," Jeongin announces, bouncing slightly in his seat as if the promise of caffeine has already hit him.

"Same," Jisung says, though his voice is far more tired and strained.

Minho, who clearly needs it too, taps the steering wheel absently. "Make that three."

Felix perks up, his eyes half-closed. "I’ll take a peach iced tea."

Then, of course, there’s Hayun. "I’ll have a honeycomb hazelnut frappuccino with an extra shot of coffee, please."

Jisung turns and stares at her, dumbfounded. "Really? You couldn’t just get something normal?"

Hayun grins, leaning back against Felix’s shoulder. "You know I don’t do normal."

Felix chuckles, shaking his head. "She’s got a point."

They also order a variety of pastries—croissants, muffins, and whatever else looks tempting at this ungodly hour. Minho, surprisingly, insists on paying for everyone, much to the group’s collective shock.

"Generous," Felix says, eyebrows raised.

Minho shrugs nonchalantly, pulling the car up to the window. "Don’t mention it."

As they collect their drinks and food, Minho shoots a glance back at them, his expression suddenly serious. "If any of you spill this shit in my car, you’re licking it up. Understand?"

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Jesus, man. We’re not toddlers."

Felix snickers beside him. "No promises, though."

As soon as everyone has their hands on their drinks and pastries, Minho smoothly rejoins the flow of traffic. The car is soon filled with the familiar and soothing sounds of crinkling wrappers and contented slurping as they all eagerly tuck into their breakfast. A peaceful silence descends as everyone settles into their seats, enveloped by the comforting warmth of their coffee and the delicious food, slowly feeling more awake and energized.

Minho, eyes on the road, breaks the quiet. "So, Jisung... why does your sister ignore your messages? I thought you two were close."

Jisung sighs, his expression darkening slightly as he looks out the window. "We were close. She’s been avoiding me ever since Yuna disappeared five years ago. She moved out of the flat she shared with Yuna, went back to live with our dad. Lia was nineteen when Yuna vanished. They met at a fresher’s event at the university."

Felix frowns thoughtfully, stirring his iced tea. "Do you think she’s still in contact with Mingi?"

At the mention of Mingi, Hayun’s entire demeanor shifts. She stiffens, and the playful energy from before vanishes as she slowly hands the rest of her pastry to Jisung without saying a word. She turns toward the window, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses, her hands curling tightly around her coffee cup. Minho notices the sudden change in Hayun’s posture through the rearview mirror, but he doesn’t comment on it. He feels the tension building in the backseat, thick and heavy.

Jisung accepts the pastry, glancing sideways at Hayun before turning back to Minho. "Hayun hates Mingi. Avoids him like he’s got the fucking plague or something. Won’t even tell us why."

Minho, his voice careful, tries to ease the conversation back. "She probably has her reasons for not saying anything." He glances at Hayun through the mirror again. "Right?"

Hayun gives the smallest of nods, but she doesn’t elaborate. Her jaw is tight, and her expression stays hidden beneath her sunglasses.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck, looking out the window again. "Lia and Mingi have always been on and off. I think they’re off right now, though."

Hayun finally speaks, her voice quiet and measured. "Lia’s dating Mingi?"

Jisung nods. "Yeah, for a while. They’ve been back and forth for years. It’s weird."

Hayun just nods again, retreating further into herself, her gaze fixated on the passing landscape outside the window. Minho watches her for another beat in the rearview mirror, studying the tension in her body language, the way she completely shuts down at the mention of Mingi. He doesn’t press her for more but keeps it filed away in the back of his mind.

For the next few minutes, the car is quiet again, the only sounds coming from the low hum of the engine and the occasional sip of a drink. Despite the tension simmering just beneath the surface, there’s an almost peaceful quality to the early morning road trip.

Felix is the first to break the silence, his voice light in an attempt to lift the mood. "So, are we placing bets on whether Lia actually talks to us today or just slams the door in our faces?"

Jeongin snorts. "I’m betting on the door slam. She’s been dodging Jisung for a while now."

Jisung groans dramatically, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, she’s good at that. But we’ll catch her off guard this time."

The car pulls into the driveway of Jisung’s family home, the tyres crunching softly on the gravel as the mid-morning sun bathes the sprawling estate in warm light. Minho steps out of the driver’s seat and pauses, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the scene in front of him. The house is enormous, all ivy-covered walls, towering windows, and perfectly manicured lawns. It looks like something straight out of an architectural magazine—pristine and elegant, with not a leaf out of place.

“You live here?” Minho asks, more than a little impressed. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of disbelief to it as he glances over at Jisung.

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, well, my dad’s the head of the social sciences department at the university. He’s got a bunch of books published and all that. So… yeah, we have money.”

Hayun snorts beside him, folding her arms across her chest as she surveys the house. “There’s having money, and then there’s this,” she mutters. “I practically grew up in this house, and I’m still not used to it.”

Felix grins, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “We’ve got money too now, remember? But we prefer to live like we’re broke.”

Hayun laughs, shaking her head. “Exactly. We could buy a place like this, but what the hell would we do with all that space?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he takes in their banter. “Wait… you guys are rich?”

Felix shrugs, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Only since the podcast blew up. But we don’t let it change anything. We still live like college kids with ramen budgets.”

Minho shakes his head with a small grin. “That explains a lot, actually.”

Jisung is already halfway to the front door, pulling out a key as he unlocks it with a flourish. He pushes the door open and shouts into the house, his voice echoing against the polished floors and high ceilings. “Lia! Get your ugly ass out here! You can’t avoid me forever!”

The group exchanges amused glances as Jisung’s voice bounces off the walls. A moment later, a voice calls back from the kitchen, dripping with sarcasm. “Fuck off, Jisung!”

Jeongin leans casually against the doorframe and smirks. “How you doin’, Lia?”

Before anyone can react, Felix reaches over and slaps Jeongin upside the head. “Dude, you embarrass us every time. Every. Time.”

Lia finally appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel draped over her shoulder, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her eyes land on Jisung, and then she glances around at the rest of the group, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “What do you want, Ji?”

Jisung grins, unfazed. “We’ve got questions about Yuna. We’re doing a podcast special.”

Lia’s face tightens the moment Yuna’s name is mentioned, and her gaze shifts toward Minho, standing slightly behind the others. Her eyes narrow, lips curling into a bitter smile. “So you brought her brother with you? That’s bold.”

The air thickens with tension, but Hayun steps forward, her voice calm but firm. “The police never definitively proved Chaeryeong did it. You know that.”

Lia lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, crossing her arms. “And you think a bunch of podcasters, their editor, and the brother of the accused can figure out what the police couldn’t? This isn’t some murder mystery game, Hayun.”

Jisung steps in, refusing to back down. “No, it’s not a game. But we’re not going in with the biased angle the police had from day one. We can at least approach this with a fresh perspective. You owe it to Yuna to hear us out.”

There’s a charged pause as Lia studies Jisung, her lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment, she exhales heavily, clearly frustrated but resigned. “Fine. Ask your questions, but don’t expect me to give you anything useful.”

Jisung pulls out his recorder, clicking it on with a quiet beep. He holds it out toward her, his voice steady. “Let’s start with the night Yuna disappeared. What do you remember?”

Lia leans against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms tighter, her gaze growing distant as she recalls that night. “We were at one of Mingi’s parties. The big one, the one you and Hayun were at too. You two were what, fourteen? Fifteen?”

Jisung nods. “Yeah. I remember.”

Lia’s eyes glaze over a little as she continues. “Yuna left the party at some point. She told me she was going to meet some older guy. She never said who. That was the last time I saw her. The next thing I know, the cops are knocking on our door, asking me questions. Then, out of nowhere, they tell me Chaeryeong confessed, and the case is closed.”

Minho, who has been listening intently, steps forward for the first time. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “What else do you remember from that night?”

Lia’s eyes flick to him, and her expression hardens. “What else? We spent the night looking for Hayun because she disappeared pretty early on at the party. Remember that, Hayun?”

Hayun stiffens, her sunglasses masking her expression, but there’s a visible tension in her posture. She nods slowly, her voice quieter than usual. “Yeah… I drank too much.”

There’s a beat of silence, and though her words seem casual, everyone in the room feels the weight of something left unsaid. Lia watches her carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she’s waiting for more, but Hayun doesn’t offer anything else.

“Right,” Lia says, her tone sharp. “We didn’t find you until the next morning.”

Hayun shifts uncomfortably, her hands fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper. It’s clear the conversation is making her uneasy, but no one pushes her for more. The tension in the room deepens.

Jeongin, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly redirects. “Did Yuna ever mention the older guy again after that night?”

Lia shakes her head, her expression turning frustrated. “No. But I knew he was giving her money. That’s how she could afford all the shit she was into, pills, new clothes, all of it.”

Felix, frowning slightly, leans forward. “Do you think Mingi knew who the older guy was? He and Yuna were close, right?”

Lia shrugs, her eyes hardening as she speaks. “Maybe. Mingi was always around Yuna, but their relationship was complicated. If anyone knows who the guy was, it’s probably him.”

At the mention of Mingi, Minho notices the subtle shift in Hayun’s body language again. She tenses again, her hand tightening slightly around her coffee cup. She doesn’t say anything, but the discomfort is palpable.

Lia straightens up, breaking the tension as she looks around the room. “Look, if you really think you can find something the police missed, fine. But don’t expect me to get my hopes up.”

Jisung offers her a small smile, his voice softening. “We’re just trying to find the truth, Lia. That’s all.”

Lia studies him for a moment before her posture relaxes just slightly. “Good luck, then. You’re going to need it because you might not like what you find”

The group exchanges glances, the gravity of what they’re taking on sinking in. This case has been closed for five years, with no one questioning the official story. But now, with so many doubts hanging over it, they realize just how deep they’ll have to dig to find the truth.

And Hayun, quietly sipping her coffee, feels the weight of her own secret. A truth she’s not ready to share with the others, even as the past starts to catch up with them.

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount

[irisintheafterglow]

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

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

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

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

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

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

"eh, you know how it is."

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

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

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

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

"hmm?" his sharp eyebrows furrow in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"friend of a friend of a friend."

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

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

"what's your usual scene, then?"

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

"mhmm. do you play any instruments?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you'd been flirting with gojo satoru.

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

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

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

"welcome to my usual scene, pretty."

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

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

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

[whalesforhands]

summer days and the heat haze pt.2 (satosugu x reader) pt.i pt.3

warnings: fluff, no spice lol, happy days happy lives, this is a culmination of all the sad things that have happened to me, and i write fluff to express sadness; i wish i was happy too

You stare at the two packages in your hand. What should you get for tonight’s group barbecue dinner?

Kalbi? You lift said package up to inspect it. Everyone likes that. And the marination process… Perhaps Suguru can help?

You ponder, holding up the other package in your hand. Do they like harami? You do. It’s so soft and tender.

Realization hits. What if they don’t feel like eating beef? Your eyes flicker past the red meat.

Perhaps pork is a safer choice. Pork belly? Tontoro?

You think again. Should you just get chicken after-all? You can’t go wrong with chicken. But… You’re at Satoru’s beach home. Do they want seafood instead?

Choices, choices. Your eyes are starting to go dizzy with conflict and a lack of decisiveness.

“Let’s get everything. Satoru’s paying.”

Shoko. Her arms wrap around one of yours in a side hug, her chin coming to rest on your shoulder as she stares at your face.

You feel her hands start to wander to your own, fingers slowly dancing with yours before she tangles them together.

She’s holding your hand.

You like the feeling of her hand in yours. The way her fingers intertwined with yours despite your loose hold, the way her soft palm felt so smooth against your lightly calloused ones. It invokes light, happy warmth from within your chest.

You’re happy. And the way you start to hold her hand back shows that.

——

“Can we not get bell peppers? I don’t wanna eat them…” Satoru whined, his tall frame draped over yours as he held you from behind, chin resting atop your head as his arms looped around your waist.

Suguru ignores him, inspecting a green bell pepper in his hand as he shows it to you, your basket now within his shopping cart. “We have garlic, mushrooms and onions. Is there anything else we need?”

Your hand struggles as you try to reach around Satoru to get to your notebook held within Gojo’s hand, before he begrudgingly shows it to you, arm over your shoulder as he holds the small notebook that his obnoxiously big hand dwarfs in terms of size.

You stare at the list.

Meat? Check.

Seafood? Check.

Sweets for Satoru everyone? Check.

Alcohol?

(Shoko had added that last one. Penning it down on your list before she had parted to go ‘help you track them down!’)

“I think…” You breathe out, reading through the list once more. “That’s everything.”

Suguru bags up the bell peppers in plastic, weighing them and adding the sticker before gently placing them into the cart.

You continue to walk down the aisle, past the produce, past the deli section, past the pastries. All whilst trying to not stumble as you drag a tall, bulky white-haired man along.

(Thank goodness he’s getting distracted by the pastries.)

You glance up at the aisle. Eyes catching a package of ice syrup where it sat at the very top, the last of its kind.

Ice syrup… Shaved ice? Your eyes carefully read the colourful packaging. Would they all enjoy shaved ice with you? It’s a treat to enjoy in the summer after all. Would they even want to eat such a snack?

“There’s an ice shaver in the kitchen.”

Suguru has been watching you. His eyes meet yours when you smile at him, before flitting back to the syrup.

Then… You should get it right?

You feel him place his hand on your head.

“Yes, we should.” Did you say that out loud?

He’s moving forward before you can think about it, tall frame easily reaching up and obtaining the final packet.

“We can eat some together later.”

——

“Let’s bury him.” Suguru’s eyes glint behind his sunglasses.

Shoko doesn’t hesitate, her tiny plastic shovel glittering in the sunlight as she began to pile on sand onto an unsuspecting, sleeping Satoru, his head nestled comfortably on your lap as he snoozes away under the parasol with you.

“I think ‘m gonna sleep.”

You’re surprised. It isn’t often that he says that.

“Do you want to go back to the house? I can-“

He settles down in front of you, flopping onto his back as his head lands right on your wonderfully empty, soft looking lap.

“Right here should be fine!”

Your hand trails up, threading through his snowy locks, slightly damp from the ocean water. It’s soft, fluffy in nature and silky smooth. No doubt a work of the expensive hair products he shares with Suguru. His features relaxing fully as you continue to pet his head, observing his sleeping face as you relaxed, eyes flitting between the two aiming to put the Six Eyes user under the ground.

It isn’t often Gojo Satoru allows himself the mercy of rest, choosing to stay awake using his reversed cursed technique. You feel bad, and it shows when you cradle his head ever slightly closer to your navel.

Suguru notices first.

“You’re coddling him.” It didn’t sound accusatory, more gentle, fond. As if he likes watching you do this.

“I think he deserves this much,” You remove the tiny speckles of sand that have flickered onto his face. “He’s worked hard.” Gojo’s closed eyes crinkled, as if he was about to awaken before your hands neatly settle themselves on his face, soothing the snoozing sorcerer’s features as he relaxes once more.

Suguru chuckles lightly, dumping another unforgiving pile of warm sand onto Satoru’s torso. “He really has.” You see Geto’s hand graze Gojo’s lightly out of the corner of your eye, before Suguru’s gaze was directed back at you. It was determined, burning with desire for violence and atrocity.

“But he deserves this. Trust me.”

Shoko glances up at you momentarily, halting her digging with her toy shovel as she notices your inner turmoil. “You shouldn’t feel bad.” Her gaze behind her borrowed sunglasses turns dark, hands returning to filling the little toy bucket with sand, with slight vigor in her actions, as if she had a bone to pick. A thirst for petty revenge.

“He single-handedly finished all the condensed milk and mochi meant for our shaved ice.”

The tiniest fraction of remorse you had left became nonexistent.

——

Satoru’s eyes blinked open as he felt the light of the sun on his face. He was sure he had fallen asleep on your lap under a shade.

Why was the sun all up in his face and bothering his one-on-one time with you? Why does your lap feel so… Sandy? Is he dreaming?

Shade finally comes to him. Suguru’s shadow looming over his head as he sees the tall ravenette standing over his head.

“Oh? Looks like the little dessert thief is awake.” Suguru had a smile on his face, a bucket in his hand as he stands over Satoru’s still uncovered head.

“Wha?” Still in his sleep daze, he was unable to comprehend what’s happening. “(name)…?” He yawns, eyes closing, head leaning to snuggle back into what he thinks was your lap only to still feel more sand.

He yelps. Attempting to move a hand up to break his sudden fall before he realized.

He can’t move. Save for his head, his entire body was buried under a large pile of sand, shaped into a rectangle to box in his form.

(A crude tower was sticking out of where his pelvic region was meant to be, small and pathetic looking. He would retort if he wasn’t in grave danger.)

Suguru is still watching him with a certain glint in his eye. Satoru recognizes that slight twitch of his under eye.

“S-Suguru,” He gulps. “Babe, honey, baby. We can talk about this!”

“I think there’s hardly anything to talk about, darling.” Suguru’s smile was cruel, the sand specks of sand slowly flowing out the bucket as he tipped the bucket slightly, the moat around Satoru’s head began to fill, slowly climbing up higher and higher as the shaman’s head was slowly encased in sand.

“Wait! WAIT! She’ll be sad if I die!”

“Ah. Satoru.” You appear beside Suguru, twirling your straw around your fingers in your glass cup filled with chilled chocolate milk. You crouch down, your knees bent as you watch him through the pair of sunglasses he donned before his impromptu nap on your lap.

“I’ll miss you.”

(He would’ve swooned at you had he not been in his current predicament.)

You take a sip, smiling down at him as Shoko waves at him from his feet.

“Bye bye~ We hope you learn your lesson.”

You giggle, watching Suguru as he hastens the process, more grains of sand pouring out as Satoru begins to scream.

“Punishment often tastes sweeter, doesn’t it girls?”

——

The showers are going, the grocery bags are on the countertop. Music is being blasted out of the high-end radios

You don’t think you recognize this song.

The sliding glass door to the veranda is wide open, the ocean breeze flowing through the home as you hear Suguru wash the vegetables.

It’s comforting. Knowing everyone is here. Knowing everyone is okay.

Everything’s alright. Because they’re here with you. You’re at peace.

“Happy about something?” A basket of assorted vegetables is placed next to you as you feel slightly chilly breath fanning your ear. The byproduct of the ice cream you all shared. His arms cage you into the counter, not quite pushing against you to avoid your discomfort, but enough to trap you in his hold.

Your answer is one of instinct, of gratuitous joy seeping from your very being.

“More than ever.” You turn around, chest to chest with him as your arms hug around his waist, around his larger frame, around the body that contained a person you loved with every fiber of your being. Your face is buried in his chest, the scent of lavender and citrus fills your senses as you try to breathe in as much as you can.

“I love all of you.” You feel his hand reach up to your hair, stroking you as he holds you close.

You’re content being here.

A murmur, a rumbling of his chest as you felt his heart start to pound against his ribcage.

“I love you more.”

——

“Aaa…” Shoko opens her mouth, taking a thankful chomp of the meat held between your chopsticks as you fed her another bite of the ones you’ve cooked yourself.

Shoko looks so elegant even when eating. You can’t help it when your chopsticks reach into your bowl in attempts to get another piece to feed to her.

Her pretty lips are parting, you’re gonna feed her agai-

“Mmm!” Satoru had inserted himself between your chopsticks and a chewing Shoko. His mouth closes around your utensil, teeth latched onto the meat piece as he bites it off, claiming it for himself.

He feels Shoko’s judgemental stare, choosing to ignore it, going as far as to look her in the eye, still happily chewing.

“It’s really good, isn’t it Shoko?” His fingers are drumming happily against the wooden table, head resting on his propped up palm as he stares longingly at your bowl.

“So good, I wouldn’t mind another~”

He stares at you expectantly.

You stare back.

Suguru is shoving a raw piece of squid into Satoru’s open, expecting mouth.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Suguru is smiling as he keeps the squid there. Solid arm unmoving and holding the raw piece of seafood in his significant other’s mouth as he struggles and hacks at the taste.

Shoko is taking pictures of the occurrence.

You begin to laugh, chopsticks clacking against the table as your happiness rings itself out.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this. A silent promise to yourself that you never will.

You love them. Love hearing them laugh, love hearing them cheer, love hearing them.

For their existence was your comfort. Finding solace in their very presence, your heart felt full.

——

“If you eat all the damn meat…!” You see Suguru wrangling a struggling Satoru, strong arms tucked under the white-haired shaman’s underarms whilst a pair of clacking tongs were outstretched in efforts to sneak another piece. 

“Just one more…! It’s so good!”

He whined, trying to shove his unyielding boyfriend back as Shoko hurriedly scoops up the grilled pieces onto a rather large plate as Suguru yells at her to hurry up.

“We won’t have any left, you greedy little-!”

You giggle, steps light and happy as you walk towards them, plate piled with the raw kebabs as you glanced towards the table, catching sight of the vegetables Satoru had failed to hide completely out of sight.

“Shall we get the veggies cooking as well?”

You hear Satoru audibly complain just as he manages to climb over Suguru and steal yet another piece.

masterlist next(kofi exclusive)

Notes:

It was Gojo himself who wrote down in the list to get snacks for him. Geto cancelled out his name and rewrote ‘everyone’.

You didn’t actually say anything back in the aisle with Suguru. He simply has a knack for watching you and guessing what you’re thinking.

The ‘tower’ on Gojo’s body was actually a collaboration between Shoko and yourself. Initially, you had accidentally piled on too much sand on that specific part. Shoko laughed, shoveling most of it away before making a small phallic shaped object to the best of her artistic ability.

She proceeded to look at Suguru, pointing towards it and asking.

“Accurate?”

Suguru simply lost his mind laughing at the elementary school level joke.

In the kitchen, Suguru’s “I” was meant to come out as a “We” but he got too flustered.

Shoko’s camera is filled with pictures of you smiling.