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81astriss · 3 days ago

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do you think i have forgotten about you? | arthur leclerc

fem!reader x arthur leclerc

2.8k words

in which you and arthur have been exchanging letters since childhood until one day, he stops.

a/n: just re-read five survive by holly jackson (5* read i def recommend 😛) !!! this is semi-inspired by arthur's letter to red and bc i miss the pen pal i had when i was like 10 :(

playlist

March 29, 2007

To: Y/n

Hello, this is Arthur. My maman told me that writing letters would better my english but I think my english is fine? Anyways, I am from Monaco and I like racing like my brother and my father. Love for racing just runs in the genes I think. What do you like? I don't have much to say honestly so I'm sorry that this is your first impression of me. I hope you're doing good.

From: Arthur

⎯

April 10, 2007

To Arthur,

Hello! I'm Y/n, as you already know. I've been expecting your letter actually! My mother said you'd be writing. This is actually so cool I've always wanted a pen pal :o

I like music, I play piano. I don't know much about racing but I will ask my dad about it! Looking forward to exchanging more letters with you. And don't worry about your first impression, it is okay for me!

- Y/n :)

⎯

August 8, 2011

Dear Y/n,

I don't understand how you enjoy going to school. I would much rather do karting all day everyday. My dream is to get into F1 (like I already said about a million times) and it's useless to sit in school learning fractions.

My grandmother is making me learn piano. I don't want to but since you play the piano, I'll learn it so I can play with you when you go here :D Watch out though, I might become better than you!

Nothing entertaining has happened recently but if something does, I'll make sure to tell you first.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Charles says hi. He thinks this is a love letter??? (ew)

⎯

August 20, 2011

Dear Arthur,

To be honest, I don't enjoy school at all. I only get excited to go here for my friends and because I like learning about countries. I want to travel a lot when I'm older. The first country I'll visit is Monaco so maybe you can show me around! We can talk about F1 (i've been learning more about it) and piano now that you're learning it.

And speaking of piano, there's absolutely NO way that you're going to get better than me at it. Between the two of us, I am THE piano master >:) Though you should listen to your grandmother and learn. It's a beautiful instrument and it sounds magical if you play it well. But even if you learn, you'll never get better than me hehee

Nothing much has also happened in my life (unfortunately) but I'll write right away when something does happen!

Love, Y/n

P.S. Hi Charles :D This is not a love letter, that's gross and also we're 10. And also I found a pink pen :P

⎯

February 14, 2014

Dear Y/n,

Happy valentines! Although by the time this reaches you it won't be valentines anymore. Some girls left letters in my locker and while I appreciate the effort, it sucks that I have to turn them down because I'm not interested in them. Do you have a valentine this year? Charles gave a girl chocolates that had nuts and she said she was allergic lol. It was so embarrassing to watch.

And while we're on the topic of Charles, don't tell anyone but we don't have enough money to let both me and him do racing. Honestly, I don't know what to do. I might quit just so he could continue because he's a much better driver than I am. He has a better shot at getting into F1 than I do. But I love racing and my brother. I really do. It's just sad that I will have to stop for a bit.

Now change topic so it isn't sad, I'm so good at piano now. Like Beethoven is shaking in his grave. You can't compare :P Guess who's the piano master now. >:)

Love, Arthur

⎯

February 14, 2014

Dear Arthur,

It's valentines again! I still don't have a valentine again this year and it SUCKS! All my friends and even my teachers have one. This isn't fair. Is this what it's like to be a teenager? Lonely and sad and falling behind in love?

February 26, 2014

Hey, I just got your letter. I'm so sorry to hear that, what you're doing for Charles and for your family is really selfless and shows how generous you are. I admire what you're doing. Is there any way we can help financially? Maybe my mom can send you money? Remember I'm always here for you if you need emotional support from so many kilometers away >:) and hey, when you get the money, you can come back even better eh? Don't feel too bad.

And now that I'm done comforting you... There is NO WAY in hell that you're that good. Beethoven is shaking in his grave because you're using his name in vain. Don't get cocky now. When we meet, I challenge you to a piano playing challenge which rules are ones that I haven't thought of yet. >:(

Write back, Beat oven!

Love, Y/n

⎯

March 29, 2014

Dear Arthur,

I think my other letter may have gotten lost in the mail haha... it was about valentines and a reply to you having to take a racing hiatus and comparing you to the legend himself, Ludwig van.

Okay anyways. Life updates from me are: I started learning violin and my mother and I might go to Paris! I'm so excited because this is the first time I'll go out of my country :D

But anyways, how are you doing? How are you holding up given everything?

Write back!

Love, Y/n

⎯

August 10, 2014

Dear Arthur,

If you hate me you can just say so :/ Nah I'm joking but I'm sending this from another post office because I think the other post office keeps losing my letters for some reason. I don't think they're reaching you so that's my explanation if you haven't heard from me over the past months. Promise I'm not ignoring you!

It's been a while since I heard from you. It's unusual, not seeing your name in my mailbox. I hope you're doing okay. :)

Write back soon!

Love, Y/n

⎯

October 14, 2014

Happy birthday, Arthur!

Enjoy your golden birthday :O I hope that only good things come for you today and for the rest of your life <3

Still haven't heard from you for 8 months. Did you move away without telling me? Have you forgotten about me? Okay it's wrong for me to ask this on your special day. I'm sorry for being selfish.

Happy 14th! Enjoy your day.

Love, Y/n

⎯

December 25, 2014

Dear Arthur,

MY CHRISTMAS GIFTS WERE SOOOO COOL!!!!!!

I got a lego airplane, a guitar, and a bike! I've been asking for a bike for so long and now I finally get to have my own! What about you what did you get for christmas?

Please write back, thanks!

Love, Y/n

⎯

January 1, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Happy new years! What's your new years resolution? Mine is to get even better at violin, travel more, and do better in school.

Please write :(

Love, Y/n

⎯

October 14, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Happy birthday! :)

Love, Y/n

⎯

December 25, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Merry Christmas to you and your family! :)

Love, Y/n

⎯

January 1, 2016

Arthur,

Happy new years.

- Y/n :)

⎯

March 29, 2017

I miss your letters, Arthur.

Love, Y/n

⎯

July 17, 2024. You were on day 2 out of 3 of your visit to Monaco, the place you've always dreamed of going to.

It was a Wednesday, and the cafe you entered was filled with people. You looked around for a place to sit and saw only one seat available on a table for 2. There was a man on the other end of the table, someone you didn't recognize at all.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" You ask, gesturing to the one across him.

"Ah, no it isn't," he smiles, "feel free to occupy it."

The man looked like he walked straight out of a romance book. He had brown, unkept hair that also looked fixed at the same time—a look which he somehow pulled off. His eyes were somewhere you could get lost in and his french accent was prominent. Maybe this was your romcom moment, you thought, meeting someone in a coffee shop in a foreign country.

You sat there, staring out the window, admiring the scenery while he just stayed on his phone. Not long after, the barista called out your name and drink.

"Thank you for letting me sit for a while."

"It's no problem, really."

"I'm Y/n by the way." You give out your hand and he shakes it before you walk away.

Y/n.

Your voice echoed in his ears as the sound of your name sent waves throughout the boy's entire being.

He watched as you exited the cafe, drink in the hand that shook his. Your touch still lingering on his palm.

⎯

July 17, 2024

My dearest Y/n,

You're just as beautiful as I imagined you to be.

Love, Arthur

⎯

July 18, 2024

Y/n,

Okay that first letter was so out of place and not good to send as a standalone haha. Sorry about that!

Okay for real now, I'm sorry I stopped writing. To be honest, I don't have an excuse for it. I was stupid and with everyone being on their phones more often, I got lazy to write.

I kept your letters in case one day I found the motivation to write back, even though I never did. I'm sorry for making you feel like your letters never reached me at all. I'm sorry if you thought I forgot about you. I never did, not once. I could never forget you. I shouldn't have done that to you, I know. I'm sorry, I truly am. I should've given you another way to contact me or stayed in touch even if I had nothing to say instead of leaving you in the dust. I was young and stupid. I'm sorry.

You can hate me. You probably already do and I understand and respect that. I deserve it. But I want to reconnect with you again, if you'd let me. I promise I'll do better than I did at 14.

Sincerely, Arthur

⎯

August 1, 2024

Arthur.

What the fuck. There has to be something wrong with you because what. the. fuck.

So you didn't move away or die or whatever and you just ignored me for YEARS? I think I would much rather be forgotten. That's a lie. I wouldn't. But you can't just say "You're as pretty as I thought you were" or some shit and pretend that fixes EVERYTHING.

You're right! Wow! I do indeed hate you for not writing. You're an asshole. You made me look stupid thinking I was writing to the air for years. I hate you. How dare you even try to contact me again. You can't just do that. You can't just ignore me for years then write to me again and pretend like nothing happened then just move past it.

But in all honesty I've missed your letters. I've missed seeing your name in the mail. I've missed you.

Nice to finally meet you in person, I guess.

Y/n

⎯

August 19, 2024

Dear Y/n,

This won't reach you in time for Zandvoort so will you please come to Monza for the race please? I'll pay for everything. Your flight, your hotel, your food, everything. I want to speak to you in person. Please.

Love, Arthur

⎯

August 27, 2024

to: Arthur Leclerc [email protected] from: Y/n L/n [email protected] subject: Monza GP Invitation

Fine, I'll be there.

Y/n

⎯

September 2, 2024

Dear Y/n,

Thank you for letting me in your life once again. I'm so glad I got to catch up with you. I've clearly missed a lot in your life, I mean obviously a decade is a long time but still. I don't have much to say since they were already said in person.

You really are more beautiful than what I imagined (that's not an insult, please don't take that the wrong way.) It feels like I could stare at you for an eternity. If Charles from 13 years ago saw this letter I'd be teased relentlessly for writing a 'love letter' but it's true. You truly are one of the most gorgeous people I've seen.

Write back, hopefully?

Love, Arthur

⎯

September 19, 2024

Arthur,

Another letter? Wow, you really do enjoy pushing your luck. But then again here I am replying so your gamble was worth it in a way.

I admit it was nice catching up with you. It made me realize how much we've grown from the kids we once were and what a huge part of your life I wasn't in. You really missed a lot in my life and I also missed a lot of yours. I still remember making a promise about how we would tell each other when something major happens.

Congratulations to Charles for P1 in Monza and P2 in Baku.

- Y/n

⎯

December 7, 2024

Dear Y/n,

I was able to drive alongside Charles in free practice! Don't know if you watched it. It was amazing and full of emotion. It was so surreal and I wish you were there to see it in person.

Love, Arthur

P.S. This is me keeping my end of the promise and updating you with every major thing that happens in my life.

⎯

December 25, 2024

Merry Christmas, Y/n.

Love, Arthur.

⎯

January 1, 2025

Merry Christmas and happy new year, Arthur. (& to your family as well)

Thank you for finally keeping your end of the promise. Took you long enough. Seems like your wish of making it into F1 doesn't seem so far? Good to be updated again with all the happenings in your life.

I'm so thankful we were able to talk again after so long. Even though I was dead set on loathing your entire existence for the rest of my life, I'm glad I didn't continue with that mindset.

I hope only good things come your way. Keep in touch?

Love, Y/n

P.S. Sorry for taking a bit long to write back (even tho u took longer)

⎯

January 1, 2025

Dear Y/n,

Happy new year to you and your family!

Thank you so much for letting me back into your life. I wasn't sure if you still would given that I did you so dirty back then. Glad that we're able to move past that and focus on our friendship now.

May the new year only bring you good luck and things and more travels.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Take as long as you want, I'll just be here waiting.

⎯

March 29, 2025

Arthur,

Honestly, I don't have anything else to say but I'm going to Monaco in a few days. I might already be there by the time this reaches you. I hope I see you around.

- Y/n

⎯

Sure enough, you do end up seeing him in the same cafe that you saw each other last year.

"What are the odds that I see you in the same cafe in the same spot?" You go up to him, holding your drink.

"Maybe it's fate?"

"Or maybe you're stalking me."

He leans back in his chair. "Well me, I just so happen to like this place. And you also sent me a letter saying you'd be here."

Monaco really is a small country.

You sit on the chair opposite his, looking out the window and admiring the view. You could stare at it for the rest of your life and never get tired of it.

You glance back at Arthur, who was also looking at the beautiful scenery outside. You could never get tired of him either.

⎯

April 19, 2025

Dear Y/n,

This might be too soon to ask and I know I am really pushing my luck by asking this but please don't hate me. Please.

Can I court you?

This wasn't just some random thought that occurred in my mind out of nowhere on a random Saturday. I just realized it when I saw you in the cafe for the second time. Maybe it really was fate or my stubbornness or your patience with me but whatever it was, somehow the universe always finds a way to bring me back to you. I realized then that I could get used to it—being with you for the rest of my life. I would never get tired of going to that cafe and admiring all the places I grew up seeing even if I go there every single day if it means I get to do it with you.

I know the time might not be right but I couldn't help myself any longer.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Again, please don't hate me.

⎯

May 1, 2025

To: Arthur

Yes, you may.

Love, Y/n

⎯

May 16, 2025

Y/n,

I knew it was bound to be a love letter one day.

- Charles

P.S. If ever he ghosts you again tell me. I will deal with him myself.

woooo first fic that isn't part smau (besides the email part but shhhh) !??!?! not proofread, apologies for any mistakes :)

♡ xine

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #fem!reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #arthur leclerc #al50 #arthur leclerc x reader #charles leclerc

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kisses-from-lady · 1 day ago

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Avian hybrid!141 x autistic!reader,

Chirping, clicking, and basically sounds like a bird when vocal stimming (totally not very self inserty).

At first 141 thinks they’re copying them especially when they see what (looks to them) they would describe as a nest (some autistic people make “nests” in a sense, for me that’s a lot of blankets and pillows and plushies in my bed).

So they confront reader, annnndd… wherever your creative juices go from the🍄

Notes: Took me a hot minute because guess who was doing Autism research because I love my requesters (and I don't wanna get anything wrong, I will definitely take constructive criticism over how this is written thank you!) long note but I tend to repeat phrases and sounds continuously so I think I got that part down lol

You were a decently new addition, it was fun, having a sweet little full human hang around, all the 141 members were avian hybrids, you knew that when you signed up, and you didn't mind at all, that was part of the condition

The first strange thing they noticed was you chirping to yourself similar to the chirp of a hybrid, typically after you heard one of them make a noise or a coo, really, any noises related to birds and avians

It made Ghost raise an eyebrow, were you mocking them? Soap would always grin at it, he found it weirdly endearing, he took it as you trying to communicate in your own way back, Gaz didn't mind it, Price had a similar thought about it all with Ghost

The second 'strange' thing they found was your own little nest, Soap had asked you for something, you waved him off and said it was in your room on base, he entered to find a pretty good setup, hell he'd nest there

(this is a set up I've done a few times, it's great) You had your duvet set down, the sides rolled to make it like a little pizza, the rolled sides being your crusts, a blanket over that and assorted pillows and plushes inside you very own little bubble in the middle of your bed where he assumed you curled up

He knew it was probably not going to make you jump for joy when you heard but he silently ushered the others to your room saying "Ye think they're copying the hybrid shite? Ye ken, I don't blame 'em, it's nice"

"That's kind of odd, I don't think this is copying us" Price shakes his head and Ghost says "Alright? And?" and Gaz shrugs and says "I think it's sweet, they've got a good set up going on too

"Then why don' we jus' ask them" Soap said with a shrug and you poked your head in "ask me what?" that made them all jump, Gaz shakes his head, slightly amused

"Well what's with.. this? The set up, the fact you copy us" Price gestures to your bed, even if he did say you weren't copying them, merely a second ago, he wanted to see too

"I'm Autistic" You state bluntly, and Gaz cocks his head to the side before saying "Well what's that got to do with it?"

You explain the way your brain works, getting a few 'oohhh's like you're teaching them some class in school, before Soap shakes his head and says "I'd rather go wit' tae idea ye made this nesting situation to get us cuddlin' up to ye" gesturing to your bed once again

You shrugged a little and nodded to the little situation, gesturing for the boys to hop in if they wanted- you wouldn't typically offer this, you didn't particularly like people in your personal area but you also did appreciate the feeling of weight on your body

That's how you ended up cuddled into four massive men, wings wrapped around you and all, they definitely understood you weren't mocking or copying now, but hell, they were glad they had assumed, otherwise this wouldn't have happened in the first place

Notes: Praying I wrote this alright, I just kinda wrote the two specific parts of the request (hope you enjoy!)

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nutzo0001 · 53 minutes ago

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1/30, 13/8/23 (posted/written 14/8/23. after 18/37)[past 11pm, 15/8/23]

AGORA ROAD WEBRING TRAVELOGUE PT. II

You (yet to have [retrospect]) read the part 1, get ready for another one! As you know, I merged two of my Travelogue versions/prompts and, on postpone, posted them on my blog. As I am (was) writing this, that is, at least, in my plan to do. - I have (had) yet to do that, plus, (in-writing) post this(e) paper scribbles into my 10-ish years old notebook. LOL, what a sentence, or rather than that, an intro-starter...!

It is all funny and sad at the same time. I am, you see, quite press(ur)ing myself into writing. Long time no post. Feels like end. All ills are down (there), new ideas gone. And ideals - too. Situation is this - in a short time ago really,

my net-pals on Discord (,) had started a talk about work-related migration, if that is the term of it. As we chatted, we compared stuff over with our lives-settings - our “hardness-modes”, if you will.

I don’t really want to go back to those memories that chat brought back to me. Let just briefly mention (of) the state (s) of “Shit-life-syndrome”, “Learned helplessness” and for many maybe new term, and that is “Milleniwave”. Upon looking it up you might find (out) that in fact, it could capture your life (experiences) too very well... To that - and, let’s get really started; as this all was quite only a lengthy lengthy, leeengthy fore-word...

This sadness really, is quite ill-romantic. Yuck-yay! - I “really can (not) be trusted with emotions”, or so... That talk, it helped (or, rather not...) me to realize; myself. You, dear (periodical) reader then, had many occurrences with me - “reading me” literally and - the blog, where you met my “in shitter”, doomer side.

- Heh (ouch), that is “your brain on internet” - you just got really bombarded with malicious propaganda and in-your-face doomerism. That been for a while. Learning really, from radio, TV, news; and that you can really draw a dots leading from butterfly to tornado; any quick.

Worse of it - we learned to look for any ridicule, ourselves. Just as a simple pass-time fun! And media too, can add to that. Making (wannabe) things up, false leads, - draws attention to random points, to “make” wannabe “news”. Feed/Fear/Feel/Fad for thought(s)... Well, a little branch-off, a cul-de-sac - what I wanted to say was - and it has nothing with previous than that, point; fear and disgust is, - what “made” us like this?

Instincts, yes; and? It is that our brains are, without stimuli, bored to hell and back - yeah? We seek for thrill, danger; for us to be active (one way or another), thinking. So - that is default brain function then, indeed. - To blame? Only those misusing (of) that! And pattern-seeking, too. And crap. Here we go again.

Another schizopost. (Not unhinged. Only wordsalad, and out of what I was intended to say/talk about - few paragraphs earlier.) Then now, let me (myself! please!) go to the point, shall we?!

- Sadness, emotions, shitter... We are onto something, hurray! So, instincts, - yes. That; I can’t just let it go - seeking always the worst, I am at my lowest low. But I got (ah) hope (that) there are some similar people like me, or that there are better ones than/to me!

I don't want to be bad

Unless I want to

If I hurt bad people, not those who deserve it..

But who does really?

But do I have to wait, til world will roll me, or for me to go fucking over and go rampant...

What I have to lost, If there is not real me yet

I just always did what people wanted because I had no sense of self

It is more painful to create some fake self that never was, that to be just moved at moves of wind

Oh thanks, but this is fine.

I just lost sense of words.

So much anger and lost.

I just don't want to do any job because way to go there, is it worth it? I really don't find joy in anything. No hobby. It is only sad now that I recall...

I mean, you need to find passion, then do some school or course, then again again again then work, then improve yourself, and for what. To do what you want? For others? For job... For boss? For power-trip, people-pleasing, for yourself to feel good and _above" others!? It is just joke...

14. srpen 2023

“Thanks, neoliberalism! Omodetou, Stakeholders! Selling countries to corporations! (I see you, Cyberpunk and Neo-Feudalism, no hiding behind “Normacy” mask!”) {lost future:}

Stolen, lost, milleniwavy (no-) future - 100s of opportunities, easy jobs-market, ready-to hop (on) jobs... It makes me reminiscent, really, over American dream allegory! - Was it, too, a rosy nostalgia, or was it (once...) real? Who remembers if (now)...

Remember 2007-ish? We were all(?) hyped about - now, (it) sounds so childish - something punky; in-between the words of “internet unity/unifying (Global village coffeehouse-ish), capitalism-ending, revolutionary, status quo-crushing, norms-breaking...”

- Only if more of “that”, for (in) real. Instead, it - faded out? Was corrupted/captured, trivialized (laughted out), generalized, later normalized (behaviour), simplified (dumbified), of its potential, in name of “normalcy” (and buying/selling power)(?). And here we are - net is yet another “same old TV”.

Psyop, using users influx of post - mid-2000s, rendering that (old 80s-90s nerd-web)(and, “utopia”) a fable, legend, dream?!*

Too chaos, too big; for (it, being) reality...

*recently (today, i) read they bait-and-switched (big if true) users for appliances (just theory(?)) and then when they figured out it worked, they made them shitter** (plastic parts, cheap, overheating, melting, lasts <6 years / short after waranty...) - on "why are appliances shit now and which are haptic and last long now" on twitter, --- here: https://x.com/vibrantdad/status/1945453830100918411 (people say, "Speed Queen for laundry"). ---------------- **:

"@jaycansea Jul 16:This has nothing to do with smart products - it’s capitalism, plain and simple. Planned obsolescence is a feature, not a flaw. The only reason your grandparents had better-built products is because, during the early adoption phase, companies prioritized quality to build trust and normalize the product’s place in daily life. Once that’s achieved, they cut costs by using cheaper components and redesign for maximum profit margins. None of this will ever change unless we overhaul the entire foundation of our exploitative system."

Rediscover hobbies

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emma-frxst · 18 hours ago

Text

Blue Skies

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female wife reader (no use of {y/n} )

Summary: Bucky has finally found peace with you, Alpine, and some goats.

Word Count: 1,700-ish

Warnings: language, Domestic af Bucky, Alpine Barnes, fluff, Bucky thinking he has a green thumb.

Masterlist

A/n- ahhh my first Bucky fic!!!! This is inspired by Blue Skies by Willie Nelson; the vibe is blissful contentment and optimism and we love healing in this house blog. Also I’m making it so that Steve didn’t leave during endgame cause that’s bullshit! so he makes a small appearance here, so does Sam.

Tags: no tags on this one since it’s not my usual x-men stuff I guess?(lol) Tag list and requests open just hit up my inbox. Reblogs and comments help me out the most! (I thrive on them) Happy reading!

“I never saw the sun shinin' so bright, never saw things goin' so right

Noticing the days hurrying by, when you're in love, my how they fly by

Blue days, all of them gone/ Nothin' but blue skies from now on”

You cracked the kitchen window, letting the soft summer breeze kiss your skin. The smell of honeysuckle invaded your home like a welcomed friend.

The foam kitchen mat had indentions from where you stood so often gazing out the window at your absolute treasure of a husband. One of your favorite things was watching Bucky feed the goats. He talked to them in plain conversation as if they’d respond in English at any given moment. You giggled as you heard him scold one for “not sharing the hay.”

Bucky had grown fond of livestock during his time in Wakanda, so when he asked you move to a little cottage in the country with a couple of goats and a small garden, you couldn’t say no. You couldn’t ever really tell him no; you wouldn’t. As much as he was putty in your hands, you were equally malleable in his.

You grabbed the cream colored bar soap that perched itself on the sink and lathered it between your hands, getting a good amount of suds to scrub the dirt from under your fingernails. You paid particularly close attention to the texture, the soap melted nicely and wasn’t grainy or crumbly.

The soft scent of lavender hit your nose- it was pleasant this time. The essential oils mixed together nicely. This batch of goat’s milk soap turned out better than the last few sets.

Bucky was irrationally upset that he didn’t get the soap to be perfect the first time around. He was used to being a jack of all trades, so when he wasn’t good at something on the first try, his ego took a hit and he was so whiny about it. He needed to lay his head on your lap and pout for at least 15 minutes. So- with lots of patience and encouragement (and a bit of teasing about the male ego) he had gotten the hang of it.

You could see it now: The Barnes’ Soap Company. Soaps handmade by a 100+ year old former assassin, half term congressman, ex-avenger and World War two veteran. AND his wife. Because let’s face it, Bucky includes you in all his shenanigans- whether you’re willing to be part of them or not.

You did love it though, especially nowadays when his shenanigans didn’t include charity galas, team meetings, or reading insufferably long congressional documents. But rather milking his goats- yes his goats-,making soaps, gardening, and putting funny hats on Alpine and snapping her photo.

You swore that cat was more like a dog, she followed Bucky around everywhere, even to the goats pen- which she wasn’t particularly fond of. Anywhere he went, she was right between his legs. It was funny how someone as skilled as Bucky would trip over a little white ball of fur. “She’s just so fast” he says.

The “small garden” you and Bucky had agreed on, had turned into what you referred to as the jungle. This year, the little garden bed was completely overtaken with cucumber plants. Those damn things choked out your zucchini and marigolds. If you ventured past the leafy vines, you’d find some corn, potatoes, and tomatoes. Those were all that was safe from the cucumber-apocalypse. If you ventured beyond that, you might even find a fruit tree or two.

Bucky insisted on planting 3-4 seeds in each hole instead of the recommended 1-2 because he “really really” wanted them to grow. And you just couldnt say no to those baby blue eyes and that dorky smile.

Now you were overrun with cucumbers.

All your neighbors and friends had cucumbers and pickles. You were pretty sure they were sick of cucumbers and pickles because you were getting sick of cucumbers and pickles. Luckily, the goats would eat anything, so their meals consisted of hay and overripe garden vegetables.

After drooling over your husband for too long- let’s be real, theres no such thing as drooling over Bucky Barnes for too long, you realized you needed to start on dinner.

Steve and Sam were coming over for y’all’s weekly get together and Bucky asked you to “pretty please with sugar on top make that one pasta dish.”

As you were readying the ingredients, you heard the side door fling open followed by a “MRRP!” and “babe!!!”

“In the kitchen!” You called out.

Four soft paws and two combat boot laden feet padded into the kitchen.

Alpine beat Bucky to the kitchen by 3 whole seconds, she immediately wove herself between your legs, purring and rubbing her face on your calf.

Bucky came hurrying in all excited, fist closed around something. He stood directly beside you, a huge grin on his face.

“Guess what’s in my hand.” He prompted.

You turned away from the stove to face him, eyebrow quirked, wondering what tiny live animal he was probably concealing.

“What?” You asked, suspiciously.

He didn’t reply, increasing your suspicions.

“James Buchanan Barnes if you brought another frog into my kitchen I’ll-“

He uncurled his fingers to reveal the smallest, most pitiful looking lemon you had ever seen.

“Looks like we can make lemonade tonight!” He joked.

You immediately started cackling, laughing so hard you doubled over.

God how Bucky loved your laugh. He’d do anything to hear it, including boasting about the first lemon from the tree in the backyard.

He clutched his side in laughter, eyes watering.

You loved the sound of him happy. He deserved it- being happy, being at peace. No more fighting, no more missions. Just peace. Just home; just you.

He sat the lemon down and went to wash his hands, he knew better than to touch his lady with dirt and hay on him. Plus he wanted to help with dinner.

As soon and his hands were towel dried, they immediately wrapped around you from behind. His chin came to rest on your head.

He hummed in contentment- Another happy sound you adored. Although, you had to act like his humming didn’t make you melt inside. If anyone deserved to be content- it was Bucky.

“You gonna turn around and give me a kiss, sweetheart, or do I gotta beg for it?” He quipped, already knowing he could have all the kisses he ever wanted.

You turned and looped your arms around his neck. “You know you never have to beg.” You mumbled as his lips met yours.

The kiss was tender and sweet, full of love- like it always was. No matter if the kiss was soft, or needy, or desperate, or more lascivious, it was always filled with love.

“Blue skies smilin' at me

Nothin' but blue skies do I see

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothin' but blue skies from now on”

Over dinner you, Bucky, Sam, and Steve shared a good meal and lots of laughs. It was good for the soul and it did Bucky good to have his support systems all in once place. Alpine enjoyed all the extra loving she got. And, of course, Bucky sent both friends home with cucumbers and goats milk soap.

You stood on the porch waving bye to Steve and Sam as they pulled out of the driveway. When they were out of sight, you went to sit on Bucky’s lap in the rocking chair.

You did indeed have your own rocking chair, but why would you sit in a chair when you had a perfectly good lap to sit in instead?

You plopped yourself down on your husband, sitting sideways so you could put your head on his shoulder, legs draped over the arm of the chair.

“You comfy?” He asked you, smirking.

“Very.” You replied, enjoying the warmth of his skin radiating through the soft cotton of his blue shirt. The faint scent of his cologne that clung to the fibers smelled amazing, you told him that one was your favorite, so it was basically the only one he wore.

He chuckled in response. In truth, he loved that you curled up on his lap. Just like Alpine

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the chirp of the crickets, the buzzing cicadas, and the songs of the evening birds.

The slow rhythm of Bucky’s rocking and the gentle way his fingers traced your skin was nearly enough to put you to sleep. You felt relaxed; peaceful.

You had nearly drifted off when the cadence Bucky was keeping with the rocking chair, stopped.

You raised your head up to look at him, you were about to say something witty and tease him about interrupting your almost nap, but you bit your tongue when you saw the look in his eyes.

By now, you could tell his looks apart- perks of being his life partner. This was the one he had when he wanted to say something big and emotional.

Before you could inquire, he began to speak.

“Thank you.” He simply said, his voice soft and low.

“For what, baby?” You questioned.

“For being my peace.” He replied, his blue eyes still peering into yours.

And with that, he broke you- nearly completely in half.

Bucky did, in fact, have a way with words. He was a poet of sorts; when he really put his mind to it. He made you cry happy tears with his words many times. Like in his wedding vows to you and another time with sweet messages written in anniversary cards. Sometimes what gets you is just the way he is- how proud you are of him and how far he had come.

You knew he longed for peace; that it was his priority. He had fought a multitude of battles- both physical and emotional- to get to a place of comfort. For you to be that to him- It hit you like a freight train.

You stayed silent for a long moment, your brain working hard to come up with a response. But how could you respond to that? The depth of your connection with him ran deep into your bones- how could you put that into words?

“You are my peace, Bucky.” You repeated the words back to him, your finger tapping on his chest. “You’re my everything.”

He smiled. A real, genuine, toothy smile.

“You’re my everything.” He repeated.

Yes, he reverberated your words, but he meant it. You could tell by the way he kissed you. Intense. All-encompassing. Warm.

It was all you ever wanted; He was all you ever wanted.

“Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on.”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #James Buchanan Barnes x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes self insert #Bucky Barnes oneshot #James Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #alpine barnes #bucky and alpine #writers on tumblr #kacceywrites

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munsonify · 2 days ago

Text

finally happened 𓂃 continuation

pairing. joaquin torres x fem!reader

summary. when you realize that you definitely have romantic feelings towards joaquin, it’s hard to keep them stuffed down and hidden

content warnings. fluff, mentions of r going to a bar and getting drunk, r in a small dress+heels, flirty!joaquin & touchy!joaquin, kissing, swearing. not proofread

word count. 3300

confused and frustrated 𓂃 part one

a/n. man yall really wanted a part two!!! here you guys go!!! and also i don’t care if this progressed fast, i can do what i want cause it’s my writing lol

———

maybe sam was a little right.

nothing about how you feel is truly just friendly. the way your stomach flutters when he compliments you isn’t friendly, the way you yearn for his touch isn’t friendly. it certainly wasn’t friendly the way you look at him, either, the way you admire him and gaze at him hungrily. you were a little naive to think this was anything but romantic, needy. this realization washed over you in a slow wave the week after you’d spoke with sam. it wasn’t quite love, though. it was an admiration, a liking, a stomach full of butterflies type of feeling you had towards him. you were sure that the more time you spent with joaquin, however, that liking would turn into a love. especially if you kept dwelling on the crush.

with how inseparable you two had become, it was going to be difficult not to dwell on these feelings. you lived together for christ sake, you saw him nearly every day. everything from your internship and the way you always run into him and shadow him, to eating dinner together and seeing his belongings scattered in the living room reminded you of him and your now unwavering feelings towards the man. it was like a sickness you couldn’t quite shake no matter how hard you tried. and, as much as you liked thinking about joaquin and being around him, you wanted nothing more than to just forget about it, even for a moment.

that moment, you thought, came two mondays later, barely a week after your realization. you’d gotten a call from a friend of yours practically begging you to come out to a bar with everyone. you were quick to agree. not only did this give you the chance to take a few steps away from the situation, you were just handed an excuse to dress up. you’d been switching between casual, comfortable clothes for class and ironed out, perfectly placed professional wear you wore at your internship for the longest time. you were beyond grateful for this opportunity.

you picked out a small, tight black dress to wear. it fit you perfectly, hugging all the right places, showing off everything you had to offer. you did your makeup, too. for a brief second thought you were overdressed, standing in front of your mirror as you took one last look at yourself. you remembered quickly that your friends liked to dress up like you did, so those worries washed away quickly. it made you feel nice looking like this anyways, especially now that you didn’t get to do it as often.

rifling through your purse, you walked your way towards your heels, grabbing ahold of them the moment you confirmed your id and some cash was tucked away inside. you began your way out of your room without a second thought, bee-lining towards the kitchen table. you began tugging on your heels, securing the straps around your ankles, totally oblivious to your surroundings. it wasn’t until you’d stood up in search of your phone that joaquin’s presence was made known.

he’d stopped in his tracks the moment he’d seen you, forgetting right then and there what he’d come out for. his round, owlish as he stares at you for a few moments, watching as you turn around to face him. his lips quirked up into a smile at the sight of your face, arms crossing as he composes himself quickly. you braced yourself for teasing, knowing full well what he was like sometimes. you weren’t sure he’d ever seen you dolled up like this, so you expected a string of lighthearted jabs.

“what’re you so dressed up for?“ joaquin asked curiously. you shrugged at him, shoulders tensing a little at his intense gaze. you began feeling a little exposed, realizing just how small this dress truly was on you.

“just going to a bar with some friends, the ones from class,” you told him, offering him a small smile as you spoke. your hand fumbled with your purse nervously, trying your best not to seem too awkward.

“well you look beautiful,” joaquin told you, voice dripping with sincerity. his gaze stayed put on your face out of respect, eyes soft as he looks into yours. his words knocked all the air out of your lungs, capturing your voice in your throat briefly. this was the last thing you’d expected him to say, let alone so genuinely. he’d never complimented you like this before.

“thanks, joaquin,” you mumbled out, trying hard not to fold under his stare. you must look pitiful, doe eyed and flustered at just one simple compliment. it meant a lot coming from him, especially now that you’d established your feelings for him.

“of course,” he told you, finally finding it in himself to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. “if you need a way home you call me, okay?”

“yeah, yeah okay,” you nodded, words stumbling out of your mouth quickly. right then, as if sensing the tension in the room, your phone began to ring. it was your friend calling to alert you that they were there to pick you up. you bid joaquin a swift goodbye, waving your fingers at him, before pushing yourself out the front door. you were going to need to work overtime tonight to take your mind off what had just happened.

sam wasn’t helping you in the slightest. you’d been able to avoid confronting the situation with anybody so far. your friends were in the dark, and so was joaquin. you wanted to keep it that way for now, dodging every bullet hurdling towards you - which, by the way, was difficult to do when your very drunk friends were asking a very drunk you about your romantic life. despite that, it seemed to be even more glaringly obvious than before. it was just two days after joaquin’s compliment, an early wednesday morning. his words were rattling inside of your brain since.

the moment sam found you two, he dragged you guys into a room full of computers, desperate for some sort of help. with whatever information he had to give you, debriefing you on a mission he was preparing for, the three of you began typing away. it was an incredible opportunity to be able to work this closely with sam.

when the conversation fell silent - something that came on naturally, everyone’s focus falling onto the computers in front of them -, an argument could be heard a few rooms down. for a military base, you would think the walls would be a little thicker, more protective. much to your pleasure, they were not, granting you the opportunity to hear the tail end of a rather heated discussion.

“i have never met someone more frustrating than you!” was the last thing said before loud stomps echoed down the halls, diminishing into faint steps far away. while you were able to bite back smiles at first, it was hard to contain them when joaquin decided to pile onto it in a small, quiet whisper.

“do you guys think he’s frustrated?”

a spout of small, quiet giggles fell from your lips at his words, ones that were almost a little too giddy. you’d been tense and a little on edge all week, afraid that you were being obvious with your feelings. in turn, just by simply overthinking it, you were doing exactly what you feared. more than you would’ve if you just stayed out of your own head. thankfully, sam was laughing too.

joaquin had a proud sort of look on his face when you two laughed, head lifting up to look at you guys. his eyes lingered on you longer than they did on sam, something you hadn’t caught. you were too preoccupied with trying to contain your laughter to notice. this is another thing you admired about him. he never failed to make you smile, to raise the mood in any given room. even if the comment was silly, it always brought a smile to peoples faces.

a rather loud knock on the door stopped the laughter for good, the sound dying down as it opens up. it was someone who, again, needed joaquin’s help. he liked being of assistance, especially when he got to show off what he knows. that’s why he so eagerly got up and dismissed himself, occupying himself with whatever needed his attention. your eyes followed him out of the room, a small smile playing on your lips still as he walked away.

“no feelings, huh?” sam asked, breaking the silence as he stares you down. you blink a few quick times as you process what he’s said, head turning to look at him. you were going to protest again, to deny the feelings you now knew were there. though, as if he could sense it, he interjected before you could. “i’m just saying, you don’t look at anyone else the way you look at him. you wouldn’t have laughed like that if i made that corny ass joke.”

you still thought about denying it. you thought that if you tried to say no, to claim those feelings weren’t there, that they’d disappear. the way sam was looking at you, like he could see right through you, had you telling on yourself. “maybe there are feelings. just a little.”

sam smiled at your admission, small and proud, as he leans back in his chair. the two of you were facing each other now, the only thing separating you two was joaquin’s empty chair. you watched as he crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought as he carefully treads forward with his words. this may not be his secret to tell, but he tells it anyway. he couldn’t quite help himself.

“he cares about you a lot,” sam starts in a quiet tone, as if handing you details to a top-secret mission no one else can know about. “he talks about you constantly, about how proud of you he is and how cool he thinks you are.”

“really?” you perk up slightly, eyes lighting up at sam’s words. you try not to hold onto them, to cling to something that may mean nothing. you try not to show your hopefulness, either, though you were never one to be good at hiding how you feel. “he says that?”

“yeah, all the time,” he affirms, heading nodding quickly. sam smiles again as he thinks some more, forehead creasing. “he wouldn’t shut up about how beautiful you looked monday night. i don’t think he realizes how much he likes you though, he’s almost as idiotic as you are.”

despite how casually sam says it, and despite the lighthearted insult he’d tossed your way, your heartbeat quickens at his words, heat rushing up to your face. joaquin wasn’t one to shy away from speaking up, from telling you what’s on his mind. so, sure, he’d complimented you on your way out of the apartment. and sure, you were still clinging to it. that didn’t change the fact that he doubled down on that praise to someone else, letting it be known what he thought of you. that’s when he’d decided to grace you two with his presence again, sam gave you that same knowing look he gave you friday, before turning back to his computer.

as he sat down, joaquin gave you a large grin, swiveling around to face you much like the man beside him had been moments before. he nudged his knee against your gently, eyes shimmering over at you. did he always look at you that way? or were sam’s words getting to you?

“movie night tonight? your choice,” he asked expectantly, waiting eagerly awaiting your response. you gawked at him the moment the last two words left his mouth, eyes widening at him.

“no way you’re letting me choose,” you say. “you always fight me on it!”

“i don’t always fight you on it,” joaquin defended quickly, jaw going slack for a brief moment in a fake sort of offense. “besides, i chose the last two times. it’s only right you get a turn.”

“what a gentleman,” you deadpanned, finally turning back to the computer in front of you to continue your research alongside sam. joaquin followed suit, rolling his eyes at your comment. still, there were small smiles on your faces, content yet desperately trying to hide.

“damn straight.”

joaquin stayed true to his words. he did, in fact, let you pick the movie. it’s not like he was able to backtrack, not when you looked so excited as you put it on. you had the biggest grin on your face as you cozied up on the couch beside him. only you would be so excited to watch a horror movie.

the two of you stayed on your respective sides of the couch for the first quarter of the movie, the same side you’d always sat on. there was practically a permanent imprint of the two of you against the couch, molded perfectly to your bodies. it was very rare you would deviate from these seats. one of those rare occasions just so happened to be tonight.

your frigid body didn’t go unseen by joaquin. he noticed the way you tensed up, a little nervous as you curled up further into the couch. his eyes caught the way you tried to shy away from the screen, even if you knew it wasn’t real. as much as you loved horror movies, they still got to you sometimes. his teasing manner came back to him for just a moment when he noticed.

“don’t tell me you’re scared,” he whispered, head turning to look at you fully. the glare you’d thrown his way was unmissable, eyebrows furrowed together, lips downwards in a very slight frown. you tried shaking your head no, denying your rather obvious scared expression, though it was no use.

as if it was the most natural thing in the world, joaquin opened his arms up, hands waving you towards him. he didn’t continue his teasing, he simply ushered you towards him. with hesitation, you obliged, slowly making your way towards him. the way you settled next to him, body tucking into his side with an arm slung around you, felt natural. your head found its way to his shoulder carefully, feeling him adjust a little more comfortably, before settling down fully next to you. you were quick to follow, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace much like you had last week.

joaquin was just as warm and smelled just as nice as you remembered. his body was steady and broad against yours. this certainly took your mind off of how scary the movie had become. at first, you were engulfed in your thoughts again. he was so close to you, breathing steadily and focusing intently on the movie. his kindness was overwhelming sometimes, endearing and all-consuming. everything he said and everything he did, even if unintentional, had you practically swooning for him.

even when you weren’t thinking about him, finally bringing your focus back to the movie, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as before. joaquin comforted you in a way you didn’t know was possible, even through your frustrating feelings. that’s why you’d found it so difficult to pull away from him by the end of the movie. you didn’t want to leave his hold - something that was new and welcoming -, a warmth you wanted to cling to for forever. it was a blessing he didn’t pull away quick. he simply exited the movies credits, arm still slung around you.

“was the movie at least worth it?” joaquin asked in a low whisper, teasing you again slightly. you turned your head to look up at him, chin moving to rest on his shoulder now. he turned his head, too, faces suddenly inches apart. you expected him to move away, to pull back now and realize how close the two of you were. you were once again proven wrong by him.

“yeah, it was worth it,” you whispered back, eyes locking with his as you spoke. while the movie was good, that’s not quite what you meant when you said it was worth it. if you hadn’t been such a wimp, there wasn’t a chance on earth you’d be in this situation right now, cozied up next to him. joaquin smiled small and happy, hand releasing the remote to reach up to your face. he tucked hair away from your eyes, smoothing it back away from your line of sight in the most gentle way. what happened next was simply instinct.

one of your hands found its way to the side of joaquin’s neck, cradling carefully as your eyes flickered down to his lips. and just like that, they’d fluttered closed, closing the distance between the two of you. your lips found his in a light, quick peck, realizing quickly what you’d just done. you weren’t sure where you’d gotten the nerve or the confidence from, and you wish you hadn’t found it.

“i’m so sorry,” you told him, words flying out of your mouth as you began pulling away. your feelings had bubbled up to something unbearable inside of you. you were rather horrible at keeping those things a secret, and it certainly didn’t help that joaquin was so kind. all of his compliments he’d been giving you, all of the sweet things he’d said to sam about you, had you all up in your head. you wanted to say more, to continue to apologize profusely, however, you were stopped just as quickly as you began. joaquin’s hand smoothed its way to the back of your head, cradling it as he pulls you closer again. your lips met once more, this time for a much longer kiss. it left you breathless, successfully shutting you up when he finally pulls away.

when your eyes flutter back open, you’re met with joaquin’s, barely open and looking at you patiently. giggles ripple through both of your chests upon eye contact, your body leaning back into his. his hand continued to cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing against your hair soothingly.

“i should’ve done that on monday,” joaquin told you, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. “you looked so beautiful, it’s all i could think about.”

“you poor thing,” you whispered, fingers trailing down to mess with the chain for his dog tags. it was your turn to tease, something you were glad to finally get back at him for. “it’s all i’ve been able to think about for like a week and a half.”

joaquin thought back, eventually landing on that saturday you’d been a little off. it all started to click for him. you weren’t just tired from that week, and you weren’t just being standoffish for no reason. he cracked another smile at the memory, everything beginning to fall into place. all of the times you seemed flustered or nervous around him all made sense now. you weren’t simply hiding something you couldn’t quite communicate.

“how did you survive that long?” joaquin asked dramatically, eyes still gazing into yours. “i can’t even imagine. that must’ve been torture not kissing me.”

you let go of his dog tags just to flick his chest, eyes rolling as you pull away from him. he didn’t let you go far, arms wrapping around you and pulling you back close to his body. you let him, shaking your head at his absurdity. “don’t flatter yourself.”

all of your second guesses seemed a little dumb now. the banter you two had didn’t change in the slightest. your admiration and friendship didn’t suddenly disappear. and, while your relationship shifted romantically, it was still you and joaquin. nothing was going to change that.

———

tagging people who were wanting a pt 2 :). @still-scribblin @saintbusan @clonesdserveb3tter @fayxv

#munsonify #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x r #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres blurbs #joaquin torres blurb #x reader

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revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

I love being trans and I love seeing other transmasc ppl also gush over your blog lol. I also love the Mirage storyline and scenarios because yeah I'm a transman but God I fucking love wearing dresses and cute things idc ill never stop wearing feminine clothes because there's something so comical about the look on people faces seeing some 5' 4" dude (me) with muscles and tattoos wearing some slutty little outfit or cute dress/skirt it ALWAYS makes me giggle so like YES Mirage keep bringing me dresses and old Hollywood robes and lingerie I like feeling like a spoiled prince 💅🏻 also he better take reader for joyrides 🤺

🤣 I’d think a lot of the Cybertronians aren’t that well versed in human culture and fashion. They have no idea about our overly complicated clothes and just see soft/fluffy/pretty coverings and want to see their human in them. And most of the humans are just rolling with it, because it’s not worth arguing about and hey, it’s whatever weird thing your giant partner brought home or naked sometimes (TFP Star’s human). I think Mirage would love vintage, romantic, Hollywood clothes and start stockpiling them once he has a human.

Joyride

Mirage x Reader

• Laughing as he tears down the deserted street, you tip your head back to stare at the swollen moon wreathed in clouds as the cold wind chills you, not numbing the exhilaration of his speed at all. If you had to guess, it’s sometime after midnight since you haven’t seen another car, but then, time isn’t all that important anymore. Your schedule following Mirage’s. His latest acquisition, a silk robe of some sort with faux fur trim, flaps in the wind, the ridiculous fur trimmed sleeves shoved up to to your elbows as you hang an arm out the window to surf your hand in the air.

• Darting down a side street in a squeal of tires, he can hear your delighted laughter and it leaves him warm and light. Happy that you’re happy, that you love this feeling just as much as he does. Feels free. It’s not his war, he’d just been dragged into it and wants it to be over and done. That fact making him suspicious to the other Autobots, always questioning his loyalty, his motives. Like he might swap sides at any moment and it hurts. Just because he doesn’t agree with the war, doesn’t mean he’d betray them. “Are you getting too cold, darling?”

• Probably, but you don’t want to go back to the Ark, yet. “We’re good,” you say, even though the chilly air is starting to get uncomfortable with the thin robe, you don’t really want to go home. And that thought ripples through you. Realizing that the Ark is gone, that he’s home to you. Not exactly sure when that had happened, but it feels right. Loving having someone care about you, see you, and worry over you. Spoil you.

• Humming softly as he monitors you tucked in his driver’s seat, he turns onto another road and vents tiredly when blue lights flare, a siren wailing. “Hang on tight, sweetspark,” he purrs, really letting loose as his engine roars. And you whoop, laughing as he peels out, the human authority in pursuit. Needs enough of a lead to duck out of sight just long enough to use his abilities to cloak you both. Because just blipping out of existence in front of other humans would send Prime into a tizzy if he ever found out. Though, the car chasing him is no real threat, much too slow to catch him.

• Laughing as the affluent bot runs from the cops, you brace a hand on his dash as you get slid around. Life with aliens seldom dull or routine. “Can we stay out a little longer, please?” You call out as he reverses suddenly to shoot back into a side street, cloaking himself as the cop car blasts by, siren screaming. And he chuckles affectionately to let you know he’s going to agree. It’s not like he can ever manage to tell you no anyway.

#transformers x reader #mirage x reader #idw mirage

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timkontheunsure · 2 days ago

Text

Hope you don't mind me answering here. It ment I could break my answer down a bit, and go point by point. 🙂 (My dyslexic butt was struggling with the lack of formatting and wall of text that comments end up as).

@kitty-meow-meow-83

"I don’t really see them interacting a much at all. They are similar cause they and Ozzie are foils to Stolitz."

Them being foils is one of the reasons I want to see them interact, because Stolas and Fizz have a lot in common.

Both Fizz and Stolas have had recent active abuse. It'd be good for both of them to talk to someone who's not their partner about this.

But also just they're alot more similar personality wise than either of them is to Blitz, or Ozzie.

With them both being the detail oriented one of the couple,

They both have very sweet personalities but with similar level of just enough bitch lol,

and both Fizz and Stolas are excellent at calling Blitz on his shit.

I can see them getting along with eachother well. And it would be great if Blitz's soon-to-be-partner could be on good terms with Blitz's oldest friend. It would be good for Blitz.

"Fizz has self worth issues stemming from his childhood exploitation and at the time, perceived betrayal from Biltz."

Yes they do, and then that continues under Mammon. But that's very similar to how Stolas' self worth issues where corsed by Paimon shaping him into a tool, and then continues under Stella.

Neither Fizz nor Stolas had a lot of choice, they were shaped for a task from a very early age. And constantly told they weren't measuring up by their abusers.

It was also a job they both found joy in at first, untill the demanded to be perfect and hid who they really where got bigger. Till both were stuck in some form of the closet, Stolas not allowed to be gay, Fizz not allowed to be in love.

"I also don’t think Fizz has any ground to stand on about communicating to partners. He and Ozz are not this paragon of a perfect relationship with perfect communication."

No, I don't think Fizzmodeous is brilliant at communicating with eachother either. They have a lot of blind spots.

But I do think Fizz is very good at reading his oldest friend. And would be pretty good at explaining when Stolas has missed the blinking obvious.

I also really want Fizz to spend more time around Stolitz; to understand how odd some of the things he and Ozzie haven't been talking about is.

Because they've spent almost their entire relationship in the closet they've not had any of the conversations about their social gap.

And this has left Fizz stuck dealing with the fall out by himself. He's the one getting kidnapped, stalked, or hit, or his safety is threaten in a way Ozzie doesn't.

Where as Stolitz have been public since straight after Real Fast.

And while their attempts at talking about their status difference didn't go so well in full moon and apologies tour; they are still trying.

With Blitz explaining about jobs, and food expenses, the need to have clothes but not always the ability to pay, ect. Just a lot of small conversations about real life.

Fizzarolli has never had any of those conversations with Ozzie, and I think being around Stolitz might prompt him to do so.

There's also the big elephant in the room, that Ozzie didn't try that hard to save Blitz. But Stolas did. I think that's going to wake Fizz up to how Ozzie really sees imps like him.

"Fizz has been exploited and used all his life until he reached Ozz and even then, he’s the younger (seemingly sugar baby type) partner who until mammons show STILL thought he had to earn ozzs love and respect by being his best possible self."

Thinking he has to earn love and respect is something that Fizz, Blitz and Stolas all think they have to do.

They belief that all they deserve is conditional on what they can give/do for their loved ones. It's a core belief to each of them, with the idea that they are burdening everyone around them if they don't. That the people they love might leave them if they don't do enough earn the care and affection they receive.

Fizz is actually the most hellthy out the 3 of them with this belief, because it's actively challenging by Ozzie in Crookied. Making him more likely to call it out in Blitz if he sees he's friend show this kind of self hate.

Yes, the age gap does play a part in how Fizz has been accepting things he shouldn't. Like Ozzie repeatedly crossing boundaries without checking, or restricting Fizz's autotomy.

This is another reason I want Fizz to talk to Stolas. The deal was a very dodgy tit for tat set up that piece by piece Stolas and Blitz are working together to make a true healthy relationship.

Fizzmodeous from what we've seen was a healthy relationship, that's ignored a lot of warnings signs, and is now becoming unhealthy.

I want Fizz to be able to ask questions, and have a support structure. Cus at the moment all he has is Ozzie, and that's inheritly unstable. Like Stolas only having Via before.

A two person surport structure are always unstable, because you try to be everything for them.

Always got told to imagine a 2 legged stool, you can balance with just two people; as long as everything goes right. But if either of you wobbles, like you will do because everyone has bad days; you can't really catch your balance. And now you're both going tumbling.

People need community, to be able to take some of the pressure off, to be the 3rd or 4th leg. So you've got someone else to talk to if things are hard. It's what Fizz needs, and it's what Via needs.

"He had to be at his lowest point to even admit this to him. Fizz is the classic example of putting on a fake smile to make everyone else happy and fawning as a trauma response. He would not have the bandwidth at all to handle the minutiae of Stolitz relationship."

I just disagree with this, and that this is how he's handled spending time with the two of them.

Blitz is a indispensable link to Fizz; to the community he's lost throughout his career.

And one of those things that just a fact, is you tend to have to get to know your friends loves, if you want a close relationship. That means spending time with Loona, Millie Moxxie and Stolas.

It's be like Blitz wanting to only be firends with Moxxie, and not interact with Millie. Only putting on a fake smile around her. It just really wouldn't work as a close relationship with Moxxie.

" If anything, Fizz will require a support system, if anything tense happens with him and Ozzie as a result of the trial or Ozzie’s overprotectiveness."

Again that what I think Stolitz will be to Fizz. And a lot of closeness with your old friends, is show through taking the mick, so still think he's end up telling Stolas stories about wee Blitz.

"When you think of that possibility, Fizz only has maybe Blitz to support him (but Blitz is busy supporting his own lover and family/business and lacks any maturity to be of help honestly)."

Dose Blitz lack any emotional maturity to help??? This is a man we're seen do almost nothing but help his loves ones out of crap situations. Or improve their lives no end.

Yer he's got a lot on his plate right now, but I can't see Blitz turning Fizz down when he needs.

Blitz have turned up immediately when asked by Ozzie, and helped him tell Mammon to fuck off.

Blitz will always be there if Fizz needs it, because he loves him. Blitz's driving force is his care for his love ones.

"I think Fizzes lack of outside support could be used as a contrast to Stolas gaining an outside support system from Vasago. I can foresee Vasago being Stolas’s wingman of sorts but also a confidant and guide for improving Stolas’s emotional state and social abilities."

I'm hoping Vasago ends up as friend for Stolas. He could do with more friends. Having a goeita as a friend might also highlight his previous behaviour.

Because while Stolas didn't mean harm, and Vassago seems to be a good boy; I can see Vassago doing dumb stuff because of how he was raised too. I'd like to see Stolas now use the knowledge from living with Blitz and Loona to realise implicit bias.

"With Blitz jealousy hijinks ensuing . Idk I find it such wishful thinking to think fizz, Stolas, Verosika, or Ozz would be friends at all."

Nope. I'm really hoping we don't get jealous Blitz.

Blitz doesn't fight, he just crumples; because he doesn't think he's worth loving.

No, I don't think Verosika or Ozzie will ever be really close to Stolas.

(Here Ozzie and Stolas, here Stolas Vs Verosika)

"Fizz and Stolas maybe, but idk I think it’d be so incredibly awkward. And why would Fizz talk about anything like that with Stolas?"

Again these two have a lot in common. So I don't really see why these two would be awkward together.

They're able to wrap their lover's around their little finger.

They both as kinky as hell (heh) so could definitely have a similar thing to joke about.

Both find Blitz's sence of humour funny. I can see Fizz really having fun building more community ties with Blitz and Stolas together.

"Unless they get in a situation idk why or how they could organically begin to have a dialogue about the past like that. The whole issue with Stolas & Fizz is their inability to talk and open up"

I'm just going to assume you've not done the introduce childhood friend to lover thing, because telling embarrassing stories about them is really common way to get to know them. And Fizz is a very sociable person.

I also think that Fizz would want to get his own back, for Blitz letting him ramble on and embarrass himself so much with this. Telling Stolas a few embarrassing anecdote to brake the ice and even the score seems like the obvious thing to do. 🤭

And a good place to start for Fizz to start getting a wider group of friends.

So who else *needs* Fizz to talk to Stolas

And need him to embarrass the shit out of his oldest friend?

Like every cringy story of Blitz being an adorable dumbass.

But I might legit melt if Fizz says anything about Blitz going on about 'plant can hear you'

#helluva boss #stolitz #fizzarolli #blitz helluva boss #stolas #fizzmodeus

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kenpachissluut · 2 days ago

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this was an request and my first time writing about Jugram <33

Stalker!Jugram who carefully sneaked into your life out of the sudden one day. Pretending to be the new neighbor next door, being all gentle and friendly when in reality he‘s a damn gruesome stalker. Not any stalker but yours, who has been making your life harder & creepier each day since a whole year already.

Stalker!Jugram who talks to you on daily basis whenever he sees you. Standing by the mailbox or in the lobby of the apartment building, he pretends to be the friendly interested and caring neighbor. He asks you many questions about yourself, showing his interest in you when he actually already knows every information about you, but he has to play his little game so you won’t get suspicious.

Stalker!Jugram who is always there when you need his help. When i say always, i mean always because he already knows about your little problems because of the hidden cameras. Your sink is broken, he will repair it for you instantly. You need some sugar? He will give it to you. He does everything to get closer to you and make you like him and even get interested in him in a more romantically way.

Stalker!Jugram who once was invited inside your apartment by yourself for a friendly chat and coffee and once you left for the bathroom, he had to act quickly. With precision and already knowing where he had to hide them, he places mini cameras inside of your living room and your bedroom. As soon as you came back, he acts like he was waiting patiently for you and gives you a charming smile.

Stalker!Jugram who watches you every night on his laptop on the mini cameras he had placed in your apartment. He loves stroking himself off, while watching you comfortably laying in your bed watching a movie or even just sleeping peacefully unaware. He‘s worked up easily by everything you do and you gift him the best fucking orgasm without even knowing every single day!

Stalker!Jugram who follows you to your workplace or even when you meet up with some friends and taking pictures with his camera for his photo collection of you. He makes sure you are always protected and just wants to find out more about you. But watch out if you meet up with a man, you will likely never hear of him again. He‘s deadly jealous and fumes like fire as soon a man gets to close to you.

Stalker!Jugram who slides an envelope under your apartment door with pictures inside of it. Once it’s open his massive hard length is on the pictures, perfectly photographed in the best ankles. His dick is long, pale and really veiny. Really firm and aesthetically beautiful just like him, not that you would know his identity. Nonetheless you think it’s inappropriate and wanted to press charges because of your sick stalker, but of course the pictures didn’t came without a sidenote telling you.

„Press charges my darling and the people you love will be hurt deeply. Just enjoy my affection and gifts and you will be always protected and loved.“

Stalker!Jugram who doesn’t understand that his actions and his obsession with you is wicked and sick as fuck. One day he sits innocently in your living room telling you how his day was, the next day he sits in his bedroom writing an wicked „loveletter“ to you. Telling you how much he loves you, how obsessed he is with you and that you belong to him, body, mind and soul.

Stalker!Jugram who uses your most vulnerable state to his advantage. While you sit there crying and telling him how that guy ghosted you (of course he made him disappear lol) he comforts you like a good friend would do. Wrapping his arm around you, rubbing your shoulders and gently wiping your tears away. He pretends like he would care, when in reality he finally just wants to have you all to himself.

Stalker!Jugram who manipulates you into his arms with his caring and loving words until you can’t help but fall hard for him. He has the looks and even a „good“ character so of course you gave him a chance. Not knowing that your worst nightmare ever just was at the damn beginning, even though it started a year ago.

Stalker!Jugram who has you right there where he wanted you. Squirming and moaning underneath him while he fucks your pussy like no one ever did before. Slamming his cock balls deep into your cunt with powerful hard thrusts, letting you forget about everything else but him. His movements are relentless and without mercy, completely focused to stuff you full with his cum and enjoying the feeling of your warm walls clenching around him so desperately milking him dry.

Stalker!Jugram who effortlessly came into your life, befriended you as the new friendly neighbor and now even won you over as his damn girlfriend. Yet his wicked desires aren’t still completely fulfilled, so he still keeps the act up as your stalker. Without you knowing that your boyfriend is the man who constantly sends you sick loveletters, many gifts and follows you everywhere you go for a whole year now.

Stalker!Jugram who one day decided to drop the act and to tell you the truth just because he wanted to see your reaction, not because he felt sorry or something. Seeing your shocked and feared expression just fuels his sick desire and your failed attempts to seek for help even more. If you think it would be over by now, you are wrong. It’s just the fucking beginning. He will never let you go and the worst part? You love him already so much, you don’t even want to let him go.

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ᢉ𐭩

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cranialberry · 7 hours ago

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Himbos Have Theories Too!

"Satoru Gojo knows two things for certain: that the speed of light moves at 299,792,458 meters per second, and that somehow, your pull got to him first."

𝜗ৎ pairing: fratboy!Gojo x reader

𝜗ৎ synopsis: On a mission to confront a ghosting lab partner, you find out that not all hypotheses are meant to be tested. Exhibit A: Satoru Gojo—scientifically engineered to ruin your peace.

𝜗ৎ tags: college au, physics major gojo, frat boy gojo, one-sided until it's not, gojo has a big crush, gojo pines through science pick up lines, subtle confession, sexual content, p in v, oral, eating out, porn with plot, fingering, cum eating, gojo tells you anatomy facts while getting it lol, banter as foreplay, Gojo Satoru is down bad, STEM but make it romantic, no beta we die like gojo during the shinjuku arc

a/n: this entire fic was an excuse to combine fratboy!Gojo and nerd!Gojo into one whole gojo persona lmao and I regret nothing. enjoy. (p.s. I don't proofread anything. If ever you stumble on a fuck ton of typos feel free to drag me. Maybe public shame will finally force me into using spellcheck.)

credits: (dividers) @cafekitsune @viviansturns @enchanthings (gojo art) @Elychwan on pinterest bc I couldn’t find the original source 😿

“Shoko please you are my only hope in this dying world.”

There's a sigh on the other end of the call. “You get so dramatic when you’re desperate. Didn't realize you had a full emotional range hidden in there.” You hear some shuffling like you had seemingly disturbed her from a nap–and really, what kind of person takes a nap at 11 a.m unless their sleep schedule is diabolically dreadful?

Apparently. Shoko Ieiri. 3rd year Biology major. Once dissected a fetal pig and a PolSci guy’s ego on the same day. Neither of them survived. She's also the undefeated beer pong queen at the local dive. Go figure.

From what you know, Shoko's tight with some of the guys at Sigma Nu, one of whom you just had to get partnered up with for lab practicals, which, you had just found out, takes up 40% of your final grade. Cool cool cool.

“He hasn't replied to any of my emails or the 13 Canvas messages I sent out. I even considered smoke signals. Seriously, what even goes on in Sigma Nu that keeps him so occupied? It’s turning into a Sigma Nuisance.” Puns fully intended. It keeps you alive.

Another sigh escapes from the other end. You can't tell if It’s because she just woke up or that she’s already tired of you. “Hey man, it’s good. I'll do it. I'll tell him.”

You go quiet. Shoko breaks the static.

“Huh? Hellooo? Are you still there? I’m gonna hang up—“

“Shoko no!” You let out a screech, unbothered about what it would do to the neighbors. Not when you’re suddenly blessed with a miracle you cannot let waste get to.

“It’s just… no conditions? Really? I mean, I know It’s kind of a hassle to head to the frat house–especially with your chronic case of being aggressively low-energy in any place but the bar.”

Shoko lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Bitch I’m an academic hostage, not an alcoholic. And no, I don't work pro bono. Duhhh.” There's rustling on the other end, and Shoko is getting out of bed which, really, is the bigger miracle in this situation. “Party at 9 tonight and I’ll help you out.”

This time you let out a sigh. “By who? The semester literally just started and everyone already wants to get high and dry.” Then again, you can't really blame anyone. Nothing screams “Welcome back to hell” like a four-chapter statistics quiz and a TA with a superiority complex. If flunking grades had a scent, It’d probably be tequila.

“Sigma Noodleheads, obviously. Why do you think I don't pay for drinks?” Shoko says matter of factly. “Satoru will be there anyway. Him and Suguru concocted this god-awful jello shot–some peach, Red Bull and lime abomination. It tastes absurd and they want everyone to try it.”

You glance at your watch and realize class starts in a few minutes. As students shuffle in and out of the dining hall, you start stuffing your own things into your bag and head out. “He better not be slammed by the time we get there.”

You’ve yet to actually meet the guy, but you also certainly don’t live under a pile of rocks. Satoru Gojo to you somehow defied the laws of time and space by being a physics major while embodying the ultimate trifecta of frat boy charm, jock swagger, and textbook fuckboy energy. Finding out he’s a brother at Sigma Nu was unsurprising, and to be honest, explains a whole lot. The guy walks around campus like he’s being followed by an imaginary theme song.

So you’ve heard things—some sound like myths, some are not, and some you can’t really confirm. Rumor has it he was the legendary menace that vaporized more than half of the department’s GPAs with a casual curve-breaker on the chem exam last semester. You also heard that he once derived Schrodinger’s equation in crayon at a frat party while balancing a solo cup on his head blindfolded and holding a girl’s attention span all at once (ok now someone lied with that one).

The thing is, for whatever reason, people seem to really love to suck up to a guy like that. You’d think someone with that much going on would save you the troubles that come with having to discuss affairs of academia as partners.

Why is the bastard unresponsive now?

So he can apparently solve triple integrals while hungover but can’t even send a text back?

You think to yourself that his reputation must be some sort of orchestrated scam, or a social experiment directed right at you.

A last resort has been conjuring up in your head for a while now: threaten him with suspension and a strongly worded Reddit review of his entire frat.

“Ok I’m in. Not taking any drinks though. Got a test in the morning.” And Shoko audibly gags.

“Boo hoo. You must be on some strong crack because no normal person intentionally signs up for morning classes.”

“So I guess me and the other hundred students are all on performance-enhancing drugs, then.” You round the corner of the hall and draw closer to the lecture hall for your next class. Weaving through the small crowd of students gathered outside, you shift your phone and quickly wrap up the call. “Gotta go. Stats starts in a few. Catch you later though.”

“Buh bye, sugarplum. Picking you up at 8.”

You visibly cringe at the nickname, but Shoko hangs up before you can protest, leaving you to brave another two hours of statistics hell on your own.

You're going to kick Satoru Gojo’s balls when you see him.

---

You shouldn't have been this desperate. That was the first thought to come to mind when you and Shoko arrive at the front yard of the frat house.

Did they hang up toilet paper with glitter on the trees for decoration? And why is a disco ball hanging on top of the front door like a mistletoe? You squint closer at the architectural fever dream that is the Sigma Nu house and think to yourself how anyone could live in a place like this. It might qualify as a public safety hazard.

“This place stinks. I’m going home.” You hesitate to even step inside the gates with how loud the music was booming.

“Sure, and fail your labs.” A loud and long groan escapes you as Shoko drags you by the forearm to the front door.

You really don't know what you expected when you got inside. Then again, college parties seemed less like a social gathering and more of a wildlife documentary. And with the whole fiasco up front, your hopes were already circling the drain.

To your left: a living room. There's a guy with a red table cloth tied around his shoulders standing on a coffee table, flapping his arms and yelling something about human flight being a mindset.

To your right: regret. Pure, visual regret. You immediately flush and avert your gaze because whatever is going on over there looks like the prelude to an orgy.

So you press forward, hands tightening around Shoko's arm. You’re praying wherever she’s taking you at least has juice and one person whose brain hasn't been marinated in alcohol.

“Shoko! And you brought a stray.” Mei emerges from some corner, carrying two cups and a mean smirk. Great, you think, more alcoholics.

“Oh hey. Banger party.” Shoko deadpans as Mei hands her the cup. She downs it in one go without a second thought. You’re not sure if her stomach is made of steel or she just has no will to live.

“Wasn’t gonna come.” Shoko continues, nudging her head in your direction. “But little missy is on a mission to find her long-lost lab partner.”

Mei turns to you, eyes narrowing as if she’s figured you out. “Thought so. I came over from the mere shock I had seeing you of all people at a place like this.”

You scoff, loud enough to make your feelings of disdain known. “Trust me I’m never coming back here again. Everything smells like Axe body spray.”

Mei grabs a nearby shot glass filled with a pinkish substance that looks like radioactive slush.

“You must've been really desperate then. Jello shot?”

You stare at it. It stares back.

Red Bull and peach huh?

“Gross, no thank you.” You hold your hands up like It’s cursed. Mei shrugs and downs it anyway.

As Shoko and Mei dive into a passionate debate about whether vodka counts as a justifiable coping mechanism, you take the time to observe your surroundings. It’s pure lawsuit-level chaos. It’s worse than the movies even.

And in that moment, a deeply unsettling thought surfaces: there’s no way the government is banking on these people to become the next generation’s workforce right?

You take a fat sip of your juice and stand in quiet horror. God help us all.

---

You were beginning to think Shoko ditched you on purpose.

Honestly, this might have been on you. You were just trying to find the nearest bathroom—which you did, technically—only to walk in on someone giving a half assed haircut while some couple sucked faces in a corner.

So you escape the horror of it all, climbing the stairs and hoping for some air. It was less crowded, sure, but the chaos hasn’t fully clocked out.

Which is how you end up inside a coat closet in someone’s room, god knows who. It’s enough space for you to crouch with your juice like some defeated goblin. You let out a sigh. This night had derailed so fast, and you’re worried coming here was just a waste of time. You look down at your shoes, something red staining the toes. Sauce, probably. Hopefully.

You closed your eyes and groan into your palms.

Worst. Night. Ever.

In that moment, you hear the door creak open from outside the closet, the muffled chaos of the party bleeding through. Voices, music, someone yelling, then a distinct voice.

“—and tell the girls to stop tryna make babies in the shower. I’m just grabbing the router, be right down.”

The closet floods with an aggressive wash of neon light as the door opens.

You flinch and let out a squeak that could pass for a dying rodent. You’re not proud.

Standing there like a twist of fate in jorts is Satoru Gojo, the man of your living nightmares

Of course It’s him, because the universe just loves irony.

Your mind short-circuits. Anger, hatred, secondhand shame–pick a flavor. And what does he say?

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it?

He crouches down to your level, rummaging through a box like this is a completely normal situation.

“Just grabbing a spare Wi-Fi router. We’re about to throw on some music, get the vibes going and stuff–oh, and uh…”

Cerulean eyes flick up at you again, confused.

“Who are you?” Y

ou blink once, then twice. The rage inside you simmers into something sharp and nuclear.

“Who am I?”

Who are you?

You slowly make your way out of the closet, every motion oozing the energy of someone who's about to deliver a monologue that ends in bloodshed. Gojo steps back in turn, Wi-Fi router secured in hand like it might protect him from the fact that you’re seething. Nothing can protect him now. Not from you at least.

“I’m your lab partner. The one you've been ghosting for a week like a Victorian orphan while I slowly lost my mind trying to keep our proposal alive.”

He slowly lowers his arms, Wi-Fi router still awkwardly clutched in one hand, his barely buttoned shirt hanging like a threat to decency.

“...Oh, that is you!” He laughs out, blinking like he's even innocent. “Yeah, I recognize the sheer rage now.”

And you can't really help yourself from bringing your foot down on his with enough force to smite a lesser man.

“Ow–what the fuck?”

The router hits the floor with a sad little thud.

“Thirteen messages, Gojo Satoru. Thirteen. On Canvas. And that’s not counting what I sent through email. What–throwing ragers is well within your ability but checking your mail is where you draw the line? I’ve seen lab rats with better communication skills! Your reputation doesn’t precede you in the slightest because everyone is making you up to be some God on earth but really you’re just a–”

The door wings open.

“Hey has anyone seen Y/N I’m worr– oh hey.” It’s Shoko. She’s got someone else's jacket on and some glow bands with a look that says she’s seen things. What the hell?

“Oh nice, you found him already.”

She picks up the router from the floor like she’s collecting evidence from a crime scene.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna kill him, do it after I fix the internet. Some of us are trying to pirate lecture slides.”

Gojo is still doubled over, massaging his foot in the hopes of easing the pain. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Christmas tree outfit.” Shoko replied. “You look… worse for wear. What happened here anyway?”

“Can we please focus on the point at hand?” You exclaim, looking down at him like he's a particularly disappointing pebble. “This is about the fact that I nearly suffered a stress-induced aneurysm all because you vanished into the void.”

Gojo squints at you like you’re the one being dramatic.

“No way. I swear It’s only been, like, three days. Max.”

“It’s been eight.”

“…Ok, but is this the right time to mention I forgot my Canvas password?”

You exhale through your nose like a dragon holding back fire.

Gojo holds his hands up in defeat like that’ll somehow help.

“Woah woah. Let’s not go full flamethrower yet. At least let me get everyone out of the house before you 1v1 me.”

He looks almost impressed by your visible fury, which only makes you feel worse. He’s not even pretending to look like he’s got a bit of remorse.

Meanwhile, you’re the seemingly pathetic and tragic heroine who desperately crashed a frat party to seek vengeance. Honestly, in hindsight, maybe that’s the real crime here: being this desperate. This is the kind of moment you swore you'd age out of by nineteen.

You sigh, taste the humiliation at the back of your throat like bad tequila. “Shoko, I’m gonna need a drink.”

You didn't plan on drinking tonight. You told yourself you'd be composed, that you'd wear your dignity like a vice, something he’d catch the scent of and realize, oh no, this woman is not to be messed with.

But dignity left you the second he smiled at you will all 32 of his symmetrical, orthodontically divine teeth like you were the punchline to a joke. You want to throw something at his face. Preferably a blender.

“I got you.” Shoko says, already reaching behind the jungle of suspicious bottles on the folding table. “Devil of choice?”

“The worst you currently have.” You mutter, resigned to your fate. Because if you’re going down, you might as well go loud, bitter, and slightly poisoned.

---

You’re on your third “worst thing Shoko could find” and it’s working. Your brain feels like it’s swimming in carbon. The kitchen hums with muffled bass and from the other room, people are yelling and laughing and talking about something you probably don’t want to get involved in if you were one glass more sober.

You’re alone now, again. Shoko vanished minutes ago with the words “Be right back” and the confidence of the person who never is.

You stare down at your shoes, crusted with sticky jungle juice and shame. What am I even doing here?

“Yo, I’ll trade ya.” The voice is unmistakable, but just in case you were hoping to hallucinate someone else, a pair of Crocs steps into view. Bright blue. Jibbitz. You don’t even look up. You don’t need to. You already know it's him.

You do look up though. Unfortunately.

“No need.” You say, deadpan. “I think your crocs are fugly.” Fugly, like his whole relationship with punctuality.

“And you’re so pretty.”

Is what you think you hear him say. Your brain does a triple backflip. You don't know if it's from your mystery drink or the fact that Satoru called you pretty.

“... You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you. “Huh? I said you’re so petty.”

Oh.

You’re stupid, you deduced. You have been publicly and comically humbled.

You nod solemnly. “Right, sorry. Heads spinnin’” You wish the earth could swallow you whole, and if not the earth, then maybe a nearby trash can.

You take another sip from your cup. The alcohol is kicking in. Or maybe it already kicked in and did a lap around the block, but you hadn't noticed.

Really, you hadn’t. Not until Satoru comes up to you offering you his crocs like the town jester, but all you can think about is what his reaction would be if you just got up and licked the alcohol smeared on his neck.

Nope. You’re gone. Your brain has officially packed it up. Sober you would never commit such an atrocity. Sober you was reeling just an hour ago, for God's sake. Righteous, indignant, full of moral high ground. Sober you had opinions about the way he lived in this lifestyle brand chaos.

“But hey.” he shrugs, ever so casually. “That works too.”

And he looks down at you–eyes heavy, hazy, like the worlds a little softer at the edges now. His grin pulls lazily at the corners of his mouth, slow and unbothered, like it just showed up on its own. Of course it did.

Because you might be unraveling, but Satoru Gojo is somehow exactly where he wants to be.

To be honest, you were never the type to fall for the “hot frat boy with issues I can fix!!” propaganda. You’ve seen that movie before. You’ve laughed at that girl. Gojo Satoru, whether you think It’s fair or not, despite being a human migraine, is nonetheless a campus superstar. You never bothered to wonder why though.

But now, half-drunk, cheeks warm, impulse control slipping and admittedly so, you kind of get it.

He’s, like, dumb-hot. As much as you'd like to pretend otherwise, the thought of dragging that smug grin off his face has crossed your mind more than once tonight–preferably with your mouth.

It’s probably the tequila. Or maybe it's the way he’s watching you, head tilted, smile lazy, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking and dares you to think it louder. Either way, the night is starting to blur, and you’re a move away from doing something incredibly stupid.

Which, by your current standards, would be par for the night.

He’s tall, annoyingly so. Too irritating. Built like every bad idea you've avoided up until now. But God, if he doesn’t wear it well.

So you should throw your drink in his face.

You should probably turn around.

You should say literally anything else.

But you’re tipsy, which is a generous way of saying your inhibitions are melting fast. So it gives you a justifiable excuse to lean in, close enough that he has to tilt his head lower to catch you words.

“Satoru,” you say, barely above a whisper, syrup-slick and slurred just right. “Won’t you take me somewhere else? It’s your fault I’m here anyway.”

You finally say his name, and that kinda gets him.

His smirk falters–not gone, just falters. You tilt your head slightly, eyes wide and glassy, feigning innocence you absolutely do not possess currently His breath hitches just a little bit.

So he leads you by the waist, and the two of you tumble into the hallway, then onto the stairs–all hot hands and held breaths like tonight was always going to end this way.

Because for all your grumbling and glares, and for the very real fact that you stormed his party with the sole intent of confronting him about the grade you swear is about to nosedive into hell –

You’re only human. And He’s only Satoru.

And Satoru’s hands? Unfair.

---

You’re not sure who breaks first. Not that it matters now, because both of you end up fumbling your way up the stairs anyway, drunk on the lack of oxygen and gravity drawing you close with every unsteady step. Your knees falter more than once, and your body nearly betrays you. But Satoru’s hands are firm as he pulls you back up every time.

Careful, he said. But nothing about this is careful.

And speaking of Satoru’s hands—those traitorous hands—they’re everywhere. Calloused and unrelenting. They drag over your waist, your sides, up to your ribs, like he’s trying to mold you into something different, something feral if he doesn’t stop. He kicks the door shut behind you like it personally offended him.

He looks strangely tender in the dimness—gaze looking down at you with the desperation that wasn’t there moments ago, like you’re grounding him to the earth. His touch is heat and hesitation, compelled by something that lives under his skin. There’s urgency in the way his fingers shake and how his breath stutters when he dips down, mouth ghosting over your skin. Hot, aching, reverent.

He kisses you because he’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to do it again when you’re out of a daze.

Because what you don't know about Satoru Gojo is that he doesn’t make moves unless he’s thought ten steps ahead. For all that his reputation precedes him to be, he moves with intent, because Satoru Gojo knows the game, and he plays it better than most. Everything he does is a means to an end.

He knows you’re not the type to lose your head over a guy like him. He clocked that the moment he saw you. Type A, emotional steel, head in the playing field, looks like you alphabetize your refrigerator magnets, and obviously very pretty. A woman of standards. He couldn’t just dive in, because he knows you’re the type to see through any and all forms of bullshit, but wouldn’t know what to do with sincerity. And Satoru, well, he’s both.

So when he saw your name next to his on that partner list, he didn’t just chalk it up to coincidence. He took it as a quiet nudge from whatever cosmic joke keeps letting him get away with things. Sure, he ghosted you. Dodged you like a sport. Pretended he didn’t notice you walked into the house with your jaw clenched and that specific brand of fury he always thought looked good on you. But that was calculated. The fire, he didn’t even see at first. He found you crash-landed into his territory, obviously looking very pissed, but for most of it you looked quite breathtaking.

In a way that made him pause mid-laugh, mid-sentence, whatever joke he was telling dies quietly in his throat, like it recognizes that you’re here now. Because here you were, finally within reach. And whether or not you were here to drag him by the ear or commit a felony on his kneecaps, you came. Windblown, flushed from the walk, glittering with sweat.

And Satoru always plays the long game–bet on time, stall the play, smile like he hasn't stacked the deck. Even if it starts with dodging emails and ends with you pressed against his door, he never plays his hand unless he's sure he’ll win.

But from where he stands, watching you half-tipsy, wholly furious, and still somehow the prettiest thing he’d seen, Satoru knows a checkmate when he sees one. And losing to you? It feels almost kind.

All he can really say is that his plan had worked like a charm.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say in between heavy breaths as he pulls away. His glasses are gone, thrown somewhere on the floow, and with them, the last of his boyish charm. What's left are his eyes, blue and startlingly clear, pinning you into place like gravity catching up.

“Fair. It’d suck if you weren’t.” he says, voice low and amused, the kind of drawl that makes your spine react before your brain does. You’re still clinging to your little grudge like it might protect you, even as your clothes are sticking to your skin and his saliva on your neck. His mouth has already trespassed places you shouldn’t be letting him reach.

“Go ahead, sweet thing,” he murmurs, thumb tracing a line down your stomach and fingers lingering on the hem of your top. “Blame it all on me. I can take it, ‘specially when it gets me this.” And his mouth is on you again, this time more deliberate. He presses a kiss just beneath your jaw, then drags his tongue slowly behind your ear before trailing down your neck. His hands move with more conviction now. One is firm on the small of your back, the other splayed against your front like a silent plea not to run. His palms are hot to the touch, and you’re embarrassed by how easily your body bends toward the heat.

Then he presses lower, fingers skimming over your stomach. A sound escapes you—shaky and far too telling. It’s a sound you don't recognize coming from your own throat. Satoru hears it, and his grin is nothing short of sinful. He pulls back from your collarbone and drags his eyes over your face like he's trying to commit this moment into his memory. You, meanwhile, are doing everything in your power to look at anywhere but him. But Satoru is a persistent man. His hand glides higher beneath your shirt, warm and maddening, pausing just beneath your breast. He angles your back just slightly, tilting your chin so your eyes are forced to meet his. And God–you look absolutely wrecked. Lips parted and hair a tousled halo on your face, eyes wide and dazed.

“You’re real scary when you’re mad. Real pretty too. Wanna keep smiting me while I touch you?” His voice is low, half-drunken laughter laced through the rasp. His hands, warm and soft, tighten on your hips. All you manage in return is a breathy hum–one thats equal parts doubt and invitation.

“Satoru,” you say it like a warning. “Could you maybe stop stalling and just–oh.” Your back arches against the door, all breath and anticipation as his hands find their way under your bra, hungry for touch. He cups on your left breast as his palms lay flat on your nipples, and you feel him in your bones, underneath all the skin and fat. They aren't gentle anymore, but decisive, fingertips drawing heat in their wake. And he's close now–too close. You can see it all, the smugness painting his grin like a badge of honor and the flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes every time your breath stutters.

Outside, the party rages on, and lights flash through the cracks of the door. But in this moment, the world has narrowed to two people and the static between them. His other hand lingers low on your back. You’re practically burning, skin pricking and pulse frantic under his palms. And even though you’re still fuming, still half-determined to wring his neck, there's no denying the way your eyes catch on the lines of him, the way he fills out his clothes, the subtle grind of his hips that betrays how much he wants this. Suddenly, all your anger doesn’t feel quite as important as the heat curling up your spine and the area just below it.

He guides you away from the door, his touch rough with urgency, until you bump against his desk. In a sweeping motion, books and half-written notes scatter to the floor. His hands find your waist and lift you onto the cleared surface like you weigh nothing. Then his mouth is on yours again–hot, insistent, claiming. His tongue grazes the outline of your lips, and when you gasp, he takes the sound for himself. You frantically hold onto his shoulders like a lifeline, because the room is spinning just a bit too fast.

Your thighs are glued together, tension and stickiness coiled tight between them. He had sensed as much, and one of his hands slid lower, thumb brushing against your leg with maddening patience, coaxing you to open up. And he does it slow, a little too slow, and the deliberate teasing pulls a drawled breath out of you. Something you couldn't mask even if you tried.

“You sure you’re mad at me? ‘Cause the way you’re lookin’ at me doesn’t exactly scream righteous fury.” His fingers find the button that keeps your shorts closed. He presses and pulls, playing so close to where you need him.

“Don’t–mmh, think for even a second that you got away with it, jerk.” You breathe the words out between clenched teeth, voice tight like you’re holding back more than just irritation. And really, that might be what he likes about you. You drip with pointed fury, sharp-tongued and undressed meanness. But your hands are still on his chest, and your legs are pulling him closer like he's the force of gravity, magnetic in the most inconvenient way.

“And you said ‘one drink’.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, tugging slowly and deliberately, testing just how far you'll let him go at this state. He glances up through his lashes, that boyish grin curling back into his lips. “Doesn’t look like one drink to me.” Then, voice low and sultry, “Why don't you be sweet and take these off f’me, yeah?”

You fake a sound of frustration as you make quick work of the button on your shorts, because really the only kind of frustration pulsing through you right now is the sexual kind building below your navel. It’s been a minute since you've done this, caught up between uni deadlines and org meetings. Not to mention the tiny biological betrayal that is your ovulation cycle currently screaming mate, mate, mate like a ritual. So basically, your hormones are just in overdrive. Biology’s doing it's thing, and apparently, it's thing is making you wildly receptive to white hair and jagged hands.

“Fuck—get this off of me—“ You’re practically fighting for your life with the zipper now, hands fumbling like you’re in a timed bomb-defusal. Damn these Levi’s. Built tough for all the wrong moments.

“Hey now—woah, chill woman.” Satoru sweats your hands away and unzips it himself. “Impatient? You’re the one who said to take you somewhere else, remember?”

“Yeah, not code for ‘drag me into your lair,’ Satoru.”

“But I don’t hear any protests.”he murmurs, lifting you up from the desk with ease. His fingers pull on the edge of your shorts and drags them down slowly. When his eyes catch the deep red patterned lace and fabric hugging your core, he breathes out a quiet curse—low and full of want. You feel the dampness that leaks from your cunt before you even realize it. Satoru’s hands, ever greedy, hook a finger beneath your waistband, tugging just enough to tease before letting it snap back against your skin with a loud smack. The sound is crisp, and that earns you a sharp gasp.

“Stop–”

But Satoru obviously doesn’t. He’s too drunk on the fact that you’re perched on his desk in nothing but your panties and a shirt he’s got his hand chartering under. He feels sixteen again, all overzealous hands and dizzy want—except this time, he knows exactly what he’s doing and how much he wants it. It’s a little terrifying how easy it is to forget the rest of the world when your skin’s under his.

“Nuh uh,” Satoru hums against the shell of your ear, breath hot and unhurried. One hand is beneath the back of your shirt, fingers fiddling with the clasp of your bra. And the other trails down, slow and sure, toward the growing heat between your legs.

“Is this the part where I finally find out what all the fuss is about?” His grin is unmistakable, even when you can't see it. Your breath hitches in reply, because God forbid the man actually knows what he’s doing.

By now, his fingers slip between the folds of your clit, spreading the wetness that oozes out, up and down and sideways. He moves with a kind of confidence that borders on infuriating, a deliberate rhythm that sends heat rushing up your spine. You can't do much except buckle and moan and take it. Your arms tighten around his neck like a lifeline, anchoring yourself to something–anything–before you completely unravel.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Cunt’s swimming in your juice by now.”

And when you’re trying so hard to catch a breath, Satoru starts to slide a finger inside, so deep and so slow it’s killing you. A moan escapes you–long, unrestrained, and embarrassing if you still cared about your dignity. Your fingers claw at the fabric of his dress shirt, wrinkling it beyond redemption. Dry cleaning won’t save him now.

“Sato—ru, shit hold on—“ You shut your eyes tight and mentally send an apology to the walls for whatever ungodly noises you might be making. Your body’s burning, your pride is in shambles, and Satoru’s finger–just the one, because apparently that's all it takes–is sending you into ruin.

“Did you know the G-Spot might not even be real.” he says, like he's about to give a Ted Talk in the middle of your rapidly crumbling composure. You blink, scandalized, breath catching. What kind of nonsense is this man pulling? He’s not even a bio major, and the fact that he's still pumping a finger into you makes your brain short-circuit once again.

“I mean, it’s not a single spot. More like a whole hormone-dependent area.” You barely have time to scoff at his use of terminology at a time like this before a second finger is being inserted into you, deeper and more demanding.

“It’s influenced by multiple glands, like your clit,” You nearly jump when his thumb grazes on your sensitive bud just above your entrance, more slick squirting out of you like a reflex.

“Your urethra,” He continues with infuriating smugness, a squelching sound echoing into the stuffy room as he shoves a third finger deep inside. Your body is betraying you completely as your body jerks, and you grip the edge of the desk like its going to do anything at all.

“ –aaand, your vagina.” He pumps again, this time slow and languid like he's got all the time in the world to make a mess out of you, and you’re trying your best to hold on to some scrap of composure. But trying feels more like a long-lost concept now with the way you’re giving up on yourself and the maddening pull that is him.

“Some females get massive pleasure when the area is stimulated, while others don’t. Pretty unfair huh?” You think what's really unfair about all this is how he's got you shaking and helpless on his desk with four fingers moving inside of you, all while still being fully clothed.

But oh, you like it. Against your better judgement, your body's basically on fire, your skin flushed and your breath humid. And Satoru’s gaze on you is too much and not enough all at once. There's something entirely degrading about being stared down like this while your brain is malfunctioning from sensory overload. But instead of telling him off like a reasonable human being, you're mentally weighing your options: either push him away, or cum on all four of his fingers tonight. Honestly, it’s a tough call.

“But I’m sure I’ll be able to find it in you.” And then, one last deep thrust that rips a squeak straight from your throat. Your fingers dig into his back just below his neck, leaving half-moon bruises as you scramble to sit upright. You’re so dangerously close to an orgasm as a fire curls deep in your gut, and your hips are betraying every ounce of moral high ground you had left as they grind down, frantic and desperate.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, your lungs finally remember how to function again. You’re panting, trying to collect the dignity you may have dropped somewhere between finger 3 and wherever you are now. When you look up, Satoru is already looking directly at you as he brings his fingers–those fingers–up to his mouth and sucks them clean, any residue of slick being lapped on like a man starving.

“S’ good,” he hums low, almost like he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He slips his fingers from his mouth with a dramatic pop, and in one smooth motion, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Your arms are guided above your head as he tugs your shirt over and off. You’re left in nothing but your unclasped bra, breathing hard under the dim light. His gaze roams over you, almost glowing, like he’s seen something divine. His palms skate every inch of exposed skin, until your bra is off and his mouth latches onto your chest with maddening softness.

Despite Satoru Gojo’s infuriating nature, the position he’s got you in is making a pretty compelling argument otherwise. He's got his hands on your thighs as they keep you spread just enough, and his tongue—god, his tongue—is tracing circles around the nubs of your breasts. That's not right, you think. This is literally not how it was supposed to go. You were here for confrontation. Instead you’re almost naked, halfway to forgetting your own name. The worst part is that you’re not stopping him.

“Mmh, do you want the desk or the bed?”

“Huh? For–ah, for what?”

“Well, to fiddle, to yiddle, to–”

“If you say anything that rhymes with ‘diddle’ I’m leaving you and your boner to figure yourselves out.”

“Touché. But really, it's your move. Want me on my knees? Over you?” There’s a pause. Then, voice low and dipped in something shameless and needy, “.. Want me to fuck you? I’m nothing if not obedient.”

Your breath catches. “ –Mmh.”

He raises a brow and leans in. “Use your words. Ain’t doing so if you’re not sayin’ so.”

“Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

You look him dead in the eyes, heat cooking in your stomach. As you bite down on your last thread of pride and composure, you lean in too.

“You’ve got two options. Either you fuck me, or I remember how you ditched me and punch you in the throat. I’m not even joking.”

Satoru’s brain bluescreens. There’s a second of total silence in his skull, like all higher thought had just left. Even now with her breath hitching and nails dragging down my back, she’s still got the strength to bite back. God, she's hot.

“Yeah.” He says, though it’s more of a breath than a voice. “I can—yeah, I can do that.” I mean you basically hadn't given him much to choose, right?

In a tangle of limbs, Satoru scoops you up from his desk and lowers you less-than-gracefully onto the edge of his bed. The bounce makes you glare at him, and he has the nerve to grin while the world feels like It’s spinning–half from the drinks, half from him. And then he's kissing you again like he's got something to prove to you. His tongue coaxes and laps into your mouth with the kind of cocky finesse that tells you he knows exactly how you like it. You don't know whether to moan or roll your eyes, so you do both.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, fabric damp from sweat and spilled liquor. “Off.”

He pulls away from you with that knowing grin–ever the showman–and quickly undoes the rest of his shirt with ease, shoving it off from his shoulders in one smooth motion. The sight knocks the breath clean out your lungs. As he tosses the shirt across the room, you're met with a sight that genuinely shouldn't be allowed in a poorly lit college bedroom.

What the hell?

You know Satoru is athletic. That much you were able to deduce from first glance. Honestly, you don't know what you expected. Maybe something lean and careless to match the smugness he carries around like a boy scout badge. But what's in front of you is, well, frankly absurd. Because apparently, under the embodiment of all that you loathe is the Greek pantheon’s lost son. His chest is all hard angles and sculpted tension, the muscles in his body flex with even the smallest movement, and his arms are laced with veins that trace down into the hands that have felt you all over by now.

Your brain fizzles.

You cross your legs in pure instinct. Survival, really. Because it’s the only way you can hide the wetness and arousal flowing through you at the moment.

“You good?”

You blink once. Twice. Unfortunately, the image of Roman god Gojo is still engraved in your brain.

Satoru grins and rolls his shoulders with theatrical ease. “The gym’s two blocks from the house. Figured I might as well make use of the short commute, y’know?”

“Wasn’t asking.” You were so close, though.

“You sure? Ya look like you got a thesis brewing about my abs.”

You hold his gaze, even when your legs are practically jelly beneath him. “Pretty bold for someone who unironically wears Crocs.”

You sense his grin as he leans in close, mouth barely brushing your ear. “Don’t knock the Crocs, sweetheart. They come off easy.”

His tongue lingers on the base of your ear, warm and unrelenting, his breath against you sending shivers down your skin. You can barely register the drag of his lips down your neck, then further down to your chest in a slow and agonizing pace. He sucks on the nub of your breast once more, a hand coming up to squeeze the other. You’re practically laid bare, clothes having been a long-forgotten concept for the last 15 minutes. You feel his cock growing a tent in his pants as they grind on your thigh, rubbing just beneath your bare and drooling cunt.

He goes lower still, tongue tracing your stomach in slow motions as his knees come down to a kneel on the edge of the bed. You wanna scream, or cry, or do something, because as Satoru’s breath touches your pussy you feel like nothing more than an animal in a rut.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind right?” He asks as he nudges your thighs further apart, face coming close to your core as he pauses in front of it.

You can’t comprehend how to talk at this point, so your tug on his hair is all he needs to know.

He licks a long and slow stripe up your cunt, and your back arches off the bed once again as you let out a high pitched squeal. Satoru’s got both hands rubbing up and down the insides of your thighs as you squirm beneath his touch.

“Satoru—slow down, fuck,“

His tongue traces shapes around the lips of your pussy, teasing and merciless, and nudges it way inside your entrance. You gasp, loud and very embarrassingly, and the grip you have on his hair is iron as you clamp your thighs around his head like you’re trying to crush the thoughts out of his skull. His mouth keeps going, moving in and out and lapping around your clit as more slick squirts out of you.

“Pussy’s drippin’ so much. You taste so good.” The vibrations you feel as he talks against you nearly knock the breath out of you. “I can stay on my knees all night, pretty.”

“No—fuck, no,”

“No?”

“M’gonna cum, ah—get off—!”

“You can cum on me yeah? Fuck yourself on me baby, c’mon.” He spreads your legs wider as his pace quickens. You bite down another embarrassing sound that threatens to stool from your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, needing something—anything—to keep you grounded. Still, he doesn’t rush. He takes his time coaxing reactions out of you like he’s memorizing each little one. Every graze on your entrance, every flick of his tongue, and every drawn out second makes it seem like he’s trying to compose a symphony from the sounds you’re making.

You feel your orgasm building, so slow and overwhelming. It comes in waves, each one pulling you further under as your pussy grinds on his mouth without rhythm. Your hands are in his hair, your fingers trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

“Ngh—cumming, I’m cumming, oh,”

The orgasm hits you like a bullet train, hard and fast. Your eyes roll so far back and your breath catches in your throat. Every nerve is pulled taut and then undone in a single rush of pleasure. You feel him licking the laps of cum coming out of you as if he’s determined to take you further. He doesn’t really have to because you think you’re already free falling.

Satoru’s hands grip at your waist and push you more far up the bed, placing a pillow beneath your head. You hear his belt unbuckle frantically, his bottoms thrown somewhere across the room. You’re still trying to recover from your high as Satoru comes into view from above you.

“Hey. So like, I don’t have a condom with me.”

“…You serious?”

“Yeah. The boys in the house usually just ask Suguru. He’s got a stash up in his room.”

“Fuck. Ok, whatever. I’m on birth control. Shout out planned parenthood. Please just fuck me.”

“You sure? I can go outside and ask—“

“And have you flash the entire hallway? You’re on your own.”

Satoru’s fingers glide through the slick heat of your cunt, slow and deliberate, gathering your juices into his hands as he uses it to slick his cock. Your core flutters at the sight.

“M’gonna fuck you now.” he says, a promise.

You feel the thick length of him slap lazily against your cunt the sound sticky and obscene in the sudden quiet of the room. He does it a few times like he’s testing the waters–teasing both of you with the inevitability of what's about to happen.

Then the tip presses in, and you gasp, sharp and involuntary. He’s wide. Ridiculously wide. It feels less like being split open and more like being claimed, inch by slow inch.

Satoru watches himself disappear inside you with something like awe, one hand steadying your hip the other tracing idle circles into your skin.

“Tight,” He breathes. “Fuck.”

You clench and gasp and twist around him, but Satoru is still and unrelenting. He sinks in until he bottoms out, the stretch overwhelming, the pressure toeing the edge of too much. You think you might actually come just from the way he fills you, and you around him.

“You ok?” He asks, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

You shake your head, dizzy and dazed. The truth is you aren’t. Not when he leans over you and holds the back of your head through it, lips ghosting along your ear to tell you just how well you’re taking him.

It takes exactly two rolls of his hips for your world to crack open. Your back arches off the mattress. Your arms shoot up to cling to him, bracing around his neck as if it'll hold you together. Your body tightens, shudders, and then snaps under the force of it. It’s too much. Too intense. Too good. He’s too good.

“Holy fuck, stop–hah, stop squeezin’ me like that.” His voice breaks around the words, ruined and ragged. One of his hands flies to your thigh, squeezing hard enough that it borders on a warning. “Gonna come if you do.”

But you’re too far gone, too full of him, too strung out on the edges of pleasure to care. You take him to the hilt again, gasping as the drag of his cock makes your nerves stutter and spark.

And then he starts to move. Faster this time. Deeper. You’re so open for him now, wide and wanting, and each thrust feels like a slow unraveling. It’s not just the way you both fill each other. It’s the way your skin burns wherever it touches his. Yours is a pleasure that curls inwards, soft and greedy, clinging to everything he gives. And he gives so much.

“Hold on, this might be the one.” Satoru grins down at you, cocky even with his breath hitching, sweat starting to sheen his collarbones. You barely manage to roll your eyes before he’s back on his knees, still buried inside of you, and grabbing for your leg. Your body shifts easily in his hands, plant and pliable, tuned to the rhythm of his restlessness. He lifts your leg, turning your hips slightly to the side, and rests your knee over his shoulder. The stretch makes your breath catch.

He thrusts. Brutal. Deep. You cry out.

The new angle sends him dragging right along something cataclysmic inside you, hot and electric and peak, and it punches the sound straight from your throat. His pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with a precision that feels almost vicious if it weren’t so intoxicating.

Your fingers scramble for purchase–on the sheets, on him–anything.

Satoru leans forward, folding you further, and the movement sinks him even deeper. You can feel the tremble and urgency in his thighs. “Fuck–there,” he breathes, watching your face contort. “There it is. That’s the spot, huh?”

Your hands twist into the sheets, back arching and mouth open as you flinch and spasm with every thrust. He’s giving it to you like it's the only thing he knows how to do, and you just want to watch him lose himself in you. You want to be everywhere he is, where the heat spreads between your bodies and your breaths meet halfway.

It’s so frustrating how good he's making you feel while still managing to be this damn cocky. But It’s hard to dwell on that for long when his cock is pressing deep and pulling you under.

His cock slams into your spot again and again, his grip on your leg unrelenting. Moans turn to cries, and cries turn to screams as he drives into you. You can only pray the music outside is doing its job. You’re never going to hear the end of it once Shoko finds out.

Looking down at you now, Satoru thinks you look exactly the way you did the first time he saw you–like the breath he forgot to take when he spotted you from across a lecture hall, a glitch in the system, while Suguru was mid-sentence about something he still can't recall. Suguru had asked him if he was ok. Satoru wasn’t. He realized he would never be ok for as long as you were in his line of vision. And now that you’re here, in his room, skin against his sheets, real and close and everything he’s ever quietly thought about, he hopes–maybe prays–that you'll look up and see him for the sincerity in his eyes. That you'll notice the shiver in his bones whenever you say his name. That when he touches you, you'll hold onto him to stay tethered into the earth. Because Satoru Gojo, for all his pride, all the bravado, and all the noise he throws into the world just to stay upright, thinks he’s only ever been sure of a few things.

Satoru can only name a few true constants in the universe–light in a vacuum, the charge of an electron, and the way he feels when you call for him with each pang of pleasure he gives you.

His thrusts are deep and relentless, the rhythm hard and sure, and you feel it–heat curling low in your stomach, the pressure building fast enough to burst.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, breath catching between moans.

“Yeah?” Satoru’s voice is low and coaxing. “You can cum. Go ahead, make yourself feel good.”

Ito only takes a few more thrusts to tip you over the edge. Your back arches, fingers clawing into his shoulder blades as your orgasm crashes through you. For a second, your vision blanks out, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in surging pulses. It hits hard, a rush so consuming you forget how to breathe. All you know is the feeling of your release, so undone, so alive.

You reach the edge of oversensitivity as Satoru’s thrusts turn sloppy and uneven, chasing his own release. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, squeaking at the way every brush against your clit sends shocks. A few more desperate ruts and he’s coming too, grunting, pulling out just in time as hot release splashes across your stomach and chest. His fingers dig into your thigh, anchoring himself as his body trembles through aftershocks.

For a moment, it’s just the sound of your breathing, ragged and shared. Then he drops beside you, collapsing into the pillows with a soft flump, chest still rising and falling fast. You turn to face him, jabbing his shoulder. “Hey,” you mutter. “You seriously knocked out after having your dick inside me?”

Satoru isn’t. Wouldn't. He’s wide awake, because nothing hits harder than post-nut clarity. And right now, that clarity is brutally mortifying. For the first time in recorded history, the universe is witnessing Satoru Gojo in a state of nervousness. Because, believe it or not, he may have just launched his crush into the astral plane with his dick immediately after she stormed into his place all hot and bothered and ready to confront him, and after exactly one real conversation. That has got to be some Olympic level idiocy for a man of his supposed intelligence. Frankly, he's hoping the pillow takes him out quietly before his shame does.

“I’ll leave,” you say, barely above a whisper. “If that's what's happening here.”

“Stay.” He says almost immediately.

“Why?”

“You make me nervous.” So nervous.

Your brow lifts. “Me?”

“You.” He turns to lay on his back and exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“I don't think I can joke my way out of how I feel around you. Not right now, at least.”

You snort softly. “Satoru, you're making no sense right now.”

“I saw your messages. Read the emails. Those very threatening emails. My personal favorite was the one that said ‘Rot in hell, coward.’” A faint smile flickers on his lips, and he laughs under his breath. “Read them twice. I thought if I waited long enough, you'd come kick my door down.”

And you did, so to speak. Not because you owed him the drama of a grand reappearance–no. Because you, like gravity, are unavoidable. And gravity is never a force. It's the fast curvature of spacetime around mass. And he thinks that's what this is. You curve every law around you, and he’s spent every moment since trying not to collapse under the weight of wanting you.

You can only blink. “You ghosted me… on purpose?”

“I know it's dumb.” He’s quick to add. “But I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me. I mean, you're–” He gestures at you, vaguely, helplessly. “You. And I’m the clown who got banned from a study group for making too many pickup lines about the ‘interconnectedness’ of quantum entanglement. What was I supposed to do, write you a poem?”

A beat. “So maybe I got a little desperate.”

“You thought ignoring me would make me like you?”

“I was hoping it would at least make you notice me.”

For the first time since meeting this man, there's nothing flippant behind those eyes–no smug grin, no teasing deflection, no clever quip waiting to be tossed out there. And you’re not sure what to do with that. With him, like this. You never thought sincerity looked good in a man, not until this particular one who's all fidgety and silent, too restless to even look at you, like it might shake something loose. Maybe being seen does that to people.

The room smells like his cologne and something else entirely. Something sleepier. Lived-in. There’s still warmth in the sheets where you both had been, your knees brushing under the covers. He hasn't said much. That’s part of what makes it real.

Maybe it's not so much of a gamble–being kind first. Maybe the trick is letting someone be kind back.

You sit up slightly, adjusting your hair but really, you're just giving yourself something to do before you say it.

“Tell you what.”

His eyes flick over you instantly. You pause. Then, as casually as you can,

“I’ll go on one date with you if you help me study for my Stats exam tomorrow.”

There’s a beat. You can almost hear the gears in his brain grinding.

“Seriously? Oh–crap, wait–”

You turn to him and suppress a very wide grin. “If I ace it,” you clarify. “Then you get one date. One.”

“Okay.” he blurts. “Yeah. Yes. Statistics. I love… numbers. Seriously.”

When you squint to see his face, his ears have gone red. He starts to sit up, immediately tangling in the sheets.

“Crap–sorry, just–okay. Got it. I can totally help. The dates cool too. I mean, not cooler than–uh, nevermind.”

You glance down at the bed, then back up at him. “Confidence already shaken, Gojo?”

His mouth twitches. “Only ‘cause you’re lookin’ at me like that.”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to figure me out.”

And maybe you will.

“Good. Then we'll both be learning something tonight.”

He bumps into the nightstand, nods too much, and his voice cracks a little halfway through the word date. He pulls himself out of your periphery as if he’s trying to outrun the fact that he’s blushing. And as he walks around the room, shirt half-on and hair even messier, muttering about how “I actually kind of rock Stats” like he needs to prove he’s worthy of the deal, you watch him from where you are, sheets pulled over your chest, trying to smother the grin threatening to give you away.

Because while you’ve absolutely heard quite a few things about Satoru Gojo, the all-rounder legend in a backwards cap, golden boy of the STEM department, six-foot something campus heartthrob who burns too bright to stay, what the rumors failed to mention is the quiet way he curves into himself as he stands across from you, suddenly unsure, like he’s not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream he'll have to wake from.

And you were right: sincerity looks terrible on most men.

But on him, it’s devastating.

a/n: there's something weirdly romantic about quantum entanglement that I just had to put in here :> he’s such a loser god

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #idk how to tag pt. 2 #Spotify

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curieously · 2 days ago

Text

funny thing, i was holidaying bali earlier this year with my dad, and a really nice farmer - whose place we were visiting as part of a chef's tour thing - roasted some banana skipper caterpillars (Erionota thrax) and crickets (some kind of Sia, I think? not sure though) for us to try.

they both tasted EXACTLY LIKE SHRIMP. 🦐 zero difference. like if you blindfolded me and made me eat them, I'd 100% believe you'd fed me shrimp.

specifically, the caterpillars tasted like dried shrimp (hae bee or udang kering, if you're familiar with that); just really umami and moreish and perfectly bite sized. the crickets had more texture and were sort of... you know when you roast shrimps whole, and then eat the heads alone, and it's super intense? that's what eating fresh roasted cricket was like.

both my dad and I were incredibly weirded out, because this was in bali's central highlands and hours and hours away from ANY sort of beach. whatever flavour we'd been expecting, it definitely wasn't seafood, lol

...also i've eaten various sorts of bugs (among other things) and none of them were anywhere near that yummy. i actually asked the farmer guy about it because I was wondering if there were more bugs that tasted like that or if it was just THESE bugs in particular.

so what I was told is that bugs, like shrimps, is best when eaten VERY very extremely fresh. the vast majority of bugs in cities are either very stale or heavily processed and powdered, and apparently don't actually taste like bugs as a result. and I mean, shrimp and is highly perishable and people are always like, fresh is best for seafood, so it makes sense the same would apply to bugs.

anyway. just wanted to say that bugs doesnt just is shrimps; bugs is delicious shrimps.

here's some shitty handphone pics + a couple more of the stingless honeybees he keeps as well lol:

BUGS. IS. SHRIMPS!!!

#bugs #shrimp #bali #erionota thrax #banana skipper butterfly #crickets #melipona #stingless bees

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goooofy-goooober1121 · 3 days ago

Note

Holaaa podrías escribir sobre los saja boys? te ellos con miedo a los truenos y relámpagos en un día lluvioso, y tienes que ayudarlos, con cada uno por separado?

YESSS I CAN HEHEHEHEHE (•̀ᴗ•́ )ゞ

Ask translation: "Could you write about the Saja Boys? They're afraid of thunder and lightning on a rainy day, and you have to help them, with each one separately?"

NOTE: Apart from Jinu (though I did give his little sister a name), I'm going to use my headcanon characterizations for the rest of the boys because we unfortunately did not get a lot of them in the movie. These can be found here!

**CW**: Vomit!!!! It's only for a second and because Baby eats too much candy lol

Requests Are Open Here!

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Scared of Storms

Ft. Jinu, Abs, Romance, Mystery, and Baby <3

Jinu

Loser trapped in a hot body

Acts all mature like "dude it's just a storm. I've been through worse" and subsequently shits his pants when lightning strikes outside

I'm sure a part of him is reminded of his family back when he was a human and their living conditions

Being that they were super poor I don't imagine that they had a lot of reinforcement to keep the rain out of their home

So I think he probably regresses into "what can I do to make things feel safe" mode.

You find him in his room, wrapped up in his blanket like he's the fish in a sushi roll

he'll insist he's there because he's cold and for no other reason

Please stick around him he'll feel so much better

Might drag you into the blanket with him tbh

If you get him comfortable enough he'll probably open up a little like "yeah lol we used to do this when we were too impoverished to afford repairs to our roof"

He'll probably make some stupid joke to deflect afterwards lmao

He's such a dork

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"When my sister Eunji and I were young, my family didn't have the money to fix the leaks in our roof."

Jinu's hands squeezed your sides beneath the soft blanket he had wrapped around the two of you. The lights were dim and you were warm, pressed to his chest like he was the world's most comfortable pillow.

"I didn't want her getting sick," he continued softly, "so we played a game. Until the storm ended, we would find as many blankets as we could and wrapped ourselves tight in them. I'd tell her we were caterpillars, and we had to stay in our cocoons until we turned into butterflies-- until the storm was over. Whoever found the most blankets turned into the prettiest butterfly of them all."

He laughed, a little sad, a little fond.

"I always let her win. I never liked thunder but neither did she-- so I left the thicker ones for her so she'd feel safer."

You tucked your head beneath his chin. "You're a good brother."

Jinu paused, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. His arms curled tighter around you at the distant growl of thunder.

"Hey." he nudged you with his knee. "How did the skeleton know it was going to rain?"

Despite yourself, you smiled. "How?"

"He felt it in his bones," Jinu answered, seriously and sincerely.

You stared at him, eyebrows raised.

He stared back, eyes wide and searching for a reaction.

The silence was loud until he broke it with an awkward cough.

"What? I thought it was funny."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Abs Saja (Kang-Dae)

oh he's EMBARRASSED.

He's got that attitude of "i'm big and strong and NOT! AFRAID! OF! THUNDER!"

and then screams at the first rumble of thunder

He really hates being afraid of it. He never liked being scared-- it makes him feel powerless and weak (which he does NOT want to go back to being).

He builds a lot of his identity about being strong and confident and when he can't be that, he doesn't know what to do with himself

So honestly? He sits on the couch and toughs it out

You find him very solemnly sitting there, fingers digging into the couch cushions, trembling from head to toe and jumping with every flash of lightning and crash of thunder (poor baby)

Gives you the wobbliest "yeah I'm fine" when you ask if he's okay

Will NOT move from his spot. Says he's "meditating to the rain because mind and body should be equally balanced" (he is lying through his teeth and quoting one of those wellness influencer instagram posts)

So your best bet is to sit next to him and help him tough it out

Brags about how "this storm ain't shit" and immediately grabs your hand when two seconds later, thunder shakes the whole building

Just let him tough it out he needs it to keep his pride

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Kang-Dae? You okay?"

"O-Of course I am."

Kang-Dae was not okay. He sat with his back straight as a rod, body stiff as a board, in the middle of the couch; his legs were tense, his feet dug holes into the carpet, and his fingers gripped the cushions so tightly that their seams were bursting. He gave you a shaky, dubiously confident smile. "What, you think I'm scared of a little--"

Lighting flashes outside. He flinches.

"--rain?" he wheezes out. "Nah. Nah, I'm good. I'm great. I'm meditating. You know, 'a healthy mind lives in a healthy body'. Rain sounds are a part of my new exercise regimen."

You stand there for a moment, looking him up and down before frowning. "Want me to sit with you?"

"Sit with me?" he laughed, though sweat beaded at his brow. "C'mon. You think I need you to sit with me? What gave you that idea? This storm is weak."

Then comes the thunder. It crashes into the air loud and angry, as if the storm is yelling at Kang-Dae for insulting it; the building itself shakes from the force of it and he yelps, tears an accidental hole in the couch, and gives himself a cramp in his back from how suddenly his muscles tightened.

"Okay yes please but only because you should meditate, too."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Romance Saja (Seo-Jun)

In contrast to Kang-Dae? He does NOT mind showing that he's scared.

Uses it as a way to get your attention

"Noooo don't leave I'm scared of the thunder, see? If only someone would come comfort me... someone a lot like you... haha jk... unless?"

Clingy to the max.

Will hold onto you and never let go. It's a problem.

Is more afraid of being left behind than he is of the actual storm tbh

Don't get me wrong, he for sure is shaking all over and jumps at every glimpse of lightning

But he for sure knows that being left alone to feel like nobody cares to comfort him will make things worse

He felt the panic and sadness that rejection and emotional abandonment brought him before and would rather die than feel it again

Subtly prods at you trying to figure out why you agreed to be the one to comfort him because he needs reassurance that you're being kind for the right reasons

That being said... he will not let you go even after the storm ends.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Seo-Jun."

"Yes, my love?"

"My legs are falling asleep."

Seo-Jun held you like you might just disappear. He had wrapped himself around you like he wanted to fuse into your body, long legs tangled with yours and arms clamped tightly around your middle. You felt his body shake and heard the quiet whimpers that left him at each crash of thunder and lightning, but not for a moment did he ever let go of you. Actually, the torrential downpour outside seemed to just give him more reason to gradually tighten his grip on you.

"I need to get up," you tell him, squirming in his hold.

"But I'm scared," he whines, pulling you closer. "You wouldn't leave me all alone in my time of need, would you? You're my knight in shining armor. My umbrella in these cold, cruel times. Don't you love me enough to keep me dry? Or do you want me to catch a cold? Oh, that would be so romantically tragic-- no, tragically romantic. Tending to your ill lover because you just care for him so much..."

"Seo-Jun, we're inside."

He huffs. "Not the point," he mumbles, burying his face in your chest. "Five more minutes like this, my love. Please."

You sighed inwardly. In Seo-Jun speak, five minutes meant forever.

Thunder rumbled outside. Seo-Jun held you closer.

You're not leaving anytime soon.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mystery Saja (Dae-Shim)

Hides under the table like dogs do when they're scared of fireworks

Says the most unnerving shit too

In the quiet moments between lightning strikes, he'll whisper something like "the teeth. The teeth in the clouds. They are chewing. They are hungry."

Will NOT elaborate if you ask him what the fuck that means btw

Listen, he's got a lot going on in his head

Knowledge of everything in the universe and beyond made him a little unhinged (see my Saja Boys headcanons linked above for context lol)

he does NOT need thunder to add to that

I also headcanon that he's blind/severely visually impaired so his other senses sharpened to compensate; he probably has pretty sensitive hearing because of that.

So hand him a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and a bowl of cheerios (don't give him milk with his cereal. He will insist that "I can hear them screaming. Why have you drowned them?") and he'll be set and chill for the rest of the storm.

Curls up against you and goes so quiet that you think he either fell asleep or died

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dae-Shim is curled up beside you on the sofa, his ears snugly fitted with noise-cancelling headphones and his head resting comfortably in your lap. You had managed to bribe him out from beneath the dining room table with the offer of dry cheerios, which he came around to after a few minutes of doggish barking and whispers of "the hat man in the sky".

It's been about thirty minutes since then. The rain still rages outside. You scroll mindlessly on your phone with one hand, the other absently petting his hair. Had it not been for the occasional twitch of his fingers against your thigh, you might have taken his stillness as a sign to start CPR.

"The rain is making the ground soft," he says, voice soft and flat. "It will start clawing its way to the surface soon."

You hum in vague agreement. "That's nice, honey."

“Every seventh raindrop is warm. That’s how you know it’s feeding.”

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Hope it has a good meal. Should we invite it to dinner sometime soon?"

Dae-Shim did not answer, only shifting his position to get more comfortable before going silent and still as a corpse again.

You nod thoughtfully. "I'll take that as a yes."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Baby Saja (Min-Soo)

He's scared but he's not gonna admit it

Not in the embarrassed way like Kang-Dae is, but more in the way that he really doesn't want to be seen in any sort of childish light for hating the way the thunder is so loud and never-ending for no good reason

He already has to act like a baby in front of fans and it's exhausting-- he is NOT putting up with that at home, either.

He's trying to keep cool and actually is kinda good at it, but he does slip up sometimes when he's caught off guard by a sudden flash of lightning or a particularly loud thunderclap.

So really, he approaches you first, probably offering to play video games or something since you can't go outside because of the weather.

Very subtly tries things to make himself comfortable.

Closes the blinds and curtains because "the lightning is reflecting off the screen and it's making me fail this level" (he just hates lightning lol)

Probably ends up blasting music to drown out the thunder

Drags you along because he admittedly does find comfort in your presence and you always manage to find a way to distract him

Stress eats his candy stash and throws up later (• ᴖ •｡ )

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Min-Soo's room is chaos.

Music blasts from his television, the bright and colorful visuals of Just Dance flashing across the screen. He's got his blue joy-con in one hand and a fistful of gummy worms in the other. Thunder strikes outside and he falters for just a moment, but manages to recover just in time to strike a perfect move to BTS's 'Dynamite'. His blanket is tossed diagonally about his bed from when he attempted to cover up his window "for the aesthetic"-- conveniently after he spilled water on his carpet due to a startling flash of lightning-- before getting frustrated at how it kept falling and just yanking the curtains shut.

You are sitting on his bed, watching in awe at how he manages to stuff his face with sugar, achieve flawless scores on Just Dance, and not throw up from the intensity of it all simultaneously.

He'd dragged you to his room insisting he needed another player for his Just Dance game. You tapped out after the fifth round of Britney Spears's 'Toxic', opting instead to watch his freakish hyperactivity like it's a once-in-a-lifetime event.

You're pretty sure you hear one of the other Saja Boys banging on the wall and cursing at Min-Soo to "turn it down!" from their neighboring bedroom. Probably Kang-Dae. Or Jinu. You don't know. Min-Soo just upped the volume in response.

"Hey," you called over the music, "don't you think you should stop dancing for a second? The candy's gonna make you sick."

"What?" he yelled back, eyes glued to the screen.

"I said you're gonna throw up!"

"No, I'm not!" he pants, inhaling another gummy worm. "This is great! It's energy so I can keep going and beat my high score! I'll be fine!"

He was not, in fact, fine.

Five minutes later, you're rubbing his back while he's flushing unnaturally neon-colored vomit down the toilet to the distant sound of an ongoing Just Dance level.

"Ugh," he groans, sniffling and leaning back against you. "Those Sour Patch Kids were cursed."

You just press your lips together, handing him the water bottle you'd snatched from his nightstand as you ran to the bathroom with him. "I told you that you'd get sick."

He takes the bottle gratefully and uses a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth. "Whatever..."

Thunder suddenly shakes the building. He flinches, squeezing his water bottle so tight that the cap nearly bursts off of it. It's then that you realize that he hadn't been randomly energetic at all-- he was distracting himself from the storm outside his window.

You knew better than to point it out to him, though. "Hey, let's just watch a movie," you say instead. "You must be tired from all the dancing. We should just chill for a while."

Min-Soo clears his throat. "Fine," he says, taking a shaky sip of water. "Only if I get to choose."

You help him get to his feet, leading him to the sink for him to wash his mouth out.

"Deal."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Can you guess who's my favorite (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

#saja boys x reader #saja boys headcanons #kdph #kdh #kdh x reader #kpdh x reader #abby saja x reader #mystery saja x reader #baby saja x reader #jinu x reader #romance saja x reader #saja boys kpdh #gn!reader #kpdh x gn!reader

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