#they're too strong to resist

[whatwooshkai]

HOME STRETCH!!! 21 like the strangely high American drinking age!

"I hate you," Blades mutters.

Quickshadow doesn't dignify that with an answer.

They've been stuck below ground for maybe a few hours now. Blades had spent the first hour panicking, the second hour sleeping off the exhaustion, and from then on the hours started to blur as he woke up and immediately started moping.

Quickshadow grimaces at the taste of dirt as she licks her claws clean, before going back to attacking the cave wall. Their comms are blocked from this far down, and there's absolutely no way the other rescue bots are picking up their signals. She can only hope that they saw exactly where the ground had opened up beneath her and Blades and are digging accordingly.

But they've also been down here a while, so that might be a stretch.

"You could help, you know," Quickshadow snaps, deciding Blades doesn't deserve grace anymore. Sure, he's a flier trapped who knows how deep underground and clearly isn't taking it well, but sitting in the corner pouting most certainly isn't helping anyone. "You do have claws."

Blades doesn't answer, so she keeps pressing. "If you actually want to get out of here, we must work together, you know-"

"Primus, you sound just like Hot Spot," Blades snaps, and Quickshadow pauses out of pure confusion.

Who is Hot Spot?

"'Oh, we're brothers, we're a team'," Blades mocks, and Quickshadow gets the distinct feeling that Blades isn't really talking to her anymore. "'The power of love and friendship and we have to stick together' and look where that got us!" He heaves a vent, putting his face in his hands. "No. No, he was right, we should've stuck together. Maybe then they wouldn't all be dead."

Quickshadow's interest is piqued, that's for sure. She's always been partial to mysteries, and enforcer training certainly doesn't help.

But this brings up a whole host of questions. Normally "brothers" is a term used for split-sparks and gestalts, though he fondly calls his team that. Was Blades part of a gestalt? Are they all dead besides him? She thought he didn't participate in the war, what could've possibly happened?

"Who is all dead?" she asks, and Blades meets her with a glare, but no answer, so she presses. "Were you part of a gestalt? A combiner team? I thought you never saw war, but all combiners were drafted right away, weren't they-"

"SHUT UP!"

Quickshadow's mouth snaps shut. Blades is glaring at her with more force than she thought him capable of, his rotors raised angrily and threateningly.

"All bots like you ever do is ask questions!" he screams, voice reverberating off the walls of the cave. "'What did it feel like'? 'Cause of death'? 'Maybe you'd like to come into the lab so we can study you'! 'Are you sure you felt him die'? All these motherfucking questions and I still don't know anything!"

Quickshadow opens her mouth to say something, anything, but Blades is whirling on her again. "Shut up!" he shouts. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it," he mumbles over and over, like a mantra, sinking down to the ground and pulling his knees to his chassis.

Quickshadow blinks. Something about what Blades was saying is ringing a bell in her processor, but she can't quite put a digit on it. There's some story, maybe something she heard in a break room or passing a mech on the street, something about a murder, or maybe a series of murders, having to do with a gestalt... but she can't quite remember.

Wasn't there a kidnapping case as well? Naturally forming gestalts were extremely rare, of course when the war broke out Autobots and Decepticons would want to have combiners on their teams.

Maybe I could look into it for you, she almost wants to say. I could get access to some old files. Maybe deep in my memory banks, there's something that could help you.

I want to help you.

"You don't hate me," is what comes out of her mouth.

"...No."

Quickshadow returns to digging.

[awesomecopper]

I love gameplay mechanics that can translate to actual characterization. Before combat I've been having Regongar cast mage armor on Octavia before casting shield on himself. Usually she's the one to cast enlarge person on him in combat. Battle couple working in sync with each other :)

[orchideae]

I'm typing up some responses to these asks, and this sounds crazy, but man, I only just realized how utterly in love I am with Yelan's trailer.

I'll make a post where I'll be dissecting her trailer like I did Kafka's, but it really hit me tonight how even in the first 10 seconds, they really emphasize this 'noir' element that it has. Now for anyone who's unfamiliar, 'noir' is often used in a film noir concept, which is a genre of film that usually involves crime, mystery and a lot of moral ambiguity; and its presentation is also quite specific, often defaulting to B/W or de-saturated visuals in bleak or low lighting, often in weather and hours of the day that only add to the setting and mood respectively. Along with this, because it emerged during the 1940s and 1950s, it goes hand in hand with a lot of smokey, smooth jazz music, as that was the era when that peaked.

All of these things are present in Yelan's trailer. Immediately when you load in, you see Liyue Harbor in the background but it's not during the hours during which it's bright or at its most beautiful, no, it's bleak, grim and it's raining, and immediately we hear a slow piano kicking it. And when we zoom in on her and the man that she's talking to, they're momentarily out of focus and we really see the stark contrast of the warmth of the lights and the street that they're standing in while there's something close to a downpour. And god, the reveal of her face, or more specifically, her eyes, is so incredibly delayed that it immediately adds a sense of mystery, but more so, of intrigue, something so significant to her character. But to return to the weather for a second; Genshin is usually so bright and rain isn't exactly the most common— that the rain in this, and the mood it creates, really stands out to me. Instead of the bright colors that we're always faced with, we instead see very desaturated colors which bring it closer to that B/W feeling that is so inherently and intrinsically tied to the 'noir' genre. And the music, ugh, and it continues, it literally becomes so jazzy, none of this can be a coincidence, but now I'm even more hooked to her character. Ugh. It's literally what I said in my NY'E' post, every time I think I don't get more crumbs, I either am given more or I re-watch things and have all these new revelations. Hoyo, this has got to be a strategic and very intended decision, it's driving me crazy.

Yelan started as a character I wanted to pull for game-play purposes (was told not to, and then I learned she's pretty much a must pull), and then finally got, to finally playing through Perilous Trail and going 'uh oh', to then still wondering sometimes why I love her as much as I do. And then I realize this stuff, and everything makes sense and I love her even more.

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎SKIRT THEORY!

why the jjk men love it when you wear skirts.

fem!reader x gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, ino, higuruma, sukuna, shiu.

nsfw under cut, mdni

Gojo loves the easy access. He can trail his cold fingertips up your thighs any time he wants, beneath the fabric of your skirt and right to the hem of your panties—if you're wearing any, that is. It makes sneaking around a whole lot easier, being able to lift the back of your skirt up in an empty hallway or vacant bathroom and fuck you from behind without even undressing you. No matter where you are, if there's a relatively quiet place nearby he doesn't have to waste any time pulling down your bottoms to get to your sweet center.

Geto loves it when your skirt is just a little too short. When you have to adjust it as you walk because you know your panties are half showing already and those passing by as you walk arm-in-arm are breaking their necks for a second look. He loves having you on display, in skimpy little skirts that are barely there: because he knows despite the lingering eyes that only he gets to take them off you and taste what's underneath. He purposefully tugs your skirt up a little before leaving the house, by the way.

Nanami just loves how pretty they look on you... he thinks. It's purely coincidental that whenever you greet him in the morning wearing a skirt that he's bending you over the nearest surface to hike the fabric up and fuck you on his fingers. And it's purely coincidental that every time you wear a short skirt you're also wearing lingerie in his favourite colour underneath. And it's definitely a stray chance that you seem to always drop your things and force him to shift his body so that the world doesn't see just how wet you are at the thought of him taking you then and there.

Choso loves how your skirts looks when you're sitting on his cock. How the fabric bunches up and drapes over his lap as you rock on his length, how it hides your aching heat from his view, encourages him to use his imagination as you ride him stupid. He likes grabbing at your skirt, having to lift it up to watch himself disappear inside of you

Toji loves your constant lack of panties beneath them. It's as if every time you wear a skirt you've somehow forgotten the lacy materials exist. And he tests his theory often, flipping your skirt up at random to see what you've so innocently forgotten to wear underneath. And oh the sight is a tempting one, he's a strong man but barely strong enough to resist filling you with his cum and letting it leak down your thighs once he's finished with you.

Ino loves ducking his head under the fabric of your skirts to eat you out. He doesn't even have to undress you, just catch you off guard enough to dip under your skirt and pull your panties to the side. You can hardly push him away before your eyes are rolling back and he's latching onto your clit like your pleasure sustains him. You can see the gears turning in his head every time you're near him in a skirt. He will eat you out for hours before coming up to see natural light again.

Sukuna loves how none of the skirts you own are enough to cover the bite marks that litter your legs on the daily. The mean marks he leaves behind with his sharp teeth when he has your thighs on either side of his head and his nails digging into your skin. He loves the notion of marking you, of watching you make the choice to dress in such a way that you're exposing his claim on you to the world. It's possessive, it's primal, it's something he thinks is worthy of reward. No wonder he fucks you stupid every time you wear one.

Higuruma loves how you test him when you're in a skirt. He's a polished man with patience and professionalism, but you like to sit across from him and cross your legs in a way that gives im a look at the edge of your panties. More often than not they're his favourite ones, and he's taking you by the wrist to lead you somewhere secluded to cum inside of you. When he's succeeding in restraint, though, it's not rare for you to excuse yourself to the bathroom just to come back and slip your wadded up panties into his suit pocket. The poor man goes stupid knowing you're exposed beneath such pretty fabrics.

Shiu loves fucking you in them, plain and simple. There's something primal about being so enthusiastic about sex that you're neglecting undressing each other to jump straight to pleasure. When you're in a skirt all he has to do is bunch it up to your waist and pull his cock free to fuck you dumb. You can sit on his cock in his office and seem just like you're sat on his lap, when you and him both know he's balls-deep inside of you and about to plug his cum inside of you with his dick.

[pricegotmedickmatized]

ok so since y'all seemed to like bear!price, let's run it back with the hybrid/shifter stuff!! let's talk about black panther!simon with a field mouse reader

black panther!simon who's taller than price but lankier seeming, and you find yourself doubting that he's as strong as his captain until you see his body actually working (once he hefted a fallen tree that was blocking their way in the jungle. he didn't even have to work that hard) and you realize the 'lankiness' is fucking deceptive

black panther!simon who's mask incorporates his furred, slightly pointed ears, making them sharp and sinister at the points, the human skull open at the bottom so he can flash a wide mouth of sharp fangs, poised to tear into flesh, retractable claws sliding out to slash a throat. no need for a knife when he's got blades in his mouth and his fingers to silence scouts and guards

black panther!simon who they thought would never be able to work with a team. too territorial, too solitary, too apathetic towards most others. but when you have a bear who sees you as his wayward cub, and a wolf and a collie that see you as pack, it's jut easier to give in and let them make you theirs. even if simon has to constantly be rubbing his head against their necks, ensuring they've got his scent. they're his territory too now

black panther!simon who is stealthy, more than a ghost in the night, he's fucking invisible. he can move without being heard, without being seen, melting completely into the backdrop of the night, a haunting nightmare to his enemies - if they manage to survive encountering him. they often don't. he's a true predator, and he hates to leave a kill incomplete

black panther!simon who can't stop staring when their team is assigned a new medic, a cute little mouse who squeaks and hides around the medical table when he goes in to get cleared for a mission, and he takes one look at her big, dark, round eyes wide and wet with fearful tears, thin tail lashing through the air, huge ears flattened to her head, and he's instantly hard

black panther!simon who looks at her and wants, decides that he wants to know what she tastes like, if her pussy is as sweet and little as the rest of her. he's never liked to play with his food, not much, but how could he resist when she's so cute, trying to sink her little teeth into the meat of his arm he's got wrapped around her like she could actually fight him off?

black panther!simon who puts her in his bed and gives her a pumpkin seed (fed to her by hand) in reward for each thing she tells him about herself. he drinks in the way her gaze shifts as he interrogates her (gentle, way easier than most of his interrogations but he doesn't want to break her, not like that at least, not when she's got something else coming), and her fear and suspicion melts into a vivid curiosity, a glassy eyed admiration

black panther!simon who rewards his little mouse for her information by telling her he's going to keep her safe, make it so even other predators know she's off limits. but to do so he's got to mark her up. and she's going to be brave and take it, won't she?

black panther!simon who buried his fangs in her fragile neck (only barely breaking skin, just enough to leave a good mark), eyes rolling back in his head as she squeaks and chitters endlessly while he ruts his cock deeper, an inch at a time, until those big dark eyes are glassy with cockdrunk lust and spilling fat tears down her cheeks, her cunt dripping as he fucks her deep

black panther!simon who's big enough, strong enough to break a cute little thing like her, but he's not breaking you, mouse, he's just breaking you in, you were made to take cock, to make those cute little noises when he's balls deep, and he's gonna use you for what you were made for: carrying his litter. gotta keep you marked up so people know who you belong to, and you do belong to him, mouse, now and forever

[cutielando]

what's a soft launch? | max verstappen

social media au

synopsis: in which Max soft launches his new girlfriend, his boss' daughter...

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: max verstappen x horner!reader

my masterlist

Instagram

liked by maxverstappen1, gigihadid and 4,192,472 others

yn.horner thank you for having me, VS 🎀

view all 69,842 comments

gigihadid you're gorgeous <3 so happy to have had you there with us

yn.horner awwww thank you g!! ly!!!🤍

zendaya you killed it!!🤍

yn.horner thank you babe!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

user1 my jaw is on the floor.

user2 MOTHER

user3 SHE'S THE MOMENT, SHE'S THE MOMENT❗️

user4 imagine how lucky her friends are🥲🥲

alexandrasaintmleux i am so proud of you <3

yn.horner thank you, alex!!! 🤍

lilymhe how are you so beautiful? 😭

yn.horner you tell me, love ���🤍

redbullracing our girl! 💙 liked by yn.horner

user5 i need to know what Christian had to say about this lol

yn.horner he was in the front row 😅 he loved it!!

user6 so nobody is going to address Max being in her likes??

user7 they’ve known each other ever since he joined Red Bull, i think they’re friends. not that weird

user6 true, but i heard some rumors that he might be in a relationship too…

user8 your honor, i love her ! liked by yn.horner

liked by yn.horner, landonorris and 2,103,476 others

maxverstappen1 Always a pleasure to be back in Abu Dhabi

view all 59,284 comments

user1 NEW COUPLE ALERT ❗️❗️❗️

user2 is Max in his soft-launch era?

user3 MAX HAS A GIRLFRIEND??????

landonorris sneaky, mate

maxverstappen1 thanks for teaching me

user4 i never thought i would see the day when Max would learn something relationship-related from Lando

landonorris neither did i 😂

redbullracing keep pushing! 💙 liked by maxverstappen1

yn.horner i'm telling Dad you refused to wear the RB shirt

maxverstappen1 please don't, i genuinely forgot it this morning

yn.horner LIAR

redbullracing how about we have a chat before quali, Max?

maxverstappen1 I can’t believe you ratted me out

user6 if people still don't think that Y/N and Max are dating, i'm sorry for you guys

user7 why do you think that? they've been friends for years

user6 they've never interacted on social media before, and suddenly started leaving comments on each other's posts a couple of weeks ago?

user8 that doesn't mean anything, to be honest. we should really stop reading so much into their personal lives...

charles_leclerc i see you've finally grown the courage to do it, Max

maxverstappen1 courage is a strong word. i have enough courage

charles_leclerc sure you do

user9 they're dating, i'm also calling it

Real Life

"Someone just said they think we're dating" you said, showing Max a comment you had seen under his new post.

Max read the comment and chuckled, shaking his head.

"We can't hide anything from them, can we?" he said, leaning back down to rest his head in your lap.

"No, but we can have a little fun with it before we announce it officially, don't you think?" you said, a smirk tugging at your lips.

If there was something that you loved and was really known for, it was trolling the media and the fans.

Even though it would drive your father crazy and give your PR team much more work than what they would hope for, but the fans were digging it.

Despite knowing you were messing with them, they loved the cat and mouse chase you always had going on with them.

"Again? You know Christian told us to tone it down a notch, especially you" Max said, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

You sighed, jutting out your bottom lip in an adorable pout that you knew Max could never resist.

"But you know it's fun. Don't deprave me of my only source of entertainment, Max" you whined, gazing up at him with your best puppy dog eyes you could muster up.

Max sighed, shaking his head as he looked away from you and stared at the wall in front of him.

He knew he would give in sooner or later, which he blamed himself for always falling for your little trick.

"Alright, fine. But you're gonna deal with Horner on your own when he comes knocking on our door" he said, pointing with his finger at you.

You squealed and nodded before launching yourself at him, attacking his face with little kisses as you giggled.

"Promise"

Instagram

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yn.horner doing very sinful things in Sin City 🤑

view all 78,192 comments

user1 SOS ALERT: MOTHER HAS LANDED IN VEGAS

user2 oh no, here we go🥹

redbullracing remember: please keep it PG! 😁

yn.horner as i've already told you, i'm not a child

redbullracing your PR team would disagree

redbullracing Y/N, please remember what we talked about - PR team

yn.horner THE BETRAYAL

user3 i love how the red bull team can't keep up with her😂😂

yn.horner they just don't know how to have fun :(

maxverstappen1 we all know your idea of 'fun' is hardly normal

yn.horner i don't remember you complaining until now

gigihadid can't wait to see you, bestie!!🎀

yn.horner can't wait!! i've missed you🤍🫶🏻

user4 just casually being besties with the biggest model in the world. oh, to be her, man

landonorris oh boy

yn.horner shut up

user5 your honor, she's mothering so hard right now🥹

user6 do we agree yet that the boyfriend she is soft-launching is Max?

user7 yep

user8 at this point, looks like it

user9 just waiting for confirmation at this point

lilymhe ditch him and come hang with me bby

yn.horner omw!!!

alex_albon well, that was easy...

liked by yn.horner, redbullracing and 1,291,483 others

maxverstappen1 Thank you, Vegas. It was a very special one. Grateful for everything, grateful for winning my fourth championship with this team. Let's keep pushing to the end of the season!🦁

view all 59,284 comments

yn.horner you showed them, champ 🦁

maxverstappen1 <3

redbullracing proud of you, Max! here's to many more! 🦁🦁 liked by yn.horner and maxverstappen1

landonorris well done, max. i'll get you next year

yn.horner keep dreaming, orange boy

landonorris hey...don't be mean...

maxverstappen1 what she said

landonorris ...

charles_leclerc congrats! now, can you let some of us have a go...?

maxverstappen1 no

charles_leclerc oh, come on...

yn.horner go away, french boy

charles_leclerc hey, i'm monegasque!!!!

user1 another testament to his greatness

user2 4-time world champ!!! congrats max!!

user3 i still wanna know who his girlfriend is

user4 it's obviously Y/N, they just like playing with us

user5 maybe they'll confirm it now that he's won his 4th championship

user6 hopefully, imagine Max and Y/N Horner actually dating

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 5,194,816 others

yn.horner dear max. i don't think my words on this post do you justice, but i'm going to do my best to encapsulate the feelings that i have for you right now. it has been a privilege for me to be by your side for the past couple of years, cheering you on from the sidelines and celebrating the highs with you behind the scenes. we have come a long way and we have had a hard road, but i am so proud of what we have achieved together and the people that we have become. i am beyond grateful to be able to share life with you, both in and out of the paddock. i love you, max verstappen, and i am so proud of you, my love tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 98,173 comments

maxverstappen1 thank you for being you. i love you<3

yn.horner i love you too <3

landonorris thank God I don't have to keep it a secret anymore

yn.horner you almost exposed us more times than i can count -_-

landonorris but i didn't

maxverstappen1 you got lucky

redbullracing our favorite couple!!

charles_leclerc i am so happy for you guys!

maxverstappen1 thanks mate!

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[foreveia]

take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you. 

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no. 

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world. 

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end. 

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head. 

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him. 

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

[loves4ge]

celebrity!au cw: swearing, gojo is disgustingly in love

gojo satoru is thoroughly and utterly fucked. there are only ten minutes left until he has to go live for an interview—promotional material for his new movie. the only problem is you, his sweet costar; you had him wrapped around your finger.

despite being each other's on-screen love interests, your schedules hadn't matched until now to do an interview together. and gojo fucking satoru, one of the biggest celebrities to ever set foot in the hall of fame, is nervous. because he knows when gets out there, you'll be waiting for him. you've always been early to places (not really, he's just late).

it's not just the thought of you that has his stomach twisting in knots, it's his obsessive—and frankly, scary—fangirls who hang onto his every look, every glance, every word. even if no one finds out about his itsy bitsy crush, they will. and they will ruin you.

and he can't do that to you! this is your big break after slaving away in minor roles with a no-name cast. you're in the spotlight too much after only have seen the light being shone on other people, there's already too much pressure on you. the sudden onslaught of fans can be overwhelming, but the critics? they're so much harsher than what you expected.

"gojo, get out." it's his manager. deep breaths, he advises himself as he lifts out of the chair and to the set. where you are. god.

"so, i hear the set can get pretty crazy?" the interviewer smiles as he says it. he has that mall santa vibe; a little bit jolly and just slightly discomfort inducing.

your laugh slips out and gojo swears he almost died there. but he makes a conscious effort to not look at your lips. he sneaks a glance anyway.

"that's right! you should see the mess this man makes," you say, nodding your head towards the white-blond man. he should've worn his sunglasses, at least that way he could've stared at you in peace.

"hey! i'm not at fault here," gojo defends himself, guffawed. he crosses his arms as if he was trying to protect his chastity. or defend his honor, i suppose.

"mm, that's what they all say." your playful tone has him weak in the knees and he's thanking the gods that he's sitting down otherwise he would've folded right then and there.

"so geto suguru was here earlier and he mentioned that there was some steam in the movie, eh?"

stay professional, stay professional, stay professional.

"oh yeah. there are a couple of scenes for sure. it wouldn't have turned out as well as they did if it wasn't for satoru. i've never done an intimate scene before and he was just so comforting and really, a strong source of support for me."

fuck.

gojo breaks into a grin, his hand platonically (he hopes) pats your shoulder.

"it actually wouldn't have gone so well if it wasn't for our earth shattering chemistry. and our intimacy coordinator. yep, you heard it here first guys. bridgerton isn't the only show that gets one!" he's not entirely sure if the comedic route was the one to take after your heartfelt confession but he can't seem to respond as sincerely as he wants on television.

your giggle makes up for it though. and the light slap against his thigh. god. he has to resist the urge to ask you to do it again.

---

10 MINUTE COMPILATION OF GOJO BEING DOWN BAD FOR HIS COSTAR (ft. geto)

[sayruq]

Some of the losses from the past couple of days

The battlefield has changed to more closely resemble the first days of the invasion when the IDF was incapable of advancing and holding ground, except now they're taking heavy losses because they've gone too deep into the Gaza Strip. The soldiers are more vulnerable than they've ever been.

Battalions like the one below are leaving Gaza cause they've taken too many hits

Meanwhile the Palestinian resistance grows stronger with militants from Syria, Lebanon, etc reportedly entering the Gaza Strip to join the fight

So strong in fact that it is once again dictating the terms of negotiations

[supernovae-explosion]

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊

I. II. III. .·:¨ Artist | Dividers | Masterlist ¨:·.

Hello! To pick a pile please clear your mind and focus on the images above, whichever one speaks to you the most or you feel the most drawn to, this one is for you! If more than one speaks to you, feel free to read both. Remember to take only what resonates with you 🌠

Pile I.

While tossing the cards I really got some baddass vibes from this collective, intimidating energy... (A bit of emo energy as well) Your beauty and aura makes people shy, I hear that you guys really have that confidence in you, or maybe you're trying to have it, fake it till you make it, am I right? >:3c No, seriously, you're really, REALLY charming, but I feel like your energies may be unbalanced, feminine to be exact. Take care of yourself, go do your skin care routine! Go get comfy, it's a self-care day! Spirit is telling me, that you may be going through some tough times you have some goals in mind that need a lot of changes in your current life and it's challenging for you. Especially inner transformations, these are just as hard if not even harder, then the outer ones. You really are delaying this, but I feel like these changes will turn out to be good for you, you're just resisting the inevitable because it's scary, I fully understand you, but people are noticing this too, even though you're putting up a front. I know you can do it, you are a really strong person. Take some time to rethink all of your plans, don't make rushed decisions and furthermore DO NOT let people change your opinions, you know what you want or at least have some general idea of what you want. And unfortunately people are envious, your energy makes them very easily jealous. They may want to sabotage your goals and dreams seeing you struggle might be satisfying for them, maybe not on purpose, but beware and remember to be assertive! Show these people who's the baddest b**ch here. 💅

Advice: Your enthusiasm gives you energy and motivation to follow your goals. Healthy, honest and assertive communication is the key. Let your feminine energy inspire your creativity, and masculine to keep you confident in your beliefs.

Songs: After Dark by Mr.Kitty | A Match into Water by Pierce The Veil

Pile II.

I couldn't stop laughing while tossing this pile, maybe because the first song that played on shuffle was Lalala but the vibes were kinda goofy in a positive way! But the moment I saw the cards it started to look like a cover-up. It seems like people don't see the real you, they're blinded by the masquerade of abundance that you put on. Numb to the feeling was the second song that played, and honestly it fits with the vibes I'm actually seeing in this pile. There's some trouble in sleeping, somethings are keeping you up, you're stuck with your "demons" while putting on a mask for the people about how good you have it. You keep on pushing and pursuing your goals while hurting and overthinking, you only let them see the good sides of this hard work you're putting into this situation 🥺 Others see you as someone with a bright future, broad horizons and a bright way in front of you, someone who pushes through everything that life throws at them. But they don't see the impact that pushing through has on you. Let others help you a bit, you don't have to suffer alone even though it feels like you can do everything on your own, or better than it would've been done by them.

Advice: Substitute interdependence that's based on satisfying others with assertiveness and strength. Let it go, let the universe take care of it. You healed the past scars enough, you're ready to let love inside your life again.

Songs: Lalala by Y2K, bbno$ | Numb to the feeling by Chase Atlantic | Pretty When You Cry by Lana Del Rey

Pile III.

The beginning is born from the ending, there's no ending without beginning etc etc. This pile is giving me strong... Homewrecker vibes, sorry dude but i'm being honest... You're seen as someone hot-headed, someone who rushes into things, who makes connections easily, but you brought some destruction into someone's life. Maybe meeting you changed this person's whole core belief system? They started questioning what they know, which brought them pain and confusion in many ways, which I see by 10 of swords here... But as I said at the start of this pile, for a new chapter something has to end. (Homewrecker by Marina has started playing girl what you doing...😭) Anyways, you seem as someone balancing energies, you change people's perspectives on life itself, your presence is strong and you know what you want and you get it.

I wanted to know more about this pile and started tossing some cards, and two flew out right onto my floor... Nah girl you bring new beginnings where ever you go, but you're very generous, or like people to be generous with you... Have you ever been interested in sugar baby type of relationships? I'm not judging, good for you go get that bag ✨

Advice: Your unique characteristics are the most important part of you getting what you want in life. Don't compare yourself to others, focus on your progress and how far you've come. Make new healthy relationships, a support group that will resonate with you.

Songs: Supermassive Black Hole by Muse | You Right by Doja Cat, The Weeknd | Homewrecker by Marina

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧ Fantasies in the dark - III

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: The only problem with being in love with a flame is that you can actually get burned if you get too close… ✦ Warnings/tags: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Blowjob, angst with no comfort, cunnilingus, talking you through it, fingering. Reader has some self-esteem issues. Mention of difficult past relationships. ✦ Words: 5,1k Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. Hope this won't disappoint after all this time! AO3 link here!

Part I - Part II - Part III

Wet noises and moans. The wood near camp is filled with them, contrasting with the tranquil, usual melody of the forest.

"Jesus, girl, easy…" Arthur hisses, pleads, even. His voice is low and raspy and so deep, close to that tone he has while taming a horse, but with that desperate urgency hidden inside.

You let go of him just for a few seconds, his tip tilting up on its own, twitching in nothing as he gasps sharply from the sudden change; boiling volcano to harsh, frosty air of this fresh dawn. He instantly misses the sweet and warm sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

"What, you want me to stop?" You grin, teasing, your lips still close –too close– to his cockhead, brushing against its soft and wet skin, rosy color glistening and beading in the sunlight like an unresisteable treat for you to suck on.

He let out a short sigh, somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. "Hell no, but y'know I ain't gonna last long if ya- aaah"

Your lips had opened and eaten him and the last of his words whole, fully and voraciously. He curses, too loudly for his own ego not to frown at him, but what could he do? He had never been able to resist you since the very first time he had seen that silhouette of yours; now how could he, watching you on your knees, head between his thighs, his cock buried inside of your velvety throat. Every time, you were making him get closer to Heaven, achieving the miracle of opening the Gates once more.

A big hand gently falls on your head, fingers messily tangling in your hair, while he lets his hips succumb to the irresistible rocking they're urging him to, his fat shaft pulling in and out of your mouth. Not too brutally, never. You can feel the hardness of it against your tongue, against the back of your throat, and you smile to yourself noticing just how close he indeed is already. Your hands hold his shirt from each side of his waist –that overused blue shirt he hadn't stripped from, his member only fished out of his pants and union suit. Funny, how you noticed meaningless details in moments like those. Remnants of reality to keep you grounded on Earth, maybe. How the abused cotton feel under your fingertips. How his body and cock smell strong and manly and fucking divine. How the few dark curls escaping his clothes tickle your nose every time you push your face to his base. The way he tastes under your tongue, salty and heady. How the tip of his fingers feel against your scalp.

"Oh god, damn it, how– how can ya be so good every' goddamn time…" He rasps, his eyes closing as he feels his orgasm coming at him with the force and speed of an avalanche; his hips thrust a bit faster, but it's subtle. You know he doesn't allow himself to be rougher than that with you. Invisible threads braided from his own problems, insecurities and griefs holding him back, pulling on his limbs as if he were only a puppet of theirs. His speech flows more freely, though, like to compensate, sinful, incoherent words flooding and flooding and flooding as he praises you again and again to the very end…

"Yeah, such a good girl, so god-damn perfect, taking me so good darlin'." His hand tightens in your hair, "Aaaall that' dirty mouth, jus' for me." His hips shudder, his eyes shut close as he pounds one last time and stays right there deep in your throat. - Oh, shit!"

His dick hardens as he spills inside, unable to stop it, secretly not wanting to. And it's so perfect, his head almost gets dizzy from it, his free hand holding the tree against which he's leaning to stop himself from collapsing. His cum warm in the back of your throat as he sinfully paints it. Balls empty, as almost constantly now, a stark contrast to their painful fullness of a few weeks ago, he groans softly in pleasure and fatigue, breathing in and out heavily through his nose in this blissful state.

His hand travels from your hair to your cheek, caressing your skin in a tender gesture. A gesture of gratitude. Thank you for making me feel like this. Thank you for doing it every day. For stopping the pain in my bones from burning me more, even just for a few minutes. For bringing solace to both my body and my soul.

Of course, no words ever cross his lips as he helps you stand up. His legs almost go weak again when he catches you swallowing with that proud, self-satisfied grin of yours. A nymph, he had thought of you the first time you had slept together. More like a succubus of Lust, he corrects and chuckles to himself.

"You're a wild one." He states, buttoning back his union suit, then his pants.

"You like that about me."

"Probably more than a' should, dalrin" … Ain't proper for a man to fancy a girl that much."

"Takling about that, it ain't proper neither to cary yourself with a cock that big…"

His hands fumble with his belt he had just picked up from the ground, his Volcanic revolver suddenly falling in the grass with a loud, muted sound. His head snaps up to look at you, his cheeks tinged a beautiful pink as a teenage boy getting his first kiss right on them. He's genuinely flabbergasted for a few seconds, his mouth slightly open in confusion, thin lips hanging a bit dumbly. It reminds you of that night you had caught him in the act in Rhodes, and you let a chuckle escape.

"Ya shouldn't say stuff like that, 'specially not a few feet away from camp." He protests, his usual frown settling deeply between his brows, instinctively rejecting your praise. He finishes buckling up his belt as he intended to in the first place, trying to brush off the primal, manly feeling of pride your comment had ignited in his guts. His enormous pistol he shoves back into his holster isn't helping with that either.

"You weren't that bothered about sound a few seconds ago…" You remark, brushing your knees then trying to fix your hair not to look too disheveled -as if you hadn't just sucked the hell out of the gang's toughest enforcer just a few seconds ago.

"Hush now, woman." He replaces his hat straight on top of his head with one hand, an amused smirk pulling his lips up. He looks down at you, gaze full of softness, deep blue color the only witness to the meanderings of his thoughts.

Looking at those eyes was like looking at the depths of a lake from above. You could always tell there was some life and movement under the water's surface, but couldn't point out what mysterious creature was swarming in those abyssal, muddy waters.

"I'll take care of ya tonight. 'm gonna make that cheeky grin disappear."

You shiver at the promise. You knew just how good Arthur surprisingly was at taking care of women that way. Biting your lips, you whisper some sultry last words in return, saying how you couldn't wait, before turning your heels and walking off to the numerous amount of chores still waiting for you.

Arthur doesn't bother to ogle at your ass as you do, your hips swinging subtly under your dress, the movment hypnotizing as you had almost reached camp. You both really should have walked further away from it, but damn it he couldn't had waited a second more with how hellish you were making his life at camp be. Stealing secret kisses, bending just in front of him, purposely getting your clothes wet, sometimes even downright caressing his crotch when no one was looking. And at the same time, you made it all heavenly, as some sort of devilish salvation. He scratches his jaw and walks the opposite way, not wanting to appear too obvious with the both of you coming back from the same spot together. There probably was not much to save, but still. His cock soft and satisfied and comfortable in his pants, his heart light, his good mood pushes him to accept Javier's friendly invitation to go fishing.

He can't help but let his thoughts get back to you, though. It had become more than a habit at this point, it was an obsession. Tasting your flesh, touching your skin, making love to you, and making one with you, it had all made him a devotee. He was a preacher who had the unthinkable privilege of having met his God.

He isn't catching much fish compared to Javier who was emptying the damn pond by himself. But he didn't care at all. It was a good, sunny day. One of the best he was having in a long time.

Your face isn't hiding the euphoria you're radiating with. All the contrary. Sat under the girl's tent not too far from the lake's shore, bucket of soapy water between your legs, you even hum a tune that makes Tilly smile next to you, her mending on Hosea's jacket a little less mundane. You don't complain even once about your tiring chore as you usually do. In fact, it feels like there's no worry in the whole world. Like those quiet moments of peace, pleasant good weather between two storms. The frogs croaking from the lake, the birds and chickens chirping, Pearson and Grimshaw in deep conversation a feet away from you. Uncle's banjo. Not even Micah's filthy shirt covered in blood from a few moments ago could bring you down; the now-washed and mended cloth hung on the thread to dry along the dozen other ones you had taken care of.

"You're quite in the mood today, mh?" Tilly asks, an amused expression on her young face, with that light tone of voice you had grown to love dearly.

"Could say so…"

You voluntarily stay elusive, too proud and happy with yourself about all that had happened between you and Arthur since the gang had settled here. The thought of him emerges in your head once more as you realise the next piece of clothing to wash is one of his workshirts, the torn and dirty red fabric feeling coarse between your hands. It reminds you of earlier. The strong smell of his sweat fills your nose. It should have disgusted you more than anything, but all the contrary made your body grow hotter. You let a small chuckle escape you.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Is Arthur's shirt covered in some unknown substance again?"

"No, it's just…" You start, unable to resist the urge to finally tell someone about it, words simmering in your throat like an agitated pot. "It's just I can't help but think about what's actually under it, you know?" You hold the large shirt in front of you, eyes studying it with an obvious interest.

Tilly laughs quietly, her eyes still fixed on her knitting, slowly nodding with a knowing smirk. "Oh, trust me, sweetie, every girl here thought 'bout it at least once -

"No, I mean, I know how he actually looks… Without any clothes on…"

The needle stops in the air, and she turns her head to you, the biggest smile on her face, her eyes burning with that flame of curiosity that swallows everything once you've discovered the surface of something utterly interesting, a gold digger unable to stop searching for more. Her eyes dart quickly between the two of yours, as you can watch in real time the wheels turning in her head.

"Girl, are you serious right now?"

"We did it. Like, a lot of times." You drop a bomb, for the third time today. You can't help but love the way she's reacting, your heart swelling with pride, your brain bubbling from getting that sort of attention.

"I knew it! I just knew it! It was so obvious, I mean," the young girl expresses with the speed of a train, "Just the way he was looking at you, spending more and more time at camp, following you everywhere!"

You feel your cheek slightly burn, and your chest rising higher. Why was it all so important to you? You didn't exactly know, but it felt great hearing Tilly, a friend, maybe a sister even, expressing her excitement.

"Yeah, well, it was just for fun, you know? I guess he really needed to blow off some steam, and I was there, more than happy to help…"

"Oh my God, this is so exciting!" She puts her needle and Hosea's garment aside. "Tell me more! How is he like?"

"In bed…? Well, a bit like his usual self, I guess. Rough at times, but always… Gentle."

Tilly nods slowly in agreement, her lips still pulled into a mischievous grin.

"And he's needy and eager, oh my Lord Tilly, you have no idea how much he–

You were about to put Arthur's shirt in the laundry bucket and spill another juicy information before you're pulled off your perfect little cloud.

"I can't believe you're bragging about all this."

You tilt up your gaze, and you're met with Mary-Beth. She, so sweet and delicate, who had been so close to you since the first days you had joined the gang. Who had always treated you with kindness and understanding. You had never heard her talk to you this way.

Seeing you're not answering anything, Mary-Beth continues, her hands on her hips.

"Arthur's not your little toy to play with, [Name]. He's been through much more than you can imagine, and his heart should be nursed, not fooled."

Her tone isn't purposely mean, but it's still firm. It holds a deeper truth in it, something unsettling that puts you right back face to face with your flaws and responsibilities. She's scolding you like a mom would with her favorite daughter who had disappointed her. And it's moving, as difficult as it is to admit.

"I… I didn't think-

"Listen, I know you're not a bad person, and you don't think you're doing anything wrong," She starts, her arms now crossed on her chest, her eyes leaving you no escape. "But Arthur is fragile when it comes to love. I know he doesn't look like he could be fragile about anything, but it's the truth."

You search for words to answer, but nothing comes; it is as if you were trying to get out of quicksand with no branches strong enough to pull you out of the mess. You simply look at the ground, unable to hold her gaze any longer.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't break his heart, please."

And she vanishes as quickly as she had appeared, heading towards Pearson's wagon. You can still see her from afar, and a weird, nauseous feeling settles in your throat. No words from Tilly, trying to reassure you in multiple ways, saying Mary-Beth is probably jealous or too worried, and that you should do what you want, could make it go away. She tries to cheer you up and ask some more questions, searching for the blaze of excitement and amusement from before, but the mood has definitely shifted.

You finally put Arthur's shirt in the bucket, its ruby color turning into a brownish, muddy one as all the dirt lifts off in the water. You watch it swirl in thick whirlpools of mud and foam intertwined, and you start to wonder. Was he falling in love with you? Were you about to break his heart? Was he searching for more, for something serious?

You had always thought Arthur was not the type to fall easily for someone. In fact, you had never seen him being romantically enterprising with a woman since you had known him. And between the two of you? It was all so recent. It all happened so fast. Inevitably, your thoughts travel to your past relationships. How they had failed, every time. How those men had left you, all without exception. How you had been deceived and cheated on and lied to. After years and years of it, you had come to the only conclusion. You were cursed. You were not enough. You weren't meant to be loved that way. To build something stable. You were sure of it.

"His heart deserves to be nursed."

That was certainly true.

But what happens to hearts that can't be saved or loved? What happened to hearts that had been dropped too many times, and left alone to shrink in the dark? Do they slowly fade and rot after so much time spent unused? Do they gather in a graveyard to die altogether, like a melancholic last procession before the unthinkable?

Are they capable of nursing another heart, although they haven't seen one in what felt like ages? Although they're already doomed?

Like a trap of glue engulfing you whole, those questions and reflexions stick to your skin and take up all the space in your mind for the rest of the day.

Arthur's tongue has no mercy for you. Well determined to give you a taste of your own medicine from what you had done to him in the woods near camp the same morning, he had been quick to shorten his dinner and usual evening around the campfire, not so subtly commanding you to come and join him in his tent.

You didn't even know the flaps could close before. Now, they're closed almost all of the time, guaranteeing the two of you a semblance of privacy, or at least a shield from the other's nosy gaze. Tonight it would save them from seeing you lying on your back on Arthur's cot right now, legs spread open, his huge, coarse hands keeping them in place, his head buried in your center as he drank from you like he would have from the purest and freshest of water from a wild cascade. Slowly, almost lovingly –and the thought brings back the knot in your throat– his mouth kiss and licks relentlessly your entrance, before laping all the way up to your clit, lips suckling at it as if wanting to suck poison from a snakebite.

You moan, the feeling delightful, the sight mesmerizing. Oh, those two blue eyes looking at your face from between your legs, those golden brown locks falling on his forehead, his lips red and wrapped around you, his crooked nose buried in your folds. You can almost feel how afire he himself is, like every time he takes care of you like this. And it doesn't surprise you. Arthur, the protector. Arthur, the giver. Arthur, the man who could spend a whole month outside in the wild if it would benefit Dutch or the gang. Arthur, the man who knocks giants down when they get too close to the girls and rips families from their lifetime savings, destroying his honor and dignity for his own folks. No wonder Mary-Beth was so protective of him, in return. Arthur could and would move mountains for them.

For you.

And it hits you, right in the middle of it, as this man is giving his soul to you, more dedicated to your pussy than you had ever seen any men be, eating every inches of it and thanking the Gods for allowing him to, lips litteraly french-kissing your slit with his eyes closed and his brows tilted upward as if tasting the most incredible meal he had ever tasted, drunk from it.

Of course. Of course, he was a head-over-heels romantic too.

Your brain starts to get caught in that glue trap again, but hopefully for you, it's the exact moment when he decides to brush a finger against your entrance. Pressing gently, reverently, his fingertip softly swiping against your skin, collecting your arousal and his saliva in a sinfully wet noise. And he sighs deeply. Oh God, how could you not have noticed before? Every gesture from him is a prayer to you. To his deity. He looks at you, attentive to your every reaction. Wanting to make sure you're feeling good, that you're feeling perfect.

He must have noticed you're not in your normal state, your teasing and provocative comments missing from the picture. He leave your cunt just for a few seconds, and his lips rubs gently against it as he talks, stubble softly scratching,

"You okay there, darlin'?" You can feel his warm breath against you, your legs going weak at it.

"All g-good, don't stop. Arthur, please…"

I don't want to talk about it. Please, please don't ask anything else, just keep going.

"Relax, sweetheart, everythin's alright, okay?"

And something in you almost breaks at how tender he is. He doesn't even know what's bothering you. But he notices it. And he cares about it, about you. Like he would do for a scared mare, he gently comforts and praises you, resting his cheek against your inner thigh as he regains some of his breath and uses his fingers to take over.

"That's it, girl, juuuus' like that." He groans in an affirmative tone as he feels your inside, warm and silky and softer than velvet. "Yeah, let yaself go, honey, come on." His index finger penetrates you in a slow, very slow push, every inch of it filling you little by little.

"Good."

His first finger is quickly joined by his middle one, and their tip directly reaches and starts to brush against that spot you like so much, making you arch your back and moan for his own delight.

"That's it, y'see? So perfect, lettin' all go for me." He hums in approval. "Ma' girl." He adds with a curl of his digits.

His girl.

Do you want to be his girl? Are you ready for this? For commitment? The questions are back in your messy brain. You will screw this up like always. Every time you had trusted a man, he had shattered your heart into a million pieces and had danced on it. The same heart beats fast in your chest, and you're afraid the baldly patched up pieces won't hold.

A weird mix of feelings overwhelms you; your soul a painting that uses too many colors that don't fit together at all; a grotesque blend of green and pink, and black and red. Every brush stroke covers you one by one like waves wash the shores -pleasure, fear, excitement, panic, affection, affliction.

"Let it go, darlin'," Arthur whispers again, almost begging you, his fingers curling again and again, brushing exactly where you need them every time, the pleasure reaching vertiginous peaks. This time he looks at them, shoving them in you, then retrieving and again, like in a trance. He's almost drooling at the sight. It's impossible to resist him. To resist this.

And it is so good that it finally suppresses anything else - a bucket of red paint splashed all over the canvas. One of your hand instantly reaches for his head, roughly bringing it back to your clit, and he happily complies, still groaning his praises when he feels your pussy pulsing around his fingers or hears your moans getting louder, the smell of your sex filling both his nostrils and his animalistic appetite.

His tongue finally finding again that nod of pleasure on the oustide, along with his two broad fingers that easily feel like a whole cock fucking that spot on the inside, the red leaks from the canvas and swallows everything in its path. He pumps and pumps and pumps faster and fasterand with a few more hard licks against your pussy, you finally come all against him, his mouth answering with a warm deep growling sound of pleasure coming deep from his throat.

A few moments of relief, when all that is heard is the camp's life around Arthur's tent, the frogs croaking from the lake, unaware of your inner struggles, and your heavy breathings.

Then the red curtain rises, and everything's back, in an even stronger way. You wish there were a way to stay in that sort of foolish, satisfied, dumb post-sex state. But Arthur using his black bandana to gently cleaning up your cunt grounds you to the inevitable reality. He hasn't even bothered to clean himself up first, his mouth and chin glistening in the dark of the evening. Once done, he gets up into a sitting position at the edge of his cot.

"Did ya like it?"

No man had ever asked you that. Nor looked at you with those big, shining, expectant eyes. Almost like a puppy. You want to tease him, as you had taken the habit of, as your nature was telling you to, but now, Mary Beth's words were resonating into your head, caging you once again. You shouldn't even be there in the first place. Both of you were going to end up hurt. You were convinced of it.

"Yes."

You can't say anything else. He looks at you while quickly wiping up his mouth and beard with his bare hand, waiting for more. But if you start talking, you know it won't end up well. Your body is screaming at you to flee. You don't even know why. Everything is jostled and tossed about in your head. So you listen to the irrational. You get up and reach for your undergarments, dressing back quickly. You wrap yourself up in your red shawl, covering the last piece of your skin from his gaze. And into your shell you go. The scarf feels like it's strangling your neck.

As you are about to wish him goodnight, one of his strong hands grabs your arm, holding a bit of the fabric too.

"Wait, [Name]."

You slowly look up at him. He's still as expectant as before. Your heart tightens.

"I erm… Y'know I thought… I thought that you could stay here a bit?" The puppy eyes again. There's a softness in this picture that makes your own self spit at your face for knowing you'll destroy it just in a few seconds.

"You mean, stay here and sleep with you tonight?"

"Well, yeah, if you want t-

"I can't."

An awkward silence slowly falls after your words and cuts deep through his flesh.

Your heart still beating powerfully in your chest, you feel like the roles are reversed from that unforgettable night at the Parlor house, this time you feeling like you've been trapped, or exposed, you don't really know, but like a frightened animal, your panic is getting the better of you.

"What d'ya mean you can't?"

"Arthur, I… This is complicated, I can't, I…"

I can't offer you what you need. Tell him. Just tell him. Why are you stuck like this, fucking tell him.

Both up facing each other, his hand still holding you firmly, your eyes cross his and there's a thousand unspoken words shared between your two souls. Flying and clashing silently like a meteor shower crashing against another one a thousand light-years deep in space, sound lost but consequences devastating. And you're a coward. His beautiful, rugged features are shutting, satisfied grin long gone. The blue of his eyes forever inscrutable. Your feet are acting on their own. You need to fly away, now. Getting too close is going to destroy absolutely everything. Run away. Now.

"I'm sorry."

Those shitty, dumb words fall from your mouth as some tears threaten to fall from your eyes. You walk away, his fingers closing in on your shawl. You almost run out of his tent, leaving it behind.

You don't even try to look back. You can't. You don't want to verify if you're actually destroying him right now, doing the very same thing your past lovers had done to you. Maybe he doesn't even care after all. You don't hear him say a word.

The painting inside you is saturated. A few new colors added: shame, guilt, sadness. It doesn't get better, as you take refuge in the girl's tent, not wanting to sleep right next to his. You see the form of the others on the floor, and as you lay and curl up to your side, you whisper for Mary-Beth to hear, or for you to ease your conscience and be able to sleep,

"I've stopped it before it was too late."

The days after are out of time for you. As if isolated in another dimension away from the real world, things are happening around you but it fly high above your head. People talking to you, chores, Abigail and John arguing, music notes from an instrument, you weren't not even sure which. And, to your awful surprise, your throat still feels tight and knotted. Frustrated, you try to ignore your own urges, too, your body screaming from the sudden lack of sexual satisfaction you had granted him more than daily, as if you had stopped smoking all of a sudden and were physically needing a sweetly burning cigarette at all costs. But as much as you think about him, you try to avoid Arthur.

It's only for the better.

Every morning, you keep repeating it. Trying to convince yourself you had not made a complete mistake. But truth be told, not talking to him feels heavier than you had thought. Seeing him going out of town with Sadie and coming back laughing with her, too.

Heav heavy heavy. Heavy to hold for this shrunk heart.

On the seventh morning, you're convinced you've made the worst decision that night. But you weren't one to let life bring you down. You could fix it. You would fix it. At least, would try and talk to him again. Be friends with him again. Was it even possible? You didn't know, but you had to try. Arthur's absence felt too heavy to keep living your life like this.

And, to be honest, the poor man deserved at least a proper explanation.

That was settled. Determined, searching for him to break the mutism in which both of you had fallen is the first thing you do after breakfast. Soon enough though, life's revenge smacks you in the face when Hosea informs you you wouldn't be able to find him in camp because he had just gone on a mission with Dutch and Micah. Something to do with the O'Driscolls, apparently.

No matter. You were sure of yourself now. You would talk to him as soon as he came home and get off his horse.

But you should have known it by now. Life is having a fight with you, and it always is one step ahead. Because Arthur didn't come back that night.

Nor the day after.

a/n: Sooo 5k words again, guess it is a habit at this point. Also super stressed again because this series is definitely having some attention and I'm so scared of disappointing. Also, having Reader's pov and reversing the usual roles is a bit of a challenge so I'm even more nervous about it, hope it was enjoyable!

Oh, and also as always, please let me know if there are any typos! This isn't proofread!

Anyway, thank you so, so much for the amount of love you're giving to those fics, guys!!

tag list: @a-court-of-valkyries, @redwritr, @cassietrn, @esquilone, @starlightt180, @narcoticv3nus, @thoughts-of-bear, @emjiroki, @prettyundeadgirl, @eternalsams @amyispxnk @babybatss-blog @ardeniaa @sauvignon-velvet @sweeterlilith @arthurmorganist @blueskies664 @tranquilty @stilliwait @maxiismp @stottlemorgan @lizynownow (I tried to tag people who had shown interest in part3, really sorry if I missed anyone!)

[joocomics]

scaredy cat

pairing: non-idol!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 1.9k words

✎… friends with benefits to lovers trope, sub!reader, pet names, fingering, overstimulation (f!rec), hickeys

( txt masterlist )

During the slow boring hours of work the other day you created a list with the pros and cons of possibly dating Yeonjun.

For a while now he’s been throwing you signals about getting serious (more often than not), so you thought it would be a good idea to look at this more thoroughly, and kill some time until your shift is finally over. Aware of the already strong feelings you have for him you grab a pen and start writing…

… funny and reliable

likes to cuddle but not clingy

great sense of fashion

(extremely) good at sex

has a super cool tv …

“Is this why you've been coming over more often these days?” Yeonjun returns into the living room with drinks in hand. After sitting down on the edge of the couch which he transforms into a comfy bed every time you're here, he turns to you with a raised brow. “To watch your disgusting movies on my new TV?”

“My disgusting movies are well written cinematic experiences that you're too big of a scaredy cat to recognize the full worth of.” You explain, crossing arms in front of your chest. “And they're even cooler on your TV, so to answer your question, yes.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes at you, but you can notice there’s a half-smile creeping up on his plump lips as he looks away with amusement.

“Actually,” you say almost through laughter which brings Yeonjun’s attention back to you, “recently I made a list with your good and bad qualities and your new TV made it.”

“That's not a quality.”

Now you’re the one who rolls eyes before glancing back at the screen.

“Just be grateful it's there to fill up space in the pros column.”

“So what are my bad qualities?” Yeonjun asks intrigued just when the main character of the horror film screams hysterically at the sight of yet another body, causing his heart to jump. He flinches at the sudden sound and instantly turns his back to the screen. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, who watches this kind of shit for fun?!”

You watch him scooting over and laugh at his attempts to avoid seeing the screen while doing so as the horrible scene unfolds on the large TV.

He positions next to you and now you're shoulder to shoulder.

“I still haven't gotten to them.”

“Don't waste your time,” he sighs, adjusting against the pillow, “I don't have any.”

“Don't be so sure about that.” You quickly respond, “I had to get back to work and then I forgot.”

“Because I don't have any.” He repeats after tittering. He finally dares to glance at the screen as it seems that the gory scene has passed.

“You get jealous pretty easily.” You state cautiously, wanting to shoot him a discreet look so bad, but you resist.

You also want to add, and pretty obviously, but you keep that detail for yourself as you remember how overprotective he was the other night at the birthday party you were invited to. It resulted into you getting asked the same question over and over again. Your friends were having a hard time believing you’re not dating.

Yeonjun remains silent for a moment as he tilts his head to see you. He leans in, just a little bit, to make your cheeks warm from the sudden closeness; to bring goosebumps across your skin from his mouth being close enough to your ear as he speaks through low voice.

“So it’s a bad thing that I don’t like sharing what’s mine?”

His gaze holds onto yours causing the fireworks into your stomach to ignite even harder. It’s like your heart stops for a second, and your brain as well, making the task to come up with a good answer on time challenging. It’s so obvious at this point that you’re taking too much time; too fumbled by the last word in his sentence. And especially by how much you like its presence there; how you’re already getting used to the sound of it in his voice.

Your lips part, not to speak, but to kiss him instead when another jumpscare makes him wince.

Too busy to hide his face into your chest, he only groans in despair, simultaneously pulling the blanket over your tangled bodies. One airy shit! slips from beneath it. The dramatic spine-chilling soundtrack overpowers the cussing, but you catch it nevertheless.

He sounds as if he's the one being tortured.

“Poor baby,” you tease him by cooing. “Is this too scary for you?”

He murmurs something about you shutting your mouth, but the anguish is making his frustrated words incoherent.

“How much left till the end?”

“Like an hour and a half,” you start running your fingertips through his dark hair as he adjusts even further into your arms. His head finds a comfortable spot onto your chest.

“I’ll just close my eyes for a little while…” his voice is slower than a moment ago, and you hum softly in agreement.

It’s almost like your familiar scent can lull him to sleep despite the scary movie playing in the background. He can feel his muscles loosen up, his mind relaxing with each peaceful breath you take.

Until the noise of a new jumpscare comes to frighten him again.

“I will add this in my cons list by the way.” You cackle.

Yeonjun’s brows furrow, but you can’t see his irritated eyes, because his face is hidden into your neck.

You can feel his warm breath caressing your skin once he speaks up.

“I know what will help me calm down.”

As the words slip lazily one by one from his lips, his hand slides down between your thighs. His fingertips feel the nice fabric of your little cotton shorts that seem too tight around your curves. They keep roaming around, rising your body temperature, until he guides them to your clothed clit, putting just enough pressure on it while his mouth nibbles on the skin of your neck.

“But… I want to finish the movie,” you whine softly before shutting your eyes at the thrill he’s causing you to feel kiss after kiss.

“You keep watching, baby.” His lips detach from your neck and curl up into a sinful smirk.

You centre your head again, watching him pull down your shorts as the screen behind him paints his silhouette in dark blue and purple hues, turning his features even more seductive.

Half of the fuzzy blanket is now almost on the ground as you keep your legs spread open. Yeonjun’s hand rubs in continuous circling motions that he synchronises with your breathing. Focusing entirely on your body helps him completely ignore the on going movie you keep watching with interest. He’s giving his full attention to your little squirming movements, to your rhythmical breathes, and to the erotic sounds that start escaping your mouth more frequently only to mix with the background noise in the room.

There are fresh bruises forming on your neck, but he continues to suck, making himself drool from how much he enjoys doing it. The only time he backs away is when he pushes two fingers inside you for the first time and he gets the urge to taste them, as it often happens when he’s pleasing you.

“Mmm, you always taste so good.” He humms after unwrapping his lips from his fingertips. His mouth has a red tint to it, glistening with moisture. “So fuckin’ wet for me, can you feel it?”

“Fuck, don’t stop—“ The only thing you’re able to say when he slips back into your arousal is to keep going. His fingers curl up perfectly, and aiming for the right spot they start thrusting in a steady pace causing your moans to shake. “Yeah, just like that... yeah—“

Yeonjun buries his face into the crook of your neck while starting to breathe more heavily too.

You keep closing and opening your heavy eyes at the screen where an intense moment is looming, filling the room with an intense instrumental music, but all he can register is the noises you keep losing control over. His hand flexes while increasing its speed in order to push you closer to the desired peak and it swiftly succeeds.

Your attention level drops and your head falls to one side with your eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“Sounds so pretty,” he comments at your ear as the wet lewd noise keeps erupting with the nonstop slamming of his palm against your slick folds. Just the way you like it. “You’re close, doll.”

His fingers, stuck between your pulsing walls, get squished tighter as the seconds pass by. He keeps up the quick and smooth pacing until your breaking point comes in, forcing it to turn sloppy and rigid.

“Fuck, there you go,” Yeonjun’s chuckle rings out with a husky tone, only adding to the ecstatic effects of your intense climax.

Your whole body squirms as Yeonjun lets his fingers, wet and sticky, rest still on your throbbing clit. The fluids slowly spill out of you, forming a dark spot on the couch as the sensation turns more light and mellow, but he doesn’t mind it.

You’re still regaining your normal breathing when his fingertips start skidding rapidly along your soaked folds. You whimper at the unexpected contact with your clit that’s now extra sensitive, causing intense reactions from your body at even the smallest touch.

As he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down you whine his name, but without being able to utter any other word.

“Give me one more, baby.” He whispers, effortlessly sliding his fingers up and down your slickness in an indescribable way; so fast, so determined to receive more from you. “C’mon, doll.”

You pant uncontrollably under his tireless touch. The dancing of his fingers keep up the same energy, making you clench as they create another burning knot of pleasure in your core. Once it bursts, you’re not able to stay still and Yeonjun tries his best to keep his hand on your puffy lips so he can rub till the second orgasm washes over you.

Your legs tremble when he enters you with the same eager fingers, curious to feel how wet you are. The pool of arousal welcomes him with ease, and he cannot help but start fantasising how good it would feel to have his cock deep inside you right now. He can give it to you, but making you cum multiple times like this is just as exciting.

He notices your eyes are half-closed while gazing down between your thighs.

“Keep watching, sweetheart.” He says softly, but with a slight hint of demand which makes you look up on the instant. “You don’t want to miss anything from the movie, that’s why you’re here, right?”

He glides slowly through your tight walls and you both sense how they keep throbbing against him from lust and sensitivity. You take a deep shaky breath, trying to concentrate on the story line, but it’s so hard when he’s in the middle of building up a new wave of rush while hiding in the crook of your neck. Running his tongue over his own love marks now and then.

You bite your lip at the realisation of how much is still left from the movie that is about to become the reason your brain is going to turn completely numb and your pussy sore by the end of this Halloween night.

But the thing you will always associate it with first, from this day forward, is you officially becoming his.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[fyuyushia]

Capture Target: You!

You reminisce the first time you met him. It's chaotic, and hardly a fond memory, but he made it one you could remember without a frown.

Masterlist for the series

Hahohuheho holy crap I forgot the tags

The first time you met Sung Jinwoo was hardly a fond memory.

Walking home no longer felt as easy as it did before. After the gates were discovered, and people awakened at random, chaos encapsulated the events that occured after.

As more and more people received power that far surpassed human standards, more and more people fed on the disorder and abused their newfound abilities. In these trying times when everyone was still adjusting to the sudden shift in balance, more and more evildoers made themselves known, awakened or not.

You cursed your teachers for sending you off late, shivers running down your spine at the thought of walking alone at night. It wasn't the most ideal, considering how many crimes have happened recently.

Still, what choice did you have? You could only complain about the fact but you couldn't change anything about it.

The cold night air bit your skin, making you shiver in response. For a while now, you noticed three shady figures following you around, keeping a few steps away. You kept alert, tightening your hold on the slings of your backpack as you kept your ear peeled for any signs of their footsteps hastening.

Your legs trembled with every step you took, terror making itself known as you fought back the urge to look back. You can't look back-the moment you do, it's over.

You bit your lip, incapable of masking the terror you felt. The streets were quiet, it's usual hustle and bustle gone as crime rates rose and people became reluctant to stay outside at such a late time.

"Hey, sweet stuff."

Your heart sank when one of them finally spoke out, no doubt referring to you. You freeze for a moment, heart ramming against your rib cage as you hear their jeers growing louder.

You swallow thickly, risking a glance, but stopped midway. No, no, no. If you look back-if you look at them, the horror would be all too real.

They're not really calling out to you, right?

Hopefully that isn't the case.

You prayed the hardest you ever did, begging the gods above to not let you be a victim of whatever plans they had.

Walking faster, you ignore their coos, hoping desperately they'd let you go. In the first place, why were they pursuing you? You weren't even attractive anyways. Then again, they probably couldn't care less, they could just cover up your-you stop your thoughts real quick before they could delve in anything darker.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, this is fine. I'm fine I'm totally fine. You bit your lip, knuckles turning white from the sheer force of your grip.

"Hey hey, why in a rush?"

They keep up with you in a matter of moments. Appearing in your forefront, they block the space you walk in with their bodies. You froze, body trembling as your eyes met theirs.

Menacing, disgusting, your breath stilled the moment they came in front of you. There was no escaping it now, wasn't it?

"B-back off." You cringed at the way you stuttered, nearing a whimper with your attempts to act strong.

The three threats laughed, amusement evident in their eyes as they eyed their prey. You take a step back, they take one forward. It was a repeating motion, until one of them got impatient and just straight up grabbed your wrist.

You winced, hastily pulling back your arm from his hold. He didn't relent, only exert a bit more force when you resisted his tug. Your heart sank, and you become petrified at the thought of not being able to do anything.

"Let go."

The man laughs, "come on, just for a bit. We're really interested in you."

They take another step closer, you take another back. He tugs your wrist, undoing your prior action and pulling you closer despite your wish for distance.

"Well I'm not-please let me go home."

"That's what everyone says at first! We're really good people, don't worry." He brushes off every rejection with ease, a disgusting grin on his lips, barely masking the monstrosity he really was.

Your heartbeat quickens, you didn't like where this was going. You hated this, loathed this, despised this, you wanted out right now-you can't bear any more seconds that you're stuck in this position.

Somebody, anybody, please!

"Let go of her!"

Your prayer comes in the form of a boy. Eyes snapping open, you immediately follow the direction of where the sound comes from.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening once you take in the new person. The other men turn to look at him as well, obviously pissed by the interruption.

He looked like he didn't belong in this type of scenario. Slender, average height, black hair mussed up from what seemed like sleep-he looked too meek to actually do any saving done.

Sung Jinwoo, in the midst of your frayed nerves you recognized him. You shared the same class, were seatmates during one semester. He was meek, and though weak willed in nature, you took any chance you could get at escaping this nightmare.

Ignoring the gnawing doubt, still, you pinned all your prayers unto him.

"Who's this punk?" One of the men smirks. He spits onto the gravel and wipes his lips. "Mind your own business, kid."

Jinwoo flinched, terrified by the threat. But he doesn't let up, determination gleaming in his grey eyes. He swallowed thickly, taking a step closer.

His hands formed into a tightly curled fist, trembling ever so slightly as he pushed through the fear. You watched the exchange, fearing for the boy and hopeful he'd somehow manage to save you even if it seemed nigh impossible.

"Let them go." His voice quivered, but he doesn't look away.

The man closest to him chortles, amused by the guts of this nobody. "Or what?"

He rests a hand on his shoulder, pushing him with every slap of his hand. "What you gonna do, huh?" Jinwoo stumbles back a couple steps with every push.

"Trying to play hero? That's fucking stupid. Don't go sticking your nose where you don't belong, twat!"

Underestimating the boy, he approaches him with a loosely clenched fist. Your shoulders stiffen as you watch the spectactle play out. Reaching out your free arm, you try to stop them.

Wham!

You gasped, surprised. To your, and everyone's surprise, the one who fell wasn't Jinwoo, but the buddy of the man currently keeping you in place.

Jinwoo's fist connected to the other man's face, hitting him square in the nose. His punch wasn't clean, nor was it flashy, but he had put everything he could into that one punch, and it was enough to do the job.

His eyes were wide, as if he was just as surprised as everyone by his own body. Jaw clenched and eyes wide in a panicked frenzy, he doesn't stop moving and quickly retracts his hand.

He grabs ahold of your wrist and pulls, the other man, in a fit of shock, loosened his grip for a split second. That split second was enough to get you away from him entirely.

By the time you slipped away from the second man's hold, he snapped back. He blinks, surprised to find that he was no longer grabbing onto something. He looks up, and then scowls when he sees you running.

"You brat-!"

"Run!"

Taking off, he drags you behind him in a mad dash, bolting through streets at full speed. Adrenaline filled your limbs, enabling them to push through the laborious activity and run the fastest you ever did.

The two remaining harassers gave chase, anger written plainly in their features. Offended by the fact that they had been bested by what seemed like a wimp, they hurriedly attempted to close the distance between you and then, eager to teach a lesson.

Your steps stuttered as you looked back, hearing the loud threats they made. A part of you wanted to just shrivel up to the ground and wake up from this nightmare, but you knew you couldn't let the dangerous thought fester and slow down your pace.

"Don't look back!" Jinwoo huffs in between desperate pants, "just keep running!"

You ran for who knows how long, making sharp twists and turns every now and then in an attempt to lose them. They were persistent, refusing to just give up and let you go—did he wound their egos that much?

Your legs screamed for rest, barely keeping up with this lanky man(who's surprisingly a good runner). But even as the pain burned through your muscles and made your eyes grow glossy with tears, this was better than crying because of what could have happened had you not been able to run away. Holding onto his hand tightly, you allow him to navigate the streets and hopefully guide you back to safety.

Making another sharp twist, you hide behind the narrow alley of a closed restaurant. Covered by old stacks of crates. He presses a finger to his lip, urging you to stay quiet.

You nod eagerly, covering your mouth with both hands to prevent any sound from leaking out. Jinwoo peeks at the outside, keeping his ears peeled for any signs of them.

Hast footsteps echo throughout the dimly lit streets. "Damn it-where did those brats go?"

You flinch when you hear the grating voice, what once sounded easy going now pissed and eager for violence. Shrinking in on yourself, you held your breath, heart thumping against your rib cage.

A few seconds pass, and you could faintly make out the silhouette of the three figures, the other nursing a broken nose. They argued for a bit, bickering like children before finally settling in a path to follow.

You hear them leave the vicinity in quick steps, unaware of the fact that the very people they were searching for laid hidden just a few spaces behind them.

As the footsteps fade into a distant sound, your shoulders sag and a shaky sigh escapes you almost immediately. It's safe to assume that you got away now, right?

Your eyes flick up, Jinwoo finally relaxed as well, resting against the boxes as he sat on the cold gravel. His shoulders move up and down, mouth agape as he suckles in air greedily.

Neither of you speak, too busy calming down from the high of running away from the danger that followed in the form of three men.

You clutch your chest, relief flooding your senses the moment they're out of earshot. You wheeze, wiping the sweat that formed on top of your brow after the impromptu marathon you just participated in.

"You okay?"

You nodded, chest still heaving. "You... I—thank you."

Silence.

"You... You punched that guy. Hard." You gulp, feeling the silence. "You saved me, thanks."

He smiles, it's tired but still genuine. "I'm happy I could help." He scratches his cheek sheepishly.

You reciprocate the smile, exhaustion creeping in. You stay still for a few more minutes, taking the time to recover your composure.

"Come on, let's get you home."

You didn't argue, too tired to say anything, and also longing to get back home as fast as possible too. As Jinwoo stands up from his hiding place, he offers you his hand to take. You graciously accept it, albeit, not without reluctance.

You exert force into your legs, trying to stand up. Just a small movement, but the moment you lean your weight against your legs, your knees buckle and lose its balance. Your body swayed, as if the ground was shaking beneath you.

As you try to take a step forward, you lose all sense of balance. Unable to keep yourself still, your knees gave way. You could feel yourself falling forward, and a rush of panic overtakes you at the thought.

Fortunately, before you could even hit the ground, Jinwoo was already there. His hands caught your shoulders, his grip firm and immediate.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured, pulling you back up, supporting you with his body. "I've got you."

His voice was gentle, if not a bit frazzled. He seemed unsure of what to do, carefully holding you up, hands on your waist.

His voice was gentle, but you could hear the underlying urgency. He wasn't just helping you because you needed it; he was making sure you didn't fall apart entirely. You didn't know if that was more comforting or terrifying.

But you couldn't stop the tremors in your legs. They were too shaky, too weak. You tried again, trying to plant your feet on solid ground, but it was hopeless. Your legs buckled again, and this time you couldn't even catch yourself.

"I'm sorry." You whisper out, a breathy laugh escaping you. It wasn't born out of humor, but more so out of shame. "Sorry, I'm a bit clumsy."

Jinwoo's expression softens, readjusting his stance to help you find steady ground. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other resting on your shoulder. He doesn't say anything, only keeps his arms around you as you pick yourself up.

"Sorry, gah, I don't know what's wrong with me."

You try again, but you're ashamed to admit that you genuinely couldn't bring yourself to stand up straight. Your legs quivered, shaking from both the adrenaline, exhaustion, and the fear that remained inside your skin. Even if the threat had gone and disappeared, you still couldn't help but reel from the thought of what could have happened had Jinwoo not arrived.

"I'm sorry, this is pathetic." You say as you try to stand up, only to fail again for the nth time. "Sorry—really, I, I don't know what's gotten into me I—"

"It's fine, stop that." Jinwoo shushes your apologies, voice steady-as steady as it could be, as steady as he could make it sound. "There's no need to apologize."

You break down at his words. You don't know why, you thought you were stronger than this. It starts out with a shaky breath, then comes the tears, and then you're sliding down the ground, bawling your eyes out.

Falling knees first against the cold pavement, your fingers grasp the fabric of Jinwoo's blouse. Tears blur your vision, and sobs wrack your chest, each one heavier than the last as the weight of what happened and what could have happened crashes over you.

Tears fall one after the other, you can't bring yourself to stop them, heart heavy with the events that played out tonight.

"I'm sorry I-it's just that..." You sniffle, "I can't help but-it was scary. They were scary I can't help but-" you were all over the place, mind wracked with several things all at once. "Even if I got away I can't help but think-sorry this is pathetic."

You bury your face against Jinwoo's chest without thinking, he was the closest to a haven for you at the moment, and you couldn't help but lean onto the closest source of comfort you had at the moment.

Jinwoo flinches, unsure what to do, but not unwilling to help. His hands raise up awkwardly, unsure where to be placed. He listens to your sobs, his awkward smile quickly wiped away and turned into a frown as he hears you try to reason yourself to him.

"Hey, hey, it's fine..." He places a hand on the back of your head, patting it softly as you cry in his arms.

The other is on your back, rubbing comforting figures against it as he urges you to let everything in your system out. "It's alright to be scared, that's normal. It's okay, it's fine."

He's awkward with his words, and his hands tremble as he goes through the motion of caressing you. He's clearly confused about what to do, but he's also so undeniably sincere in his words you can't help but crumble. You listen to his words of comfort, allowing yourself to cry openly in front of him.

His words break the remaining walls you have left. Wetting his uniform with your tears, you squeeze his attire tightly, knuckles turning white from your sheer grip.

You don't know how long you stay there like that-only that you stayed there until you ran out of tears to cry. Eventually, your breathing began to even out, tears ebbing into small hiccups.

"Calmed down now?"

You nodded, wiping the stray tears on your cheeks with your own hands.

Jinwoo pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze is soft, but serious. "We'll take it slow. You don't have to stand yet. I'll carry you if I need to."

You scoff, forcing yourself to lighten up. "Can you even carry me?"

Jinwoo gasps, as if offended by your words. He sighs, chuckles, and then flashes you a smile. "I'm sure I can. I may not look like it but I am still a hunter. Even if only an E-rank."

You blink. "You are?"

"I am." He sighs, sounding embarrassed. "Though, I may not have seemed like it."

So that's why he could punch the living daylights out of that guy-even if his punch was pathetic in its form.

You shake your head weakly, your voice raw. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not." The firmness in his voice takes you by surprise. "You never were."

Your lip quivers again, but the tears don't come this time. "Why did you come after me?"

He hesitates, looking away for a moment before answering. "Because... I couldn't just leave you. Not when I saw what they were doing. Not when I knew I could help, even if I was scared."

You stare at him, heart pounding for a whole new reason now. His honesty, his fear, his bravery-they were all real. Tangible. Not some fantasy version of a hero, but a real one. A scared, determined boy who still chose to act despite his reservations.

"I'm glad you did," you whisper. "Thank you, Jinwoo."

He nods, offering a shy smile. Then, without saying anything more, he sits himself beside you again, offering the quiet comfort of his presence, at least, until you're ready to face the world again.

And in that quiet little corner of the city, you finally felt safe. For the first time since the world's gone mad.

Taglist: @minh907 @daiyanomochi @soft-dots @snowy-violet @kokominari @ssolarsystm @2dmenfr @baby-bread-in @awwwia @coffeeisbehindyou @rai-xxx @sanchann @ilovestarwholock218

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[pearlprincess02]

1st house synastry overlays (asteroids)

inner planets overlay & outer planets overlay

north node in 1st house overlay

north node person: in north node in 1st house synastry, the north node person brings a sense of destiny and growth to the relationship. they are here to teach the 1st house person important life lessons, helping them unlock their highest potential and embrace their individuality. the north node person encourages the 1st house person to step into their true path and may inspire them to take on new challenges or make significant changes in their life. this relationship can feel fated, with both partners sensing that their connection holds great importance for their personal evolution. however, the intensity of these lessons can sometimes feel overwhelming or uncomfortable. the north node person may push the 1st house person too hard, or their growth may occur through difficult or challenging circumstances, leading to tension if either resists the lessons being offered.

1st house person: for the 1st house person, the north node's presence in their 1st house can trigger profound personal growth and development. this relationship can feel like a pivotal turning point in their life, as the north node person helps them recognize their true potential and pushes them toward their life purpose. the 1st house person may feel inspired to be more authentic, take risks, and pursue their goals with greater clarity and determination. however, this connection may also bring challenges, as the lessons involved may require stepping out of their comfort zone or confronting fears about self-expression. the 1st house person might feel pressured or overwhelmed by the intensity of this dynamic, particularly if they're not ready to embrace the changes that the north node person encourages.

couple tropes: the fated lovers, the guiding light couple, the teacher & the student, the growth-oriented couple, the transformational relationship, the crossroads couple, the evolving duo, the karmic connection, the empowering lovers, the challengers

south node in 1st house overlay

south node person: in south node in 1st house synastry, the south node person often feels a strong sense of familiarity with the 1st house person, as if they've known them before in some way, possibly from a past life or earlier experience. this relationship can feel comforting and nostalgic, with the south node person easily falling into old patterns of behavior with the 1st house person. while this can create a deep emotional bond and understanding, the south node person may also feel stuck in a cycle of repeating old habits or karmic lessons that need to be resolved. on the positive side, the relationship offers an opportunity for both partners to heal and release these patterns. however, the downside is that the south node person may struggle to break free from the past, potentially holding back growth for both individuals if they become too attached to what once was instead of focusing on their individual and collective future.

1st house person: for the 1st house person, the south node’s presence in their 1st house can evoke a deep, almost karmic connection with the south node person, as if they are reconnecting with someone who has been significant in their life journey. this can make the 1st house person feel understood and validated, especially if they feel a sense of shared history or familiarity. on the positive side, this connection can help them reflect on who they were and what patterns they’ve carried with them. however, the 1st house person may also feel weighed down by the past, as this synastry can pull them back into old habits or cycles of behavior that they’ve been trying to leave behind. If the relationship becomes too focused on the past, the 1st house person might struggle to grow or move forward, feeling trapped in a repeating loop of karma and old patterns.

couple tropes: the familiar strangers, the karmic soulmates, the stuck-in-time lovers, the nostalgic couple, the haunted lovers, the cycle repeating duo, the comfortably stuck couple, the fated reunion, the debtors of karma, the past-life lovers

lilith in 1st house overlay

lilith person: in lilith in 1st house synastry, the lilith person feels an intense attraction to the 1st house person, driven by a sense of raw, primal energy. they are drawn to the 1st house person's physical presence and identity, triggering hidden desires and deep emotional cravings. this connection can awaken a powerful obsession, as the lilith person feels magnetically pulled to the 1st house person, often in ways that defy logic or social norms. on the positive side, the lilith person may help the 1st house person explore their darker, more authentic desires and embrace parts of themselves they’ve previously suppressed. however, the intensity of this connection can also lead to possessiveness, jealousy, or manipulative behaviors. the lilith person may struggle to control their feelings, and their obsessive tendencies could create tension if the relationship becomes too focused on fulfilling these hidden desires.

1st house person: for the 1st house person, lilith’s presence in their 1st house can be both thrilling and overwhelming. the 1st house person feels seen in a deeply vulnerable way, as lilith brings out their most primal and hidden aspects. they may feel a surge of passion and excitement when around the lilith person, as if they are being encouraged to break free from societal expectations and embrace their wildest desires. this can lead to a transformative experience, where the 1st house person learns to own their inner power. however, the darker side of this dynamic can surface if the relationship becomes too intense or possessive. the 1st house person may feel objectified, or like they’re being drawn into an obsessive or unhealthy cycle of desire. the challenge is to maintain balance and avoid being consumed by lilith’s energy.

couple tropes: the forbidden attraction, the all-consuming lovers, the seductive chase, the dark mirror couple, the dangerous game, the lovers who dare, the shadow lovers, the obsessive romance, the untamable duo, the temptation couple

chiron in 1st house overlay

chiron person: in chiron in the 1st house synastry, the chiron person may feel an instinctive need to help the 1st house person heal old wounds or insecurities related to their identity and self-worth. the chiron person is naturally tuned into the 1st house person’s pain, and this dynamic can bring a deep sense of empathy and understanding between them. on the positive side, the chiron person can facilitate profound healing, helping the 1st house person become more confident and embrace their true self. however, the process may also bring up painful memories or unresolved emotional issues for both. the chiron person may unintentionally trigger feelings of inadequacy or vulnerability in the 1st house person, leading to tension if these wounds are not handled with care. while the potential for growth is immense, the relationship may also stir up old hurts that are difficult to face.

1st house person: for the 1st house person, chiron’s presence in their 1st house can feel like both a blessing and a challenge. the chiron person helps them confront deep-rooted issues about self-esteem, appearance, or their sense of identity, which can lead to powerful healing and personal transformation. on the positive side, the 1st house person may find the strength to release old emotional baggage and start feeling more comfortable in their own skin. however, this process can be painful, as they are forced to face parts of themselves that they may have been avoiding. the 1st house person may initially resist the vulnerability that comes with this dynamic, feeling exposed or even hurt by the chiron person’s influence. the key challenge is to work through the pain and use it as a path toward deeper self-awareness and healing, rather than letting it create division.

couple tropes: the wounded healer lovers, the healing journey, the scarred souls, the painful awakening, the transformative union, the rescuer & the rescued, the lovers who hurt to heal, the broken & rebuilt couple, the mirror of wounds, the love that heals

juno in 1st house overlay

juno person: in juno in the 1st house synastry, the juno person feels a strong sense of commitment and devotion toward the 1st house person. they may see the 1st house person as an ideal partner, someone with whom they can build a long-term relationship based on trust and loyalty. this placement brings a desire for partnership and the juno person may be highly invested in supporting the 1st house person's sense of self and purpose. on the positive side, the juno person provides a stabilizing influence, offering unwavering devotion and helping the 1st house person feel more secure in the relationship. however, the juno person might sometimes become overbearing, expecting too much commitment or devotion in return, which can create pressure. if the relationship lacks reciprocity, the juno person may feel unappreciated or question their level of trust, potentially leading to resentment.

1st house person: for the 1st house person, having juno in their 1st house can create a strong feeling of being supported and cherished by the juno person. they may feel that the juno person sees their true potential and is willing to stand by them, offering unconditional loyalty. this can boost the 1st house person's confidence and make them feel more secure in their sense of self. on the positive side, the 1st house person feels seen and valued for who they are, which can foster a deep sense of trust and mutual respect in the relationship. however, this dynamic can also feel overwhelming if the 1st house person isn’t ready for the level of commitment that the juno person desires. they may feel pressured to meet expectations of loyalty and devotion, which could lead to feelings of being trapped or burdened by responsibility. balancing personal independence with the relationship’s demands is key to maintaining harmony.

couple tropes: the devoted partner, the marriage minded lovers, the protector & the protected, the ride-or-die couple, the partnership with purpose, the steadfast love, the power couple, the silent support, the one who waits, the anchor in the storm

eros in 1st house overlay

eros person: in eros in the 1st house synastry, the eros person is intensely drawn to the 1st house person's physical presence and identity. the attraction can be instant and deeply erotic, as the eros person finds the 1st house person incredibly sexually appealing. this connection often fuels passionate energy between them, where the eros person feels their desires heightened just by being near the 1st house person. on the positive side, the eros person may find their sexual chemistry easy and natural, creating a dynamic of sexual excitement and intensity. however, this placement can also lead to possessiveness or obsession. if the eros person becomes too focused on their desires or physical attraction, it may overshadow emotional depth or other aspects of the relationship, creating an imbalance. the eros person needs to ensure that the connection goes beyond just sexual attraction to foster a well-rounded bond.

1st house person: the 1st house person, in this synastry aspect, is likely to feel deeply desired and admired by the eros person. the way the eros person looks at them can make the 1st house person feel sexually powerful and captivating, which can boost their confidence. this can create a sense of magnetism, as the 1st house person may enjoy the attention and feel aroused by how intensely the eros person reacts to their presence. on the positive side, the 1st house person feels awakened to their sexual allure, which can lead to a vibrant, exciting connection. however, this dynamic can also bring pressure, as the 1st house person might feel objectified if the eros person becomes too focused on the physical or sexual side of the relationship. they may also struggle with maintaining boundaries if the attraction becomes overwhelming or one-sided.

couple tropes: the magnetic lovers, the all-consuming desire, the seductive gaze, the unstoppable lust, the physical adoration, the sexual awakening, the object of desire, the dangerous obsession, the tempting challenge, the lover's touch

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[littlelovelunette]

Hii! It's my first request. Also, I'm obsessed with your writing, you're amazing 💝!

Hear me out >:) Knight!Sevika and her Queen!Reader who rules the kingdom with Sevika by her side. And they're super feared by everyone cuz their bong is unbreakable and that makes them really strong. (Been thinking about it since I found "Me and Mine" by The Brothers Bright SUCH A GOOD SONG)

The Crown

Knight!Sevika x Queen!Reader

The throne room was silent. Not the kind of silence born from peace, but the kind that bred fear. Nobles stood stiffly along the edges of the grand hall, their hands clasped in tight fists, their expressions carefully schooled into neutrality.

No one dared to whisper, to move, to even breathe too loudly in the presence of the Queen and her knight.You sat upon your throne, a vision of power draped in black and gold, a crown resting atop your head like a halo of authority.

And standing at your side, one hand resting on the hilt of her blade, was Sevika—your protector, your enforcer, your shadow. She was clad in dark armor, the steel molded to her body like a second skin, her scarred face half-illuminated by the torches that lined the stone walls.

Together, you were untouchable.

A kingdom ruled with iron and fire, fear and admiration intertwined so deeply that no one could tell the difference anymore. Enemies had tried to test your rule before—rebellions crushed before they could take root, assassins left gutted in the streets as warnings, traitors publicly executed by Sevika’s own hand. Your kingdom did not tolerate weakness, and neither did you.

The council had gathered today, murmuring about a noble house that dared to resist your rule, a lord who thought he could raise an army against you. Fools.

Sevika stepped forward, her presence alone enough to make grown men flinch. Her voice was gravel and thunder, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“The traitor has been handled,” she said simply, tossing a bloodied insignia onto the marble floor.It clattered, the only sound in the vast chamber. A crimson stain bloomed against the pristine white stone.

The message was clear. You didn’t react—didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned back, resting your chin against your fingers as you regarded the council with unreadable eyes.

“Do any others wish to challenge the crown?”

No one spoke. No one even looked up.Sevika smirked beside you, amused by the cowardice in the room. It was always the same—their bravado turned to dust the moment they realized just how unstoppable you were together.

No ruler was feared without a loyal blade by their side, and no knight was invincible without someone worth fighting for. And that’s what made you both terrifying.

Your bond was unbreakable. Sevika was not merely your knight. She was your executioner, your war general, your protector, your lover. There was no force in the world that could sever what you two had. Not war. Not betrayal. Not death itself.

A courier rushed into the throne room, his face pale, his breath ragged from running. “Your Majesty—Knight Commander—” he gasped, dropping to his knees. “There is a threat approaching the northern border. An army, unlike any we’ve seen before.”

Sevika tensed, but you remained still, your expression unreadable.

“How many?”

“T-Ten thousand, at least,” the courier stammered. “Led by the exiled Prince of Eldoria. They claim they will take the capital before the next moon rises.”A foolish claim.Sevika chuckled darkly, flexing her fingers.

“I hope they brought more than that. Otherwise, it’s not even a challenge.”You smiled, slow and knowing, your gaze sharp as a dagger. “Prepare the army. We ride at dawn.”Sevika grinned, stepping closer, her voice lower now, meant only for you.

“By your side, as always.” You reached out, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge of her jaw.

“And I by yours.”The room remained suffocatingly silent as your people watched in awe and terror. No kingdom, no army, no enemy could stand against you—not when Sevika was your shield and you were her Queen.And soon, the battlefield would bear witness to why.