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toruro · 1 year ago

Text

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no �� Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999 @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!

#soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #seventeen soonyoung #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung smut #hoshi #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #📝 writing

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bellesdreamyprofile · 21 days ago

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a baby miracle: part 6

“Where are my little honeybees?”, you smiled at the familiar sound of Benny’s voice. You looked over your shoulder and noticed a giddy smile forming on your baby’s face. A lil´ daddy’s girl. You couldn’t really blame her though, because, in a way, you were too.

Matilda made animalistic noises as she tore the pancakes you had made earlier in big chunks - probably too overwhelmed with the excitement she was feeling upon her daddy’s arrival. You sighed at the mess before you and picked up her little plastic fork from the floor. You wiped it up and set it in front of her again. “Alrighty, Tilly, no more messy hands please.”, you looked at her and poked her chubby cheek. The baby just laughed, almost mocking you.

Warm hands on your waist made you jump a little, the reaction earning a snicker from Benny. “Honeybee being a lil´ troublemaker again?”. A breathy laugh left your lips as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, his lips leaving kisses on your cheek.

“I don’t think she’s a huge fan of pancakes, quite honestly.”, you said truthfully and pointed with a finger at the mess that had yet to be cleaned up. All while Matilda was staring at the two of you with big, curious eyes.

Benny shook his head and unwrapped his arms from around you and silently approached his daughter. Matilda’s little eyes followed her daddy’s movements, even as he squatted down in front of the highchair. Benny picked up a chunk of pancake and put it in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste.

“See, babygirl? Mama made them and they’re so good, yes?”, Matilda instinctively picked up a torn chunk of the sweet and pecked it with her lips. Benny laughed and moved his eyes on you, wanting to make sure you hadn’t missed the moment. You shook your head with a small smile and leaned against the doorframe.

“No, bee, no kissing the pancake. You eat it. Like this, look.”, and he went on to put another half chewed pancake in his mouth.

You crossed your arms on your chest and smiled at the interaction. “You know, honey… I can fix you a quick lunch if you’re hungry.”, your tone was laced with tease, but it made him chuckle.

He glanced your way and smiled. “I’m good eating bee’s food, thank you very much.”, you rolled your eyes as you bit back a smile. You moved on in front of the sink, starting to clean up your daughter’s mess, stealing glances at the two of them every now and then. An inevitable smile made its way on your face, thinking about how far you’ve all come along.

The day you found out you were pregnant was the day you thought you lost Benny to his past and insecurities. The day your daughter was born was the day you thought you lost Benny to the club. The day you brought your little bee home from the hospital was the day you thought you lost Benny to your own mistrusting feelings.

No, he wasn’t right for missing the birth of your daughter and it wasn’t exactly fair to you either, but what was the point of life if we all held resentment to one another? You couldn’t. Especially because you knew that beneath Benny’s rough exterior was a heart of gold. The man worshipped the ground you walked on - also he worshipped every pancake chunk Matilda threw at him.

Life is no easy ride, but that’s why rollercoasters are so fun. Each bump with its ups and downs makes it incredibly unique. And why not experience that rollercoaster with a man like Benny?

“Baby, today is that picture thing at the club, remember?”, you blinked as you were rushed back to reality. You dried your hands with a small towel and hummed, turning around.

“Yes, of course I remember, honey. That's the whole reason why we bought that little denim jacket before Matilda was even born.”, you commented with a smile at the sweet memory.

Benny picked up your daughter and set her on his hip. “And the little pink booties. Let’s not forget those.”, he said in a softer voice and smooched Matilda’s cheek.

Without even being able to step foot in the club, you heard Johnny’s booming voice coming closer.

“Alright, where’s my little niblet?”, little Matilda’s feet kicked in Benny’s hold as Johnny reached his hands out for her. You laughed with your husband at your bee’s silly reaction.

“Oh, Johnny, your hair is looking real nice.”, you complimented. Johnny tickled Matilda and finally took her in his arms.

He did a little jump with her in his arms, making your baby squeal in delight. “Thanks, kid. Betty made sure I looked nice and proper.”, he rolled his eyes. “But look at this little princess with the little jacket.”

You wrapped an arm around Benny’s waist and smiled. “And the pink boots.”, your husband chimed in. Matilda wiggled her little feet as if to show uncle Johnny what her daddy was fussing over.

“Alright, let’s go. Everyone’s waitin´. You’re the last ones to arrive.”

“Benny didn’t know how to style his hair.”, you said teasingly, making Johnny snicker. Benny rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Lady Benjamin and her hair. Of course.”

After some swear words were thrown around, at which you scolded them both for, you finally made your way in the club. The guys, their wives and kids all ran over to finally meet and get to know the club’s newest member. Your heart soared at the love everybody already seemed to have for your little bee.

“Okay, now let’s try one more picture. A serious one this time.”, you quickly turned around and fixed Benny’s collar. He smiled and winked at you.

“Well, if you’re fixin´ mine, I gotta fix yours too, no?”, the teasing tone withheld hints of seduction, making your cheeks burn. You shifted Matilda to your right hip as Benny’s fingers pulled at your collar.

“Doesn't seem like you're fixin´ nothing, Benny.”, you said in a small tone.

“Oh yeah?”, the tone in his voice dropped lower, making it incredibly hard for you to keep your composure. Your brows shot to your forehead, wondering what this crazy man had in plan next.

“I’ll show you fixing´ honey.”, and right as the click on the camera went off, his lips were pressed on yours.

Your little girl squealed in your arms, though nobody seemed to notice that the picture wasn’t as perfect as it had to be. You fought the urge not to sigh into the familiarity of that kiss. The kind of familiarity you could never get enough of, because it was all yours.

“I love you, baby.”, you were the one who leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was crystal clear for everybody.

“Lord have mercy. There goes baby number two.”

THE END

A/N: what a ride! I love these two so much 🥺 let me know what your thoughts are on the series & this chapter xx wishing all of you peace and love xx

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @leonesimp @cwallace02sblog @alexa4040 @notaceventura @wonderland2425 @thefastclownprince @ughdontbeboring @imusicaddict

#benny cross x reader #fanfiction #imagine #austin butler x reader #benny cross #austin butler #the bikeriders #babymiracle #austin butler blurb

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bestofmultiverse · 9 days ago

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Between the pages || 5

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper. A love like this is a dream.”

– Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

A/N : Idk if it good but i kinda felt like being sappy here.

1 • 2 • 3 • 4

The interview seemed to be going well, Y/N thought, watching from behind the scenes.

Aubrey had a knack for charming people with just one smile. She was relaxed as she spoke to Drew about her upcoming project, her confidence radiating in every word. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat as Aubrey flirted playfully (Y/N couldn’t blame her—it’s Drew Barrymore, for crying out loud!) and teased her fans with a casual grin that always left her weak in the knees.

Drew seemed to enjoy the banter, too. The two of them joked effortlessly, with Drew throwing in a few personal questions—ones Aubrey had agreed to answer beforehand. Y/N could sense the moment she’d been both dreading and anticipating inching closer.

Their relationship.

For some reason, even after months, people couldn’t seem to let it go. The world was fascinated by the unlikely pairing, endlessly dissecting it. Y/N figured it was because she wasn’t famous, nor did she live a very public life. People were either intrigued by her anonymity or bitter, labeling her a gold-digger.

Her social media was private, her career was far from glamorous, and even when her future book will be finally published—her own book, not just something she’d co-edited—she knew she’d still be considered “ordinary” next to Aubrey. She wasn’t an actress, a model, or an influencer. She was just a small-town girl who, somehow, had caught the Aubrey Plaza’s attention—and love.

A montage of pictures suddenly appeared on the screen, paired with Drew’s next question. Y/N watched nervously.

The first photo showed her lying on top of Aubrey on their couch, fast asleep with her face buried in Aubrey’s stomach. Aubrey, meanwhile, was smiling like she’d won the lottery. The second image was a messy selfie of them covered in eggs and flour, laughing with huge, silly grins. The last was from a Marvel party they’d attended together: Aubrey’s hand rested possessively on Y/N’s waist as they leaned in close, noses almost touching. Y/N had a crinkle in her nose, clearly giggling at something Aubrey had whispered.

From her seat, Y/N noticed Aubrey shift slightly, sitting a little straighter. It was subtle, but Y/N could tell—her girlfriend was nervous.

“So, there are a lot of rumors about your relationship,” Drew began warmly. “It’s not new news, but somehow it’s still keeping people on their toes. How do you feel about that? And how’s your girlfriend handling it?”

Drew’s tone was light, like a friend genuinely curious, not a journalist digging for a scoop.

Aubrey smiled softly. “How do I feel about it? Well… I’ve had a few relationships in my life—some public, some less so. Most were great in their own ways. But honestly, this one? This one’s it for me. She’s my person, and I’m happy. I just wish people could be more supportive of that.”

She paused for a moment, glancing briefly behind Drew to catch Y/N’s eye. When she saw Y/N’s encouraging thumbs-up and grin, Aubrey’s smile grew.

“But I get it,” she continued. “People wonder, they talk—and that’s fine, I guess. It’s part of the package deal. I just wish the hate wasn’t part of it. It’s one thing when it’s the media. Neither of us cares what some sleazy tabloid writer thinks. But when it’s from people who call themselves fans? That stings. For both of us.”

Drew nodded, her expression understanding. “Do you think addressing it will change anything? Or are you worried it might even get worse?”

Aubrey shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not counting on this fixing anything. God, I hope it doesn’t get worse. But even if it does, we have a great relationship. I’m crazy about her, and that’s all that matters.”

She glanced over at Y/N and winked, making her laugh softly.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Drew teased, grinning.

The conversation moved to lighter topics, including Aubrey’s notorious pranks on set and an embarrassing story about the time she accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom at an awards show. The tension from earlier melted away as they both dissolved into laughter. Y/N knew fans would love this part. Aubrey seemed lighter, too, like addressing the issue had lifted a weight off her shoulders.

After the interview aired, the two decided to ditch their phones for the evening. They curled up on the couch in Aubrey’s apartment, embracing the quiet.

Y/N rested her head on Aubrey’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” she teased.

“Disaster? That was amazing,” Aubrey replied, reaching over to run her fingers through Y/N’s hair. “And I killed it, if I do say so myself.”

Y/N snorted. “Humble as ever.”

“Hey, it’s not bragging if it’s true.” Aubrey smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Besides, you were the real MVP, giving me that thumbs-up when I needed it. You’re my rock, you know that?”

“Stop. You’re making me blush,” Y/N mumbled, hiding her face against Aubrey’s neck.

“Good. You’re cute when you blush.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world and its noise fading away. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of the moment and the peace of being together, on their own terms.

The morning light crept into Aubrey’s apartment, highlighting the lazy entanglement of limbs on the couch. Y/N stirred first, groaning softly as the realization dawned that they’d fallen asleep there. Aubrey, half-awake, tightened her arm around Y/N’s waist.

“Don’t move,” Aubrey murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “You’re my pillow.”

Y/N chuckled, brushing her fingers through Aubrey’s messy hair. “We’re not even in bed. My neck is going to hate me for this later.”

“It’s a small price to pay for cuddles,” Aubrey countered, pressing her face into Y/N’s shoulder.

The moment was warm and serene, but the peace was short-lived. Y/N glanced at her phone on the coffee table, her curiosity getting the better of her. Against her better judgment, she reached for it.

As soon as she unlocked it, her screen lit up with notifications. Dozens of missed messages, tagged posts, and news alerts. A quick scroll through Twitter showed one trending topic: #AubreyAndYN.

“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, biting her lip. “Aubrey, we’re trending again.”

Aubrey groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back like a starfish. “Of course we are. Can’t the world leave us alone for one day?”

“It’s… different this time,” Y/N said hesitantly, scrolling further. “Look.”

Curiosity piqued, Aubrey sat up and leaned over Y/N’s shoulder. What they found was unexpected.

Instead of the usual nasty gossip or conspiracy theories, the feed was flooded with supportive messages and heartwarming edits. Fans had clipped moments from the interview, adding captions like, “Aubrey loves her GF so much, I’m crying 🥹” and, “Finally, they addressed the haters. Good for them!”

A particularly popular tweet featured the marvel party photo that had appeared in the interview. It was captioned, “Find someone who looks at you like Aubrey looks at Y/N. Relationship goals!”

Y/N scrolled further, finding more positive reactions. One user wrote, “I wasn’t sure about them at first, but seeing Aubrey defend her GF so fiercely? Respect.”

Another said, “Y/N’s clearly the happiest thing to happen to Aubrey. Why can’t we just let them be in love?”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, amused. “Wow. Are we in the Twilight Zone? Where’s all the hate?”

“There’s still some,” Y/N admitted, gesturing to a few bitter comments. “But it’s… quieter than usual.”

Aubrey grinned, clearly pleased. “Looks like our plan worked. I told you people just needed to see how awesome you are.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Sure. It’s totally because I’m awesome, not because you publicly declared your undying love for me on live television.”

“Well, that didn’t hurt,” Aubrey teased, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist and pulling her close. “Maybe I should do it more often.”

Y/N laughed, leaning into Aubrey’s embrace. “Let’s not push our luck.”

They spent the next hour scrolling through the posts, laughing at memes and reading comments aloud. By the time they set their phones down, the tension from the day before had all but disappeared.

Later, as they sat at the kitchen table, sharing a plate of pancakes Aubrey had lovingly burnt on one side, Y/N felt a strange sense of calm.

“You know,” she said, spearing a piece of pancake with her fork, “it’s kind of nice seeing people be supportive for a change.”

Aubrey nodded, sipping her coffee. “Yeah. Feels weird, though. Like, are we actually allowed to enjoy this?”

“I think so,” Y/N said with a small smile. “We deserve to enjoy it.”

Aubrey reached across the table to take Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We do. And for the record, I don’t care if we’re trending, ignored, or completely forgotten. As long as I have you, I’m good.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” Aubrey shot back, her grin mischievous.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

They spent the rest of the morning laughing, teasing each other, and stealing bites of pancake from the same plate. No matter what the internet thought of them, they were happy—and that was all that mattered.

#fic writing #aubrey plaza #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x rio #aubrey plaza x reader #agatha all along

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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Hi crazy Johnny with a single mam anon back because im insane and have brainrot and am seriously contemplating writing it bcus i feel compelled by the power of Christ (Johnny’s cock) to write something pervy and nasty and creepy but ultimately sweet but im also just braindumping and sharing bcus not enough johnny content floating around I fear so have to pull up my bootstraps and do it myself (this is so long ceil im so very sorry)

anyways so I think this is sooo much hotter if Johnny is either on a prolonged medical discharge or he’s been forced into retirement for one reason or another (because then can keep an eye on you lol) he and like this has been touched on before but he’s just got. nothing to fucking do. And holy hell he’s going crazy. He needs something to do. So his silly, terribly adjusted brain latches onto the poor single mam next door who DEFINITELY needs his help.

Im a sucker for forced codependency. You, who thinks you’re doing great on your own, versus ‘can’t handle this all on yer own, eh little lass?’ Johnny MacTavish. He’s SO fucking subtle about it. Commenting on how hard it must be to have to raise a baby all your own, and gods love you just look knackered here let me take the bairn for a bit. He comes round and makes little comments about your house being messy (disorganised, but not messy) and immediately starts ‘sympathising’ because you just mustn’t have time to clean up but it’s important to keep hazards out the way of the baby, here he’ll *help*.

Never questions your ability as a mother, god no, just slyly drops suggestions that you’re not coping as well as you thought. And it fucking NAGS at you. And eventually, you start going to Johnny more and more for help. I honestly think he would cause problems in your flat (fixable ones, like fucking up the electrics or messing around with the pipes but stuff he knows he can fix) so you either have to A. Move in with him temporarily or B. Have to ask him to fix them. Eventually just says that your landlords a cunt for letting you live in a shithole and insists you just move in with him permanently. You do (it’s not really up for debate).

He doesn’t use condoms. I’m sorry he just doesn’t, but he will TELL you that he does- especially the first time you have sex. You’re all worried because ‘oh god Johnny I’m not on birth control I just put it off after I had the baby and we didn’t use a condom-‘ and he’s immediately tucking you into his chest and stroking your hair and shushing you ‘divvint be daft lass, course i wrapped it up, stupid thing just broke. Did ye not realise? Must’ve been heat o’ the moment, don’t worry yer little heed about it alright? Johnny’s here.” and kisses you on your hair and lulls you into sleep. Adamantly denies whispering about how pretty you’re gonna look pregnant as if he’s trying to subliminal you into pregnancy. lol.

Will legally adopt your baby. Like he’ll suggest it, straight up. And you’re probably a bit taken aback because it’s only been six months but he is insistent. This is probably the catalyst for his ‘im the biological dad’ delusions. Once he’s down as the father he’s actually losing his mind a little. Can imagine Simon or Gaz popping round to check up on Johnny on their next leave and suddenly he has a family and they’re actually a little concerned because when Gaz makes a comment about the baby’s being cute Johnny’s like ‘Yeah we did a good job, didn’we lass?” and between the two of them there’s just silence because johnny this is not your baby but they can see that slightly deranged look in his eyes. Defo asks about all the heavy details of your pregnancy and labour and the first few months so he can pretend like he was actually there for it and will talk about it as if he were actually there (extra bonus points if Gaz actually pulls you aside in the kitchen and asks about Johnny’s behaviour and tells you to be careful LMAO).

So yeah anyways.

PLEASE WRITE THIS IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!! im screaming at that last bit i need this so bad please......i don't ask for much but i swear to god please write this for me. this idea was designed in a lab to inflict the maximum amount of psychic damage on me. please write this and i will happily beta/edit it for you if you need any help omg

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2

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phoenixkaptain · 8 months ago

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I love Stardew Valley and I love the community and I love how we all bond over pixelated chickens like we’re seventy-year-old women bonding over grandchildren- - -

But I get so annoyed with the character hate, like!!! All the characters are great!! All the romance-able characters are great!! I keep getting recommended videos about the bad parts of characters and I just want to scream!!

Penny: lovely. Charming. Kids are a big part of dating her because she teaches kids, of course she’s going to react a bit badly if you hate children. She is trying to teach kids so that they don’t have to have the same life she and her mother do, why do you hate this woman who is just anxious?

Shane: lovely. Charming. Perfect. “He still drinks after we get married, which ruins the whole story” NO. No. Shane is an alcoholic, and a severe one. If he quit cold-turkey, he would fucking die. “Harvey pumped his stomach” HE WOULD DIE. And I don’t care that my husband is messy, he has his own room and I don’t have to go over there!!

Maru: lovely. Charming. She hates working. She loves working on machines. She thinks about machines to build for you to make life easier. She’s adorable. She has a complicated relationship with her brother and I want to help them fix it goddangit because I love fictional siblings.

Elliott: lovely. Charming. An artist. He only leaves his home for like four hours a day. I can really relate to the desire to shave off all of one’s own hair. I feel that in my bones. Also, is friends with Willy and I fucking love Willy so A++

Leah: “she’s a lesbian” She’s fucking bi stop erasing bi rep in Bi Rep the Video Game

Sam: he’s a musician and a skater. This is what the perfect man looks like.

Emily: just the most charming. She has a complicated relationship with her sister because she takes care of her. She works at a saloon, how can someone not love a literal saloon worker? She’s crazy, she’s wild, she’s a flower child, I’m in love with her

Harvey: glasses. Doctor man. Occasionally puts on headphones to not so subtly hint that he doesn’t want to talk to you. This is what the perfect man looks lik-

Abigail: I don’t see a lot of people complain about Abigal, but I’ve seen a few and it just feels like- you guys love Sebastian so much but don’t like Abigail? What type of double standard is this?

Alex: everyone always says not to date him if your playing a female farmer, but honestly, his dialogue only cuts out parts if you play male. Like, he still says he felt different about you from day one even if you’re playing as a girl. The character affected the most by your gender choice in regards to dating Alex is George, and if you’ve already befriended George, he’ll apologize for being mean about your sexuality when he never even said anything mean about your sexuality, which is kind of funny

I never see people complain about Haley or Sebastian, which is fair, because Haley has a cute character arc and Sebastian loves frogs (this is what the perfect man lo-) My only problem is that people praise these two but rag on everyone else when I feel like all the characters are balanced pretty evenly in terms of good-bad traits.

Which trait is which is dependent on the person playing the game anyway, so when someone like me plays, I can’t help but find the characters perfect because I’m very forgiving when it comes to fictional characters’ undesirable traits. I mean, my favourite trait of all is stupidity, pure and unbridled, I’m talking facepalm-inducing, groan-worthy, the type of character people complain about the most; the type of stupid that makes people stop enjoying things. How can I dislike these characters who are cute and a bit awkward and so ready to bed the first hot farmer they come across even when that farmer sifts through their trash and passes out three steps away from their own house and drinks mayonnaise and would eat hay given half the chance. Like come on. They’re all moron-sexual. I can relate to that.

In conclusion: your favourite bachelor and/or bachelorette is as wonderful as you think they are and screw the people who try to tell you otherwise. The characters are great because they appeal to different people. Enjoy the game and enjoy the dating and I swear to God if I see another person say that certain farm layouts are bad because they don’t make enough money- the game doesn’t have a time limit! You can make as much money as you want! You could sell one sap everyday and nothing else and you would still be able to make it to however much money you desire to have. There’s not really a fast way to make ten billion gold, that doesn’t mean that the farm layouts you don’t like are bad and yes I’m ranting just because I love the slopes of the mining farm its layout is chamrjng and picturesque and provides a unique challenge to decorating and placing buildings and it’s actually the BEST farm layout because I just decided so and-!

Stardew Valley is a great game, 10/10 would recommend, and the new update is already great because I found carrot seeds and I like carrots :)

#the inane ramblings of a madman #stardew valley #stardew valley bachelors #stardew valley bachelorettes #i can judge all the characters pretty equally #because my fave partner is krobus #i love my creechur #he gives me hugs!!!#he waddles around my house!!!#i love this guy i want to give him all the hugs in the world #no joke he moved in and i hugged him like twenty times just because i could #krobus for bestest guy in the game #i love shane and penny was my first wifey and sebastian puts frogs in my home #but krobus man #🤌🤌🤌#long post #ignore me i’ve been seeing things with mine eyes and it doth cause me great bother

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luminouslywriting · 6 months ago

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Angsty stressful BOB headcanon - you accidentally get pregnant during the war and try to hide it but they catch on that’s something wrong w you

Sweetheart, I LIVE for and LOVE angsty requests, so I’m here for this! For the sake of historical accuracy and simplicity, reader is a medic/nurse that travels with Easy Company! More below the cut, cut for length, angst mentioned, pregnancy things and miscarriages mentioned:

Dick Winters:

-The thought that you might be pregnant is NOT one that crosses his mind initially. You’re distancing yourself and he doesn’t understand why. -He does his best to try and reach out and try to show you that he’s still committed—he’s honestly wondering what he did wrong. -The minute he sees the small little baby bump though?? He knows and he feels IMMENSE guilt over the entire thing. He should’ve been more careful and you definitely deserve better than being an unwed pregnant woman. -He’s now double stressed about the war and how he’s going to fix things with you and reconcile the problem. So his solution is to have a quiet elopement with you. -At least now you have some money to be taken care of. And he begs you to go and stay with his family back in the states so that you have someone taking care of you since he can’t be there. -He’s happy to have you and to be a father but it’s a very angsty and emotional time that won’t be reconciled until the war is over.

Lewis Nixon:

-Well this is a messy situation….if only because he’s well aware he’s getting a divorce but he was also having an affair with you and now you’re pregnant. -Panicked stressed upset—all of the emotions and goes through the five stages of grief tbh…and drinks to cope. -He’s got a lot of mixed emotions about the complexity of the situation. This is a second chance for happiness and also the nail in the coffin to his previous family. He also feels the weight of responsibility pretty heavily. -Also wants to marry you ASAP and cleans up his act so that he can have a chance with you and the kid. -Views it as a messy second chance so he’s very grateful despite the poor timing of everything. Dick helps him see the good in the situation. -He plans on making a very happy life with you as soon as he can.

Ronald Speirs:

-Clocks onto you being more sick than normal and more often….and just puts two and two together. He’s not an idiot, he knows he should’ve been more careful, and he feels bad. -This is a war and it’s not exactly great timing. He doesn’t want to make you commit to anything if you’re not absolutely certain of being with him. -Conversations are had about whether or not you’ll keep the kid and what you’ll do if you decide to keep it. Co-parenting seems to be the safest bet for now. -Don’t get me wrong, he wants a life with you. He just doesn’t want you to feel like he’s trapped you in said life with him. -He’s probably the most logical about things in the sense that he’s making sure you get a transfer back to London and away from the front lines for safety and health purposes. -Also dutifully writes you until the war is over and he can meet the kid and marry you.

Buck Compton:

-Despite the seriousness of the situation, it just depends on if it was before or after Bastogne. Either way, I think he’s a very big nervous wreck about things. -He wants to be a dad, wants to be a husband and have a life with you….but not like this. -Whatever his plan is that he’s figuring out, it gets thrown off by Bastogne and everything that happens there. -I truthfully think that the best thing might be for you to follow him home since you’re pregnant and try to help in his recovery. You can be a big help emotionally to him. -Buck feels a lot of guilt for feeling broken and not able to support or help you as a parent or lover, but the minute that kid is born, he’s getting everything back on track. -After a while, he’ll ask you to marry him and share a life with him.

Carwood Lipton:

-This responsible mother hen?? Feels like the W O R S T person ever. Not his intention to put you in this situation and wants to send you home with a ring on your finger post-haste. -So that’s exactly what he does, he finds the nearest chaplain and gets hitched and then writes his mother

-He has so much guilt over not being there for the birth of the baby and not being there for you

-But it’s the hope of seeing you and the baby that keeps him going and keeps him hopeful, even during times like Bastogne. -Probably quietly talks about the situation with a few pals of his, including Speirs. And he definitely misses you a lot. -And consistently apologizes the rest of your marriage over the entire thing.

Joseph Liebgott:

-Doesn’t know whether or not to hope for the best or the worst because the timing of it all is just super poor and inconvenient?? -Feels guilty over that and while he’s happy that this means he gets to have you in his life, he’s also acutely aware of how complicated he’s made things for you. -It’s an anchor point for him to remember what he’s fighting for and that humanity is a thing though, so there’s that sobering point he gets to. -Probably wants to get married but there’s not a chaplain around so his next bet is to go to Winters and try to get you transferred somewhere else. -Promises he’s going to make it back to you and get married after the war. He thinks of little else during Bastogne and the hard times. -When he goes to Austria, you show up with the baby and he finally gets to meet baby Liebgott and get hitched haha.

Donald Malarkey:

-Excited and sad at the same time?? Doesn’t really know how to feel and is now worried about leaving you on your own with a baby. -Is also really worried he’ll never get to meet the baby and so he tries to make the most of the short times that you do have together. -Insists on getting married so that if he dies, you have some fallback money and something that will take care of you and the baby. -Probably cries about it when he’s alone because it was NOT the plan and he doesn’t think that you should have to put up with any of this stuff anyway. -Tries to find baby stuff in different towns that he can give to you when he gets back to you. -Wrote home to his mother immediately that she was going to be a grandmother lol.

Eugene Roe: (Big sad, I’m sorry):

-Was not intending on getting you pregnant but now that you are, he’s super excited and happy about it….and also terrified because pregnancy has so many complications anyway. -Prays avidly for your safety and for the baby’s safety as you two are figuring things out. Truth be told, it’s probably right around Bastogne that you both figure out that you ARE pregnant. -The guilt is real and he’s coming into the city as much as possible to try and see you and check on you. It’s cold, rations are low, and you’re working a lot anyway. -Now here’s where you’re all going to demand I pay for therapy (get in line kids). You survive the church collapsing but you lose the baby a few weeks later after some severe cramping and being sick. -And the thing is?? He’s horribly awfully and guiltily relieved because it’s probably safer for you this way and there was no way that either of you could have been parents right now. -But he does promise to marry you and that you’ll have more children one day.

Bill Guarnere:

-Finds out about it by accident when you’re telling another nurse and freaking out bc you don’t know what to do. And this man?? Baffled and shocked and trying to figure out what to say. -So he comes to you and quietly lets you know that he knows and is willing to do whatever you need/want for things. -You two get married right before D-Day and then he ships out. You two write letters back and forth faithfully for months. -Everyone knows you’re having a baby and that is the baby of Easy Company lol. -His accident in Bastogne happens and he gets shipped back to London and then back to the states and you go with him. -He’s in recovery when the baby is born and he’s happy about it because it’s really a new life for everyone tbh.

Joe Toye:

-You try to break up with him and the argument gets pretty nasty bc there’s no real reason for the breakup until you drop the bomb that you’re pregnant and he just??? Short circuits?? -He gets really soft and sweet about the entire thing and promises that he’s going to stay by your side through it. -So he writes his family ASAP and marries you in a church in his uniform. Then you’re getting sent back to your family and his and it’s a bit messy. -But he’s writing you and really excited to meet the kid….who is faithfully and dutifully born a few weeks before his accident in Bastogne. -He doesn’t even know the kid had been born until he gets back and there’s a lot of guilt and grief and feelings of inadequacy about the situation. -But he’s a great dad and a great husband so it all works out.

George Luz:

-is honestly trying to come up with every possibly outcome and solution so that he’s prepared for whatever decision you make. -You told him about it shortly after they returned from D-Day and he’s a little shocked (more than a little) and having a hard time keeping a lid on things. -He wanted a whole wedding that everyone could celebrate and be happy with, but going down to a courthouse with you and a few of the guys will do. -Gives the men of Easy Company updates on the pregnancy via letters from you all of the time. And you get the weirdest most random questions from them, I’m sure. -Narrowly survived Bastogne and was really struggling until your letters started coming through again. -Is really excited to meet the baby and see you again once things are over with the war.

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honeybunhottie · 1 month ago

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Hiiii could I please request a Josh fic from until dawn, so I was thinking that this fix could for at take place at the first party where the prank happens, Josh and reader would be together in this.

What would happen if reader had a small part in the prank?

Do you think the reader would be involved in Josh's revenge?

Thank you, hope you are well!!!

How Josh would react if his partner were involved in his sister’s prank:

I honestly was on his side when it came to this. Like these were NOT ya’lls friends if they came to YOUR house and HUMILIATED your sis, even going as far as to RECORD it?? That selfie stick was diabolical. Like if he had focused on the actual perpetrators instead of his buddies I def think that everyone would be siding with him.

Okay onto the headcannons!

If you were involved in the prank against Hannah, Josh would be heartbroken, simple as that.

You were hanging with Jess and Ashley, your boyfriend wasted and passed out on the counter.

Everyone is at least a little buzzed, it’s the middle of the night, and the party is still going strong!

Jess sees Hannah staring at Mike every 5 seconds and makes a snide remark to you both before going to get Emily

Hannah is sweet to you, but really? Mike is already in a relationship with one of your mutual friends. That’s not girls girl behavior. Maybe a little prank will jolt her out of it? Then maybe things will go back to normal

Except with Jess and Em, nothing is ever just a little

They giggle together as they figure out what to write on the note, you correcting them a little to make it sound more like Mike

Everything is a blur, and before you know it, you’re hiding with Ashley, watching with a bated breath.

Your heart is pounding and your conscience nags at you that maybe… this is a little too mean.

It’s too late to back out now though.

When Josh wakes up to your hurried shaking of his arm and the repeated calls of his name, he’s very confused

The world is spinning, his partner is frantic, and the lodge is silent besides the panicked whisper yelling from the group across the room.

You’re sobbing as you explain that Hannah and Beth ran into the woods and haven’t come back yet

He’s very confused and his heart is pounding so loud in his ears that he can’t hear your explanations clearly

He hears lots of “I’m sorry” and “prank” is thrown around a few times, but he can’t make full sense of it.

After the police come and start the search, and he’s more sober, he’s silent as he holds his head in his hands. It’s an hour before he makes a sound

“Why?”

And you can’t answer him with anything that makes sense.

You try to reach out afterward, but he doesn’t respond

It’s complete radio silence on his end

One day you get a text

A simple “its over”

And thats that.

You believe you’ll spend your whole life drowning in the guilt from the actions of that night before you get the invite

You haven’t seen Josh in almost a year, and he looks worse for wear

Though you don’t look the best either atm

Despite what your gut tells you, you decide to go anyway.

Maybe as a weird attempt at atonement, or to soothe your guilt

He greets you with a soft smile and a short wave

You have a little small talk, asking how he’s been

Neither of you really believes the other’s answer to that question, but neither really wants to dig either

You go upstairs to go to bed early after the tense reunion, ready to put this day to an end

Only to be woken up by someone's screams

You burst out of bed, hair messy, donning old shirt and pj pants as you race towards the source. You arrive to find nothing, and see a horror movie playing on the TV

Except it’s not a horror movie, those are your friends in peril

And Josh is getting bisected as you fall to your knees, unable to turn away from the scene as tears stream down your face, you begin to hyperventilate

and then there’s slow footsteps behind you, and the coppery scent of blood fills the air

It feels like gravity has increased, and you’re too stunned to move a muscle

The man in the clown mask walks until he’s right in front of you before saying one simple thing that flips your whole world down under

“It’s your fault”

the psycho blames me? for Josh’s death?

Oh! ho! ho! Yes. He blames you. Though not for this. No, he blames you for not standing up to help his sister. For being an active participant. For not waking him up faster. For a plethora of things really, many actually being out of your control…

He just blames you. Because you were there. An extension of himself as someone he loved.

He blames you, almost as much as he blames himself

and for that, he hates you

or at least he’s pretty sure he does…

Honestly I wish I was creative enough to think of an elaborate prank for him to play on reader, but I am sadly not gifted in that aspect. I really do feel like Josh would feel immensely betrayed if someone he let into his heart and welcomed into his family sided with the others to play such a cruel trick on his sister. There’s no coming back from it.

Anyways hope you liked it! Please send me more requests!!

#josh washington x reader #josh washington #until dawn headcanons #until dawn #until dawn x reader

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bunny-lily · 9 months ago

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Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy.

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

smol update: this has been (minorly) edited! nothing big, I mostly just went in and fixed up a couple mistakes + summoned my dearly beloved thesaurus. Otherwise, it's basically 98% the same as before!

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on their sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube hardly scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down.

You weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your instrument. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the spinet – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their cinders, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your upright eighty-eight, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too low for him. What intensely long legs. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the ivories and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the upper panel. You opened it and sifted through a few of the jingle options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the music rack in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The piece consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing.

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as milky white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so… familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor.

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the tunes you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach a lot of things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing the fallboard with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru. Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs.

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could exhale in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ thing alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing music whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Satoru had been your student for a while now.

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a lullaby he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch nearby, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played.

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore.

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old vinyls. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the usual spot.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound his laughter was.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest single quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone.

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only ever dream of achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the claviature. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh.

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain.

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a sonata, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he rasped, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt firsthand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the ballad reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys?

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the lilt.

Or, rather, the end as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position.

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in.

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus.

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager.

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the diapason you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. Some clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere.

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious lullaby your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #fem reader #I'm going light on the tags fn #is this considered light lmao #fluff #jjk fluff

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dbnightingale24 · 7 months ago

Text

I'll Wait For Your Love

A StevexReaderxBucky Messy Triangle

Everyone thank my husband because he fixed the wifi! This is only a bit of the final installation of 'My Little Decoy'. You can read the full version here. I didn't finish this as quickly as I wanted to, but it still got done a lot faster than I thought it would (yay anxiety!).

Thank you @fuckingbye for always putting up with my shit, and always making me amazing moodboards because I'm lame as shit. I love you and I can't wait to tackle you with a hug <3.

As always, please heed the warnings and I hope you enjoy it! Here we go!

Word Count: 35,290 (it's called growth)

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), Slight Infidelity, Arguments, Drinking, Smoking, Angst, Swearing, Self Loathing, Fluff, Heartbreak, Lying (by omission), Daddy Kink, Uhh...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You Cling To Your Papers and Pens, Wait Until You Like Me Again

Summary: When two major parts of your past come back and ask for another chance, do you stand your ground and stay with the life you've created for yourself, or do you decide to test the water after all this time and see if it's worth the leap of faith?

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

It’s weird. You had made peace with never seeing either man again, yet for the past hour, the three of you have been in your kitchen arguing. Bucky snaps at you, Steve defends you, you snap at Bucky, Steve gets you to calm down, Bucky snaps at him, and you threaten to kick him out. Honestly, for the most part, Steve is the mediator. You’re assuming that they have some level of friendship again, or he just doesn’t want to pile anymore guilt and pressure onto you.

It was clear to you that he hadn’t expected Bucky to follow him and, if he hadn’t been so focused on seeing you, he would’ve noticed Bucky’s car. Apparently, with Maria being pregnant, Steve assumed that Bucky hadn’t even noticed his erratic behavior.

He should’ve been right.

“James, I don’t know what you want me to say,” you sigh for what feels like the millionth time as you stir the white sauce on the stove. “I can only apologize so many times, but it’s not like you were in the dark. You saw the connection between Steve and I, and you decided to pursue me anyway. I didn’t start cheating until long after you had-”

“You being in love with Steve was already cheating!” he shouts at you, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Are you ever capable of holding yourself accountable? Or is it only when you know you’re in danger of losing me? You never apologized for cheating and you still won’t fess up to it, you never actually apologized for your behavior when we found out I couldn’t get pregnant, and even now, you’re just throwing it in my face that I cheated on you after you cheated on me. Is that what you came all the way here for? To yell at me and make me feel small in my own home? Because, if it is, you can get the fuck out right now. I don’t need this shit from you, James. I didn’t need it then and I sure as shit don’t need it now,” you say firmly as you finally turn to face him.

You don’t miss the small smile that comes to Steve’s face, before he takes a sip from his beer bottle.

Bucky lets out a frustrated sigh before he ran a hand through his hair, “no, that’s not why I came out here.” “Then what did you come here for?”

“I wanted to see you,” he confesses softly.

You turn and open the oven to check on the salmon, “she’s pregnant, James. That’s what you wanted-” “I wanted it with you and you know that.”

“You cheated with her, James. You cheated with her because you knew it would hurt me the most, you fucked her at work, in our house, and went out with her after work very publicly to make me look like a fool. Then, you denied the whole thing to try and make me feel crazy, like I couldn’t see the lipstick stains on my pillow-”

“You hurt me!”

“Because I couldn’t have a fucking kid? You think that was a fun thing for me to find out?!”

“It wasn’t just the baby! You never loved me in the way that you love Steve, and I tried and tried-”

“Then why not just let me go?!”

“Cause I loved you. I love you.”

“Well, you got married to her a year after I left, and now she’s gonna have your child. Looks like you’re doing just fine.” “Don’t be fucking callous,” he scoffs.

“James, you followed Steve to my home to berate me, and you’re gonna sit there and tell me not to be callous? You went out of your way to have this argument, and for what? Because you couldn’t trap me into being in love with you? Go fuck yourself and die on that fucking cross you’re so desperate to hang yourself from!”

“Darlin’,” Steve snaps and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but fuck that. You want me to feel so bad for something I tried to ignore, and that’s not fair! What I did was wrong, but I tried. I defended you, I looked the other way, and never held anything over your head. You constantly went out of your way to hurt me, and I’m supposed to feel bad for finally following my heart? I’m supposed to feel bad because I wouldn’t let you trap me and make me hate myself anymore? Fuck that. I never played you for a fool, you did that shit to yourself, and I refuse to pay penance for it anymore,” you snap as you pour the bow ties into the boiling water. “God, where does your pregnant wife even think you are?”

“I just told her I needed to get out for a while.” “You’re such an asshole. I don’t even like the bitch and I think it’s a low blow. You leave your pregnant wife to tell your ex-wife that you still love her? What the fuck did you think was going to happen? What did you think I was gonna say? You thought I’d see the light and wanna take you back? You married her out of spite, James.”

“I do love her-”

“Well, clearly not enough,” you scoff, “this feels a lot like the pot calling the kettle black, because you love her, but you’re still pining over me? That’s fucking rich, I gotta say. You’re a real piece of work,” you chuckle dryly as you pour yourself another glass.

“I wanted to see you...make sure you’re okay. Nat and Meg won’t tell anyone anything, Meg won’t even talk to me-”

“Well, what the hell did you think was going to happen, James? I’ve been her best friend since we were six. Yeah, she’s not too fucking fond of you after everything that’s happened.”

“So what? You just hate me now?”

“I don’t hate you, you self centered asshole! I should, I have every fucking right to after the last year we spent together, and I wish I did, but I don’t! You’ve been attacking me! I’m sorry that you decided to pursue the one person your best friend was in love with, and I’m sorry that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t love you the way I’ve always loved Steve. I’m sorry that I cheated on you with Steve and it broke your heart even more. However, a lot of this shit could’ve been avoided if you would’ve just stayed away! I’m not your fucking scapegoat anymore, James. You’re finally getting what you want, and you’re still not happy-” “I don’t have you! I don’t have what I want-”

“You had me and then decided to treat me like an object! I can’t do anything about the fact that you treated me like total fucking trash, James! That’s on you, not me,” you state as the timer goes off.

As you turn off the stove top, Charlotte makes her way into the kitchen and sits patiently.

“You know better little miss,” you laugh softly, “go lay down.”

She huffs, but gets up and walks back to her bed nonetheless, and your heart flutters at Steve’s soft chuckle.

“So, that’s it?” Bucky huffs.

“I honestly don’t know what else you expect. I don’t know what more you want to know. Everything you’ve asked, I’ve been honest about, everything you deserve an apology for, I’ve apologized for...what else is there to say? What else is there to do?” you ask as his phone goes off.

Pulling it out (rather aggressively), he mutters, “what the fuck now?” before getting up and storming out, slamming the door shut behind him.

“If he breaks my house, I’ll break his neck,” you mutter, checking on the broccoli, before taking another sip from your glass.

“It’s Maria. She’s been on edge lately. She’s due in two months and she feels like Bucky’s attention is elsewhere.”

“I wonder why,” you scoff. “What about you? Are you gonna rake me over the coals too?”

“You know better than that, honey,” he sighs heavily. “We don’t have to-”

“You might as well, Steve. It’s why you’re here-”

“I’m here because I’ve missed you like crazy, and I wanted to see you. We’ve already gotten farther than I expected us too.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d wanna see me or not.”

“I was never angry with you, Steve. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I still cry over it,” you scoff, rubbing your forehead.

“Then why-”

“I couldn’t do that to you, Steve. I loved you. I love you. Breaking up your friendship with Bucky? Stealing you from the Avengers-”

“I told you I’d go with you-”

“But you would’ve felt guilty. Yeah, you’d still love me, and you’d be happy to make a life with me anywhere, but you’d feel guilty. You and Bucky? I knew it could get resolved once I was out of the picture, and for the most part, I was right.”

“You didn’t give me a chance-”

“Because you wouldn’t have been logical about it, babe. Neither of us are ever exactly smart when it comes to each other,” you smile softly and he chuckles with a slight nod. “Please understand that it wasn’t something I did lightly, or that I didn’t think about how much it would hurt you. It seems like I’m always hurting you one way or another, and I’ve never wanted that.”

“We always find ways to hurt each other, darlin’. We can’t seem to get this dance right,” he sighs.

“No, we can’t.”

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” he smiles weakly.

“One of the many perks of no longer being an Avenger, I get to work on my cooking skills.”

“You’ve always been the best cook, babe,” he compliments as he gets up and makes his way over to you.

Having him so close to you still makes your brain so foggy, even after all this time.

“I’ll leave after dinner-”

“You don’t have to,” you quickly interrupt. “Neither one of you do. I have spare bedrooms...” “You’re comfortable with us staying here?”

“I mean, I’m already feeding the both of you and I don’t want you to spend the money, when there’s no need.”

“Still the most thoughtful person I know,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and you lean into his touch. “There is something I have to tell you though.”

“Oh God.”

“They know.”

“They who?” “Everyone. I told Tony I’d be gone for a few days, because no matter what happened today, I knew I was gonna need time to recover, and he kept saying that he needs me to train the new recruits. So, I just folded and told him where I was going.”

“Shit.”

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I needed to see you, darlin’. I had no right and it’s your privacy, but I knew he wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t tell him.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m the one that left the way that I did...”

“He wants to see you, they all do.”

“Steve-”

“I didn’t promise them anything, I just told them I’d let you know.”

“I guess I owe it to everyone, don’t I?”

“That’s for you to decide,” he smirks as his eyes study your face. “You smell like vanilla and strawberries.”

“It’s my soap,” you giggle.

“I feel like I should be angry with you. You looked me in the eyes and lied to me.”

“To be fair, you did the same thing, Rogers. For years.”

“That’s true,” he sighs, backing up and leaning against the kitchen island.

Your confusion is short lived when you hear Bucky come storming back in.

“Are you staying over or not?” you ask as the second timer goes off.

He glares looking from you to Steve, “do you even want me here?”

“Whether I do or don’t isn’t the point. I’ve already made dinner, it’s getting late, and there’s no reason for you to spend money if you don’t have to. If you don’t have to go back tonight, I prefer you to stay where I know you’re safe. The last thing I need is for you to get into an accident on an almost five hour ride home, because you were sulking and not paying attention,” you mutter, dumping the bow ties into a strainer before transfer them to a bowl.

He looks taken aback (in a good way) , before responding with, “thank you,” and grabbing another beer.

“Ya know, I know you two can’t get drunk off of anything I have, but I do have stronger drinks.”

“This is fine, doll. Thank you.”

Well, at least he’s being nicer.

Soon enough, you’re taking the salmon out of the oven and breaking it up, before cutting up the broccoli and adding both to the bow ties. After adding in your homemade white sauce, you add just a bit of lemon juice and mixing it all in together. You can’t lie, it’s nice to cook for someone besides yourself for a change, even if the situation is extremely awkward.

“Uh, darlin’?” Steve asks softly as you take three plates out of your upper cabinet.

“Hmm?”

“Not to be creepy or nosey, but your phone keeps vibrating,” he laughs.

“Ah shit!”

You completely forget to answer the chat between you, Meg, Nat.

“Take as much as you want,” you tell them before sprinting up the steps.

Grabbing it off of the nightstand, you let out a small groan as you see the string of missed texts in the ‘Three Crazies’ chat.

Ms. Widow: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: What happened???

Ms. Widow: Steve heard me on the phone with Y/N, and hes taking a few days off go and see her.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: Oh shit! Oh SHIT!

Ms. Window: I think Buck is going too, or something, cause he took a few days off too. Maria found out and she’s freaking the fuck out.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: Fuck.

Ms. Widow: The whole fucking compound is buzzing, and Bruce is more than upset with me. Y/N, I’m really so sorry.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: Has anyone said anything to you?

Ms. Widow: No, Tony’s been pacing all day and the team is kind of dumbfounded. No one knew where she was, now, both Steve and Bucky are off to see her. No one knows why the divorce happened...no one knows anything.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: Babe, has anyone said anything? Has anyone showed up?

Ms. Widow: Oh God, please answer.

Rock n’ Roll Queen: Starting to get worried here, babe.

Ms. Widow: Please don’t hate me. I’m so damn sorry. I didn’t know Steve was even around.

Y/N: They’re here now, both of them are downstairs eating dinner, and they’re staying over tonight. I’ll talk more after dinner when I’m getting ready for bed. I could never hate you, Nat. You should know that by now.

You place your phone in your back back pocket and run a stressed hand through your hair, pacing before you remember they can both hear you and just stand in the middle of your bedroom. How was everything spiraling so fast? How the fuck were you supposed to explain things without saying too much? Oh God, how the fuck were you gonna deal with Maria?

All of these thoughts were giving you a headache, and you’re growing hungrier by the second. Racing back downstairs, you walk right by the two sets of inquisitive eyes, and make yourself a large helping of the pasta dish into a bowl before showering it with a generous helping of Parmesan cheese.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Steve is first to ask, but the look on Bucky’s face lets you know he’s just as worried.

“Everything is fine, just having a day,” you mutter, grabbing a fork and your drink before making your into your living room, and curling up on the couch.

You honestly aren’t even mad at them, but you’re now trying to navigate how all of this is going to work. You’d closed that chapter of your life, and had dealt with things in your own way, but now? Now, everyone knows and for as much as you hate to admit it, they deserve an explanation. It doesn’t matter that you technically did everything by the book (turning in all your weapons and any sensitive and classified details you had), you still abandoned your friends. The family you got to create. All they want is to see you and know that you’re okay, and who are you to say no? None of them did anything to deserve that.

God, you hope they don’t think you’ll stay. You have no desire for that life anymore, nor do you feel like seeing Maria’s smug fucking face anymore. No, you’re life isn’t exactly quiet now, but it’s a lot more calm and a lot more stable. You have your job, your fur baby, your home-

“Darlin’,” Steve sighs as he sits at the other end of the sofa.

You hadn’t even noticed that Charlotte had sensed your anxiety and stress, and curled up by your toes.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault-”

“I’m the one who walked away like I did, Steve.”

“Be that as it may, I-we disrupted your privacy. No, I didn’t expect Bucky to follow me, but I...I just needed to see you and didn’t think about anything else. I haven’t seen much of your life out here, but I can tell it’s quiet, you’re happy, and you’re finally at peace. Now, you have a million questions to answer and people to answer to. I’m really sorry, honey.”

“It’s...it’s fine,” you sob, not even understanding why you’re crying.

All at once, all of these emotions just overwhelm you, and you feel as if you’re drowning.

“Darlin’?!”

“What the hell did you do to her?!” you hear Bucky faintly yell.

Everything seems to fade around you and all sound is lost. Your family, friends, past...you have to face them all. Everything you’ve tricked yourself into thinking you’ve healed from is all of a sudden back in your life at once; the scabs all feel torn off and bleed again. Without warning, no easing back into it, and you have no idea what to expect. What if everyone hates you? What if no one even wants to see you? Is Maria the favorite now? Is she in your old office? You faintly feel someone wrap their arms around you, and you honestly don’t care which one of them it is, you just cling to them in a weak attempt to bring yourself back down.

“Darlin’, you’re okay, it’s all okay. Buck and I are right here,” Steve promises with worry laced in every word as he softly rubs your back.

He pulls you close and you can tell he’s trying to regulate your breathing with his own.

“I need you to breathe for me, pretty girl. Deep breaths,” he coos softly.

“M...Meg! Please call Meg,” you sob.

“Call Meg!” he repeats harshly towards Bucky, and you hate yourself for how worried they both are.

You pray that they don’t start arguing, because you don’t know what the hell you’ll do, and you can faintly hear Charlotte whining and feel her little paws on your lap. You haven’t had a panic attack since your second night there, and she’s never seen you have one.

This is only a bit of the final installation of 'My Little Decoy'. You can read the full version here.

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