#tho got on my clothes still pretty just not pretty good for me

[wearily-confused]

Anywho, mumma made me go w/her to the fields so

the bg sound is of water starting to flow into the field I was standing in, in my socks and slippers, fearing for the dryness of my feet so I just saved the first vid and ran

[narutomaki]

WHO... IS BUYING NEW CLOTHES.... MORE THAN ONCE A YEAR....... WHO ??????

[andromedasummer]

hav used my birthday money 2 buy clothig :)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch3. domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door. 

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table. 

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, ��who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts. 

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels. 

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face. 

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says. 

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail. 

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. 

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to clicks through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst. 

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month). 

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and—  of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style. 

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he’s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too. 

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to. 

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t. 

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors. 

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out. 

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat. 

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake. 

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation. 

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd. 

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it. 

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose. 

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human. 

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little. 

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws. 

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out. 

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute. 

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you. 

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.” 

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance. 

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer. 

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either. 

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had. 

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours. 

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay. 

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you. 

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear. 

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?” 

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works. 

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink. 

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time. 

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.” 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you. 

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful. 

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy. 

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up. 

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you. 

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly. 

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up. 

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up. 

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said. 

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it. 

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.” 

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off. 

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen. 

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher. 

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm. 

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?” 

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?” 

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge. 

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over. 

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?” 

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room. 

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers. 

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed. 

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones. 

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. ��The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours. 

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

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[bahrtofane]

Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+ 

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class. 

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live. 

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table. 

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze. 

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish.  You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you. 

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone. 

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in. 

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god. 

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing. 

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on. 

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom, 

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting. 

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer. 

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection. 

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone. 

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.” 

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him. 

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together. 

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know. 

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.” 

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude  grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe. 

“I win again.” He cackles. 

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles. 

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal. 

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall. 

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands. 

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.”

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?” 

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again. 

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time. 

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush. 

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers. 

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male. 

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker. 

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator. 

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree. 

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away. 

And so it begins. 

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him. 

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate. 

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless. 

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases. 

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face. 

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases. 

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words. 

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.” 

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?” 

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief. 

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye. 

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you. 

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't- 

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

“Jude?’ 

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you. 

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you. 

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs. 

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go. 

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder 

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?” 

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly. 

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder. 

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh. 

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood. 

“What is it?” 

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck. 

“Finally.” He confirms. 

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering. 

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end. 

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you. 

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door. 

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same. 

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security. 

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go. 

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?” 

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug. 

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.” 

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.” 

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.” 

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match. 

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3’

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[missetbilu]

KEEPING A CLOSE EYE*

perv!fred weasley x fem!reader, smut

when fred overhears you and the girls chit chatting about boys that you fancy, he can’t keep his mind from wandering, nor his hand.

warnings: perv concept, jerking off

"Come on, Y/N, there's gotta be someone you fancy." Ginny elbowed you, trying to get a response.

Angelina, Hermione, Ginny and yourself were in your favorite little spot in the library. A very secluded area, where you could study, sneak in some food, talk, without prying eyes or ears.

Although in that afternoon, you were not very much enjoying the topic of choice. Boys. Too shy to come clean about your little crush, you would much rather gossip or even focus on the charms essay due next week than engage in the conversation. But the girls were not having it.

"Yeah, even Hermione admitted to being completely, head over heels, in love with Ron." Angelina teased.

"Hey!" The girl blushed and looked away for a second, but curiosity got the best of her and she gave in to the argument. "She's right tho, you're the only one left."

"I just don't think of any guy here like that."

"In this castle full of boys, you expect me to believe not even a single one of them is your type?" Ginny said.

"Unless you're into girls."

"I'm not." You laughed at Angelina's curious expression. "I like men."

"Then name one you would" Hermione stopped herself mid sentence, suddenly a bit shy, "...you know."

"Fuck?" Angelina completed her thought and they all laughed, Hermione also shushing her and looking around to make sure they were alone.

"Alright." You took a deep breath and tried to sound as nonchalant as you possibly could. "I guess Fred is kind of cute."

"Aw dude, are you serious?" Ginny's disappointment was so clear in her face that the three other girls bursted out laughing.

"Shhh, guys, I don't wanna get kicked out." Hermioned said between giggles.

"Sorry, babe, but this was too good not to laugh at." Angelina responded, still chuckling.

"Too good? All my friends wanna fuck my brothers."

And you all fell into laughter again.

-

It had been a week since Fred discovered that spot of yours to hang out. Whenever you and the girls disappeared from his sight, he would get anxious, wondering where you might be.

Until the day he was looking for a potions book, but found something far better: you.

He managed to hide in the corridor next to the one where the group of girls would sit on the floor and chit chat. Usually he took no interest in the conversations you would have. But not that day. Throughout the whole week he listened to each silly subject the girls brought up, only paying attention to the sound of your angelic voice when you made a comment. That day it was different. Once the tables turned from homework to guys you fancied, Fred felt his heart skip a beat.

He was nervous, his palms becoming sweaty as each of the girls rambled about one boy after the other. He barely listened to the guys his sister brought up, nor to the mentions of his brothers. What mattered most to him was what you were going to say. He was so afraid of hearing another man's name fall out of your pretty lips; so afraid you would confess to feeling attracted to someone else.

But he was also infatuated with the possibility of his name being the one in your mind. You quietly listened to what your friends had to say, too scared to say something yourself, Fred saw that in your expression as he tried to eye your figure from the place where he was hiding. Just thinking about it, being him the person you kept yourself from mentioning, made his trousers feel a bit too tight. His hand travelled down to his growing bulge, but he didn't move it, he didn't want to risk not hearing you.

Your silence allowed his imagination to run wild. Maybe this whole thing got her thinking about how good I would fuck her, and she's afraid of sharing those filthy thoughts. He stroked his cock once, over the fabric of his clothes. Or perhaps she's so lost in the desire of getting filled up with my cum, she didn't even notice how quiet she's been... oh fuck... He did it again and had to hold back a moan.

Fred knew he shouldn’t, but it was as if he had no control over his actions. His hand slipped past his boxers and he stroked his dick, trying so hard to imagine it was you doing it.

Has she ever had a wet dream with me? He wondered. She would wake up sweaty and out of breath. Her panties are completely damp, but it's not because of the sweat, it's arousal. I bet she would be embarrassed, looking around the dorm to see if the other girls are sleeping, before she goes under the covers and... He gasps quietly, his hands going a bit faster now. And she lets her hand touch her dripping cunt... He bites his lip to stop himself from cursing. Her sweet fingers would tease her clit and she wouldn't be able to stop a moan of my name from coming out.

"Alright." When the word left your mouth he slowed down his movement, focusing on the head of his member. It was almost painful the way he teased his tip, trying to pay attention to what you were about to say. He even held his breath, that and the expectation making him even more sensitive. "I guess Fred is kind of cute."

Fred was really thankful for the loud laughter of the group that followed your confession, because the minute he heard your sugary voice saying his name, it was too much. He came in his hand with a low grunt.

He didn't listen to anything said after that. He didn't move or took his hand off of his trousers. He was in shock. As much as he wanted that outcome, it felt unreal now that it happened. He had imagined how you would sound saying you fancied him, what words you would choose and what exactly would be the look on your face. But none of it compared to the reality of it all.

You, such a perfect picture of beauty, intelligence, kindness. The most incredible, endearing and angelical woman he had ever set his eyes upon, out of all people, wanted him.

Fred waited until you all had left to pick himself up from his spot on the floor and attempt to use some spells and his robes to hide the stain in his pants. He did a good job, it wasn't too noticeable, but deep down he didn't care. There was something, or rather someone, much more important in his mind.

He stood in front of the corridor where you had been just a few minutes before. "I guess Fred is kind of cute." That played in his head over and over again, like a broken record. And Fred definitely didn't want to fix it.

[possiblyreallyme]

Kinktober day 14: lingerie with Paulie

warning: idk paulie as a whole??? he's got problems bro, so like lowkey misogynism and stuff, also lowkey paulie slander, degradation, fingering, mentions of blowjobs, mean paulie idk how that happened tho.

Kinktober Masterlist

Paulie got on your nerves sometimes.

"Put some damn clothes on, tramp!" He'd yell with reddened cheeks when you came out in a pair of shorts. "Hey! Your tits are practically hangin' out!" He'd scream angerly when you walked by in anything less than a turtleneck. "If you don't cover up your ass now-" You don't even need to look back at him to know he'd fuming at your shorts.

It was tiring, and it made going just about anywhere with him impossible. Thank god for Kaku and Lucci, who usually mocked him for being so perverted, to which Paulie would chew them out because he was "anything but a pervert! not my fault she dresses like a slut!"

"..." This had to have been the quietest he's ever been before, staring wide eyed and slack jawed at the pretty lace peeking out of your lowcut shirt, hammer still mid-swing while he held it out awkwardly in the air.

You'd given up on Paulie's "dress code" long ago, and when Iceburg offhandedly joked about you wearing a lace set to go on strike, you found it a little too tempting to resist.

Though now, his silence was almost... scary. You expected a fit, throwing his fists in the air and screaming like a toddler, but his lack of reaction other than shock almost made you want to pull your skirt down a little further to hide your ass.

"...What do you think you're wearing?" He finally asked, and the urge to roll your eyes suddenly crept up your spine like nothing ever had before, but you resisted the urge and put bounced on your heels instead.

"A shirt," You answered dumbly, putting on an innocent pout as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why? I thought it looked good on me."

"...Oh," The look on his face was almost anger, a fire brewing behind his flickering gaze, snarling around his cigar. "It does look good on you."

Huh?

Your spine almost tingled at the look in his eyes, and his answer sent a flutter to somewhere you tried to ignore, pausing for a moment to take a breath and wonder what was going on. Again, you expected a tantrum, not for him to agree with you.

"Damn it." It seemed as though Paulie was catching on to how odd his responses made you feel, because he pinched the bridge of his nose and set down his hammer, white tank top stretching nicely over his damp muscles when he leaned into his workbench.

"I don't think you get it," He murmured, finally looking up to meet your curious gaze and fuck, you wished he kept his eyes down. The look of lust was something you never expected to see on the man, but it made your walls flutter around nothing anyway. "I've been tryin' to keep it together, warn you not to wear that shit around here, and you just can't help yourself, can you."

Now you're the one going quiet, shifting uncomfortably under his surprisingly heated gaze, suddenly aware of how warm the sun felt on your rather exposed skin and how wet the air around you felt. On one hand, your clothes kept you cool. But on the other hand, they made Paulie hot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yeah, thought you could just strut around in your little outfit and I wouldn't see?" Paulie growled lowly, fucking his fingers into you faster and curling them just right, like he knew your pussy front to back. "What a little slut."

A quick reminder about how he was the one staring at your tits would have saved you some shame, but all you could muster was the sweet little whine, clinging to him with a hot face and a tearful pout. The most humiliating part had to be how he hadn't even fully stripped you before he set you on his table and shoved his hands into your panties, watching your resolve melt away while he pinched your clit and licked at your nipple through your lacy bra, watching the bug harden against the fabric in real time.

"Where'd you even get this, hm?" He asked, bullying his fingers deeper into you pussy until you had to sit in his palm, bouncing slightly each time he pumped his fist to go deeper. "What, d'you go to the shop and pick this up just for me? You tellin' me you went down the aisles and just had to get the tiny one with the pretty bows on your hips?" You hated that he guessed it right, choosing to whine in his ear instead of responding properly.

"Hm, dumb little girl, can't even speak right when I ask you a question," He grunted mostly to himself, finding a pleasure in the way you squealed when he suddenly slid a third finger into your squelching cunt, smirking smugly at the way your lashes glimmered with unshed tears and you tightened up around his thick digits.

"Tell you what, babydoll, you come on my fingers, and I'll let you suck my cock; how's that sound?" He cooed in a mock sweetness that had you arching into him, pussy quivering around his fingers the way you shamefully imagined you would on his cock, lace-cladded breasts pressing against his own much tougher chest.

He laughed in your face when you could do nothing but tremble, finally tipping over the edge of your release while he thumbed at your clit and pressed a kiss to your neck, glancing down to watch your cum slowly drip out of your ruined panties and onto his table, fabric stretched around his knuckles so tightly it looked a little see-through.

"See that? Now you know why I don't want you wearin' those skimpy little things," Paulie chuckled, pulling his fingers from your cunt with a squelch so loud it made you shiver and shrink in shame, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Nu uh, princess. You still gotta suck this cock, remember? Don't worry, I won't let ya choke," He soothed meanly, smirking as he pulled you right off the table by your hips and set you on the ground.

[ilwonuu]

jealous jaehyun ?? with smut idk

of course anon!!! thank u for your request!!! i hope you enjoy<3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ all mine⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

↴ jeong jaehyun

𖤓 summary- you’re boyfriend gets a little jealous sometimes..

𖤓 warnings- affection, kissing, unprotected sex, dirty talk, jealous jaehyun, creampie, pet names( baby, good girl, pretty/prettygirl, babe) (jae, baby), idk what else

𖤓 a/n- request more jaehyun. i love writing for him…

you are currently on your way home from your friends house. a bunch of texts from your boyfriend. you don’t respond obviously you’re driving. you just make your way to your house.

you arrive shortly after leaving making your way inside. you’re greeted with a clingy jaehyun.

“hi baby.” he pulls you into a hug a soon as you come through the front door. “hi jae.” you smile kissing him softly. “how was it? you have fun?” he asks still holding you in a hug. you nod. “so much fun! me and chenle were playing just dance and we we’re doing so well against the others.” you laugh at the memories of the night.

“oh chenle was there?” he asks as his mood shifts just a tad after chenle was mentioned. “yea! chenle came later.” you notice his mood. you watch him closely. as his pulls away from the hug.

“oh fun im glad you had a good time.” he nods shifting a little. “jae whats wrong?” you ask him as you pull him into a another hug. “nothing is wrong.” he gives you a half smile. “jae you’re mood is different now. come on tell me.” you kiss his cheek looking at him waiting for your answer. he sighs.

“ i just didn’t know chenle was gonna be there.” you look at him confused. “you don’t like chenle? or?” he shakes his head “chenle is fine…i just don’t like how flirty he is with you.” you are taking your time to listen to him.

“you think chenle is flirty with me jae?” you question him receiving a nod from your boyfriend. “babe i didn’t really know m sorry. do you want me to no-“ he shakes his head. “no babe i don’t want you to do anything. i just would rather be there if he’s there.” you smile at him laughing shortly after.

“what?” he questions. “you’re cute when you’re jealous.” you pull him into a peck. “not that jealous.” he says before pulling you into a another kiss. “you sure about that? you got all moody.” you laugh at him teasingly.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “you like when i’m jealous tho? right baby?” his kissing moving to your neck. his smirk into your neck.

“jaehyun-“ he cuts you off by pulling you into another kiss. moving you slowly into the kitchen placing you on the counter. “you didn’t answer me baby.” he whispers into your ear teasing you again. “y-yes i like it when you’re jealous jae..” he smiles at you.

“yea baby? want you to be no one elses..” he voice trailing off as he pulls your shirt over your head. his movements and his voice switching from cute very quickly.

he pulls your legs open slightly as he stands in between them. his hand immediately going to rub your thigh gently. “look at you. so pretty huh? my pretty girl.” he says before kissing you again. “jaehyun please-“ he just has a huge smirk as he watches you get more needy for him.

“please what baby?” he smiles at you innocently. “fuck me jae..” you say tugging at his shorts. “yea baby? i’ll make sure you feel so good.” all you can do is moan at his words. his smirk is bigger now as he takes off his clothes. waiting for you to do the same. as you do that his eyes are on you intensely. “you think you can take it here pretty?” your nod being quick and eager at him. he laughs a little before pulling his boxers down. “yes jae please..” you mouth is watering at the sight of his dick.

“such a good girl for me. tell me if it hurts okay?” he is pushing into you without warning. “fuck jaehyun so b-big.” he stops his movements. “you okay pretty? i know we didn’t prep so tell me if you want to stop.” all you can do is shake your head no at this moment. his smirks moving back onto his lips.

“y-you can move now..” you whisper to him and he pulls out slowly before pushing back in. “shit y/n so fucking good.” his thrusts are gentle but deep. hes hitting all the right spots over and over. your eyes are rolling back as he holds onto you thrusts becoming more desperate.

“fuck fuck this is all mine baby.” his voice is stern and demanding. his thrusts getting quicker and his and your moans getting louder.

“jaehyun- i cant-“ you mumble. “can’t what pretty?? want me to stop?” he asks with a smirk. you shake your head no quick. “please don’t stop so close..” your words coming out only in a moan. “yea baby? gonna cum? meet too baby. gonna cum in this pussy yea? make you all mine. tell me you want it.” his hips stuttering just a little at his own words. his words sent you over the edge. you wanted that so bad. “p-please jae fuck want it s-so bad!” theres tears coming from your eyes as you cum quickly.

his gaze directly on your messy cunt as he cums into you. “fuck baby. take all of it.” his thrusts are slow and shallow.

“did so fucking good for me. can’t get enough of you.” he says pulling out gently. he kisses your head. “let me clean you up baby.” he smiles grabbing a damp rag to clean you with. “mm jae.” your mind still cloudy as your watch your boyfriend clean you up.

“yea pretty?” he asks pulling you off of the counter to be in his arms. “can we shower now?” you ask give him and kiss on his nose. “of course baby. lets go.” you smile walking towards the bathroom. he smiles smacking your butt while you walk away. “another round?” you hear his voice as he comes into the bathroom. “mm yea.” he smirks before kissing you again.

[pyrodolls]

yandere! re2 leon kennedy x reader

✰ warnings: stalking, sub leon, slightly nsfw but not smut, leon is a creepy masochist, kidnapping, no use of y/n or name, gender neutral reader, not proofread bc it's 2 am for me rn

✰ summary: you were never very close to leon, but you harbored some feelings for him. but your entire view on him changes when you get invited to his place and you find out how he truly feels about you...

✰ a/n: remember when i used to be a havik account? good times. also i still *only* take reqs for mk1 characters. ik i wrote genshin and now i'm writing resident evil, but i am not entirely comfortable with taking reqs for them yet soooo here's me just dipping my toes into the waters of those fandoms. still sticking to mk1 tho. for now. also it's been a hot minute since i played re2 so if it's ooc i apologize.

leon thought you looked so pretty in your sleep. you looked completely peaceful and unbothered. your bedsheets covered your entire body except for your ethereal face, which he could stare at all day. the moon provided a dim glow through your window, giving leon a clear view of your entire bedroom while you slept. sure it may be creepy or a bit stalker-ish of leon to watch you sleep, but he couldn't help it! you were just so irresistible. if only you knew how much he loved you, and how he was capable of protecting and providing for you. he has the potential to be the best boyfriend to you. but you didn't even know him that well, and he was fully aware of that fact. so that's why he suddenly got an idea while he watched you sleep that night. it was a brilliant idea. he could invite you to his place and gain your trust! leon didn't want to waste any time, so he would immediately ask you first thing in the morning.

when you woke up that morning, you got a call from leon a few minutes after you got out of bed.

"i know it's a bit early in the morning, i hope you weren't sleeping... if so, i'm really sorry. i mean, i didn't know when to call you because i didn't want to bother you but at the same time i just really wanted to ask you something." leon rambled.

"no worries, leon. you could never bother me. besides, i just got out of bed. this was so perfectly timed, it's almost as if you memorized my sleep schedule." you joked.

"oh, yeah, that's crazy. imagine that," leon chuckled nervously. "um, anyway, i was just thinking... would you like to come over to my place later? i just thought that we know each other a little bit, but i'd like to get to know you more, since i think you're pretty cool and stuff, so, uh, yeah..." he trailed off, waiting for an answer.

upon hearing his proposal, you lit up in excitement. you always thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, but you were too nervous to make the first move. this was a great opportunity.

leon was nervously fiddling with his fingers as he waited for your response. the longer you took to respond, the more his anxiety grew. he could feel the sweat forming on his skin and his chest tighten. what if you weren't interested in him in that way? was he being too forward? were you too busy?

you took a deep breath before you finally responded, mustering up the courage to say something. "i'll visit in a couple hours. i'll see you then, leon." you responded quickly, hanging up the phone and getting ready to see him.

leon's heart almost jumped out of his chest when you finally responded. he dropped his phone and immediately got to work, cleaning his place and hiding the pictures of you sleeping and your old clothes in a box under his couch.

he worked very hard to tidy everything up, wanting it to be perfect for you. only the best for you.

when he finished cleaning, he sat on the floor in front of his door like a puppy waiting for its owner. he patiently waited for you to knock on the door and come in, even though it would be a couple more hours until you arrived.

after a few hours of leon not moving a single inch, you finally arrived. as soon as your knuckles grazed the door to knock, leon swung it open with superhuman speed.

"thanks for coming! i hope the weather wasn't too harsh on you." leon greeted, stepping aside to let you in. he didn't actually know if the weather was harsh or not, he just said the first thing that came to his mind to start a conversation with you.

"thanks... and uh, the weather isn't bad at all. it's just a bit windy." you responded, awkwardly standing by the door.

leon was trying his hardest to act calm, but his heart was racing and he could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. you were standing right next to him! and you were alone together! he could've just died right then and there. instead of watching you through your window, you're right in front of him! instead of breaking into your house and stealing and sniffing your clothes, he can just smell you right by him! he was in heaven.

for a couple hours, you both spent time together by watching movies and chatting, getting to know each other more and more. leon even ordered dinner for you both, and somehow he got your favorite food, and he claimed it was just intuition. it didn't even feel like hours had passed, since you were both enjoying yourselves.

"so, uh, do you like this movie?" leon awkwardly spoke up, as you both sat on the couch in front of his tv. you simply smiled and nodded, too tired to respond. it was a random film that you weren't familiar with, and you watched it in silence next to him. you were both clearly tired after that long day, but leon didn't want you to leave just yet. so he started awkwardly starting new conversations or asking you questions, hoping to keep your attention on him. he loved the amount of attention you already gave him that day, and he was still giddy that you agreed to visit him in the first place. all he needs to stay happy is for you to look at him. but you were literally sitting on his couch and spending time with him, and it just made him so overwhelmed with joy. it gave him hope that you could work as a couple someday, and you would never know about his unorthodox antics to get to this point.

or at least that's what he thought.

at some point, leon excused himself to the restroom and left you boredly swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. but you felt your leg kick something hard underneath the couch. when you decided to investigate, you found a hidden box. curious as to why it was hidden, you decided to open it and look inside.

big mistake.

you found some old clothes and underwear that you thought you lost, pieces of your hair, various pictures of you sleeping, a few grocery lists and paperwork that you thought you threw away, and even pages ripped out of leon's journal describing his dark fantasies of you. some of it had some mysterious white stains on it. it was disgusting, and it made you sick to look through it. you thought leon was just a cute sweetheart, but it turned out he was a stalker and a creep. you were so shocked, that you didn't know what to do. should you run? call someone? but it was unsafe, because he clearly knew your address and a lot of your personal information. you had no idea what to do, so you stayed frozen in shock.

when leon returned, he saw the horrified look on your face and saw the box in your hands. his heart dropped. you knew his secret.

"shit. oh my god, uh, it's not what you think. i swear, i just, uh, fuck..." leon stammered, dropping down to his knees in shame.

"what the fuck is this? how long have you been stalking me, you fucking creep?" you yelled, standing over his shaking form.

"haah.. i... uh.." leon seemed to be breathing weirdly, and you weren't sure if it was out of anxiety or pleasure.

"and this," you picked up one of the pages from his journal and waved it in front of his face. "what the fuck is this? you are so fucked up... are you in love with me or something? or is it just some weird ass sexual obsession?"

"i.. i do love you! of course i do! this isn't how i wanted you to find out, but i really do love you! please don't take it the wrong way. i don't want to hurt you, i just want to be with you. i want to feel you and- and spend every waking moment of my life with you.. please don't hate me." leon begged, grasping onto your leg pathetically.

"you're sick in the head. and you're nothing but a pathetic stalker." you scoffed. all the trust and affection you had for him went out the window after you opened that box. there was no way he can get your trust back. hell, you were willing to cut contact with him and move to another country at that point.

"fuck... okay, maybe i am.. but, uh... shit." leon struggled to get his words out, as he felt aroused by your degradation. he never thought it would feel so good to have you yell at him. he could barely even speak, it just felt euphoric for you to scold him for his actions. you expected him to panic, but he seemed to have mixed feelings about the situation. he was still horrified that you discovered his dirty secret, but he had stars in his eyes the more you screamed at him.

"oh my god... you're a masochistic freak, huh? you like it when i yell at you? god, you're so fucked up." you spat, grabbing his collar and lifting him up to your level.

leon whimpered at the sudden contact, not responding to your degredation and simply squirming at your touch.

you sighed. "are you going to explain yourself? or are you just going to keep babbling nonsense?"

after getting no response, you dropped him and started to grab your things and leave.

"i.. i love you so much!" leon blurted out. "please don't leave! i promise, i can make it up to you! i'll do whatever you want! i can uh... i can provide for you! you won't have to lift a single finger for the rest of your life! and uh... i can cook and clean! sort of. i'll learn how to take care of you. i'll show you that i can be a good boyfriend if you let me! please, just love me! i did all these things for you and i promise i will stop if you want me to! please, don't leave."

leon stood in front of the door and desperately held you in place, not wanting to let you leave.

if you chose to stay, leon would be overjoyed. he would keep his promise and make it up to you, spending the rest of his life protecting you from harm and doing anything to keep you happy. your well-being is his number one priority, he'd make himself look like a fool if it meant getting a smile out of you. just let him love you. you don't need to give him anything in return!

if you chose to leave, leon would be a sobbing, sulking mess for about an hour or two before he decided on what to do. he still had all of your information. he knew pretty much everything about you. he would probably do something to force you into being with him, such as faking your death and kidnapping you. you have nobody else now. you have to be with leon now. he is the only one that still loves you and will keep you happy. even if you're mad at him now, he has hope that someday you will warm up to him and be willing to have a relationship with him. he'll wait patiently for that day to come.

[lubrumalis]

konig headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw

all of these are realistic hc! dont expect a normal konig

hes NOT a shy awkward pushover, just because he has social anxiety??? we can see through his voice lines hes a very cocky person and speaks rather agressively

“lets be honest, its better off in my hands.”

i hc that just because konig has social anxiety, he doesn’t express this through bring soft and shy, he expresses it through his bluntness

konig wanted to be a sniper but did not because he couldn’t stand still, has social anxiety, i hc he has some form of adhd

his very cocky and blunt shouting isn’t because hes mean, but he just doesnt wanna be seen as that bullied kid he once was

hes doesnt have horrible EQ, but the kind of guy to be incredibly unfiltered

also, this guy was literally assigned as a human battering ram, you think hes all soft and sweet???😅😅😅

no he won’t get angry or cry if his mask is taken off. just annoyed.

its not actually canon that konig is a colonel (correct me if im wrong, i couldnt find anything on the official wiki) but lets assume hes one anyway

even if he isnt, gets paid well. really well.

private military companies that deploy soldiers in areas of active conflict can pay up to hundreds of thousands for one soldier

considering konigs age (late 30s at least) and skills, probably 400-500k a year.

chose to join the military because he had an obsession with tanks and guns as a kid

a lot of hc’s say hes 6’10. i disagree, simply based off of chances and the fact thats wayyyy too tall for the military

but he was described as a mountain, so id say his height is around 6’5-6’8

very very intimidating. hes tall big and has the mask of an executioner in the 15th century. who wouldn’t be scared?

definitely will say some random german word in a situation where no one else there knows german. he doesn’t give a damn lol

hates americans (thinks theyre all obese, mannerless, and bad at geography)

brings up the most random topics. again i really think konig has adhd.

konig was not good at school and hated it, mainly due to the anxiety and how he couldn’t pay attention

also why he chose the path of a soldier

drinks lots of beer, high alcohol tolerance, this guys a true european.

loves austrian or german food. loves schnitzel and pies.

konigs breakfast is literally sausages, toast, eggs, and sometimes beer

BIG APPETITE. he could eat for 3 people.

a little insecure about his appearance, not confident in his looks :( also why he hid his face

but as he grew older he uses the mask for actual purposes of concealing his identity, he is a special ops soldier after all

kind of a cheapskate. he chose to hide his face with what, polyester? chose a piece of cloth over everything else.

has very conservative beliefs. not to the point where he hates abortion and votes far right, konig is just a little confused about some things certain liberals believe in

pretty political person lmao

not enough info to conclude whether or not konig was abused as a kid tbh

he was definitely miserable for a period in his life. hes in the military living a monotone life, barely any contact with others, and constantly living in fear he’d die

i dont think hes as traumatized as ghost tho🙂🙂

konig appreciates his dna and how it makes him big and tall, but sometimes gets incredibly annoyed at it

mainly because well, he got bullied for itas a kid

because he specializes in hostage rescue a lot of hostages (especially kids) are scared of him and refuse to leave the area with him

takes a lot of convincing 🥲🥲

has a lot of intrusive thoughts

cannot use social media properly

also texts like an old grandpa. uses 😂 and 🤣 unironically.

“Can we have burgers 🍔 tonight🌃?”

probably uses a blackberry or reallyyyyy old iphone

relationship hcs:

konigs voice actor (jim boeven) stated in a livestream that konigs wife would ideally be a mix between maria pedraza (actress) and rachael from blade runner (character from movie).

both are 170cm ish and brunettes

i can actually see that—konig is massive and he probably prefers someone on the tall side

first thing you did that led to your relationship with him? you tolerated him that is. listened to him ranting😃

i can see him with a civilian or someone whos in the military tbh

finds you pretty at first

enjoys bickering, he needs someone to simulate his mind

you know those stories where his s/o is 5’2, clingy, soft af, and neeeeeeeds konig? haha you won’t be getting that from me.

unlike ghost, who really takes his time to get to know someone and opens up slowly, scared to have his trust broken again

konig charges in like the human battering ram he is😁

if he has a feeling you’re trustworthy you are trustworthy.

horrible at flirting. he doesn’t know how to talk to women smoothly

needs someone equally as weird and funny

s/o needs to be someone with very firm boundaries and can stand their ground, i think konigs a really stubborn person, so for a healthy relationship to work, s/o can’t be the generic bimbo

konig wears the pants in the relationship

doesn’t let you pay. he has a enough money and believes men should always pay

(im sorry to break your delusions) konig does not strike to me as someone who likes a docile homebody. thats ghost (if you remove the word docile).

he doesn’t like extremely dominant partners either

imagine someone who is a listener, accepting yet blunt, shares his quirks, and has a very elegant feel to them

also someone very independent

also gonna get killed for this but konig would realistically not go for a girl in her early twenties. he prefers elegance and sophistication over being cute and jumpy

hates one night stands.

values relationships more than you think. he can come off as strong at first, but hes trying his best

ecstatic when you tell him you wanna learn german (hes not a good teacher)

doesn’t like play fighting, he thinks he’s gonna accidentally hurt you

admires you a lot. he knows hes not the best looking person and doesn’t understand the makeup skincare dress up thing.

isn’t paranoid, but definitely doesn’t say he has an s/o

if you ever get mad at him, konig will tighten all jars in the kitchen so you have to ask him for help :)

extremely unfiltered. he hates your cooking? he will say it. that dress looks better than the other? he will say it.

[narutomaki]

WHO... IS BUYING NEW CLOTHES.... MORE THAN ONCE A YEAR....... WHO ??????

[l13]

what kinda kinks do you think hobie would have? :33

first of all i wanna apologize for this lazy ass writing i'm just UNHINGED i've seen so many hobie edits my mind cannot take this madness i'm seriously in love with him it's not a joke anymore, like i need him bro, I N E E D HIM

NSFW 18+, MDNI

❥ i haven't heard a lot of people say this about hobie but i think he'd REALLY like power exchange, like let my MAN BE A SWITCH PLEASEEEEEE guys please trust me okay hear me out, picture this: hobie laying naked on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly as you continue to jerk his cock in an torturously slow pace, he's already cum once, so his hips jump every time your fist closes around his tip, and he's groaning, the sound trailing off to a breathy chuckle as he glances up at you, grinning lazily "Y're killin' me, y'know that?" throw in a little nipple play and man's GONEEEE

❥ definitely and i mean DEFINITELY likes dry humping ohhhhh?>>my god??? literally starts as a joke on the rare occasion he sees you bent over, or braced against a counter or smth, he HAS to come and hump you, and it's fine cause you literally do the same thing to him (you're the one that started it). the first time you did it he had laughed the sound giving you goosebumps as he glanced at you over his shoulder with a tiny smirk "You're mental,". but then proceeds to do the same thing to you every chance he gets. One day, you just rolled your hips back against him and the whole vibe changed. You shivered when you heard him inhale sharply from behind you, and his hands circle around your frame to pull you closer. and then he's thrusting against you hard, his clothed cock rubbing against the swell of your ass making you both moan as he drops his head on your shoulder to pant, "About fuckin' time,"

❥ random horny thought and not really a kink: he loves fucking you doggy style in front of a mirror, hand holding you by the throat, his fingers skimming your jaw as he tugs you back to him every time he thrusts forward, his other hand holding onto your ass securely as he snaps his hips against you. And then he's pulling at your throat and suddenly your back is flush against his chest, and the hand that was holding your ass travels around to your pussy to circle at your clit. You're both moaning when you tighten up so much around his cock "Look at you," he's groaning, snapping his hips up instead of forward and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as his cock touches that spongy spot inside you, and he's moaning "Yeah? Right there? You're so fuckin’ pretty, baby, should be fuckin’ illegal," and you're mewling, “You’re so good to me Hobie.. Can feel you so fucking deep inside me oh my God-” “Shit- don’t say that or I’ll cum-” DAAAAAMN okay i got sidetracked again

❥ lil bit of a voyeur maybe, he'd take you even at a secluded space at HQ (would first make sure if you're 100% in tho) he'd fuck you against the wall, with his hand over your mouth as he mutters against your shoulder, "Wanna hear you so fuckin' bad.. but we can't, right? Can't let them know how much of a good girl you are f'me.. Ah, fuuck-S only for my eyes."

❥ CONSENTTTTT consent turns him on so much- and let me explain okay imagine you're just getting ready to suck him off, unbuttoning his jeans, still giggling at his face when you'd said "no, the belts stay on," and then your fingers are finally under the waistband of his boxers and you're looking up at him- "Can I take these off?" and he's so confused bc he's never actually had anyone else ask him that question before "Wh- yes?" and when his cock is finally out in all its glory, and you're licking your lips, you ask again, "Can I touch it?" he can't hold back his smile this time, letting out a giddy laugh, "Baby, 'f course you can, you don't have to ask," idk he just thinks it's the hottest thing ever

❥ extra crack hc cause it just came to me: imagine him being like "You wanna try slapping me in bed?" and you're just looking at him like he's grown two heads but nod slowly nonetheless "....sure?" and then you actually slAP him like 10 minutes later and he's like :C "That felt personal love, m'feelings are kinda hurt." and you're just apologizing over and over and he's laughing at you- "m just playing wit' you. but yeah absolutely not doing that shit again,"

[arcadia345]

Astro observations🌺

FYI I’m not a real astrologer, just my observations :) TW🔞

The cancer moon men I know are pretty chill and laid back + funny, but the women are so bitchy and moody😭 with a big sweet tooth

Every twin I know either has Gemini or Pisces placements

You ever meet someone and their neck just stands out for some reason added points if they smell good, most likely they’re a Taurus rising/ mars. Good example is Megan thee stallion her neck is so cute to me hehe

Aries in the chart can show you the things you were introduced to at a very young age, the early memories that you think of and say ‘That was wild lol’

3rd: could’ve started learning way before you started school(like flash cards and things) siblings and cousins, music, having access to electronics early

4th: erratic home life, the woman around you could be go getters

6th: could’ve got a lot of injuries when younger, probably couldn’t have a peaceful day even if you tried, bad experiences with animals

7th: domestic abuse, might have seen people having affairs, lots of disagreements between couples

12th:paranormal events, you could’ve had a lot of deja vu moments without even knowing, tend to have strong spiritual gifts,people having ill intentions towards you

Aquarius moon or degree/ moon in the 11th tend to have a “second mom” a person that treats them like their one of their own children, sometimes even better than their own mother does. 🌚

The people with mars in the first house I know have so many battle scars on their body

Moon/cancer in 3rd love changing their voices, and they have a bad habit of not telling the whole truth / white lies

Water sign on the descendent- people are always wondering what you’re up to, no matter how much you show them they’ll still wanna know what you’re hiding

Your first house correlates to how you came into this world, I have Chiron (ruled by Virgo) in my 12 conjunct my ascendant, uhm she said she almost d*ed having me😀 and I was a C-section baby. And the hospital did her so dirty(you know much they hate black women) they didn’t even stitch her back up correctly or drain her fluids and to this day she still has problems. The also gave her extra dosages of drugs just cause she’s a plus size woman- honestly I could go on and on but it really correlates with my cap rising and Neptune/Uranus in 1st

Mercury ☌ Sun, these people voices are just💋💋 they sound so sensual and unique ugh hard to explain it but 🥴 ex. Jungkook , Tupac

Gemini/ Libra in 2nd love collecting things like figurines makeup clothes candles plushies, could easily be a borderline hoarder tho

Ives noticed that sun in 10th have a strained relationship with their father, but their later years in life their relationship gets better, or not could really go either way, also could have money issues in their early years but ends up climbing the corporate ladder. It may take you a while to tho but just know it’ll be worth it in the end :) also they always stand out at their work place in some way, the coworker that you’re glad to see clock in at rush hour cause you know they gonna handle shit

Venus- mercury positive aspects love giving out nicknames to their favorite people 🥺if they’re always calling you cute names just know they really care about you lol

Sag moons and degrees have no chill😀 like calm down bae sag anything tbh🚬

9th house ruler in the 11th could go to the same college with their old friends or could become very popular in the area they’re in, I think they’d make good bloggers

Air signs or degrees in 5th are trend setters.

Aquarius you inspire people, they could take things and make it into their own like art

With gemini here people will “copy & paste” ur looks. But no matter what it just looks like a knockoff version of what you did lmao it just never look as good as yours

Libra here people are very opinionated on how you express yourself either in a good way or bad, neither less you guys get a lot of compliments on your style

Every time I see a Capricorn rising with Neptune in the 1st it’s like their skin is see through and fragile😯makes sense tho since caps rule the skin and Neptune fogs things up. A good example is Ariana Grande her skin looks so delicate

Pluto/Scorpio in the 11th/11th house ruler in 8th, your friends could hate each other🤺 also they could have a rough life/childhood, trauma bonding or just experiencing traumatic events together is common here

Chiron in Aries (honestly any Aries placements it just depends on where it is), most people didn’t pay attention to them in their childhood in some way so they learned to be independent because of their lack of support cardinal things fr

That’s all for today! Give me a follow if you enjoyed💕

[nervocat]

okay idea! male reader asking to braid leona's hair because they're bored and his hair looks like fun to play with!

“Can I Braid your Hair, Leona?” (no cws -wc: 331, fluff/romantic/platonic, male reader) FEM ALIGNED DNI WITH THIS POST OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“I’m booored,” you complain, your back falling onto Leona's bed and bouncing the two of you. Leona opens an eye and looks over to you.

“What, you want me to do somethin’ about it? Not a chance,” he had already taken his hair out for the night and gotten into comfier clothes, so whatever you wanted to do, he wouldn't–

“Can I braid your hair?” and there you go, always managing to catch him off guard. He opens both his eyes, seeing that you had already sat up and looked expectantly at him.

Ears falling back and brows furrowing, he asks, “Why do you wanna do that?”

“I’m bored, like I said, and I just feel like it. Seems like it'd be a fun way to pass time.”

“You’re impossible, but whatever. Just don't knot up my hair,” he groaned, throwing you his two hair ties and telling you where his hairbrush was. You get to work when you've acquired everything.

Leona's hair was thick — really thick — but that wasn't much of an issue other than having more hair to work with. After sitting up by him and brushing his hair out a bit, you take some hair and separate it into three and start to cross the strands. Whether you're experienced or not, you finish and tie it off after a minute or so of crossing Leonas thick hair.

“There! Done with one side.”

“Not too bad, herbivore,” startling you a bit you see him smiling up at you with the smug smile he always wears. “Not as good as when I braid my own hair, but it's not the worst.”

You huff, but laugh a bit. “Whatever, Leona. Now let me do the other side,” he shrugs, letting you move to the other side of him.

“Doesn’t seem like you're ruinin’ my hair, so go ahead,” Leona quite enjoyed when you braided his hair for him, maybe he'd let you do it more. Seven forbid though he'd tell you.

[ ★ notes: this is kinda short but I'm pretty proud of it!! Surprised I got it done in one sitting. Anyways ik there aren't any masculine terms used, but this was written with a male reader in mind so I'd still like if fem aligned readers dni with this post still, pls and ty. ALSO DEVIL I'LL GET TO YOUR OTHER ONES PROMISE. Might be able to get them done quicker than I thought tho ]

★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦

[pupyuj]

Would love a rough quickie with them in this outfit 🫠🫠🫠

https://x.com/anyujinsss/status/1763430900111757617?s=46&t=sv54D2RJCM5ahfRVnc7Bjw

-🥵

no bcs i’m gonna need ya’ll to indulge me a bit here BECAUSEEE 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 honestly thought i could do so much more w this idea but i hit a wall 😭 HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS STILL LIKE IT THO ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

so let's say... bodyguard au right? (check out my bff @bitchiswild's yuj bodyguard au btw it's great heheheh) except that yujin doesn't know what the fuck she's doing bcs she's a professional hitwoman not a fucking bodyguard! and to be tasked to go to such lengths to keep a spoiled rich girl like you safe was asking too much! but she does it anyway (she does anything for money) and not only does she actually end up taking her supposed job seriously, she also... well, starts to feel some sort of affection towards you! <33

no it's not what you're thinking—ahn yujin, your beloved stupid bodyguard is obsessed with you 😳😳 see, you aren't actually as bad as yujin initially made you out to be! you were so kind it was sickening, the brightness of your smile managed to rival yujin's own genuine ones, and you were almost like... a real-life disney princess?? at first yujin assumed you were just being pretentious, being a two-faced snake.. but no, it turns out you fr had a heart of gold and that was when yujin started being softer with you... and softer until her affection turned into obsession and ofc she starts looking at you wayyy too differently 🤭

what a fucking pervert she is, honestly! always insists on walking behind you instead of beside you not bcs she's looking out for you but bcs she's checking your ass out.. and she especially loves it when you're wearing short skirts! fantasizes a lot whenever you're out together, mostly when you drag her to an outlet mall and just start shopping to your heart's content! gives yujinnie an excuse to picture you wearing all those pretty lingerie that you buy in her head.. and she's never been more thankful for her job bcs you'd bring her inside a changing room with you and ask for her opinion and... yeah, yujin very much enjoys the show 😚

nothing happens between the two of you until some fancy event however 🤭 yujin was lingering around watching you as usual until you sneak out of a crowd, walking off to a secluded room all frustrated... ofc yujin follows you bcs hello, that's her job and she wanted to berate you for going somewhere without telling her first!! but then it turns out that you were in the worst mood ever so you were just glaring at yujin the entire time she was scolding you.. and then you started whining about her always treating you like a toddler and never letting you do anything on your own and yeah it was a whole fight! things get heated, some hurtful words were thrown around, and you expected yourself to push yujin away and storm off but nooo you just had to grab her by the collar of her shirt with both hands and kiss her 😳 "i... dad needs me f-for a stupid—ah!—speech in a bit..." struggling to speak bcs yujin was touching you everywhere and it felt so good :((

"guess we should hurry then, huh?" so she says but she does everything but hurry! yujin takes her precious time exploring your body,, skilled, calloused hands massaging your thighs, ass, and breasts as her tongue explored your mouth… how she wished she could rip your pretty clothes off and ruin you but :(( she didn’t want you to get into too much trouble! being so annoyed of her teasing that you had to trap her hand in between your legs, pleading her to just fuck you before you were called onto the stage out side 😣 she ignores your first pleas though,, finding it so entertaining that she’s got you wrapped around her finger this time…

“hm.. fuck… do you know how long i’ve been wanting to touch you like this?” she asks while pulling your panties down so slowly ☹️ stares at your wet cunt like it’s her last meal.. even going as far as to lick her lips but she didn’t want to make a mess of her face so she was going to save that for a whole ‘nother day 🥰🥰 ah, and as much as she would love to see the kind of expression you make while she fucks you… she had to see how good you looked being fucked from behind first! 😋 her instructing you to bend over the couch in the room.. one hand gripping your ass and the other—two fingers knuckle-deep inside you :(( and good god was she good!

“d’you wanna be loud, princess? one of your father’s associates seemed very keen on taking you home… want to let him know the only person you’ll allow to touch you like this..?” yujinnie taunts while you’re a moaning mess underneath her.. your nails holding the leather couch in a tigh grip as yujin hits all of your weak spots… “scream my name, whore.” her insults, along with how she slaps your ass and abuses your cunt.. well, nobody could blame you for cumming a bit too quickly than what yujin liked!! but that was okay! really 🤭 she’ll have all the time in the world later when the event was over and you hurry on over to your home, bringing yujin all the way to your bed and letting her do everything she has been wanting to do to you until the sun rises 🫣🫣