#to the point that the most stressful days leave me silent

[cryptidscene]

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hooking your Readers

Hook—The first line, lines, or paragraph meant to grab the reader’s attention

For most people, a night out at the movies includes sitting through the coming attractions. We watch these short bursts of scenes that scare us, intrigue us, make us laugh, and sometimes nearly bring us to tears. No matter the preview, though, if it looks good, we want to go see the movie. An effective “hook” in your story works the same way. You want to grab your reader right away and compel them to continue reading.

Some common strategies for creating a hook & examples:

Anecdote: My hands shook and beads of sweat rolled down my face. I double-checked the directions before assembling my tools and turning up the heat. Making lasagna shouldn’t have been this stressful, but in my grandmother’s kitchen, the stakes were a little higher. 

Direct quote: “Be open and use the world around you.” Toni Morrison gives this advice about the craft of writing, but I find that it applies to most areas of my life.

General statement or truth: Every child, no matter how sheltered or well-adjusted, will experience fear. Whether they are scared of the monster under the bed or the neighbor’s barking dog, children experience fear as a normal and healthy part of childhood.

History: On Wednesday, August 28, 1963, thousands traveled to Washington D.C. by road, rail, and air. There were demonstrators of all races, creeds, and genders. Unafraid of the intimidation and violence they faced, they demonstrated for the rights of all. Known as The Great March on Washington, this day marked an important turning point in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.

Metaphor: Stretched out in a sunbeam, my cat may seem timid, but really, she’s a lion. She will stealthily stalk her prey, attack without mercy, and leave a trail of blood and guts in her wake. Afterward, as she grooms her luxurious mane, she shows no remorse.

Scene or illustration: Shadows stretch across the pavement as jack-o-lanterns flicker in windows. Little trick-or-treaters scamper from porch to porch, filling their bags with various forms of sugar. It is the day dentists dread most: Halloween.

Sensory description: The stale smell of cigarettes engulfed me as I stepped into the dim, silent apartment. The heat had been turned off, so I could see my breath fog in front of me as I carefully stepped over the old pizza boxes, overturned cups, and random pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

Startling statistic or statement: Teenage drivers crash their cars at nearly ten times the rate of older drivers.

More: Writing Notes & References

[sleep-0-deprived]

Bottom Yandere slasher x final boy male reader head cannons~! ૮ ོ≧ ⩊ ≦ ོ𑁬

blowjobs, knife play, degrading, large bottom, small top ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You were out and about camping on a little trip with your friends when he first had seen you, staring and blinking over at you like a frog. Something inside his cold body came back to life like a zombie breathing air once again. He had to have you and he would have you no matter what he had to do or who he had to clear. Taking you in the middle of the night after dealing with your friends, he’d have you dragged back to his cabin and just stare at your sleeping form for hours.

He’d blink over at you blushing under his mask obsessing over your every muscle and your short frame, you woke up screaming shouting any sort of insult just trying to escape only to fail each time with him frowning and locking you back up in his bedroom. “I’m not your fucking pet you big idiot! You can’t keep me!” You’d shout at him angrily but he’d only tilt his head as though he didn’t understand what you were speaking to him but he did understand you were upset by the tone you were using.

The slasher would keep you for months, he’d feed you and cling to you leaving you never alone because he was by your side each and every hour of the day. His arms held you in a bone crushingly tight spooning position in bed leaving you conflicted on how you could fall for a man like him? Maybe you were in live or maybe it was all the stressful hormones combined with the built up Stockholm syndrome that had you all over him by the end of the second month.

The first time you had sex with him was during your most recent escape, you found his knife, you tried to attack him from behind but with his tall stature you failed only having him on top of you pinning you to the ground. not before you shoved the knife against him threatening him going feral in anger. The hard feeling beneath you is what brought your mind to a clearer thinking. He was hard, how could he possibly be hard in a situation like this? You just tried to kill him and make your escape “are you seriously fucking hard right now? You’re a horny gain arent’cha!” You’d mock him feeling a smile creeping on your face.

Not even thirty minutes later you’re completely stripped holding him up on top of you with your hand shakily holding the knife to his thigh only grunting when he lifts himself up and down on your cock “o-oh shit, wasn’t expecting this” the slasher is even more infatuated with you at this point, the size of your cock had him intimidated at first when he seen a proud seven and a half— eight inches when hard cock looking at him for the first time since this was his first sexual encounter, shockingly sex wasn’t common for a crazed serial killer.

After that moment on the kitchen floor of his cabin this man’s silent and cold demeanor shifts into more, you fucked him into being domestic, wanting to make you happy trying to get you to want to willingly stay with him even if it means he had to please you. His face in your balls with his knife thrown to the ground while he attempts to give you a blow job “c’mon you can take a little more right, you’re a big man so shove it a little down that throat” you couldn’t help but be cruel to him with your hand gripping the rubber backing of his mask and forcing his face down on your crotch reminding him that while he kidnapped you, he lacked all his control when you were in the mix.

When you finally come around to the slasher, you’re grueling with him in sex, your arms would wrap around his body jerking your hips harshly between his thighs fucking him like a manic and pulling his mask back making him groan feeling more exposed and vulnerable before you, “are all serial killers preening sluts?” You couldn’t help but just egg him, not when you felt his walls gripping you back every time you spoke them making you a mess burying your face into his chest heaving and moaning on top of him fucking him like you need it.

[snailpebbles]

Hold You - OP81

pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem! reader

summary: Oscar is bone tired and just wants to hold you close, but still needs to clean himself up. Why not drag you into the shower with him?

tags: Oscar is so clingy, fluff, more fluff, innocent and loving shower fic that we all need

wc: 1.4k

a/n: uhh it's rly late, I wrote this instead of sleeping so it isn't proofread or coherent. lol. SEND ME ASKS OR WTV PLEASE ??

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

It's been a long day and all Oscar truly wants us to have you close. When he steps into your shared apartment it's like all the stressful events of the day melt off his shoulders, and he bee lines for your comfy form on the couch. You pop your head up out of your blanket cave, a bright smile on your face at the sight of your tired boyfriend sluggishly coming to you.

"Hi handsome." You greet, sitting up straight and pushing your arms out of the blanket mass to get him. He slumps forward with a groan, burying his head into your chest as his arms wiggle around your waist. A chuckle escapes your lips before they press to his brown hair.

After a moment of letting him soak up your presence, his arms tighten around you out of nowhere. Oscar feels the sudden urge to hold you and keep you there, all light blocked out so all he can focus on is you. He smiles into your shirt when you yelp from him suddenly lifting you out of the blankets, his strength making the task easy in a way that warms your face.

"Shower." He mutters into your shirt, not wanting to spend energy on properly speaking when you understand each other well enough already. Thankfully you allow this even though you've already washed and dried your hair, a process that takes far longer than you'd like but hey, you're weak for him.

He flicks the bright lights on, listening carefully as you direct him where to walk since he's still carrying you. Oscar finally sits you down on the bathroom counter, slotted between your thighs as he presses his forehead to yours. He cannot stand a moment away from you, especially not when you look so soft. It makes it difficult to think clearly, the way his shirt hangs off your shoulder and your eyes are clearly growing heavy. Regardless of your tired state you entertain him, something he will always appreciate and feel undeserving of.

You both silently undress the other, boundaries mush at this point in your relationship as the unspoken understanding extends to every instance. His hands are cold against your warm skin, giving you goosebumps. Meanwhile Oscar quietly sighs in relief at the warmth seeping back into his exhausted bones, every part of you managing to relax him. He drops his head in favor of nuzzling into your neck and you wrap your arms around his bare shoulders, tracing a mole on his left. He breathes you in, honey warm and sweet, an intangible scent that he would follow to the ends of the Earth.

Eventually you detach from one another, turning the shower to hot and reattaching while you wait on the old pipes. During this time Oscar clings once more, slim fingers tracing the stretchmarks on your thighs as you trace the ones on his back. It's clear that he knows you and your body, something he's paid more attention to than even the most important races of his left because.. well, what could possibly measure up to someone as lovely as you?

The hot water cascades over you both, relaxing Oscars tense back further as you silently appreciate the groan he gives in response. His hands don't leave your hips, instead anchoring you close like the slightest move will make you disappear. It's a reoccurring nightmare he has had but every morning you're there without fail, brushing his messy bed head into something worse while giggling into his skin about some silly noise he made while sleeping.

As he goes to wash his hair you tut in disapproval, snatching the shampoo from his hands.

"Nuh uh, lean your hand back baby." You instruct, a fond smile growing on his face as he listens to you without a fight. Why would he ever say no to you touching him, especially when you're washing his hair? You're gentle, drawing soft sighs of relief from him as you scratch at his scalp. Few things can compare to this he realizes, the level of comfort you bring him unparalleled. Gently, you wash the shampoo out while mumbling some random song you heard that morning, a common habit of yours that he's grown to love.

"You smell good."

"... We're in the shower, it smells like your shampoo."

"Yum."

Regardless of his bizarre commentary, you still chuckle and continue the process. He makes more odd comments just to hear you laugh or playfully scold him, but then again he'd do anything to hear a singular peep of your voice. Oscars sure he must have a problem or maybe you're addictive, but he knows inside that it's love. He loves you, plain and simple. Being the man he is, he doesn't understand how everyone isn't borderline obsessed with you. Then again, that's his job and he'd be a little a lot upset if someone tried to take it.

"Someone's eager."

"You smell like sweat, oil, and grease."

"You say that as if you don't find it attractive."

"... Shut up or I'll pour soap in your mouth." You mutter, face warming once more since you both know he's right. He does shut up because you will follow through on that soap threat.. he knows from experience.

The smell of your vanilla body wash fills the air as you lather it on the washcloth, gently scrubbing the layers of the day off of his pale skin. Oscar melts into your touch, struggling to even stay upright as all he wants is to have no gap between you two. If he could absorb you, he would (when he admitted that you teased him relentlessly while ignoring the fact that you want the same).

You both bask in the hot water for a little longer even after he's fully clean, pressed close together. In your mind, it's empty. The usual rush of thoughts and things to do have fled to make room for the safety he brings you. Meanwhile, Oscar is bliss, peace, happiness, the whole shebang. He could die right here and have no regrets at all. Except for not kissing you yet. He fixes that soon after with a gentle lingering one that leaves you both buzzing.

Time does have its demands, so you do eventually get out of the shower before you go full prune. He wraps a fluffy towel around and then himself, mumbling an apology for your hair which you brush aside with a soft peck on his cheek. Once you're fully clothed, aka he put on boxers and you put on underwear while stealing another one of his shirts, you curl up into each other in bed.

He holds you close like he's dreamt of all day, pressing his face into your chest with his arms locked around your waist once more. You toss a leg over him, burying your face into his hair and peppering kisses on the top of his head to hear him giggle at the ticklish sensation. It's good and it's right, the cozy feeling that overtakes him nestling into his chest right alongside his perfectly overwhelming love for all things you. There's no other way he wants to sleep; your heart beats right next to his ear, your chest rising and falling while lifting his head with the motion, not to mention the way you hold him like he's the cuddliest thing on Earth (to you, he is). An honorable mention is his face is conveniently resting on your tits. For you, the weight of his arm around your waist and the feeling of his breath brushing your collarbone is enough to reset your nerves to a low hum, something you greatly appreciate. The solidness Oscar brings to you physically is needed and heavily enjoyed, your personal weighted blanket whose constant coldness keeps you from overheating. A perfect balance only further showcasing how well you go together (or maybe you're just delusional and in love).

"g'night." he mumbles out sleepily, kissing your clothed shoulder with his last bit of energy before promptly passing out in your arms. A chuckle slips from you and you whisper an 'I love you' into his soft hair, heart fluttering when he pulls himself from the brink of sleep to yawn 'I love you too'.

[weixuldo]

A Champion's Game

timeskip!ushijima x f!reader

Wakatoshi claims a win for Japan in the 2021 Olympics and you are able to witness his greatness on and off the court (established relationship)

word count: 6274

cw: fem!reader, fingering, Oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, cursing, P in V, they're v horny, minors dni

A/N: to my regulars who r here for vader and ani content- im sorry- something possessed me to write this after seeing one too many volleyball ads on the Tokyo subway tvs haha- will get back to ani stat (next fic is alr in the drafts hehe)

______________________________________

A deafening slam rang through the Olympic stadium as one of Japan’s monster generation players dealt the final (and winning) blow. 

The crowds were silent for a moment, taking in all that had happened- painstakingly long, intense rallies for God knows how long. Both the Argentinian and Japanese teams scored unbelievable points with both teams using their versatile and skilled players in just the right way. 

The match was stressful and every player was wearing down by the end but in the last moments one player unexpectedly stepped up. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi- a man of few words and even fewer mistakes- was the one that ended the match with one of his famous spikes. 

The arena bursted into a thunderous applause as Ushijima’s feet landed back onto the court below him. 

His chest heaved in exhaustion and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead- once he realized he secured an Olympic win for his team he threw his left fist into the air and yelled out in celebration as his teammates swarmed him in excitement. But his olive eyes darted toward the crowd in search for the very reason he was able to muster up the energy to score. 

You. 

You were sitting pretty close to the court as you were sitting with the families and special guests of the other players. Originally you weren’t going to make it to watch Ushijima at any of his Olympic matches- your job didn’t really allow for long periods of leave and earlier in the year you had taken time off to visit relatives. 

So a few months back when Wakatoahi told you the match schedule, you sadly shook your head and told him you wouldn’t be able to make it. Of course he was a little upset but he understood that your career was as important to you as volleyball was to him. 

He did well not to show you how much it upset him, but after dating the guy for years, you could tell he was down. And rightfully so- you wanted to be there for one of the most important matches of your boyfriend’s career. 

So for the weeks leading up to the Olympics, you had sneakily been networking a way to be able to come- every night after Wakatoshi would fall asleep, you’d slip out of bed to make phone calls, send emails, and work overtime on some projects that needed to be done. 

You weren’t even sure if all of the extra work would pay off to allow you to go, but you did it nonetheless- at least it gave you a chance. 

It wasn’t until a whole week after you dropped Toshi off at the Airport with a deep kiss that you got the glorious email from your boss allowing you your time off. 

You sped home and hopped onto your computer to book a flight; since there was so much air traffic due to the iconic sporting event there weren’t many tickets left, but you found one for the next day…

His last game.

The flight would get in right as the game started and after you factored in going through customs and getting a taxi there- it put you a little over the halfway mark; you reminded yourself that it was better to get there late then to not show up at all. 

The whole flight you prayed that you wouldn’t be too late so once the plane docked you were sprinting to customs and ordering an Uber in line. 

It had been a long 24 hours to say the least, but at least you made it. 

And oh was it worth it. 

Once you got to the stadium you had a little bit of trouble getting to the VIP/ Athlete reserved space but thankfully Iwaizumi was walking by and let you in. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here” the spiky haired man chuckled as he gave you a quick hug. 

“Ushiwaka has really been pouting about you not being able to come for weeks”

You blushed as you thought of your big strong boyfriend brooding in the corner at practices while everyone else raved about the upcoming games.  

“Yea, I’m honestly surprised, myself. I really didn’t think my boss was gonna let up” you admitted as Iwazumi walked you to the reserved section. 

“Well the match is pretty tight- but either way Wakatoshi will be thrilled to see you” he said before heading back to the coaches. 

The section was filled with other players’ significant others, families, and even a few of the older ones’ kids. 

You quickly recognized Bokuto’s sisters as they excitedly motioned you over to sit with them- the Bokuto’s were always so inviting.  

The three of you caught up briefly before the game entered its final moments- you excused yourself and walked straight up to the barrier between your section and the court so you could watch more intently. 

On the court, Ushijima felt his body wearing out- sure he was used to long matches but the stress and exhaustion of this match created was finally catching up to him. It wasn’t until he saw his excitable teammate look to the stands to wave at his sisters that he also spared a glance. 

There was no reason for him to look at the section since he had no one to look for, but he thought seeing some familiar faces might give him more motivation. 

He felt his heart skip a beat once his tired eyes landed on an all too familiar figure. No one would have known how excited he was because of his usual stoicism but once he demanded the next balls be sent to him his teammates all began to realize. 

Bokuto was the first to notice your arrival because you were sitting with his sisters but once Hinata realized the reason for Ushiwaka’s reinvigorated spirit, he loudly let the rest of the team know that they needed to toss Ushijima the balls. It was no secret to his team that your boyfriend was enamored with you and would become even more focused when you were around. 

Especially now, Wakatoshi was determined to win the match and show you just how hard he had been working recently, so he did just what he said he would. 

He won the game. 

And that’s where you were now, waiting in the stands with your hands over your heart as you watched your victor celebrate with his team before closing the game with the traditional respects to their competition. 

As soon as he could break away from the team he was running towards the stands with a wide smile on his usually stoic face. You waited in electric anticipation as he crossed the court for you- his taught muscles pulling, his hair bouncing, his tight jersey… he looked so damn good. 

Once he reached the barrier you leaned down and reached out to him. Breathlessly, he kissed the back of your hand and held it to his face, making your heart flutter. 

 “My Love”, his deep voice rang; raspy from hours of shouting. 

“You came.”

If you weren’t his lover, you would have missed the slight glaze of his olive eyes, a sheen of emotion only you could evoke. 

“I couldn’t miss it, Toshi” you smiled, making his heart race. 

____________________

Ushijima had never rushed off a court so quickly; he almost seemed to teleport to the showers right after the match. 

The media might have tried to dig up dramatic romance stories with Ushijima as the main star but there was no doubt that the silent opposite hitter was enraptured by you. 

No media outlet could replicate the amount of love that spilled from the photos of your reunion outside the locker room. 

He exited the lockers with the others, but immediately made a bee-line for you, pulling you into a warm embrace. Before you could even congratulate him, the brown-haired man had scooped you up into his strong arms and slotted his lips against yours. 

You gasped against him but gave in nonetheless; the adrenaline must have really been pumping through his veins because he had never been so forward in public. Once he finally broke the passion fueled kiss, he kept a strong hand on the back of your head as he rested his forehead against yours. 

He smelled of his timbery body wash and natural musk that you inhaled greedily, his olive eyes still shining brightly as you placed gentle hands on the sides of his face. You had never seen him so happy. 

“You did so well, baby- I’m so proud of you” you smiled as you pressed another kiss to his curved lips. 

He was just about to respond when he was cut short by an exaggerated wolf whistle from Atsumu Miya. Usually Ushijima would grumble out of annoyance when his eccentric teammates would begin their teasing, but he genuinely couldn’t care less today.

He gently placed you back onto your feet and returned to his normal stoic expression once his teammates approached; he readied himself for a bit of small talk with a large hand still snaked around your waist. 

“Hey hey hey, You must be pretty damn proud of your wonder boy, huh?” Bokuto smiled from behind the blonde man. 

“I definitely am, but I can’t say I’m surprised, '' you said before smiling up at him; Ushijima’s eyes had returned to their usual indifferent state, but softened ever so slightly when he looked down at you. 

“He’s been practicing really hard”.

Ushijima did smile at that. 

“But all of you guys did really well, I can tell that you’ve been working on your jumps, Hinata-san, your accuracy has improved a lot since the last match I saw you in Miya-san. Oh! And Bokuto-san- You always have so much power behind your spikes!” you smiled as the small group of guys in front of you basked in your compliments (especially Bokuto). 

Hinata blushed at your compliments while Atsumu thanked you; Bokuto on the other hand was getting a little too excited- asking you about his performance and how it compared to others. His enthusiasm didn’t bother you since you had known Koutaro for years but the silent man behind you was becoming a bit peeved. 

Wakatoshi wouldn’t consider himself a jealous individual, but when his teammates were in front of you basically basking in your sweet words (words that he wanted for himself) he was becoming impatient. In the midst of this conversation he realized that he didn’t even know how long you’d be able to stay since your work was so stingy- then he really wanted to go. 

He wanted to celebrate this victory with you, savor your company, make love to you. Basically anything but still be here. 

Ushijima was about to excuse the two of you when the other teammates came out of the lockers and friends, family and press came from the other side. Soon he was separated from you and flooded with congratulations and compliments from not only his teammates and their families but also people he didn’t even know began shoving microphones and cameras in his face. In the midst of his excitement and adrenaline, he completely forgot about the post game panel he was definitely going to be asked to be on. He clenched his jaw and calculated how quickly he would be able to get it over with. 

You didn’t mind waiting for him, after all this was his big day and he deserved all of the recognition he got, but you did know that he wasn’t the biggest fan of all of the fanfare. Once he was rushed into the after-game panel (which you also forgot about), you waited on the sidelines with the other teammates to watch. 

“So Ushijima, we saw you wearing down about ¾ of the way into the match but then at the very end you seemed to perk right up, hitting point after point! What reinvigorated you that late into the game?” a tall reporter with tortoise shell glasses asked. 

The cameras were on Ushijima again; he sat up straight and nodded before pulling the mic closer; soon, his deep voice rang through the speaker system. 

“Someone very important to me showed up unexpectedly.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his blunt response; the media always tried to get headline interviews with him but he really just wasn’t much of a talker. 

“Any elaboration?” the interviewer almost begged. 

Ushijima thought for a moment before shaking his head, “None. That is what happened”.

Defeated, the interviewer moved on to the next reporter’s question. 

Once the panel concluded, Wakatoshi really just wanted to find you and go to his hotel but when he exited the room he was met with a lobby full of people eager to converse. He was running out of energy (energy he wanted to save for you).

Ushijima sighed when he finally spotted you across the room talking to Bokuto and his black haired friend from highschool… What was his name again? 

Nevermind. He needed to be alone with you. 

As he approached the three of you he finally heard your sweet voice. 

“Ahhh I’ve heard great things about that shonen! How do you like-”

Your eyes widened when you felt the familiar sensation of your boyfriend’s strong arm pulling you close to his chest. 

“Toshi! There you are!” you squealed, squeezing his forearm. 

“I was just asking Bokuto-san if he had seen you when Akaashi showed up! You remember Akaashi-san right? He was the setter for our highschool’s volleyball team when we were all at Fukurodani!” you smiled. 

Oh, yes- Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto’s boyfriend. 

Ushijima gave the other silent man a curt nod, “Hope life has been treating you well, Akaashi.” 

“It has, I see you have been doing well too. Congratulations by the way- you really are amazing on the court” Akaashi said before the other volleyball player began to pout. 

“Babe, you still think I’m just as amazing right?” Bokuto whined. Akaashi playfully rolled his eyes before turning to the buff man beside him. 

You watched the pair for a moment before you felt Ushijima tighten his grip around your waist- you knew his social battery was running out and that he was getting overstimulated. You turned towards him to see his pupils begin to dilate at your sudden attention. 

You brushed his cheek with your soft palm before pressing a tender kiss to his chest, “I know baby, we’ll leave right after this”. 

Ushijima hummed in response, he loved how well you could read him. He spent most of his life being misunderstood and making matters worse when he tried to explain; but it was just like a whole different world when it came to you. 

You exaggeratedly looked down at your watch before announcing that you didn’t know how late it had gotten. You bid the couple farewell before your boyfriend trailed you towards the private exit. 

He took your black backpack from you and slung it over his shoulder and held your purse with his free hand; he was always so thoughtful. 

Ushijima scanned the area to make sure there would be no more unwanted attention to disturb you and him; once he concluded you were in the clear he bent down to press a kiss to your temple as he gently held your head closer to his lips. 

“I’ve missed you so much, My love” he sighed into your soft floral-scented hair. 

“Where’s your suitcase?” Ushijima stopped to ask before exiting the facility.

“I just have my backpack and purse” you shyly smiled hoping your routine oriented boyfriend wouldn’t scold you for forgetting the necessities. 

But much to your surprise he just nodded, “No problem, I’ll take you shopping later”.

God, sometimes you forgot your boyfriend was a world famous athlete (with a world famous salary). 

Once you reached his private car, he tossed your bag in the back before opening the car door for you. His warm hand rested itself on your thigh once he was situated next to you in the black leather seat. The driver paid no heed to you and Wakatoshi as he kept his trained eyes on the busy street in front of him. 

With the hotel so close in reach, Wakatoshi felt his excitement (and something else) growing once more- now that he was away from the crowds and with you. 

Ushijima hadn’t even imagined how after the game would go if you were here because he was so sure you’d miss it. He supposed that he would just go back to his room, call you and then go to sleep, but now that you were here, he had no plan at all. 

All he knew was that your thighs were tensing with every brush of his hand and your nicely manicured nails were subtly clawing at his bicep. He hesitated before looking towards you because he knew exactly what expression was on your pretty little face and he didn’t know if he had enough self control left to hold himself back. 

Like the answer to a prayer the driver pulled into the circle of the hotel the athletes were staying in- Ushijima thanked the man and helped you out of the car before discreetly tucking his growing length into his waistband. 

You barely had time to marvel at the fancy hotel before your eager boyfriend was ushering you into the elegant elevator. He pressed the 11th floor and took his place by your side; of course he was eager, but he still had the decency to not go too wild with the risk of being caught. 

He snaked an arm around your waist and gave your ass a tight squeeze as he exhaled shakily. The elevator dinged and soon you were at your floor- Ushijima basically carried you to the room, key card ready to open the heavy wooden door. Once inside he shut the door and turned to you with open arms; you knew what he wanted and gladly complied. 

You jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist as he ran his desperate hands up and down your body. He hungrily kissed you while you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Toshi” you breathed into his kiss making him weak in the knees. 

Wakatoshi took a moment to admire your flushed face and all at once he felt his high returning to him. His team just won their final Olympic match. He scored the last winning points. You were there and witnessed the whole thing. 

You were here.

He just won an Olympic match. 

Nothing could bring him down right now. 

He was brought out of his hazy thoughts once you began grinding your hips against his. He drew his brows together and groaned as you drug your manicured nails across his broad shoulders.

Soon he had you caged under his expansive figure; lying on the plush comforter of the large king bed, you relished the overwhelming heat radiating off of your boyfriend’s large frame.  

Ushijima felt every muscle in his tired body begin to tense as your burning touch traveled the expanse of his sculpted body. 

“Missed you so much” he panted into the side of your neck between greedy kisses and bites. 

His light brown hair was soft between your fingers as you lightly tugged the loose strands. He moved his attention to your clothed breasts as he pawed at the soft mounds through your tight shirt. 

“I can see that” you giggled as you lightly caressed the underside of his thick cock through his sweats. 

“But respectfully, Toshi- I think I missed you more” you said with a slight smirk as you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him down onto you so that his bulge was flush against your pulsing core. 

His eyes shut and he breathed out a small “shit…” as your skilled fingers worked to undo his bottoms. As soon as the tie was undone he was quick to shove the pants down. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you clearly saw his thick long cock straining against the stretchy fabric of his boxer briefs. God how was Wakatoshi even real? 

Before you could finish drooling over the sight of his massive bulge, he had your bottoms off too. You had worn a matching set because you knew that no matter which way the game went, you’d still be seeing your lover today. Funny thing was that the match was so early that it was barely noon and you were already getting to it. 

Wakatoshi sat back on his haunches and just admired the sight before him. The large man’s chest heaved as he watched the damp spot on your panties begin to widen with every passing moment. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he looked concerned, but you knew he was just taking everything in.

“Baby…” you cooed as you slowly sat up to meet his eyes. 

He quickly snapped out of his daze and tightly grabbed your hips; he kneaded at the flesh slowly but sensually, slightly running his callused hands up your waist. You couldn’t help but moan as one of his long fingers ran under the waistband of your panties, just to pull it back so it snapped you harshly. 

You yelped and squeezed your thighs closer together making Wakatoshi groan. 

“Take your top off.” your stoic boyfriend demanded in his usual flat tone, as if he were asking you to pass the TV remote. 

You bit your lip at the sound of his deep voice and quickly discarded the top. Your plump breasts were now on display for him to enjoy, though they were still being cradled by your fancy bra. A bra that was part of a special set Toshi bought you for your most recent anniversary- you really knew just how to drive him crazy. 

He leaned back down so that he was hovering above you as he slowly began to suck the exposed region of your left tit. You breathed his name so naturally as he skillfully unclasped and removed the tiny garment.

“No fair~ I wanna see you too” you fake pouted as you tugged on the bottom of his shirt, to which he responded with a grunt of acknowledgement. 

Soon he was pulling off his tight white shirt in a swift motion over his head, before tossing it into the growing pile of discarded clothes. You were quick to run your nails down his tight chest with a glint of mischief in your eyes, “much better”. 

Wakatoshi dawned a rare smirk and shook his head, “you’re such a needy girl, aren't you”. 

With an innocent smile you nodded your head and batted your pretty lashes, “Jus’ want you Toshi”. 

He exhaled through his nose and eagerly attached his lips to the soft skin down the column of your throat making you gasp. 

“Baby- don’t bite too hard, what if we have to go out later” you exclaimed, thinking about how the team might want to celebrate their victory later. 

Your boyfriend mumbled something into your neck before moving down to your breasts, he licked the sensitive buds before sloppily taking a tit into his mouth and palming the other with his strong left hand. 

His attention had you squirming under his hold, arching your back unintentionally. Wakatoshi could read your signals like no other, so he took the opportunity to snake his free hand around your waist and pull your hips closer to his throbbing dick. He was slick with pre already but didn’t want to give into his urges just yet; he needed to pleasure you first. 

Soon his kisses moved southward; eventually he had your panties in between his pearly teeth and he slid them down your smooth legs. You groaned as the cool hotel air hit your core and your hand immediately grasped Wakatoshi’s bicep. 

Wakatoshi felt an unbelievable wave of lust take him over as soon as he laid eyes on your pretty pussy. His dick twitched and he gave an experimental lick to your dripping core; he held an iron grip on your thighs as he shoved his whole face into you. 

You moaned at the feeling of his straight nose bumping against your sensitive bud and skilled mouth lapping up your juices.

Wakatoshi’s arousal pooled in his stomach as he slid his tongue between your folds collecting your essence. He devoured you as if he were a man starved; grinding his hips into the mattress below him every once in a while to release some of his building tension. 

Ushijima was a simple man with simple pleasures and nothing- nothing-in the world made him happier than pleasuring you. It was pornographic the way he buried himself into your dripping core, grunting against you everytime you squeezed your thighs around his head. 

“Mmph- T-Toshi, feels soo good” you moaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and tugged at his hair. 

Your praise earned you a deep groan from your boyfriend who swiftly inserted two digits into your slick hole in hopes of more blissful reactions. His cock throbbed as you swiveled your hips so that his fingers reached deeper into you. 

“Gonna- gonna cum baby- Toshi aahh” you squealed as you came around your boyfriend's thick fingers. 

Wakatoshi moaned as he happily lapped up your juices and clamped your thighs in his iron grip. Your body shivered with the echoes of your orgasm and before you could catch your breath you felt the warm lips of your boyfriend slotting against yours. 

“You taste amazing, My Love” your hulking boyfriend groaned against your lips. 

You clawed at his broad back before he rose to his knees to take in the view of your flushed face and marked body under him.

yYour lust returned all at once when you laid eyes on his painfully hard cock; it was so heavy that it was struggling to stand up, thick veins bulging with every subtle movement, dark tip and angry red just dribbling with pre-cum. 

You salivated as you observed the twitch of his large, circular balls each time you raked a nail down his meaty thigh. You needed to please him- you eagerly sat up and took a seat on your knees, face to face with his angry cock. 

Ushijima wasn’t naive, he knew what that position entailed, but he couldn’t help but lightly tease you, “What're you doing, Honey?” his low voice grumbled. 

“Just giving my Olympic victor a proper reward- is that alright with you?” you shyly smiled, batting your lashes at the man towering above you. 

Wakatoshi was at a loss for words as you kitten licked his sensitive tip before pressing a trail of burning kisses along his shaft, and finally lightly suckling his aching balls. Without warning, you returned to the main event and swallowed him down in one swift gulp. 

A guttural moan ripped its way from your boyfriend's throat as he balled his fists. 

Wakatoshi felt lightheaded as he took in the sight before him; the love of his life sitting on her knees before him, praising him for his victory- sweet lips usually reserved for tender kisses, making a mess of his throbbing cock. 

You had been with Wakatoshi long enough to know just how to rile him up; there was one vein in particular that ran up the bottom of his shaft to wrap around the left side that always throbbed the hardest. Initially you lightly followed it with the tip of your tongue to get his breath to hitch. 

“Baby~” he exhaled in a low groan as you gently squeezed his sensitive balls with your dominant hand. 

The vibrations of your moans and whimpers on his cock shot straight up his spine making him lurch forward and grip the mahogany headboard of the hotel bed. His wrists shook as he leaned over your back and bowed his head, getting a perfect view of your arched back as you continued swallowing his length greedily. 

He groaned with a low rumble at the sight; placing a large hand over his face and slowly dragging it down until it only covered his mouth. God- the image of you on your knees for him was enough to make him cum right then and there. 

But no. He needed to hold it a little longer.  

The enticing globes of your ass jiggled as your thighs clenched together in anticipation; so how could Wakatoshi not land a hard smack on your ass?

You whined on his dick and felt his tip strike the back of your throat suddenly, making you gag a little. Ushijima couldn't help the smirk that landed itself onto his flushed face. He settled his left hand tightly around the base of your throat as you pulled yourself off of his pulsing cock with a loud pop. 

Before you could realize what he was doing, Wakatoshi pulled you into a deep and messy kiss- not many men would want to taste themselves on your lips, but Ushijima always thought that was trivial. He loved you and all you did and had been doing was for him- why would he not kiss you? 

As he pulled you closer, you reached back in between his thighs to grip his meaty cock to continue your previous agenda.

“Feels so good~” the low timbre of his voice shot straight to your core as he praised you against your lips. 

“Mhmm, does it Toshi?”

He nodded before tensing and gently shoving you onto your back against the stack of pillows at the head of the bed. You landed lightly with surprise at the sudden movement; what was that for?

Your questions were answered as you observed your boyfriend sit back onto his heels with a pained and concentrated expression. His breaths were shaky and shallow as he fought the urge to cum; he gripped the sheets for a few seconds before slowly releasing the cloth once the feeling subsided. 

You giggled at his state- “What’s goin on baby?” you teased. 

“Need to be in you. Now.” he stated with a demanding tone as his olive eyes shot open- pupils almost completely dilated.

Instead of verbally answering you pounced onto him and wrapped your arms around his neck as you slotted your tongue against his, panting with each brush for his strong hands. 

“Shit babe- Let me go get a condom” Wakatoshi groaned as you began to pump his cock again. 

He gently released his grasp on you and started for his bag when you called out a pathetic “wait”. 

He immediately turned to you, brow slightly raised; “What is it my Love?”.

“D’ya wanna do it raw?” you shyly asked, plating with the rings on your manicured fingers. 

Ushijima thought he must have been dreaming, “Pardon?”.

“Do you want to fuck me raw, Wakatoshi” you stated with much more confidence, as you caressed your breasts for his viewing pleasure. 

Your words went straight to his dick because a thick gush of pre came dribbling out of his sensitive slit. Something in him snapped and he succumbed to his animalistic desires; before you knew it he was balls deep in your tight pussy, thrusting in and out with all of his might.

 No matter how many times you had him, Wakatoshi’s size was always an adjustment; he was just so big, so thick, so heavy. It was always a feat to stretch out enough to accommodate his sheer girth, but you did it everytime without fail. And without fail, everytime felt like it was the first time he was fucking your tight cunt. 

Ushijima’s grip on you was sure to leave bruises tomorrow, but today- you give any fucks, you just needed him to keep hitting that spot deep inside of you- that spot no one else could reach. 

“F-Fuck Toshi!! t’s soo good- Oh my Godd” you moaned as your eyes rolled back. 

“S’ tight for me- gripping on me so tight” Wakatoshi grunted as he struggled to pull himself back; your greedy cunt just sucked him in too far. 

“You liked watching me play today, huh?” he huffed as he slowly pulled himself out so that only his tip was left inside. 

“Y-You're my champion baby- s’ proud of you'' you nodded as you clawed at his biceps. 

He smirked and sank back into your warm, perfectly molded pussy with a guttural moan- “It was all for you, My Love. A-all f’ you” he promised into your ear as he resumed his earlier pace. 

“I-I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum Toshi! Oh fuck! shit-” you started stammering once he snaked his skilled fingers down towards your clit while still mercilessly thrusting in and out of your messied hole. 

Wakatoshi’s thighs began to tremble and he knew he was at the end of his rope; he was pushed further once your walls began fluttering and clenching around him from your orgasm. 

You came with his name on your tongue and arms around his neck as you pulled him flush against you. Nothing felt better than this- Wakatoshi couldn’t handle it anymore and wrapped his strong arms around you and began wildly bucking his hips into your tired cunt as you squealed into his neck and held on for dear life. 

He became sloppy as he felt his heavy, sensitive balls began drawing up in anticipation; “My L-Love, I’m going to cum- fuck- I’m cumming- I-I’m cumming” Wakatoshi moaned into your ear as he tried to pull himself out of the tight grip your pretty pussy had on him but for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t quick enough. Soon he was babbling apologies as he spilled his warm seed into your fucked out pussy. 

“I’m sorry, I-I couldn’t pull out. I’m so sorry” he wailed as his hips continued to involuntarily buck up with the remnants of his orgasm passing through. 

“It’s ok Toshi- It’s ok, feels so good- so warm” you babbled as your exhaustion took hold. 

He took a minute to catch his breath before gently pulling out of you; he cringed as his sensitive dick finally exited your warmth. Once he was out you whimpered a bit at the empty feeling before you felt him begging to clean you up with a towel. 

“I hope I wasn’t too rough, Dear- I’m sorry” he said, gently wiping his spend off of you. 

“No no- It’s ok Toshi, I liked it” you sleepily smiled. 

Once his worries subsided, Wakatoshi pressed gentle kisses to your peaceful face. 

“Thank you, My Love- thank you for everything” he said softly. 

You only hummed in response and waited patiently for him to return to your side. Tiredly, you turned over to rest your cheek on Wakatoshi’s large chest but as soon as you laid down his phone began to buzz crazily. You knew he didn’t have notifications on for anything except messages and emails so that definitely had to eb the Olympic group chat. 

He was about to silence his phone when you asked him what the boys were talking about. You smiled to yourself as you watched your boyfriend’s face return to its usual neutral scowl while he read the flood of texts. 

“They want to go out tonight to celebrate.” he said with no detectable emotion. 

“Oh that's fun! What are you going to wear?” you asked eagerly, wondering what fit he would choose tonight. 

But instead of answering he just quirked a brow, “What do you mean? I’m not going.” 

You shot up in shock with an exaggerated gasp, “Not going?! Toshi you just won your Olympic match and you aren’t going to celebrate with your team?!”.

“No. You are here and I want to spend time with you.” he stated very matter-of-factly. 

“Baby. I love you and I think it’s so sweet that you want to spend time with me- but you HAVE to go out” you whined pawed at his tight pecs. 

“But-” he began.

“But nothing! You earned that win and you deserve to celebrate”.

He sat silently for a moment, mulling over how to get you to let off a little, he just wanted to spend time with you. 

“They want to go out tonight but it’s already 5 pm” he said. 

Now it was your turn to think. 

“Ok, tell you what- how about I go with you and we take five minutes to chill, take a shower and then take a nap until we have to get ready to go out. We were probably going to get a few drinks tonight anyways,  right? And this way you have an out if the party is getting too hectic- you can just say I flew in late and am sleepy. How does that sound?” 

That was a solid plan, how could he say no to that? He hummed in agreement before placing his phone back down, drawing you close, and shutting his eyes for a moment. 

Ever since you entered his life the year after your high school graduations, everything in his life shifted. The immovable force that ran his life- the force so trained on volleyball and success was suddenly derailed ever so slightly. Now there was you; with your random interests, your beautiful smile, your tenderness, your heart. And suddenly life had more meaning; he had a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to get better, a reason to work on aspects of himself outside of his athletic performance. 

A reason to love.

______________________

Hello haikyuu fans who gave me a chance :) I mainly write Star Wars content but ngl being in Tokyo has made me get back into haikyuu lol- little secret I had a “secret” 10k plus anime tiktok acc back when anime tok was trendy in 2020- but dw I wasn’t one of those fans haha// toshi has always been my #1 animated man

Thx for @toshisdecadence for getting me inspired to finally write for toshi :?

[physalian]

On Writing Characters with Hyper-Specific Triggers (and a PSA)

*Trigger warning for this whole post

Once upon a time, I had a roommate. Nothing looked wrong from the outside and this narcissist probably thought nothing was wrong on the inside, but there was. I knew moving in with them was a mistake, but financial circumstances demanded I shut up and try to make the most of it. Enter the longest thirteen months of aPTSD-inducing psychological stalemate I hope to never repeat again. Seven of which were on overdrive.

The why doesn’t matter. The how doesn’t matter. What matters is that this roommate was so toxic, there was no point in attempting to talk things out because any little thing could be a land mine for starting an argument and it didn’t matter what casualties got caught in the crossfire, so long as this person “won”. Casualties including our friendship. So if any little thing, anything at all, could be a land mind, what do you do if not try to completely avoid them? For seven months.

This person’s work schedule was incredibly erratic, but they were gone more hours than not, and when they were home, they were usually asleep. In those few overlapping hours where we were both awake, I could not leave my room for fear of said verbal land mines. If I wanted to cook, leave the apartment, get anything from the living room or my desk that I had to abandon, get more water from the fridge, I had to do it before they got home, or after they went to bed, and I could never predict when they’d be home.

Luckily (or unluckily), my room faced the parking lot, and this roommate drove a car that made a very specific sound. From the moment I heard that car from my room, I had about 20 seconds to shut down whatever I was doing in the apartment, retreat to my room, and lock the door. Overreacting? Potentially, I wasn’t in any physical danger, but this was seven months of near complete isolation from any other friends, and the fear of making it worse kept me silent.

So, 20 seconds from the moment I hear the telltale whine of that engine. If I couldn’t hear the car, our front door had a lock that chimes and I had about 7 seconds from the first chime to the door opening to get the fuck out of the way. I lost weight that I couldn’t afford to lose from being unable to cook past a certain time in the evening and staying locked in my room on their days off.

Seven months of only having a door chime and an engine to tell me when it was safe and when I had to run.

—

These chime locks are the new normal and one year removed from that apartment, every time I hear it and I’m already stressed, it’s a trigger.

Every time I’m on the highway and I see a dark grey sedan of that make, that is the most important car on the road until I make sure it’s not their car.

Every time I see a dark grey sedan parked in reverse, as they habitually did, that is the most important car in the parking lot until I make sure it’s not theirs.

Every time I have to drive near a certain location where they work, I am watching for that car.

I could pick it out from 200 others. I know the license plate, I know the license plate frame, I know what sticks to the windshield, I know what hangs from the rearview mirror. I would know that car rusted and crushed in an impound lot.

So. Today I drive home and I pass a rear-parked car one turn before my unit, and I think to myself, “that’s not X’s car, but I noticed it, I’m never not going to notice it.” It wasn’t the same make, model, or color, it was just a sedan with its nose sticking out and that was enough.

Then I turn the corner. And there it is. My ex-roommate’s car.

I shit you not it was like I had a warning from the Universe before it hit.

I don’t need to check the windshield, I know it’s theirs. I’ve seen it in my complex once before. The last time I did, I’d parked my own car and waited, got out, and hid between two others in the dark, waiting for this person to leave.

Today, in broad daylight, that car is empty. They happened to arrive while I was gone for 30 minutes. So I park, and I wait. I watch that car from my side mirror. I scan the sidewalk for them and I don’t see anything. I have frozens that can’t wait.

I’m thinking to myself, of all the parking spots in all the parking lots, of all the apartments in this godforsaken town, you parked right behind my spot.

Nothing happened, and even if we crossed paths, nothing probably would have happened (that’s how they worked, pretending nothing was ever wrong and that I was the crazy one). But I still waited, and when I decided to leave, I moved as fast as possible without drawing attention. One whole year removed from that person.

—

It doesn’t take physical abuse, or yelling and screaming and death threats. It doesn’t need to be a parent or a sibling, a relative, or a romantic partner. This person never touched me, never screamed (though they did yell on occasion), never actually threatened anything. They never called me names, were never direct with any of their insults, were never explicitly petty. I had no proof. Ever.

I just had example after example of every time they cut me down to feel smart, picked on me to feel better about themselves and project their own insecurities and jealousy, or used me as their emotional punching bag because of choices they made.

So a year after completely cutting them out, there’s that fucking car parked outside my apartment.

Media portrays “triggers” usually only in characters who are veterans. Noises that sound like gunshots, or thunder, fireworks, because that’s what we think of when we see PTSD—people who fought in wars.

It’s not like I sit around fixating on that car or that door chime (and actually with exposure to that chime every day with no consequences it’s gotten better), but that’s the point. They come out of nowhere when you least expect it. They don’t prepare you for their arrival, they just happen.

I didn’t have anything close to a panic attack, but nothing in the universe was more important in that moment than making sure I didn’t run into this person, until I calmed down.

Trigger attacks don’t have to be this big flashy thing, born of big flashy movements. It can be something as subdued as going quiet, staring at the thing, and your brain dumping everything else except all the potential outcomes of not escaping this situation immediately. It’s just a car. It’s not like an evil Big Dick truck with smokestacks and truck nuts and a MAGA flag on the back. It’s just a nerdy sedan that could belong to anyone.

—

So. PSA.

What you think might be an overreaction by someone you care about, they probably think is an overreaction, too. Did I want to have fate shit on my day and spend extra minutes under the hot sun when I have chores to do? No. But it happened.

What you think a trigger is supposed to look like or what the symptoms are supposed to be are not just what’s dramatic and flashy for the TV. Here I am writing a whole blog post about it instead of just moving on and I can't go back and check for typos because I don't want to have to reread it.

Do you want to die on a hill of “get over it” when someone you care about would love nothing more? Just. Be there for them.

And to writers, artists, anyone—it doesn’t have to be dramatic to be the most upsetting part of someone’s day. Including such simple things as a door chime, or the sound of an engine, really helps with visibility so people like me don’t think “I’m not allowed to feel this way, I didn’t actually suffer like a shell-shocked veteran”.

Most of us never will. That doesn’t make any of our hardships any less valid. Please be kind.

[romaniacs]

▌ㅤKIM MINJEONG — SWEET COATING

( read more ) synopsis — minjeong hated sweet scents until she met you. warnings — female reader x coworker kim minjeong, messy headcanons without bullet points, enemies to lovers, cussing, fluff. text in bold is minjeong's.

minjeong has always had an aversion to anything sweet — perfume, food, kisses even, since she's always been too busy to enjoy any of them as she should. but when she comes across you, the company's rookie, things can't stay the same for much longer.

the first thing you do is offer her a cake, carrying your sweet scent along its slice in your hands. it's a chunky, heavy cake covered in glacé that you made yourself, and just looking at it gives her a headache. she refuses it. once. twice. thrice. "will you leave me alone if i take a bite?" she asks. and you nod quietly.

minjeong gets sick the next day and silently blames you for it.

she was too stressed and tired to notice it the first time, but eventually, minjeong catches on to how strong your perfume is. it feels like it's taking over her whole brain.

she refuses to even be around you for the first few days. she hates the sight of you, thinks you were too insistent the first time, and finds you annoying. your smiles bother her, your sweetness in general gets under her skin. this girl tries to avoid you in every way she can.

but when she sees you fighting to keep your job, her job and integrity, looking beyond fine bending down to grab anything far from her in your skirt, it's as if the world fell into place. you are in her brain, along with your nauseating scent. and minjeong knows that she's completely fucked.

"i’ll let you take the credits this time" you tell her while you're still brave. "i’ll let you stare because i’m feeling generous today" you tease. your perfume won’t leave her mind. neither will your voice. she doesn’t know if she hates you so much that she wants to get her hands on you or if that’s just a lame excuse she’s using to avoid admitting she’s feeling something deeper.

what she doesn't know is that you're not as sweet as she thinks, nor naive, nor innocent. you've got your eye on her. you know from jimin that she hates your scent, but blushed when she teased her about staring for too long at your figure.

"shut the fuck up, jimin" is her most used phrase now. and you smiling at her gives her butterflies, crazy as it might sound. minjeong doesn’t know what’s happening to her. she doesn’t even know what she’s trying to run from, but her feelings hit her like a truck.

it's cruel of you not to end her suffering; you see her staring at your lips, your waist. "are you paying attention to me, romanoff?" you ask, and she nods absentmindedly. "good. can you repeat what i just said?" and she cannot.

it's funny how she attracts a whole fucking lot of attention, but while all eyes are on her, hers are on you. and yours are on her. and company meetings are almost obscene in your own head, because you can't seem to focus anymore, but only replay a thousand times in your head the thought of being kissed by her. and the same happens to minjeong, who hates that, and no longer you at this point.

"can you stop wearing this strong-ass perfume so early in the morning?" she'd ask. "can you stop being grumpy?" you'd retort. but now, the tables have turned. months have passed.

"i haven't heard you complain in a while" you say. "got no reason for that, dear. it's like a sweet coating all over you, isn't it? and everything else. ever" she replies distractedly, looking out the window. meanwhile, you cough and blush. "excuse me?" and then minjeong comes to her senses. "yeah, excuse you. get going. we got men to ruin and i still don't like your perfume."

not true. she has even dreamt about it, somehow.

minjeong's thoughts are constantly interrupted by the realization that she now finds comfort in the very thing she once despised, what was once a headache is now addicting. and despite her best efforts to stay focused on the mission at hand, natasha can't help but keep her attention on you.

minjeong leans in over you to show you something on your computer screen, then looks down and rejoices a bit in your suffering. "you look red" she mumbles, watching you swallow hard. "you okay?" she asks.

your eyes are wide. she's close. "y-yeah. just allergies" you say shyly. minjeong notices the blush creeping harder onto your face and can't help but smirk a little. god, she's cute.

minjeong is tired of keeping herself so composed, now knowing she has an effect on you too. so she makes her move. "i have a feeling you’re not as put together as you want me to believe."

"stop being cocky" you whisper back, avoiding eye contact. but then she reaches out and gently takes your chin between her fingers, tilting your head up so your eyes meet.

"then quit acting tough and like a coward altogether" she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"coward? but-"your heart races as you look into minjeong's eyes, your breath catching in your throat. "fuck, minjeong. you’re not entirely wrong this time" you admit it. "i know i’m not" minjeong grins softly. you can't move, like a real coward. but she does the hard work, slowly brings you closer by the collar of your shirt.

her lips press against yours, soft and warm, while her hands grip your waist tightly, and after seconds you're already wanting more. minjeong senses it, gives you more, tilts her head to deepen the kiss, and a wave of warmth spreads through your spirit. you melt into her touch. the only sound you can manage is a soft whimper that escapes your lips, and you think fuck me. i should've done this before.

[bwabys-scenarios]

warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

[k0juki]

some angst with joost (with an happy ending pls)

A/n: I can actually write something over 1k words? Also I think the end is poorly written, so bear with me. xdd

Where have you been?

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

Warnings: maybe some abandon issues (I'm really bad at this..)

Wc: 1253

---

Joost was locked in his room all day. You didn't blame him. He was gaining popularity and he was doing everything he could to make the most of it. But you also were scared for him. These last few days were a lot. 

He was stressed and you just wanted to help him. To give him some break from work. But he didn't want one.

"Joost? I made you some tea." You said and opened the door from his work room. He didn't say anything, he was still staring at the same spot on his computer. You didn't know if he was ignoring you or if he was really that busy with work.

You put the cup down on his desk and came behind him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He still said nothing. 

"How is it going Joost?" You asked, truly curious about his work. 

"Good." He replied, it was short and without any sweet playfulness that you loved. 

"That's good." You whispered, with a small smile that was more forced than happy. He was just busy with work, you were repeating in your head, all and all over again.

"Do you wanna..." you began, "maybe, take a little pause from work?" You felt him tense up under your hands just as you finished. 

"Y/n, I have some work to do, can you stop?" Joost angrily remarked. 

"I didn't mea-" you didn't even finish the sentence, as Joost turned around and pulled out of your embrace. His face and eyes were hard, he was really mad.

"I told you to stop bothering me." He spatted at you. "Don't you have anything to do? Or bother?" The more he continued, the more it hurt. 

Inside of your head, you began to panic. What have you done? What were you going to do now? 

You didn't say anything, didn't do anything, just looked down and slowly left the room, softly closed the door behind you.

Why would he do that? You just wanted him to take a break, nothing more. Were you really that annoying? 

You made your way out of the house, leaving all things behind. Including your bag, phone and most importantly a keys. 

You had to clean your head. You didn't really realised you were crying till you touched your face. Where am I going? You thought, you just simply didn't know anything right now.

And the fact that it was getting darker as night approached, didn't help much. You made your way to the nearest park where you and Joost, from time to time, spent some moments together. You sat down on the bench, and just looked around.

You were enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you, but your thoughts were traitorous. Telling you all the bad things, even though they weren't true and real, only you were real, right now, at this moment.

As the night came, you still sat at the same place. You were playing with the rings on your fingers, as the cold slowly started to absorb you whole. 

And then you heard it. The soft call. Someone was calling you, your name.

"Y/n!"

Where was it coming from? Who was calling you? 

"Y/n, where are you!" 

It was getting closer. He was getting closer.  Joost. You could say something, anything, but you had no strength to do that. You lowered your head back down, doing nothing.

"Y/n-" Joost stopped in mid sentence as he saw you sitting all alone on the bench. He ran to you and as soon as he stood in front of you, he slowly crouched down and put his hands on your knees, where you were playing with your fingers.

"Hey..." Joost whispered, but now it was you who were silent. You didn't even look at him.

"I-I, I'm-m-" he was struggling to somehow put the whole sentence together. 

"I-i'm sorry Y/n. I'm so s-sorry." He began and looked down on the ground. "I shouldn't have yelled and been mean to you, it wasn't fair...to you, you were just trying to help me." As he continued, he put his head on your knees, you felt him shaking and your heart broke a little, but he  hurt you.

But he also knew about your traumas. You told him how you can't handle it mentally when someone yells at you, and he promised you to never do that, just to break that promise. 

"I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am." Joost whispered. “I was just stressed a-and I know that it doesn't change anything I said, but I'm still so sorry."

He broke in front of you. Crying by your legs.

"Can you say something...?" He whispered. And then he felt as you took your hands away from his own and he feared the worst. He didn't want to hear it, to go through another loss of someone he loves, but now just because of his stupidity.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, now wanting to let you go. But what he didn't expect was you to put your hands in his soft, blonde hair and started massaging his scalp.

"I forgive you." You whispered. Joost raised his head and looked you in your eyes with his red ones from crying. It took him some time to realize what he'd done, and when he went to apologize, you were nowhere to be found.

This panic that washed over him, he didn't feel it for a long, long time. When he tried to call you, he heard your phone ring in the kitchen, where you left it, along with other stuff he knew you wouldn't leave the house without. 

So he went searching for you, and all the places you could have been. He was also asking other people if they saw you, but they didn't. His last hope was a park. It was where you met. You were there, and when he saw you, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

"You...forgive me?" Joost couldn't help, but ask. His arms lose a bit around your legs, but it was still strong enough to keep you in place. 

"I forgive you." You repeated and took his face in your hands."I know you have it hard right now, but I just, I don't know...got scared a-and left. I shouldn't have done that. To scare you like that too." You felt his fresh tears as you spoke to him. He was really scared you would leave him too.

"I should be the one apologizing to you." Joost's voice cracked and then he kissed your palm. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" He asked with his crystal blue eyes. 

That question made you panic. "No, of course not. I could never." He is the love of your life, you couldn't just leave him.

"Let's just go home. I'm really cold." He stood up and pulled you in a hug. He didn't care about anything as long as you were with him, in his arms. Joost was repeatedly kissing the top of your head, with one hand in your hair and the other around you.

You heard him keep muttering how sorry he was, but you already forgave him. Now he just needed to forgive himself. 

"Here, take my jacket." He said and took his jacket off as he let you go. As soon as you had it around you, he took your hand back in his and together you made your way home.

---

Part 2? Idk...any ideas?

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[fadedtoneverland]

dazed | s.mg

❤︎ synopsis — your boyfriend just looked so cute looking at you like that…

pairing: bf!song mingi x male!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: more mingi for the feral stans :)) it’s not a super long fic, but hopefully you can enjoy :D

banner cred to @sylusz

cw: dombottom!reader. subtop!mingi. semi-public sex. anal penetration. unprotected sex (don’t do irl!!). cowgirl position. reader rides mingi but is the one in control. praise kink. slight breeding kink (if you squint).

some of the most lewd sounds were coming from the recording studio.

hopefully the door was locked, but you and your boyfriend were a bit occupied. lost in the pleasure that ignited the churning heat in your stomach. you didn’t care enough to even double check if your privacy with your boyfriend was fully secured.

all you could focus on was him, and how sinfully innocent he looked with those glasses loosely framed around his face.

and you seemed to be doing him a favor at the moment. when you entered the studio, your poor man looked so stressed producing the new song for his upcoming comeback. so of course, you had offered to alleviate his worries for a good while.

“oh fuck. fuck—“ mingi whimpered out while grasping your hips tightly, his voice coming out in a breathless whine, loving the way you expertly rocked your hips onto his lap.

“goddamn, you’re loud.” you laughed while clutching mingi’s strong shoulders, groaning softly as you sunk back down onto mingi’s weeping cock, your hole fluttering around his thick shaft

“ruined so pretty, just for me,” you purred, running a hand through mingi’s fiery hair, his lips parted while an erotic moan escaped his throat. “looking so good in those glasses too.”

all mingi could muster up was a needy groan, his hips bucking up into your ass when he heard that last comment. your own cock swelled at the sight, pushed up against mingi’s barely exposed abs, dribbling with copious amounts of precum and staining his muscles.

“please,” mingi hoarsely gasped. “don’t stop- fuck, feels so good-“

the way your man was putty at the palm of your hand. all you had to do was wet his dick with your ass, and bam, he was a whiny, needy mess. the sight just spurred you on, making your hips move in a rhythmic up, down, up, down, motion.

mingi lost himself in the sensations, grasping your hips harshly to try and control your bouncing on his lap, the other hand gripping the armrest of his swivel chair harshly. but all he could do was throw his head back and let out the most sinful noises, not caring if any of his members or staff even heard him at this point.

“ah god- yes! fuck!” mingi cried out, his voice a mix of desperation and need. you were starting to lose your inhibitions too, angling your hips perfectly to slam down onto mingi’s lap.

“yes, yes, fuck-! oh you’re gonna make me come.” you hashed out with a sharp groan, strings of curses leaving your lips.

mingi let out a lewd moan at your words. “please, please, let me come inside you.”

you snickered lustfully.

“oh yeah, wanna come inside me?” you teased, rocking your hips faster, feeling the rim of your hole stretch so good around mingi’s cock. “wanna stuff me full of your cum? make me reek of you for days?”

mingi rolled his eyes back, his glasses almost slipping off. “yes- yes! god, please, i don’t want anything more than that..!”

the sound of mingi just pleading to come inside you, like he’d die if he didn’t leave some of his essence within your body. fuck, you could get used to this.

maybe you should take control more often.

surging forward and capturing mingi’s lips in a bruising kiss, you swallowed his moans as you rode him harder. mingi’s moans were muffled and vibrated against your lips, feeling his hips jerk up instinctively to meet your ruthless hip movements.

“come for me, pretty.” you whispered hoarsely into his ear.

and that’s all it took for mingi. throwing his head back and letting out a silent scream, thick ropes of hot cum bursted inside of you, coating your bowels in the sticky substance. the feeling triggered your own orgasm too, and your head fell forward to bury itself in mingi’s neck. you came hard too, the evidence of your release coating mingi’s abs and dribbling down to his pelvis.

your hip movement stuttered and slowly came to a stop, and the two of you were panting heavily. feeling his cock soften inside your ass, you lifted your sore body up shakily, letting mingi slip out as you both rested.

“shiiit. that was good.” you chuckled hoarsely, nuzzling your nose into the curve of your boyfriend’s neck.

mingi nodded shakily, his hand coming up to card his fingers through your hair. “yeah… fuck.”

you hummed softly, letting your boyfriend comfort you while you rested against his sweaty body, your hand coming up to his chest and tracing loving circles over the firm skin.

looking up at your man, you met his gaze and smiled softly. mingi, in turn, returned it with his own.

“… you wanna order food? i can pay.” you offered, slowly sitting up onto mingi’s lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

mingi smiled, and let out a snicker at your words. some food sounded good right about now.

“sure.”

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fadedtoneverland © 2024 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[astonmartingf]

NEW PERSPECTIVE ; FA14

fernando alonso x photo journalist!reader

. . . twenty years into his career, alonso faced a lot of changes. but it was all because of you, that he looked forward to at the end of everything.

amgf 2.8k words. implied mentions of spygate, rumors, other controversies, accidents and more. slightly realistic? i cried writing this— made me in awe of fernando as a driver even more. enjoy 👍

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2005]

Is Fernando selfish?

He could say that to himself, it doesn’t matter to him what other people thought of him. At the end of the day, they’re just here to race.

He’s aware of it, if it weren’t for his skills and passion he wouldn’t have come this far— a young boy from Spain, dreaming to make it to the top. It didn’t seem like reality four years ago, yet here he is.

Standing on top of his car in parc ferme, the crowd cheering him on as his engineers flood through from the garage to greet him. The sun shining down on him— celebrating his win, it felt as if he was back at home in Spain, under the protection of his helmet he could see the entourage of people crowding him.

People as far as his eye can see, but it’s all a blur— to Fernando this was everything he dreamed of and more. It peeved him that he didn’t win the Brazilian Grand Prix, but winning the World Championship was even better.

His shoulders held high hugging every Renault engineer he could find, it was history. He will be a part of history- no. Fernando Alonso made history. And this was just the beginning.

[2007]

Where did things go wrong?

Exactly two years ago, Fernando was on cloud nine. The only thing he’s getting to the nines is stress. As much as he hates to admit he was intimidated to be one-upped by a rookie at that.

It’s his ego that’s eating him alive, nonetheless Fernando is still proud. If he has his head high, nothing could ever stop him.

It scares him, the monster growing inside him, but what else can he do? In this sport, one can either hunt or be hunted. If he had to use tricks up his sleeve, why wouldn’t he?

It’s nothing personal, Hamilton just happened to be there, his only mistake was thinking that the rookie won’t retaliate. In hindsight, he’d gladly accept P2 over his teammate.

Fernando may have an egotistical and dubious character but he wasn’t blind to the young man’s skills. But it was also a mirror and testament to his own, if Hamilton could do it, what’s his reason not to deliver?

Thinking back on his phone call with the team principal, he should’ve immediately told the FIA instead of ratting himself out. Now he has to face the consequences of his actions, deciding to do better, Alonso ultimately leaves the team.

[2008]

He must be a penchant for bad luck, this time Fernando knows it wasn’t his fault.

It annoyed him that controversy seemed to follow him wherever he went. “Are you Fernando Alonso? Is it real you tried to kill your teammate? What can you say in response to the rumors circulating about you?”

Joder!

“Fernando Alonso? Do you have time for an interview?”

Alonso wasn’t one to be caught off-guard, but for the first time he stood frozen, in shock. Glancing around the area, Alonso stepped forward nodding towards the interviewer. He’d been dealing with stupid questions all day long, what’s another one gonna change with his mood right?

“I’m YN LN interviewer for Formula One Herald. As someone who has witnessed you win the championship back in 2005 and 2006, what are your plans in securing the most points possible?”

Wrong.

Now Fernando is truly caught off guard. Wary off your question, overthinking and analyzing hidden meanings behind it. Alonso didn’t think of himself as calculative, he’s simply observant and protective of his space. Knowing how easily one’s words could be twisted into a narrative.

Fernando stares at you, Surely you’re not the type to work for meager clicks on the webs?

It was silent for the next few minutes.

“Sir Alonso? I’m sorry for taking your time, you can go ahead if you don’t want to answer.”

Somehow you managed to catch Fernando’s attention even more, “I thought journalists were supposed to be persuasive? You’re just letting me go without getting a scoop of the news?”

Fernando’s eyes widened, hearing you laugh at his words, he didn’t think of himself as funny, maybe it’s one of their tactics. To know one’s information you must soften them a bit, his expression only hardens ultimately catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh- I guess I’m just nervous since it’s my first time actually being dispatched on field. I used to take pictures on the sidelines- I even took one of yours when you won back in 2005, it was such a nice memory. I remember fighting a lot of reporters to catch a glimpse of you, I managed to take one and it was chosen as the front and center photo of one famous magazine! Hopefully you win more races and podiums, you make it fun and exciting. Speaking as a fan and not some journalist, I’m rooting for you- I must’ve been rambling for a while, thank you for sparing me your time, don’t worry this will all go off the record just for you. Have a nice race week.”

The air must’ve felt it too, because since then things have changed.

Fernando was left alone watching your back disappear from the crowd.

The moment things were finally looking better for him.

[2012]

“Sir Alonso!”

The voice from afar alone caused Fernando to look around for the familiar voice in the paddock. Somehow he’s been always keen on answering your questions or setting up time for interviews, often extending them for an absurd amount of time as what his manager said.

It’s not biased if your questions are the only thing interesting. That or it could be your magnetic presence, he could feel your passion beaming through as you asked him intricate questions none that he experienced before. 

Another telltale sign is you’re the only one who calls him “Sir Alonso”, thinking back on his first meeting with you, it definitely came as a shock. Despite all the formality, he’s taken a liking to the name only you call him.

It makes him feel respected and more importantly it makes him feel like he has a special relationship with you. Walking through the crowd, he spots you at one of the tables waving your cards in the air, like a bait to lure him into your trap.

Not that he minds, if he had to spend the next hour talking about how the season wrapped, he’d rather talk to you about it. Smiling unknowingly, Fernando rubs the palms of his hands on his red tracksuit. 

Was he nervous to talk to you? No. It’s all about racing, a topic Alonso is fond of, but is your presence rubbing him off? I guess he could say that. All the thoughts in his head buzzing, what should he say? What should he do? How should he act in front of you.

Fernando never thought of himself to be as calculative, but the need to impress you has astounded him even more.

“Fernando Alonso, congratulations on finishing P2 for the season. It’s exciting to see you on and off the track now that the season is over.” 

He could feel himself beaming at the sound of your voice, it’s like you infected him with your insurmountable enthusiasm. Alonso liked that about you, no need for snarky remarks, or hidden agendas behind your question, you were always talking about the sport, yet somehow your spark never seemed to fade away.

And as much as you like to praise him, he’s slowly in the making for one of your biggest fans. Not that he will admit that to you himself.

“YN, it’s always a delight talking to you.” Grabbing your hand for a handshake, Fernando pulls you in for a hug without thinking. Immediately pulling away, Alonso’s thoughts began firing, overthinking the previous interaction.

His doubt was erased once he saw the smile on your face, happiness reaching the corners of your eyes. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, this is becoming a thing isn’t it?”

A thing. What thing? Fernando raises his brows asking for more context, maybe he’s overthinking it again or confused, maybe he didn’t hear you properly, totally not distracted just by being in your personal space.

“Post-season interviews? It’s always nice to catch up and look back on the season, especially this one P2. Congratulations Alonso…” Your voice drowns out into the background.

It was another turning point in Fernando Alonso’s life, and somehow this was all because of you. Only realizing then that he’d rather sit down for what seems like the longest time in his life, talking to you, not just about his racing but about your own life. He realized that he’d never catch himself doing this with other interviewers, and this was your thing.

Fernando liked that.

It’s nice to catch up and look back on the season with you.

[2016]

Lucky to be alive. Lucky. To be. Alive.

It only dawned on him what happened then. Fernando sat in silence next to you, from the corner of his eyes, he could see you tidying up the small things you prepared for the interview. Alonso felt vulnerable, it’s been a while since he’s experienced such a crash.

“I should leave you to rest, hmm?” Raising his head, Fernando meets your eyes full of concern or at least that’s how he sees it. In a spur of the moment, Alonso shakes his head ‘no’.

“Can you stay for a while?” Fernando avoids your eyes, halfway in regret from being unable to control himself. To his surprise, you drop your papers sitting down next to him.

“Do you want to talk as a friend?”

A friend.

Fernando stays quiet before nodding his head.

And just like how you do all the time, just being by your side Fernando could feel himself slowly getting better. Letting himself let go of all the thoughts and worries in his head. If not now, when?

When will he have another chance to spend time with you? Not just as a friend.

It was the second time he felt it change.

[2019]

“Congratulations Alonso!”

The corner of Fernando’s lips curl up to a smile watching you approach him closer, opening his arms, catching you in his arms. If he wasn’t already feeling better with his win, having you here by his side is even more enjoyable.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come here. Sick of the F1 Paddock?” Fernando inquisitively asked, he expected you to reply politely for support, but what he didn’t expect is for you to suddenly grow balls.

“Honestly it’s boring without you there. Why would I go when you’re here?”

Or were you always so straightforward that he didn’t notice it? Stunned. 

It was always a surprise with you, not that he minded it didn’t matter what you would’ve said, Alonso would gladly listen to you. “When did you arrive?” Clearing his throat, trying to not get your words to affect him as much as he wants to.

“Oh, I’ve been watching since yesterday, I stayed in one of the tents.” 

And there goes Alonso, surely if you had looked further into his eyes, you could see his heart doing somersaults and cartwheels. Is this your effect on him? He wasn’t that aware, but now it’s slightly concerning for him to be acting this way in front of you.

You simply stunned him. And Alonso wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s surprising how I managed to hide from you, to be honest my self-control isn’t that good-”

I’m sure yours is better… if only you knew mine, Alonso thought, lips curling into a smile.

“But somehow I thought, wouldn't it be better to surprise you in the end? If you win then it’ll be a surprise and a celebration. Just like now! I took so many photos of you, you want to see?”

Fernando didn’t notice you moving closer to him, showing him the photos you took of him. 

“And if I lost? What would happen then?” A smirk grows in his face, feeling proud to put you into the corner, but Fernando should know by now that you will always have the upper hand. Especially when it comes to you.

“Oh, I planned on giving you a big kiss, comfort you and take you out for dinner. But isn’t it good that you won?”

The way Fernando’s face fell at the thought of getting a kiss from you sounded a lot better than winning.

Joder! I’d rather kiss YN than win… Is this where I’m at now? 

“What a shame that I won then, are kisses only for losers?” Fernando ought to shut up, but he just can’t let you win, taking blow after blow he’s been hit hard where it hurts. His ego and what could’ve been a kiss from you.

As if you couldn’t surprise him more, Fernando stood frozen watching you move closer to him, hands wrapped on both of his cheeks. He could feel the coldness of your hands against the warmth of his cheeks, pressing a small kiss on the side of his face totally catching him off guard.

“Winners get one kiss. Losers get two.” 

Fernando can’t help but burst out laughing, eliciting the same to you laughing along with the sound of his laughter. “What?”

Alonso shakes his head, face red from the blushing, laughing, or just being in the same proximity as you. You’re full of surprises, he’ll give you that, but he completely surprises himself in the end.

Fighting the urge to kiss you then and there, Fernando settles on grabbing your hands, “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go on that dinner you were talking about.”

[2021]

Getting out of his seat, Fernando immediately looks around for you. The energy, adrenaline, and excitement fueling him. Walking towards his team waiting for him by the barricades cheering, yet his eyes linger towards you.

Behind a camera with a wide smile on your face, Alonso waves as you mirror his movements. It’s as if time had stopped, as you capture his moments, Fernando has already ingrained you in his mind.

Coming back to Formula One wasn’t easy. He had sacrifices to make, but seeing the warmth and familiarity of your face around the track. He kept his shoulders up.

Now more stable than ever, his sacrifices, priorities, and privilege will all be tested as the season comes to an end. Nevertheless, Fernando is grateful to have you by his side.

It’ll only be the beginning for more changes to come, and with you by his side, there’s nothing stopping him now.

[2023]

“You're back with the interviews?” Fernando sits at the other side of the table overlooking the view of the yacht dock.

“My favorite driver is on the grid, so why not. I thought this was our thing?” Fernando watches as you prepare the papers in front of you, head tilting, focused doing your own things. Sitting back and letting you do your magic, Fernando grabs one of your cameras.

You were always behind the lens of your beloved camera, Alonso remembered you saying to him that this was one of your oldest cameras. You also gave Fernando free reign in using your camera, he wasn’t aware of the magnitude of you letting him use your camera, but knowing how special it is to you, Alonso knew to handle it with care.

Fernando turned on the camera immediately looking for the photos you took in them. He has an inkling of the contents inside them, but what he didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of photos you have of him.

Going as far back as 2003, photos of him in his first win in Hungary, photos of him in podiums, smiling, some showcasing his losses, photos of him with past teammates and in various uniforms.

The feeling dawned on him, you’ve been there from the start, watching him through the lens. Seeing himself from your eyes, Alonso was taken aback at the photos. As if you couldn’t sweep him off his feet even more, learning this about you even made him fall in love with you more than he already is.

“Why are you crying?” 

Your voice breaks his train of thought, blinking away the moisture poling into his eyes. Alonso isn’t one to be emotional, but seeing your love flow through the pictures from the screen, fills his heart heavy with emotion.

Wiping his tears, Alonso places the camera back on the table. “I never thought I would feel this way about these…” Fernando watches you shuffle around, dropping everything as you move beside him.

“I remember telling you about these photos. They’re all about you.”

Alonso nods his head, still deep in thought, beyond belief at his love for you, ever growing every single day.

“I never saw myself like this… how you capture my every moment, through the good and bad. I feel loved, and I love you.” Fernando, professing his love for you. Truly, one of the best seasons.

You allowed him to see himself in a different light, different from what the media says, the roles he played in the sport, a conniving villain. You allowed him to see himself in a new perspective.

amgf death of a bachelor comes to a close. thank you for supporting the series this far, i laughed, cried and felt a rollercoaster of emotions writing this. i hope you enjoy this, until the next series <3

[seeingivy]

the other side of the door

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my gojo as taylor series

--

tsumiki and megumi fushiguro unknowingly cause a damper on your relationship. 

you can feel satoru gloating at your side, his cheek nearly flush with yours, as you click the little arrow on your laptop.

your very meticulously made google calendar was perfect – a play by play of what you were doing at every second of the day – but at the current moment, was very deeply betraying you. 

“we’re already a whole month back, sweetheart.” satoru murmurs. 

you bite down on the softness of your cheek, sinking back against the headboard as you keep clicking, for the smallest sliver of light blue in your calendar. 

it was a little on the nose, but it was the calendar that you shared with satoru – the one that marked all the special events like dates, anniversaries and the like.

and at the current moment, much to your disbelief and to the point that he had been trying to convince you of for the past hour, there had been an absence of him for weeks now. 

you throw in the towel at the tenth consecutive click (silently ignoring that it means that it’s been well over two months now) and slam your computer shut, before turning over to him and frowning. 

“you’ve made your point.” you murmur. 

satoru grins, gloating in full flesh at the meekness in your voice, as he beckons for you to scoot closer to him on the bed. you absentmindedly lean your head against his shoulder, a motion that he welcomes with a quiet kiss on your forehead. 

“have we really not done anything together in more than ten weeks?” you mumble. 

you used to go on dates almost every week. satoru was as spontaneous as it got – any day that you spent with him was almost a guarantee of nothing not going to plan. 

it meant going to the beach in the middle of the night, an unplanned road trip on your day off, and everything in between. 

or it used to mean that. 

satoru pauses for a second, almost like he’s milling over the thought, as he rubs circles into the side of your bicep. 

“it’s just been a while since it’s been just you and me.” satoru notes. 

you sigh. you suppose you worded it wrong the first time.

toji fushiguro dying unknowingly put a damper on your relationship. 

because he left megumi and tsumiki in your wake and two kids – two kids that you had done nothing to prepare for – can and most certainly did turn things upside down. 

it meant that satoru had to work more at the school, that you having any sliver of free time was less, and that the amount of stress you had was through the roof. 

the two of them came with their own special resort of problems – of things that you couldn’t help but worry about. 

megumi wasn’t too fond of satoru. they had their rare moments, but there was something about him that was extremely closed off, to everyone, but to you a little less. and to satoru, extremely so.

his requests to you always came in quietly, asking you to stay next to him until he fell asleep, to forgive him for fighting at school all the time, to promise to never leave him. on the flip side, his irritation with satoru was something that he made sure everyone was aware of. 

tsumiki was very fond of satoru, but she was of most people. sometimes it felt a little obsessive that way – the way she was a little bit too close to her friends at school, the teacher in her class, and satoru.

he thought it was sweet, and at most times you were inclined too as well, but the obsession with being so close all the time was concerning. 

and possibly even more than that, that most of the things you saw felt like they were a figment of your imagination, because satoru was so blind to their plight. 

he didn’t worry about them as much as you did. but sometimes it felt like he didn’t see exactly what it was that you saw – tsumiki awkwardly pushing her food around the plate, red scratches all over megumi’s arms towards the end of the week, and matching pairs puffy eyes when they came down for breakfast in the morning. 

though it wasn’t entirely his fault either. because by some turn of luck, every time they were around him they smiled – laughed at his dumb jokes, turned their nose up at the impressions he did of all of their teachers, and snuck into his classroom between periods to get snacks. 

satoru pokes at the side of your temple. 

“don’t feel too bad now. i know this entire thing has been stressful. especially for you.” he murmurs. 

you shrug. 

“you seem to be taking it just fine.” you note. 

satoru shrugs. 

“i can tell that most of your stress comes from what they’re doing at school. who megumi is fighting with, tsumiki’s friends – i can’t really relate to that because i’m right there with them. granted, tsumiki is two classes up, but her teacher gives me updates all the time.” satoru responds. 

you give him a quiet nod. 

“and since i’m there, i can tell you that they’re fine. he hasn’t fought with anyone in a few weeks now. and tsumiki is really excited to go to this dance.” 

you groan. 

“that dance you signed me up to chaperone for?”  you groan. 

“the very same. it’ll be fun.” 

you curl your nose in disgust. 

“spending my very limited free time giving snacks to a bunch of sweaty kids and asking them to not grind on each other isn’t my idea of fun, satoru. and some of your co-workers freak me out.” 

satoru elbows you in the side. 

“suguru will be there. and plus, it’ll be good for me. you’ll be my date.” satoru responds. 

you lean back against the headboard. 

“you didn’t even ask me to the dance.” 

“it’s sadie hawkins, y/n. girls ask boys, silly.” he responds, flicking at the softness of your cheek. 

you sigh, before turning to him and giving a smile. his hair is slightly damp from the shower he just took, skin still soft from the warmth of the shower. and it’s the thing that you worry about most. 

you’ve slipped away from him because he let you. that you neglected him because of the kids, but at some point, he became so accustomed to it, that it didn’t even bother him anymore. 

“are you going to go to the dance with me, satoru?” 

he gives you a glimmering smile. 

“i thought you’d never ask peach.” 

--

satoru marks it with a big pink heart on the calendar the next morning. 

“what’cha looking at?” you ask, placing your hands on the tops of both of their heads and ruffling their hair. 

“the heart.” megumi states. 

you hum in response, crouching down to be level with their heads. megumi welcomes the touch, leaning back against your knees, as tsumiki nestles her face in the crook of your neck. 

“it’s for the dance.” you respond. 

megumi groans. 

“does that mean miss miwa is going to come over to our house for dinner?” megumi asks. 

you frown. 

“and why would miss miwa come to our house for dinner?” you ask. 

you would rather die than invite miss miwa over to dinner. 

kasumi miwa was tsumiki’s seventh grade teacher who you had the displeasure of meeting three times, each in the worst possible circumstances. 

masked in faceforward politeness and her flashy personality, she had no reservations in correcting you each time you made a mistake when it came to the kid. that pick-up time was at two-thirty, not three-fifteen, that the projects were due at the end of the month, that the formal uniforms were for wednesday and wednesday only. 

tsumiki was overly fond of her, satoru had nothing but good things to say about her, and megumi wasn’t a fan – but that was the norm, so you didn’t think much of it and kept it to yourself. 

your sneaking suspicion about her were ones that you kept to yourself. and one that you didn’t even have time to worry about anyways. 

“isn’t that what you do when you take someone to a dance? eat dinner together before?” megumi asks. 

“who is taking miss miwa to the dance?” you ask. 

“gojo, obviously.” tsumiki responds, shuffling away from the calendar to her seat on the dining table. 

you can feel the muscles in your shoulder tense, a terse stiffness in your neck as you ponder over the thought. 

megumi follows suit and you trail behind the two of them, keen to poke for more details. you note that tsumiki’s already made a mess of the food on her plate by swirling it around, as you take a seat in between them. 

“and why would gojo obviously be taking miss miwa to the dance?” you ask. 

“because he’s her work husband.” 

you narrow your eyes at her, gesturing for her to explain. 

“you’re his home wife. well, i know you guys aren’t actually married, but you’re his person here. and miss miwa is his work wife. she’s basically like what you are to him, but just at school.” 

you sigh, as you reach for the glass of orange juice and down it in one go. megumi spares you a weird glance, before miwa continues. 

“tsumiki.” megumi states, voice cautionary as he flits his eyes at you. 

she misses the hint entirely. 

“he eats breakfast with you, but lunch with her. and they’re planning the entire dance together so they spend a lot of time together. she even gets him coffee in the mornings.” 

so that’s why he stopped asking you to make it for him. 

it’s right at that moment that satoru shuffles into the kitchen, his tie hanging around his neck, as he scoots closer to you on the chair. it’s a chaste kiss that he presses to your cheek, before eating, and you can’t help but wonder. 

was he so despondent because he had already found your replacement? 

“you have to come by an hour early today. we’re having a meeting for the chaperones.” satoru states. 

you give him a quiet nod as he leans back and you loop the knot through his tie. he gives you a glimmering smile as you tap the top of his shoulders, signaling that you’re done. 

“save me a seat?” you ask. 

“always.” 

the thought doesn’t leave your mind the entire day. 

--

you arrive thirty minutes early, an overly sweet coffee in your hand as a gift for satoru, as you make your way over to his classroom. the hallways are quiet, sparsely decorated lockers, as you turn the corner and enter his classroom. 

only to find an absence of snow white hair and miwa excitedly scribbling on the board instead. 

you knock on the door twice, watching as miwa turns over with a sickly sweet smile, and strolls over to where you’re standing. 

“y/n. it’s so great to see you!” she states, wrapping her cold arms around you as she gives you an awkward embrace. 

you spare her a polite smile. 

“you too. how is tsumiki doing?” 

“she aced her spelling test. she ran all the way over here to show satoru her result and took a whole picture with us to celebrate.” 

satoru. you wondered when they had pranced into first name basis territory. if miwa ran over here with tsumiki each time, and how many pictures the three of them had taken together.  

“that’s sweet. thank you for helping her out, that means a lot.” you respond. 

“and thank you! you’re so sweet for helping with the dance. i know how busy you’ve been.” 

you pause. 

“what do you mean?” 

“satoru just mentioned to me a few times that you guys haven’t had any time to yourself because of how busy you are.” 

so he was talking about you to her too? 

“yeah. things have been hard to adjust to with the kids and all and i’ve been putting in more hours at work to pay for the karate and piano classes and all that. but he understands.” 

she slightly twitches her eye. you wonder if she does it on purpose. 

“oh, of course he does. you’re doing very important work.” 

you swallow hard. 

“you too.” you respond. 

“i mean, it’s just so rewarding. especially getting to be so close with students like tsumiki, after she lost her family so suddenly. i couldn’t imagine.” 

you sigh. 

“i mean. she lost her dad, but she still has a family.” 

“of course she does! you’re putting in a great effort –” 

it’s right at that moment that satoru walks in, eyes wide as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. you can still feel the tenseness simmering under your skin, misplaced anger for him festering in your head, as you offer him the drink.. 

“for me? you shouldn’t have.” satoru responds, exaggerating by placing a hand over his chest. 

you shake your head as satoru wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you to one of the desks right at the front. he shakes the coffee in front of you, as you deny the offer and lean forward on your chin. 

“miwa and i are leading the meeting so i can’t sit with you. but i told shoko and suguru to sit right next to you, which is basically the same thing.” 

you smile. 

“shoko looks just like you! i can barely tell the difference.” you deadpan. 

“don’t go kissing her now.” 

“i make zero promises.” 

satour gives you a glimmering grin. 

right at that second, there’s three consecutive knocks at the door, accompanied with a set of spiky black hair at the door slightly peeking into the room. 

“you can come in megumi.” satoru responds. 

megumi drops his backpack at the door, fast steps dragging him to where you and satoru are sitting. he taps impatiently on your thigh, gesturing for you to pick him up, as you secure him into your lap and rest your head on top of his. 

“always interrupting our alone time, aren’t you kid?” satoru jokes. 

“and why are you not in class?” you ask. 

“it’s passing period.” miwa answers. 

you turn your head to where she’s standing – chalking assignments onto the board – as megumi sneers, giving her a very steady glare. 

“why are you not in your class?” megumi asks. 

“i’m leading the meeting with mr. gojo for the dance.” 

“isn’t that meeting in twenty minutes? why are you here early?” 

you lightly nudge megumi in the side, taken aback by his tone, as you turn towards miwa and giving her a polite smile. 

“he doesn’t mind, he’s just not feeling well. please feel free to stay.” you respond. 

“i was planning to.” miwa responds. 

you ignore the strange response as you lightly tug at megumi’s ear, whispering in a hushed tone. 

“i do mind.” megumi mumbles. 

“well, you don’t tell people that. she isn’t doing anything, so just pretend like she’s not there.” 

you sigh, turning to satoru and frowning. you know he gets the message, as he leans forward and pinches at megumi’s cheek. 

“you’ve got to stop giving y/n so much stress, kid. she’s going to get an ulcer at this point.” satoru states. 

“i could say the same thing to you.” megumi responds, in a matter-of-fact tone. 

satoru looks up at you, a shadow of a smile on his face, as he crosses his arms over his chest and questions megumi. 

“oh yeah? and how am i stressing her out, huh?” 

“you have another wife.” megumi states. 

you pinch at megumi’s elbow. 

“another wife? i didn’t even realize that i had one to begin with.” satoru responds. 

you give satoru a smile. 

“tsumiki said that miss miwa is your work wife. and y/n doesn’t like that because she should be your only wife.” 

satoru’s eyes widen, as he dramatically places a hand over his chest, before dropping to his knees and looking up at you. 

“y/n, if you wanted me to marry you, you should have just said so. i’ll marry you right here, right now.” 

you snort, turning to megumi, as you whisper in his ear. 

“he’s completely crazy, right?” you ask. 

“absolutely. i think you should cut your losses. you could do way better.” 

satoru spares you a laugh, before reaching for megumi and tickling at his sides. 

“you should cut your losses, kid. i’m revoking dessert privileges for attempted coercion” 

megumi looks up at you, eyes expectant as he waits for corroboration. you shake your head, which earns you a playful smile from megumi, as he looks over at satoru and sticks his tongue out. 

“oh come on. we’re supposed to be a team.” satoru whines. 

“you haven’t pledged your allegiance. you and tsumiki ganged up on me the other night.” 

“well, we had a valid reason. we should definitely get ice cream after dinner.” satoru states. 

“not when it’s a school night and they have to wake up early next the day. you don’t want them to be late to class. again.” 

satoru sighs, before placing his hands on his hips. 

“speaking of class, you should be getting to yours. c’mon megs, i’ll walk you. say bye to y/n.” 

you crouch down on your knees, giving megumi a pinch on the cheek, as he glares at you. he sticks his hand out, the tow of you doing your complicated and convoluted handshake, before megumi and satoru stroll out of the classroom. 

“your relationship with megumi is very sweet.” miwa states. 

you had almost forgotten she was there. you turn your head to find that she’s seated at satoru’s desk, pulling up slides for the projector on the computer, as you awkwardly rub your sweaty palms together. 

“thank you. he’s just a little shy, that’s all. he didn’t mean to be rude earlier.” you state. 

miwa hums in response. 

“i hope you aren’t upset about the work wife thing. it was just a silly little inside joke that satoru, tsumiki, and i had come up with.” 

you narrow your eyes at her. 

“just because we spend so much time together. lunch, the development workshops, and emailing in between classes. we’re like attached at the hip so we just joked that we were married. but no foul play, of course.” 

you sigh. then why did she feel the need to bring it up to you? 

“of course.” you respond. 

“i’m so glad that we could clear this up. i would hate to think you’re upset with me.” 

you give her a nod, turning your head to the door as shoko and suguru trickle in, wide smiles on their faces as they turn to greet you. 

it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

--

three days later, you’re thirty minutes late to the meeting for the school dance. leaving the hospital late because the next nurse wasn’t there to get her report on time, getting stopped by every stoplight on the way to school, and circling three times for parking. 

you sneak into the gymnasium, quietly making your way to the tables in the corner where suguru and shoko are seated, only to be stopped by a shrill voice in the air. 

“y/n?” 

you turn on your heel, giving miwa a clenched smile, as you feel your heart sink into your stomach. 

did she need to look so perfect all the time? 

“i thought that was you.” 

“right, i apologize for being late. i was caught up with –” 

“we were wondering where you were. they’ve been making such slow progress on the little take home favors that i was considering pulling satoru from doing the streamers with me because of it.” 

the first name. again. 

“right, it’s just that i was –” 

“i do hope you can come on time to actually chaperone for the dance. that would be a disaster since we need to have a certain adult to child ratio to be in line with the district. you will come on time, right?” 

“yes, i took –” 

“good. i know that your job is important, but ours is too, you know? granted, you leave satoru’s kids here every day, and spending all day with them is just as demanding as working at a hospital.” 

you sigh. 

“satoru’s kids?” you ask. 

she gives you a smile. 

“what?” 

“you said satoru’s kids.” you clarify. 

“and?” 

you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling burning hot tears in your eyes, as you look up at her. 

“they’re my kids too.” 

“right, of course they are. you know i didn’t mean that.” 

you sigh. 

“honest mistake.” 

you feel two hands on your shoulder, accompanied by a squeeze and the distinct smell of satoru’s cologne in your ears. 

“hi sweetheart. you smell like bleach.” 

“oh my god. i thought that was just me.” miwa responds, accompanied with a laugh. 

you bite down on your cheeks. 

“i was sanitizing the gurney. because our patient bled all over it.” 

“don’t bring up blood. miwa here is going to start vomiting.” satoru jokes. 

miwa leans forward, lightly shoving in his side, as he shoves right back. 

“oh shut up. you feel the same way whenever i eat my fried rice.” 

“the smell of soy sauce makes my stomach hurt.” 

“god, you’re so weird, toru.” miwa responds. 

you clear your throat, as the two of them look over at you with expectant eyes. satoru eyes hold no weight of suspicion or guilt in them – really nothing at all – and it makes your stomach hurt. 

“i’ll be back. i just have to use the bathroom.” 

“don’t get lost!” miwa responds, as you trudge your way down the hallway, dragging your feet against the floor. 

you can feel the frustration building up in your chest.

the annoying part? you do end up getting lost. 

you sit on the bench outside one of the classrooms, hiking your knees to your chest, as you press your forehead against your legs. it’s not long before you feel three taps on top of your head, only to look up and find suguru standing in front of you. 

“miwa sent out a search party for you. she thought you might have gotten lost.” 

you sigh. 

“she works fast, doesn’t she?” 

suguru snorts as he takes the seat next to you, digging into his pocket and digging out a lollipop. he holds it out to you, giving you an encouraging smile as you snatch it from his hand, and unrawp it. 

“i thought you were going to offer me a cigarette.” 

“i’m saving those for the night of the dance. i only use those when necessary.” 

you laugh. 

“save half of them for me. i’ll need those every time miwa decides to come over and talk to me.” 

you lean back, sticking your head against the ridge of the window pane, as you immediately regret what you just said. 

“sorry. i don’t mean to talk bad about her, i know she is your coworker and all but –” 

“but she’s just so fucking annoying?” 

you pause, leaning forward as you lower your voice. 

“it’s not just me?” you whisper. 

“you’re in a very large majority, y/n. she’s just…too much for some people.” 

you frown. 

“not for satoru. i don’t know if you heard, but she’s his work wife.” 

suguru winces. 

“you heard about that?” 

“i’m slightly offended that you did and didn’t tell me right away.” 

“didn’t seem like a good time. satoru was mentioning that you guys were kind of going through a rough patch.” 

you pause. 

“a rough patch?” 

“are you not?” 

“i mean, we haven’t spent time alone together, since we’re still getting used to the whole kids thing. i didn’t realize that he was telling you and miwa it was a rough patch. or that he was telling you and miwa anything.” 

suguru leans back, placing a hand on your shoulder, as you pause – pondering over the thoughts, of every little detail that you had noticed. the nicknames, the lunches, the emails – maybe they were more serious than you had originally believed. 

it eats at you when you and surugu eventually drag your legs back to the gymnasium. and as you make the little party favors, it’s the only thing that you can focus on. 

that satoru holds onto her ankle to steady her when she stands on the ladder, that they have a secret handshake, that in the time that he didn’t spend with you, she was the one that was filling the space.  

--

“we’re out of toilet paper. and dish soap. and if you’re going anyways, you should probably get laundry detergent.” satoru states. 

he shuffles into the bathroom quietly, yanking his shirt over his head as he gestures for you to scoot over, reaching for his toothbrush in the cup. 

“megumi also said that we shouldn’t eat spaghetti again. he’s starting to get really picky with what he eats.” 

you sigh. 

“i’ll get more chicken nuggets when i go then.” you respond. 

satoru turns his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you, as he sticks the toothbrush into the side of his teeth. 

“are you good?” 

“hm?” 

“are you okay?” 

you shake your head, reaching forward to spit the leftover toothpaste in your mouth, as you reach for the mouthwash. 

“yeah, yeah.” 

“miwa said that you looked really exhausted when you left. said she was worried about you.” satoru responds. 

“i’m sure that she is.” you respond, noting that you can’t control the bitterness in your voice. 

“hm?” 

you sigh, slamming the cup down on the granite countertop, as you turn to him. 

“do you always talk about me with your female coworkers? or is it just her?” 

“what?” 

you turn to glare at him. 

“do you always discuss the grievances you have about me with miwa? about how i don’t have time for you, about how we’re going through a rough patch, and everything in between?” 

satoru looks confused. you swear there’s a sense of irritation in his demeanor which wasn’t unexpected. he was defensive to his core. 

“no. i don’t. but she’s just a friend. i just mentioned it to her here and there because she asked.” 

“and why does she feel the need to ask about your relationship with me? that’s not normal. especially when she clearly likes you so much.” 

satoru glares right back. 

“are you insane? she doesn’t like me.”

“oh so now i’m insane. yeah, it’s totally normal for her to walk around pretending like the two of you are married and telling me that my kids aren’t actually mine and they’re just yours.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“oh come on. there’s no way that she said that.” 

you scoff. 

“so you believe her over me?” 

“she wouldn't say that.” 

“and you think i’m making it up? why the hell would i do that?” 

satoru slams the toothbrush down on the counter, before leaning forward and sneering at you. 

“because you want to blame me for what’s happening with us when it’s really you.” 

you feel your heart drop in your chest. 

“it’s me?” 

“you work too much. you…every time you come home, you don’t even look at me. it’s all about how megumi’s being too picky with what he eats and tsumiki is getting too attached to her friends. those aren’t problems, and even if they are, you’re the one making them worse.” 

you can feel your chest aching from the inside out. 

“you were the one who told tsumiki that the hurt would go away if she was with her friends. she obviously is so obsessed with being around them all the time because she thinks that it’ll go away if she’s with them all the time. because you told her that. and megumi’s so spoiled and picky because you’re the one who tolerates every little thing he says. just because he asked you to sleep in his bed, it doesn’t mean you have to do it every time. you have to let him do some things on his own.” 

you glare. 

“and what about you, huh?” 

“what about me?” 

“since i clearly do everything so wrong, i must have been the one who pushed you right into her, didn’t i?” 

satoru pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“you know what, maybe you did.” 

you look down at your hands, reaching down at the little scab on your finger as you angrily scratch at it, ignoring the bright red that starts leaking out of your finger. you look down at the ground, at your mismatched socks, as you barely choke the words out. 

“maybe i should just leave then.” 

satoru’s face drops. 

“what?” 

if satoru was defensive, you were proud. 

“i’ll do you a favor and leave. tsumiki won’t get horrible advice, megumi won’t get coddled, and you…you won’t be disappointed because i won’t be here to do it.” 

satoru immediately melts, reaching forward for your wrist, the grasp hard on your arm. 

“peach. don’t be like that. you know i -”  

“know you don’t mean it? because i had a sneaking suspicion that you…that you had been thinking that for weeks.” you whisper, noting the crack in your voice. 

you ball your hand into a fist, jerking your hand out of his grasp. 

“i don’t know what to say to tsumiki because…because i’ve never done this before. i don’t work with kids like you do and i just said what i was thought was best. it breaks my heart to say no to megumi because i’m scared he won’t even try to sleep if i don’t sit there with him. i know it scares him because toji was asleep when he died and…and sometimes i think he’s scared he’ll wake up and we’ll be gone too. and….and i don’t mean to neglect you but this entire thing is exhausting. i thought you were the one thing that would stay because i could trust you.” 

“hey. of course you can trust me.” 

“i’ve had enough, satoru. there’s…there’s nothing you can say to take back what you just said. you…you’re talking about another girl.” 

satoru leans forward, placing both hands around your face, and squeezing hard. you note the slight glisten in his eyes. 

“don’t say that.” he whispers. 

“i’m going to leave.” you murmur. 

all you want is him. 

“and go where? we….we’re all here.” 

“i’ll stay with shoko. just for a few days before we figure something out.” 

“you…you can’t be serious, right?” 

you’re not. 

“i’ll still come to the dance since i promised you that. i’ll see you then, okay?” you state. 

you’re not sure what makes your heart sink more. the fact that he said what he did or that he let you leave without chasing after you. 

--

satoru notes that it’s a day and a half of chaos without you. and that he really hates it when you’re not around. 

he doesn’t know how to iron tsumiki’s dress for the dance or do her hair. megumi won’t eat the pasta he made because it’s not the way that he likes it and he’s almost positive that you were right – that he really wouldn’t sleep through the night just because you weren’t there.  

that without noticing it, you felt like the glue that kept everyone together. that tsumiki and megumi didn’t stress him out, only because you seemed to take care of that for him – used to fix everything perfectly, like a soothing bandaid on every issue that they had. that sleeping next to you used to seep the stress out of his joints, the sweet smell of your shampoo lulling him to sleep. 

that he needed you around because he was scared to be without you. 

“shoko.” 

“yeah?” 

“can you do me a favor?” 

satoru sighs, as he turns over to her. 

“i did tsumiki’s hair all shitty because i didn’t know how to do it. can you go fix it because i can tell she’s lying when she says she likes it?” 

“why didn’t y/n do it?” suguru asks. 

satoru pinches his lips together. you were upset that he was sharing your relationship details with other people. which is why he was determined to not do it again. 

“she’s coming in from work.” 

“god. when does she sleep?” suguru murmurs, as she walks across the room and gestures for tsumiki to come over to her. 

satoru can’t help but feel miserable. only because he didn’t know the answer to the question. and that he was the only one that was so painfully blind to how tired you were. 

“did you and y/n fight it out then?” he asks. 

“what? no.” 

suguru’s eyes widen. 

“she’s got balls of steel. i can’t believe one person can have that much patience.” 

“what are you talking about?” 

“the stuff that miwa said to her. i figured she’d ask you to stop talking to her or scale back a little.” 

satoru looks over, hands hard on his shoulders, suddenly too interested with the conversation. 

“what did she tell you?” 

“i mean…i don’t know. she said you and miwa were talking about how she smells like bleach? and the whole work wife thing, that megumi and tsumiki aren’t her kids.” 

satoru can hear the blood rushing through his ears. 

“what?” 

“yeah. she didn’t mention it? she was pretty upset about it the day we all came here to set up, especially since work can be so demanding and all that.” 

“she said that megumi and tsumiki aren’t her kids?” 

“yeah. seemed pretty hurt by it. think it was the second time too.” 

satoru stands eagerly by the table, switching the clipboards in their spots two, three, four times as he waits for the last thirty minutes to run out. until you had to show up, because you promised that he would. 

and surely enough, five minutes before it hits the time, he hears a shrill voice from the stage, followed by the sound of thundering footsteps. 

“y/n!” 

satoru looks to his left, watching as megumi and tsumiki both excitedly run into your open arms, limbs wrapped around your legs as you reach down and soothe through both of their hair. he can’t help but trail up to where the three of you are standing, chest aching wholeheartedly, as he watches. 

“did you miss me?” you ask. 

“so much. gojo put butter in the pasta. and he spilled all the detergent softener in the laundry room so the smell gives us a headache.” 

he notes that you frown at the mention of his name. 

“and he did my hair all weird. shoko was trying to fix it, but i couldn’t find the clips that we were going to use to match the dress.” 

“don’t worry. i swung by the house and grabbed them, they were in my drawer.” 

“where did you go?” megumi asks. 

you smile. 

“sorry for leaving so abruptly, kiddo. i was having a sleepover.” 

“adults have sleepovers?” 

“no. but i’m just cool like that.” you murmur. 

the two of them grin, laughing at your joke, as you reach forward and put your hands around their wrists. 

“satoru’s trying. don’t be so mad at him. it’s not his fault that he has the cooking intuition of a newborn baby. and he can barely do his own hair, it was kind of silly of you to expect that he could do yours.” 

satoru can’t help but laugh. but it’s the sound of his voice, he assumes, that draws your attention away, as you finally look to your left and look up at him. he can’t help but give you a halfhearted smile, one that you nod at, as you stand up. 

“i’m going to give satoru a stern talking to about butter and hairspray. i’ll come fix your hair after, okay?” 

“give him hell.” megumi responds. 

you watch as the two of them run off, before turning over to satoru and giving him a smile. it’s almost like he reaches forward to touch you, before he thinks twice and drops his hand. you look down, twisting the silver bracelet – the one that he gave you – on your wrist, as you take a deep breath. 

“you still don’t know how to do your tie.” you note. 

satoru laughs, looking down at the loose knot hanging around his neck. he can’t help but delight in the fact that you reach forward, loosening the mess he made as you properly tie it for him – the way you did every morning. 

“never learned how to do it so you’d always do it for me.” 

you stifle a laugh. 

“satoru.” 

“i can’t do anything without you, you know?” 

it feels like he’s talking about more than just the tie. 

he must sense the hesitation, because he changes the topic just as fast. 

“i love the dress. you look beautiful.” 

“thank you. i bought it for our…” 

“third anniversary. i remember.” 

you smile. 

“i remember what we did after more, but…” satoru whispers. 

you reach forward and shove him. 

“we’re at a school.” 

satoru smiles. and for a split second, it feels like nothing had happened at all. 

“too much butter makes megumi’s stomach hurt. and you really should have asked me to come do her hair.” you state. 

“would you come if i asked?” 

you swallow hard. 

“hm?” 

“would you come back if i asked you to?” he asks. 

“would you even ask?” you respond. 

satoru pauses. 

“what?” 

“when i left, i…i thought that you’d chase after me. i…i wanted you to chase after me. but i understand that now things are kind of fraught between us and that you might –” 

satoru feels the regret seep through him immediately

“i was trying to give you your space.” satoru states, interrupting. 

“hm?” 

“i thought that i’d push you farther away. of course i’d chase after you.” 

“it’s so nice to see you, y/n. did you sign in?” 

you turn to your left to find miwa standing there, hair perfectly secured around her face with glittering earrings hanging from her ears. you wonder if the shade of blue her dress was intentional, if it was meant to match her eyes so perfectly, as you smile at her. 

satoru notes the horrible timing. and that he hates her dress. 

“hi miwa. you look beautiful.” 

“so do you. did you sign in and start marking the wristbands when you came in?” miwa repeats, tone insistent. 

“she was talking to me.” satoru responds, tone harsh as he responds. 

“hm?” miwa asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion as she looks up at him. 

“my girlfriend just got here. she was obviously talking to me.” satoru responds again, tone unflinching. 

you note that her eye twitches the slightest as she steps back. 

“of course. just get to it when you can, since you know, people will be here soon.” 

“i’m going over there right now actually. i’ll leave you guys to it.” 

“hey, wait. i’ll catch up with you after, miwa.” satoru responds, his hand extended as he gestures for you to wait. 

you watch as miwa shuffles away, slithering to the other side of the room, and there’s a burning, aching desire in your chest. 

to tell satoru that she wore that dress to match his eyes, for the two of you to laugh at how crazy she was. you wondered if he would even find it funny. 

“yes?” 

satoru looks down, reaching for the bag underneath the table, as he lifts it up. 

“i brought my windbreaker for you. it’s supposed to rain tonight.” satoru states. 

you smile. 

“i kind of tore apart your entire closet looking for it. and if i remember correctly, you did indeed say that it was mine now since i wore it more than you.” you admit. 

satoru smiles right back. 

“i also got you a corsage, peach. since you’re my date and all.” 

satoru pulls out a little plastic box, as you note the little white flowers encased in the baby blue ribbon. you can feel your chest aching, a burning sensation, as you reach in your own bag, pulling out the matching corsage that you had ordered a week prior. 

“you had to have cheated. did you look in my email?” you ask. 

satoru shakes his head. 

“i know you like orchids. and you’re so on the nose that you’d get one to match my eyes.” 

you shove him in the side. 

“you love that corny type of thing.” 

satoru smiles, before looking over at miwa and then back at you. 

“only when you do it.” 

you smile as you both exchange the boxes, fixing the flowers on each other, before quietly walking away from each other. 

--

you sneak away from the dance without satoru noticing. you catch the perfect moment, when satoru and miwa are stuck in an animated conversation near the dance floor, and slip through the door at the front. 

you clearly don’t go too unnoticed, because the following day, you wake up to a plethora of texts from suguru and shoko. 

[shoko]: Left for work already, but Satoru yelled at Miwa last night after you left.  

[suguru]: IT WAS BAD 

[shoko]: Did he really say that Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t your kids? That’s horrible. 

[suguru]: HE WAS LIKE YELLING OUTSIDE. GOING ON ABOUT HOW YOU’RE HIS GIRLFRIEND, HOW SHE HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT, ABOUT HOW HE WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH HER 

[shoko]: Oh, by the way. He’s like still on the porch. Sat through the rain last night and everything waiting for you. Think he was pounding on the window at some point and screaming but the rain was pretty loud. 

[shoko]: Said something pathetic like he loved you or something. 

[shoko]: Anyways, I left them out there for you to deal with.

that’s the next that gets your attention. you quietly pad to the door, swinging it open to find him sitting on the ground, half asleep against his knees with the corsage crumpled in his hand. you reach down, shaking at his shoulder to lightly nudge him awake. 

“satoru. don’t tell me you sat out here in the rain.” you whisper. 

he blinks a few times, the sleep still heavily lidded in his eyes, as he reaches forward, a cold hand against your warm cheek. 

“chasing after you. not going home without you.” he mumbles. 

you sigh. 

“maybe come inside first, romeo. you’re going to catch a cold.” 

you reach for his hands, lightly pulling up, and dragging him inside as he takes a seat on one of shoko’s chairs. you crank the heater up, putting a cup of milk on the stove for hot chocolate, before shuffling back over to him – noting that he’s slightly more awake now. 

“i was knocking. and i’m pretty sure i was banging on the window at point, but i guess you didn’t hear me.” 

“the rain was loud, satoru. i would have let you in if i had known.” 

“gave you a whole spiel. it was really good too, about you know…us.” 

you smile. 

“us?” you question. 

he doesn’t laugh. 

“yeah. us. about how much i need you. how much i love you.” satoru responds. 

you note that there’s a rasp in his voice. 

“you’re getting sick, satoru.” 

“i know you don’t want me to leave. i know you want to come back.” 

you sigh. were you that obvious?

“did you yell at miwa?” 

“did she really say they weren’t your kids?” 

“maybe.” 

it’s enough to set satoru off because he’s pushing off the chair, cold hands and wet clothing pressed to your face as he envelopes you in his embrace. you can still smell the faint whisper of his cologne, the smell so sweet it makes your stomach hurt, as he clenches harder. 

“sweetheart, why wouldn’t you tell me that? i’d fucking yell at her then and there.” satoru whispers. 

you frown. 

“she’s your work wife. tsumiki like…loves her. i can’t just talk bad about her.” 

“yes. you can. you could talk shit about my dead grandmother if she pissed you off. you could tell me anything if it was upsetting you.” 

you frown. 

“and you could have told me instead of everyone you knew that we were going through a rough patch. i know that you mentioned that you were upset we didn’t have time together, but…but i didn’t realize that i was letting you down so much.” 

satoru reaches forward, titling your head up to face him. 

“you didn’t let me down. i was being….” 

“you’re just saying that because i left. if i was still there fighting with you…you…you’d have even more to say to me. about how how i worry too much, about how i don’t love you enough, about…” 

“y/n.” satoru whispers, almost whining.  

you push away from him. 

“i made you hot chocolate. i think you’re getting sick and that you should go home and rest. also shoko would hate to see you bringing your wet mess in here.” 

you push out of his embrace, tasking yourself with pouring the hot chocolate into one of her tumblers, before placing it in front of him. he ignores it entirely, reaching forward to make himself level with you. 

“you know i’ll be waiting for you. i’ll be right on the other side of the door waiting to open it if you want to come back.” 

“okay.” 

“yeah? don’t…don’t hesitate to come back home, please. it’s not home without you.” 

you give him a nod, lifting the tumbler and placing it in his hand and gesturing for the door. 

--

satoru hears three consecutive knocks not even an hour after. he all but tumbles down the stairs, nearly slipping as he reaches for the knob, to find exactly what it is that we wanted to see. 

the jacket pulled over your head, bright red eyes staring at him, and warm tears pouring out of your eyes. 

you. 

“satoru?” you mumble. 

he can feel his heart drop at the tears and the crack in your voice. 

“yes, peach?” 

you note how soft his tone is. 

“are you sick?” you ask. 

satoru smiles. 

“had a fever last i checked.” satoru responds. 

he’s not sure what it is, but it sends the tears down your eyes faster, as you all but reach forward and burrow your face into his chest. satoru returns the favor, reaching down to rest his chin on the top of your head as he rubs circles into your back. 

“it’s not cancer. i’m sure i’ll live.” 

he pauses. 

“sweet girl. what’s got you so upset?” 

satoru notes that you make no inclination of responding, as he pulls back and gestures for you to wrap your arms around his neck. he scoops his free arm around your legs, steadily carrying you up the stairs as you heave in the sweet smell of his shampoo, warm tears still landing on his more pale than usual skin. 

“are you really sick?” you ask. 

satoru spares you a quiet laugh as he sets you down on the bed, peeling the jacket from your arms before digging through the fresh laundry for your pajamas. 

“maybe take a shower first. you’ll feel better.” 

you frown as you push off the bed, your cold hands on his burning hot arms as you look up at him. this couldn’t wait. 

“i lied earlier. there’s a lot you could do to make things right.” you whisper. 

satoru smiles. 

“i know. i fully intend to do all those things too.” 

you sigh. 

“i want to stay in the rough patch. and…and even be here with you if we fight everyday. and you're sick and it breaks my hear tthat no one is here to take care of you.” 

“i have no intention of fighting with you when you’re right.” satoru responds. 

“you can’t just…” 

satoru pauses, holding his hand up. 

“i shouldn’t talk to my co-workers about you. and you…you’re right. i do think that she likes me and that’s why she’s felt the need to be so rude to you all the time. i’m sorry if it ever felt like i was siding with her, but you have to know, the only thing i really want is you.” 

satoru sighs. 

“tsumiki follows your advice so keenly because you’re so put together. she can’t really come to me with that stuff because you’re the one she looks up to. and megumi really doesn’t sleep when you’re not around, but of course, you’re the one who knows him better, who knows all of us better, to think ahead like that. and i love that you’re put together for them, but you don’t have to be for me. i want to know everything that bothers you because you…you’re my responsibility.” 

“well, i –” 

you pause. 

“i don’t want to upset you again.” 

“well, run away all you want. i’ll follow you anywhere you go. i had every intention to come wait outside of shoko’s apartment again at seven. every intention to do it every day until you came back."  

“i wouldn’t make you do that.” you respond. 

you swallow hard, before reaching for both of his hands, and lifting them to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

"if you don't want to upset me, don't leave again. i'll do it, but i don't want to wait outside of shoko's door for you."

“i’m proud, but not proud enough to make you wait like that. i followed you five minutes after you drove away.” 

satoru smiles. 

“i left because….because i wanted you to chase after me, just so i knew that you still wanted me. it’s immature but…” 

“no. it’s not.”  

“i just…i don’t know how to explain what i was thinking but i…” 

satoru leans forward, hands knotted behind your waist as he pulls you closer, searing warm lips pressed against yours as you lean against him. you can still taste the remnant of the chocolate on his lips, noting the cut on the right side of his lip. 

maybe you don’t have to explain at all. 

“have you been biting your lips?” you whisper, forehead flush against his as you brush your nose against his. 

“was nervous you wouldn’t come back.” he murmurs. 

you lean forward again, placing your hands on his burning hot face, as you feel the wetness spreading on his cheek. you lean back, wiping it away just as fast, before the door creaks open. 

tsumiki and megumi are standing at the door, bright smiles on their faces, as they run up and tangle themselves between your legs. you lean against satoru, running your hand through megumi’s hair as you look up at them. 

“is your sleepover over? we’re starving here without you.” 

you stifle a laugh. 

“yes. it is.” 

you and satoru crouch down, his hand steady across your waist as you pinch at both of their cheeks. satoru leans to the left to press a kiss to your cheek, an action both tsumki and megumi copy, as you lightly pull them off. 

“we missed you.” tsumiki responds. 

“i missed you more.” 

“are you happy after your sleepover? are we normal now?” megumi asks. 

always the perceptive one. 

you look over at satoru, granting him a gleaming smile. 

“yes. i am.” 

“oh thank god. satoru was getting sad too.” tsumiki responds. 

you turn over to him and grin.

“take notes, kids. happy wife, happy life.” 

--

an: ignored the voices and decided to post something! please me nice I was like fighting demons. anyways.

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Valentine's Day

Tags : smut with slight plot, f!reader, non-con?, freaky satoru, reader is in a relationship with a non-sorcerer, basically has cheating implied but it's not cheating (I'm gonna defend reader with my life on this), unprotected sex (I cannot stress this enough but do not attempt, use protection), characters are in their mid 20's, lil' angst (if you squint), Non-con (nvm it's con, I change my mind), stomach bulge (it's subtle), plot twist in the end.

Minors please. You know the drill, out 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️👈🏼

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Gojo regrets his offer on lending an ear to you, tired of listening to every whine and complaints you make against your non-sorcerer boyfriend that you've been dating for 5 months; he really should've joined Suguru on his mission to eradicate all non-sorcerers, at least he'd have you all to himself then.

But what he regrets most is the fact that he didn't ask you out earlier than your current boyfriend, missing the chance to be called yours, instead that rat-faced guy- that can't treat you right- now has the label of being yours. But now you're telling Gojo that you suspect your boyfriend's cheating on you? He couldn't be more delighted listening to that. Maybe he doesn't really regret on his offer afterall.

"And guess what Satoru! I called him last night and I swear on my life that I heard a woman's voice on the line calling him back to bed before he cut the call on me!" You throw your arms up frustratedly, inches away from smacking Satoru's face as you plop down on the couch with a dejected sigh and a small frown, missing the glint in his eyes; you'd have missed the sight either way since he wears a blindfold.

"Why are you even with him then?"

Another heavy sigh from you makes Satoru sigh too, why couldn't you just break up with your current boyfriend and get with him instead? Satoru is way better in everything and did he mention that he's way better in everything? Yes, he did. What else do you want from him at this point? "You don't understand, I love him," you mumble, fiddling with your hands as you stare at the ceiling longingly. Unbeknownst to you Satoru did understand afterall he holds the same feelings you do; seething with jealousy again, he silently curses the very three words that poured out of your mouth that wasn't aimed towards him. He hates your boyfriend with a burning passion now, well more than he usually did.

"I love him," you whisper softly, leaving Satoru unsure on if you're convincing yourself of your love or announcing your love to the world; he'd prefer the former choice if it came down to it.

February 14th, 6 : 45 PM

Satoru rushes towards the bus stop as he looks down at his phone and your stagnant location, unmoving and unchanging for the past 2 hours, fearing for the worst of situation. Looking around hurriedly after arriving, his heart leaps with relief when he catches sight of your figure but it falls just as quickly as he notices your condition.

Your beautiful locks was now unkempt because of the wind, your skin peeking out of the sleeveless dress almost looked translucent with the chill settling in but what broke his heart was your expression, the look of a shattered heart set so deep in your eyes that you no longer looked like you anymore.

"You're gonna get sick at this rate," he sighs, throwing his coat over your shoulders. You look up at him with listless eyes, redness decorating every inch of it as you wipe your sore eyes again. "He cheated on me," you say quietly, shivering slightly as you finally come to your senses, pulling the coat a little tighter over you.

Helping you up on your feet, he pulls you close with an arm and gently rubs your back," Let's get you home," he mumbles softly- you slump under his hold, mindlessly moving your feet as he takes you back home.

7 : 23 PM

"Tell me everything from the start," he folds his arm across his chest with his blindfold off, satisfied as he watches you all bundled up on the couch. You take in a deep breathe, lips wobbling slightly as you pathetically hold back tears again; Satoru really needs to get rid of your boyfriend quickly.

"Well, I wanted to surprise him for valentines day so I stopped by his house," you take in a deep breathe, voice thick with emotions as your trembling hands pick on the blanket over you. "An- and when I entere-," you sputter, fresh new wave of tears pouring out of you as the memory floods in. Immediately rushing to your side on the couch, he pulls you in and shushes at you- baffled at how vulnerable you were at the moment, he watched you exorcise curses multiple times your size and strength without seeing you flinch even once but the fact that one non-sorcerer has you shaking in tears baffles him, thoroughly so.

You clench onto his shirt, looking up at his cerulean eyes with your own wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks." Satoru, help me," you whimper out pleadingly. "What?" Satoru breathes out, looking down at you from the squashing hold he has you under, "Help me forget," you sob and he mentally kicks himself for finding you so pretty even in this situation.

"Knock me out, use your cursed techniques. Do whatever you want just please hel-" he cuts you off, pressing his lips softly against yours- no longer able to hold his feelings back when you're practically begging him, all his morals practically thrown out of the window. Your breathe hitches in surprise when you feel his hand snaking up your head, tangling it in your hair and feels his tongue swiping against your lips for entrance; you pull away and he reluctantly allows you to do so, lips slightly parted as he looks at you guiltily.

"I'm sor-" this time you cut him off, pulling him in and crushing your lips against his- you needed to forget and he kissed you first...so that's a good sign isn't it? The feeling of heartbreak and want to forget completely over-powering the guilt of using Satoru for your own benefit; Satoru couldn't be happier though, the initial shock of being kissed was wearing off and being replaced by a primal urge, he could finally show you that he was so much better than your boyfriend. In more ways than one.

Hungrily kissing your soft lips, he paws at the blanket and pulls it off of you, eager to touch your skin- delighted when you allow him to do so, your own hands tangling in his hair. "Bedroom," you gasp hurriedly, pointing towards the direction and he immediately complies. Stumbling towards the bedroom, neither breaking the heated kiss as pieces of clothing gets discarded on the floor and fingers tug at everything and anything.

Reaching the room without breaking the kiss, Satoru tugs at your bra with a firm pull and rips it apart, earning him a small protest out of you," I'll replace that later," he mumbles in your lips, hands cupping your ass. Sloppily kissing your jaw and making his way down to your exposed chest; licking, sucking and rolling every inch of your skin possible, marking your body red and purple- he shuts the door behind him with his feet, reveling in the small sounds of pleasure gushing out of your mouth.

"Satoru, can't stand," you whine out when your legs gives out under you, arms wrapped weakly around his neck as he lifts you up and gently lays you down on the bed, shifting himself right in-between your legs and prying it open with little effort from his side when you try to shut it close. Hooking a finger at the edge of your lacy underwear, he pulls it down torturously slowly- mouth drying up at the sight of your cunt, wet and clenching onto nothing. "So pretty," he coos, holding your thighs apart with his hands, he leans down and inhales your scent, ignoring the way you squirmed underneath him. Gently parting your folds with his fingers and watching your slick coat your walls, he swallows thickly as he licks his lips.

"Wai-" you cry out, hands hurriedly grabbing onto the sheets when he sucks at your clit with no warning, gulping down your juice like a starved man," tastes s' good," he moans, sending vibrations through you; arching your back and grinding your hips against his face, your eyes roll back from the stimulation. Popping a long slender finger inside, he explores every inch; a wide grin stretching on his face when he grazes a spot and your hip bucks up, sucking his finger whole with a loud moan.

"That feel good?" He asks, lazily adding in another and abusing your weak spot. You nod your head, hands clasping over your mouth to hold back your moans as tears collect in your eyes again, spilling over the edges and onto the sheets. "You look so much prettier crying under me instead of over him," he mumbles, resting his head on your thigh as he looks up at you with flushed cheeks, working his fingers inside you.

Fondling his clothed bulge with his other hands, his gaze zeroes on you, burning every detail into memory afterall you might never wanna see him again after this so he'd rather take the chance to memorize all your cute reactions and small mewls, clenching around his finger and oozing cream over it as you jerk from your orgasm, your vision goes black and Satoru moans loudly with you- imagining his cock being replaced with his fingers does wonders for him.

"I'm putting it in," he sits up hurriedly, positioning himself between your legs while pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. You gulp at the sight of it, pre-cum leaking out heavily from the tip and his happy trail making it just the more appetizing but there was just one big problem- he was big, too big in both girth and length. He was so much bigger than your boyfriend and your boyfriend's dick felt right despite not wanting to admit it, the size did feel right. But Satoru's? His was gonna rip you, it's not gonna fit and you're not exaggerating just for the sake of it. It was pretty, sure but it's not gonna fit.

"That's not gon-" he cuts you off yet again, shoving his slick covered fingers in your mouth as he tuts at you disapprovingly. Gathering the slick from your folds with his other hand, he slathers it against his raging cock reverently- pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he licks it clean as he watches you gulp from the sight of it, a small smirk on his face; pushing your folds apart, he angles his fat tip against your hole and pushes in slowly.

"Satoru, wait," you whine out, hands pushing against his muscled alabaster chest, squirming under him and trying to scoot backwards but alas, his grip on your hips prevents you from doing so," you should stop moving so much," he grunts, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes to hold himself back from slamming his cock in you.

"I change my mind, stop. Please," you plead, nails digging in his chest and he sighs, frustratedly pushing his hair back and quickly pulling away from you. Watching him leave out the door, "probably to pick up his clothes," you think, relieved for having your cunt spared despite the ache between your legs. Your relief is quickly cut short when see Satoru enter the bedroom still naked, still hard but with a blindfold in hand now, leaving you swallowing thickly.

"What's that for?" You squeak nervously, sitting up and looking at him standing above you with a wide grin, flashing his pearly whites at you which just unsettles you more. "You'll find out," he murmurs, leaning down and grabbing your ankle, pulling you towards him when you start inching backwards. Your sputtered out protests falls on deaf ears and you're left shocked when he pulls the blindfold over your eyes, hindering your sight as you start panicking, hurriedly trying to pull it off your eyes but stopped when a hand grabs hold of your wrists and pins it above your head with a bruising grip, pushing you flat on the bed.

More protests pours out of your mouth but is quickly silenced when soft lips crushes against yours, the lack of sight only making you more sensitive when you feel a hand press down on your belly, lighting your skin aflame and groaning when the hold on your wrists tightens ever so slightly. Heat pools in your stomach and you buck your hips up, helplessly grinding your throbbing cunt against chiseled abs for friction. Loud whimpers of protest from you gets muted down by Satoru's lips against yours when he pushes his cock between your walls, unrelenting even when you're tugging at your wrists and squirming under him.

Inch by inch, he pushes into your velvety walls steadily with no sign of stopping, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your cunt squeeze and pull him in so needily. "You're s' needy," he moans in your lips, finally bottoming out in you with a grunt, pulling a long needy whine out of you. The delicious stretch of his cock minimizing the pain of being stretched so far, your eyes cross underneath the blindfold and your mouth lolls open, giving Satoru free reign as he sucks and lolls his tongue with yours. Pulling away with a loud smack, a string of saliva attaching itself between both your swollen lips, he looks down at your breatheless, twitching body with a satisfied hum.

"You're really so selfish, y'know?" He grunts, grinding his hips against yours, not yet letting go of his hold on your hand. "All you do is whine and complain about your boyfriend to me without ever caring about how I feel," he stutters, pulling out and ramming back into you with a loud squelch, you squeal and arch your back as he looks down fascinatedly at your cunt taking him in.

"And do you know what makes it worse? The fact that you always say you love him in my face," an incoherent babbles of what he thinks is 'I'm sorry' pours out of you, uncaring of your condition he continues ramming himself in with every word. "When you clearly know that I love you, it's like you consciously try to make me jealous," he snaps his cock brutally against your sweet spot, his hand finally lets go of your pinned hands and grabs hold of your hips to pull you down and meet his. His other hand abusing your swollen clit, leaving you with broken whimpers and stuttering breathes.

Leaning down and resting his face on the crook of your neck, his whispered "I love you's" falling upon unheard ears. Kitten scratching his back and your hips moving against his, his hand glides down to the protusion on your belly everytime he's inside and presses down on it- light flashes in your eyes through the blindfold and you squeal out, cunt squirting it's juices against his stuttering pace. Still fucking you through your orgasm until he cums in you, your silky cunt milking him for all it's worth.

He falls down ontop of you and refuses to pull out, trying to plug his cum inside you- lucky him if he got you pregnant. Pulling the blindfold off from your eyes, he looks at your starstruck eyes with a tired grin. "That help you forget?" He mumbles, kissing your collarbone as you weakly nod your head. You whimper tiredly when you feel his softened cock get hard inside your sensitive hole," Let's just make sure it stays that way, yea?"

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Bonus :

Satoru is woken up by the sound of a ringing phone, groggily looking around when he notices your naked form snuggled against his which pulls a small smile out him. However the insistent ringing is starting to annoy him, what if it woke you up and made you pull away from him? He'll get to that when you wake up naturally, he has plenty of time till then.

Sighing and gently prying you off of him, his silent footsteps pads off towards the hallway filled with strewn clothes. Reaching down to your upturned phone, he annoyedly picks it up and looks at the caller, "Love♡" being the ID, he rolls his eyes at it. Why was your boyfriend even calling you at 4 in the morning? "That's a nice way of calling yourself insensitive." He mumbles to himself, picking the call up and bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, its not what you think it is. I swea-" your boyfriend starts, " Thanks for messing up. I appreciate it," Satoru cuts him off, quickly cutting the call and switching it off, silence ensuing in the dark hallway again. Throwing your phone back into the pile of clothes, he makes his way towards the bedroom again when another phone starts to ring. He lets out a frustrated grunt, he shut the phone down so why is it ringing? Looking down he realizes it's his and sighs when he looks at the caller ID, "Plan C". Begrudgingly picking the call, he mumbles an annoyed hello.

"I did what you told me too, that'll be a million," a feminine voice rings from the other line," I'll send it right now," Satoru answers, quickly sending the cash through online payment. "Great doing business with you," the voice replies cheerily before cutting the call. Satoru shuts his phone too, languidly throwing it in the pile again as he walks towards the room. He got rid of your feelings for your boyfriend now all he needs to do is get rid of your boyfriend before you realize that everything was a set-up.

You're smart afterall, talking to your boyfriend might just give Satoru's plan away but until then, all Satoru wants to do is snuggle with you for the moment. He'll save the rest later.

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I know I'm 4 days late for valentines but I had to post this 😭 luckily, my cast is off now >♡< (can't say the same about my laptop though 🥲)

Updates will be slower than usual until I replace my laptop.

Masterlist ♡ Serieslist ♡ NSFWlist

[v3nusxsky]

So I'm asking as me as not anon only because I'm sure you know it's me from my comment, but also still want to be anon after this paragraph (if that makes sense) ❤️

I literally am obsessed with your writing, it is so freaking good I could just curl up and re read everything you've posted (and I may have done that, ngl) especially for Larissa. That woman has an absolute chokehold on me.

Is there any chance you could do a lactation/breeding/mommy/shapeshifting dick with dom Larissa and sub r, and can the r be a short masc with short hair?

You are amazing in every way and lovely beyond compare!

Breed me mommy 18+

*authors note~ wrote this with a massive headache after my first long distance drive so I apologise if it’s bad! This is for all my people who have massive crushes on Larissa Weems coupled with a huge breeding kink. On my knees for the 6 foot 3 goddess Larissa Weems*

Trigger warnings~ breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy kink, shapeshifting cock and ability to lactate, dom Larissa/ sub masc, dirty talk, oral sex, praise kink, soft dominant, thigh riding, slight choking, missionary, doggy, oral fixation, hints of emotional sub after the act

Prompt~ see ask^^^

It was your idea to watch The Devil Wears Prada with your lover Larissa Weems. Your intent was to create a calming atmosphere for her after a long stressful day. A nice meal, some cuddles while you watch the film and then head to bed together. Peaceful. Happy. It started all going to plan, your beautiful candlelight dinner that just so happened to be the exact favourite dish of your lover. The wine was plentiful and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

“I’ll take good care of you. I promise” you murmured to the principal as she delicately folded her long legs to sit on the sofa with you before patting her hardly clothed thigh twice. A silent command. “Let mommy hold you tonight darling” she whispered before shifting your pliant body onto her lap and pressing play on the already set up film.

It all started innocently. Her slender fingers trailing over your clothed arms, legs and stomach. Every time you’d tilt your head to catch her obvious teasing acts she would be laser focused on the screen. But slowly Larissa had more on her mind. She couldn’t help but press her ruby lips to the column of your throat as you chuckled. The way your pulse beat against her gentle kisses caused her to smile in your skin. It’s just never been easy for her to keep her hands for herself when you’re in the same room as she is. Let alone sat on her lap, so innocently nibbling on your lip as you fought to concentrate. She’d be your undoing, that much she knew, but how much of her obvious teasing you could take wasn’t.

It wasn’t long before you began to absentmindedly search to find purchase on Larissa’s wrists and guide them where you desperately needed them. Only she wasn’t done yet, pulling her hands from you as you whined unhappily. “Behave darling” she tutted as if you were a disobedient puppy, “Mommys trying to watch this.”

How long was this damn film? You couldn’t help but curse yourself for not picking a shorter film. So just about the half way point you snapped, turning yourself around in her lap to attack her lips with desperate sloppy kisses. Instantly, she reciprocated with just the right amount of enthusiasm to subconsciously encourage your growing arousal. Before you knew it, you were tugging at the pins holding her beautiful in place as your hips began to grind downward. “God darling, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be a mess in my lap. Such a sweet thing for me” she praised happily before moving her hands to grip your hips hard enough to leave marks.

Larissa was known for her passion and patience. But here and now she was most definitely not a patient woman. As soon as your arousal began to seep through your shorts onto her stockings she lost control. Effortlessly scooping you up into her arms, carrying you into your shared room as your lips battled for a dominance you didn’t truly want. Being tossed around by your older lover was something you’d never get bored of. The way she tossed you on the bed like you weighed no more than a pillow was such a turn on.

Squirming on the bed you allowed Larissa to strip you bare minus your sports bra, knowing how it helped you feel more masculine in these moments before stepping back and admiring your beautiful self. Subconsciously, you began to curl up into yourself, effectively hiding your body from her only to be reprimanded, “don’t be embarrassed darling. God you turn me on so much my love. I just need to be inside you now. To touch you now. Can mommy touch you? Please baby?” You stuttered in mild shock “I-inside me?” You’ve spoke about your future and likes/ dislikes and what you would like to explore together, and apparently tonight was the night for her to try and shift. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to watch you be a good slut and take mommys cock. Every. Single. Inch.”

“Please mommy, just touch me please I don’t care how” you whimpered reaching out to pull her to you and free her from her dress. Her beautiful tits on display along with a now very generous member trying to strain from her lace panties. “You wanna help take this off darling? They are rather uncomfortable” she mumbled before stealing a couple of kisses that lingered a touch too long. Eagerly manoeuvring your body closer to her and your shaky hands reached to her waist to tug at the lace and accidentally resulted in tearing it from the shifters body. “That was so fucking hot darling” she gasped as you tried to wriggle closer.

“Wanna taste mommy” doe eyes looked up at the principal and you tried to tug her new appendage closer to your mouth. Her manicured hand helped guide her shaft to your awaiting lips. “I’ll be gentle love, remember you can tap out” was all she managed to get out before you happily sucked the head of her cock into your mouth. It took some adjusting and working to find a rhythm. It was taking all her restraint to not harshly fuck into your warmth. If this was how your sweet mouth felt then your other hole would be heavenly. With a tug to your hair she pulled you off her dick with a little whine of protest coming from you. Clearly this would be something she needs to work on her stamina for.

“Your turn darling” she murmured before pushing you back on the bed and attacking your body with nips and kisses. “Wann feel you inside me please mommy” you pleaded innocently. “I don’t want to hurt you love” she started only to be cut off with your frantic begging, “I want you to fuck me mommy. Please. Please let me feel you.”

“I’ll be gentle” she stated as a matter of fact before lining herself up with your soaking cunt and slowly pushing in. There was a sting in some places and a stretch in others but when she sunk into you to the hilt you couldn’t help the ungodly loud moan that ripped itself from your throat. “You sound so pretty darling, tell me when I can move” Larissa murmured using the height difference to her advantage to smother your neck in pretty little marks. Hers.

“Move, please god mommy move” you whined encouraging her to finally give you what you wanted. The first few thrusts of her hips were slow and gentle. Experimental. Loving how snug you wrapped around her. The feeling of her cock stroking your inner walls was most definitely become addictive. “Fuck, darling we have to change positions. You’re gonna make me cum” Larissa groaned trying to convince herself to pull out of your warmth.

It was now you were thanking whatever god existed that your lover could shift her anatomy, meaning she could lift you whenever she felt like. “On your knees” she gravely whispered, her fingers gripping tightly into your hips as she helped you position yourself. Like a starving woman she immediately began to work herself into your pussy and picking up her pace and accuracy of her thrusts. Getting the angle just right to hit your G spot.

“Want to cum in you darling. Let mommy cum inside your pretty pussy darling? Oh god you’d look so beautiful all swollen and pregnant for me. Please darling I won’t last too long if you keep squeezing me like that” she moaned without thinking. “Mommy please, please, I need more. Please want to feel it mommy. Want to be mommy’s forever” you mewled, your hands clawing at any skin you could reach as she pleaded you to come with her. To be so good for her and take all her cum. Stilling with the sheer amount of sticky goods that were filling your womb up to the brim as your walls spasamed around her dick, milking her of everything she was offering.

It was in the blissful moments where Larissa had shifted her anatomy back to normal and gathered you into her embrace, that you began to process what she’d said. “Mommy?” You muttered still thick in your subspace, “do you really want to have a baby with me?” Silence was all that filled the room before she pressed a sweet kiss to your head and replied honestly, “of course my darling. I love you so much and would love to start a family with you if you want to? I didn’t realise just how much I’d want to get you pregnant until that moment. God, you’d be the best mother in the world. In fact you would look so gorgeous pregnant that I might just have to keep you pregnant forever.” Little did Larissa know that night you spent crying and planning to try for a family, that she’d already succeeded on the first baby.

“I love you so much darling” she mumbled as you finally settled down for the night, your fuzzy head resting on her bare breasts. You couldn’t help but tease her perky nipples by blowing cool air on them before sucking them into your lips on instinct. “Mine” you mumbled contentedly as your light suckling continued. “All yours baby, all yours. Just your mommy darling” she reassured running her hands through your short hair and scratching soothingly at your scalp until your suckles stopped. Indicating you’d finally sipped off to sleep.

Word count~ 1594