#unexpected timestamp

[totodiletears]

absolutely NOT reblogging that giant-ass post just to complain about one thing in the middle but GUYSSSSS "Best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. Second best time is today" is NOT from 2018!!! It's fucking OLD, I don't know the origin but I know it was an old trite saying when I was a kid and that was WAY BEFORE FUCKIN 2018, STOP REBLOGGING THAT VERSION OF THE POST

[sixeyesonathiel]

no one else needed to notice

pairing — g. satoru x gn reader

synopsis : you weren’t looking for connection when you replied to a quiet post on a jujutsu forum. but what starts as late-night messages with a stranger turns into something warmer, steadier, and unexpectedly real.

sometimes, the person who sees you best is the one you’ve never even seen. until now.

tags –> one shot, 6.4k wc, non-canon compliant au, internet strangers to lovers, emotional intimacy, mutual comfort, secret voice calls, found each other online, reader is from kyoto, soft gojo satoru, extremely mild angst with a happy ending, first kisses, lighthearted moments, a little rain, stupid jokes and late-night feelings, love is about compromise, rip to gakuganji’s office chair. inspired by the song ‘no one noticed’ by the marias.

a/n : writing this made me bawl, to be loved is to be known. there’s just something about being understood by a stranger and finding solace in each other that gets to me. being known & being loved without being seen in a literal sense? sign me up :P i wanna sob because my pookie bear deserved better aaaaa

red string of fate collection m.list

you didn’t mean to answer the thread.

you never do, usually. the forum’s a chaotic sprawl, a digital graveyard of encrypted usernames—like “void_eater69” or “cursed_snacc”—and timestamps mangled by timezones no one bothers to sync. posts pile up like offerings to some forgotten curse: cryptic rants about residual energy, half-baked spell theories, or someone whining about a shikigami that won’t behave. it’s not a place for real talk. more like a dive bar at the edge of a cursed womb, where everyone’s nursing their own ghosts and shouting into the void.

but that night, your room was too quiet. the kind of quiet that creeps under your skin, heavy as a grade-two’s miasma. kyoto’s winter had settled in, and your tiny apartment felt like a box of stale air, the radiator hissing like it was mocking you. your phone glowed on the tatami, a stubborn rectangle of light that wouldn’t let you sleep. your brain was a traitor, replaying the day’s monotony: a sparring session where you’d nearly twisted your ankle, a debrief that dragged until your eyes glazed, the faint smear of cursed blood you’d scrubbed from your sleeve hours ago.

you scrolled the forum to shut it up. past a thread arguing if reversed cursed technique could fix a hangover. past some guy asking if spirits could get drunk—seriously, dude?—and then you saw it. buried under the noise, posted hours ago, short and raw, no punctuation, no pretense:

“does it ever get easier”

you stared at it, your thumb hovering over the screen. the words sat there, small and unadorned, like a stone someone had left on a path. most posts like that were traps—bait for trolls or vents that fizzled into nothing. but this one felt… different. quiet, like a whisper you weren’t meant to hear. genuine, like it had slipped out before the poster could rethink it.

you broke your own rule. typed back without letting yourself second-guess: “define easier. like, emotionally? logistically? existentially?”

he replied in under a minute.

“yes”

and just like that, you were in it.

at first, it was anonymous, the way the forum always is. two sorcerers dodging missions and boredom, tossing words into the dark like talismans. you didn’t know his name, and he didn’t ask yours. just screen names—yours a string of numbers and a bad pun, his something absurd involving mochi and a curse word. you talked about things you’d never say out loud, not to the kyoto higher-ups or the first-years who looked at you like you had all the answers. like how a room full of people could still make you feel like a ghost, drifting just outside their orbit. or how debriefs left a sour taste in your mouth, like you’d bitten into something rotten—guilt, maybe, or just the weight of it all.

he was… unexpected. not funny in a cheap, knock-knock way, but ridiculous, like he’d turned life into a stage and forgotten the script. his jokes were elaborate, stupid, sprawling things, like he was performing for a crowd that didn’t exist. one night, he typed: “i think the veil’s thinning. saw a tanuki trying to do taxes with a stolen abacus.”

you snorted into your pillow, the sound loud in your empty room. “should’ve let it,” you wrote back, fingers flying across the screen. “might’ve gotten a better refund than me. my last one barely covered a coffee.”

he sent a laughing emoji—unironically, the dork—and you could almost hear him cackling somewhere far away. it made you grin, your face half-buried in a blanket that smelled faintly of incense and yesterday’s takeout.

the chats kept going, stretching across weeks. you’d be slumped on your couch, boots still muddy from a mission, when your phone buzzed with his latest nonsense. “ever wonder if curses dream?” he’d ask, and you’d fire back, “only if they’re dreaming of paperwork. that’s the real nightmare.” he’d reply with a string of sobbing emojis, and you’d roll your eyes, but you’d keep typing, because somehow, it felt like he got it.

then came the voice calls.

always at night, when kyoto’s streets went still and the stars pressed against your window like they had something to prove. he’d call from somewhere else—somewhere alive with sound. sometimes it was traffic, a distant honk cutting through his laugh. sometimes it was the ocean, waves hissing like they were gossiping with him. once, a vending machine jingled, coins clinking as he muttered, “what do you want? melon soda? or that sweet corn one that tastes like regret?”

you laughed, your voice muffled by the scarf you hadn’t bothered to unwind from your neck. “melon,” you said, curling your knees to your chest on the couch. “corn’s for masochists.”

“noted,” he said, and you heard the machine whir, then a can crack open. “one melon soda for the meanest sorcerer i know.”

“flatterer,” you deadpanned, but your lips twitched, and you tucked the phone closer to your ear, like his voice could fill the cold corners of your apartment.

you never asked where he was. he never asked your name. it was a rule you didn’t need to speak—just a line neither of you crossed, because crossing it might break whatever this was. but he was your favorite stranger, the one who made the nights less heavy, the one whose voice felt like a tether when everything else was slipping.

the thing was, you weren’t miserable.

not exactly.

just tired, the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t touch, like a curse that’s sunk its claws too deep. your life at the kyoto branch was a loop: wake to the chime of your battered alarm clock, spar until your muscles burned, assist on missions that left your hands smelling of ash and ozone, report to gakuganji in a room that always felt too small. sometimes you mopped blood from training mats, the sponge heavy in your grip. sometimes you taught theory to first-years, their eyes glazed as you droned about residuals, your voice echoing off chalk-dusted walls.

sometimes you lay on your futon, staring at the ceiling’s chipped paint, wondering if you used to feel bigger than this—brighter, like the sky before a storm.

he changed that.

not in a loud way, not at first. it was softer, quieter, like the sound of his breath hitching when you said something sharp. like finding a rhythm with someone, even if your steps didn’t quite match. he’d ask you things no one else did, questions that felt like they were peeling back your edges.

“what color’s the sky in kyoto tonight?” he’d say, and you’d lean against your window, phone cradled against your shoulder, and answer, “pink, like someone spilled their drink on it.” he’d laugh, and you’d feel it in your ribs, a small, stubborn warmth.

“do curses feel pain?” he asked once, his voice muffled, like he was chewing something—probably mochi, knowing him.

you hummed, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “maybe. depends if they’re sentient enough to know they’re hurting. what do you think?”

“dunno,” he said, and you heard a rustle, like he was flopping onto a bed somewhere. “but i hope they don’t. makes it easier to sleep after.”

you didn’t reply right away, just listened to him breathe, steady and slow. “you’re softer than you act,” you said finally, and he made a noise—half scoff, half laugh—that made you smile into the dark.

he loved dumb questions, too. “is it immoral to laugh when a cursed spirit looks like a balloon animal?” he asked one night, and you could hear the grin in his voice, like he was picturing it.

you were sprawled on your floor, a half-eaten onigiri beside you, and you snorted so hard you nearly choked. “only if it’s a good balloon animal,” you said. “like, if it’s trying to be a dog, you gotta respect the effort.”

“fair,” he said, and you heard a clink—probably another soda can. “you’re funnier than you think, y’know.”

“and you’re weirder than you sound,” you shot back, but your cheeks were warm, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them like you could trap the feeling.

the best moments, though, were when he dropped the act. when the theatrics fell away, and his voice went low, soft, like he was afraid the words might break if he pushed too hard. one night, after a call that had stretched past midnight, he said, “sometimes… i think i only exist when i’m useful to someone. is that stupid?”

you were half-asleep, your phone slipping against your cheek, but his voice pulled you back. you blinked at the ceiling, the shadows pooling like spilled ink. “no,” you said, quiet but firm. “it’s just sad.”

he laughed—not the emoji kind, not the loud kind, but something small, like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding. “you don’t pull punches, huh?”

“you’d hate it if i did,” you said, and you heard him shift, like he was nodding to himself.

“yeah,” he murmured. “i would.”

it went on like that for months, long enough that you started noticing things. the way he yawned before he said goodnight, a sleepy hum that made your chest ache. the pauses in his sentences when he was choosing his words, like he wanted to get it right for you. the way his voice warmed when you rambled about something small—like the stray cat outside your building that kept stealing your bento scraps, or the time you’d botched a talisman and spent an hour scrubbing ink from your hands.

he’d listen, really listen, he always does and then say something like, “bet that cat’s got better taste than gakuganji,” and you’d laugh until your sides hurt.

you didn’t ask who he was. he didn’t push for your name. it was perfect, fragile, like a bubble you were both afraid to pop.

until one night, your phone buzzed, and it wasn’t the usual late-hour joke or random question. it was a call, his name—or rather, the string of nonsense characters he used—lighting up your screen. you hesitated, thumb grazing the accept button, then pressed it, curling into your futon as the kyoto cold gnawed at the window.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual, like he was speaking through a held breath. there was no hum of traffic tonight, no vending machine jingle—just a faint rustle, maybe his sleeve brushing the phone, and a stillness that made your pulse loud in your ears.

you didn’t answer right away, just listened to him breathe, steady but careful, like he was standing on the edge of something. your apartment felt smaller, the night pressing against the glass, cold and heavy, like it was waiting for you to move first.

“can I…” he started, then paused, a hitch in his voice you hadn’t heard before. “can I visit you?”

you froze, fingers tightening around the phone until it dug into your palm. the words landed like a stone dropped into still water, rippling through the quiet. your eyes flicked to the window, where the dark seemed to lean closer, listening. your heart did something stupid, tripping over itself, and you bit your lip, hard enough to sting.

“like… here?” you said finally, voice low, almost lost in the radiator’s hiss. “in kyoto?”

“yeah,” he said, and it was quiet but firm, like he’d been turning the idea over for hours before daring to say it. “i’m nearby. for a mission. thought… maybe. if it’s okay with you.”

you swallowed, your free hand fidgeting with the blanket’s edge, twisting it until the fabric bunched. you didn’t know what he looked like. he didn’t know your face. but the thought of him—your stranger, your tether—standing in your city, his voice no longer trapped in static… it made your chest ache, like a curse unraveling too fast to catch.

“we don’t even know what we look like,” you said, softer now, half a shield, half a truth, your breath catching as you spoke.

he was quiet for a moment, and you heard a faint shift, like he was leaning closer to the phone, shutting out the world. “i know,” he said, voice low, steady, like a vow he hadn’t meant to make. “but I think I’d recognize you anyway.”

your lips parted, but no sound came out. your heart stumbled again, and you pressed your knees to your chest, the blanket slipping to the floor. you wanted to deflect, to toss back something sharp, but his words sat there, heavy and warm, like they’d carved out a space you didn’t know you’d left empty.

“you’re weird,” you managed, but it came out too soft, too honest, and you winced, tucking your chin to hide the smile you couldn’t stop.

he exhaled, a sound that was half-laugh, half-relief, like he’d been holding it in all night. “you’re mean,” he said, and you could hear the curve of his mouth, faint but real, unguarded in a way that made your ribs tighten.

“you like it,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, and your fingers hovered over the phone’s edge, like you could reach through it if you tried.

he didn’t answer right away. just breathed, slow and close, and when he spoke, it was so quiet it felt like a secret. “yeah,” he said. “i do.”

the call didn’t end, not yet. you stayed there, listening to the silence stretch, his breath a steady rhythm against the night’s weight. and that ache in your chest grew, sharp and warm, like it was making room for something you weren’t ready to name.

that morning, when he texted for the address, you gave him the name of a small café tucked just off the main street near kyoto campus—nothing fancy, barely even marked, just a warm pocket of space where time slowed down and no one asked too many questions. not because you were scared. not exactly. but the idea of him—this faceless voice, this stranger you somehow knew better than people you’d seen every day—being in your space, standing in your doorway, seeing your real life... it made something flutter behind your ribs. something you couldn’t name without sounding stupid.

it rained that day. not hard. just the kind of persistent drizzle that painted everything in shades of grey, slicked the pavement until it gleamed like wet ink, and made your sleeves cling to your wrists. your shoes scuffed softly against the tile as you pushed open the café door. inside, the air was warm, thick with the smell of coffee beans and something sweet rising from the back oven.

a couple of students in uniforms sat by the counter, arguing in low tones about spell theory. the barista barely looked up as you ordered your usual, fingers drumming a quiet rhythm against the side of your phone. you picked the window seat. always the window seat. you liked watching people go by, liked the illusion of being somewhere else.

time passed.

you checked your phone once. then again. your fingers curled around your cup, heat seeping into your palms. condensation fogged the glass. you were early. or maybe he was late. or maybe the whole thing was a joke you’d fallen for, like a damn idiot. your heart did this stupid stuttering thing every time the bell over the door moved.

then it rang.

and he walked in.

white hair, slightly mussed from the rain. the tiniest drop caught in his bangs, trailing down toward the curve of his cheek. his sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and he was tall—taller than you'd expected, even though you should’ve known—and dressed like he didn’t care how loud he looked. hands in his pockets. shoulders loose. like he’d just wandered in off some catwalk that ended in your direction.

he scanned the room once, those ridiculous glasses perched low on his nose, catching the café’s dim light like twin moons. his eyes—sharp, too sharp for any one place to hold—skipped over the students bickering about cursed residuals, the barista wiping down a steaming espresso machine, and landed square on you.

his smile cracked open, instant, effortless, like the sun spilling through a storm cloud.

“hey.”

you froze mid-sip, your mug hovering an inch from your lips. your eyes locked on his, and the world did that thing where it shrinks to a pinprick, all cinnamon air and rain-slicked windows fading out. the ridiculous truth hit you like a badly timed talisman:

holy shit. that’s gojo satoru.

your mouth opened. closed with a soft click. opened again, because apparently your brain decided to blue-screen.

“you’re fucking kidding me.”

his grin stretched wider, all teeth and mischief, as he sauntered across the floor toward you. long limbs moved like they were choreographed, raindrops clinging to his white hair like tiny glass beads, scattering light. he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, shoulders hiked just enough to betray how stupidly pleased he was with himself.

“surprise?” he said, voice lilting like he’d just pulled off the world’s dumbest magic trick.

you blinked, unblinking, your fingers tightening around the mug until the heat stung. your face was doing something—probably a mix of shock and are you serious right now—because his laugh bubbled up, low and warm, like he’d caught you red-handed.

“you—i—you’re you,” you stammered, eloquent as a first-year tripping over their own incantation.

“i am,” he said, tilting his head. a single droplet slid from his bangs, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before dripping onto the floor. “last i checked, anyway. unless you’ve got a better theory.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

he paused a step from the table, one hand escaping his pocket to scratch at the back of his neck. his glasses slipped lower, and you caught a flash of those eyes—crystal blue, too bright, like staring into a clear sky after a curse’s miasma. he nudged the frames up with a knuckle, but then, in a move that made your breath hitch, he tugged them off completely. folded them with a click. set them on the table like a dare.

“didn’t wanna scare you off,” he said, quieter now, his gaze unguarded and pinning you in place.

yo squinted, lips pressing into a thin line to choke back a snort. your eyebrow arched, sharp as a well-placed shikigami. “you thought being yourself would scare me off?”

he shrugged, weight shifting from one foot to the other, his coat swaying like it was in on the joke. “it usually does.”

you blinked again, slower, and something in your chest unknotted. for a split second, he looked… smaller. not the gojo satoru who could level a city block with a wink, but a guy who wasn’t sure if he was too much or not enough. his hair was a mess, sticking up where he’d ruffled it outside, and his eyelashes were wet, catching the light like they were trying to apologize.

you set your mug down with a soft clink, the ceramic warm against your palm, and gestured to the chair across from you. “sit down, satoru.”

his grin snapped back, bright as a spark talisman igniting. “yes, ma’am.”

he dropped into the chair with all the grace of a cat knocking over a vase—legs sprawling, then tucking back, elbows hitting the table before he leaned forward like he was about to spill a secret. his coat bunched at his shoulders, and he smelled faintly of rain and something sweeter, like the mochi he’d probably swiped from a vendor on the way here.

“this place smells like cinnamon and potential,” he said, voice dipping low, conspiratorial. he waggled his brows, and you swore his eyes flickered with a tease no technique could replicate. “you sure you don’t wanna marry me right now? i’d get you a ring pop. blue raspberry, your favorite.”

you snorted, the sound punching out before you could stop it. your hand flew to your mouth, but it was too late—he’d heard it, and his whole face lit up like he’d won a bet with the universe.

“you remembered that?” you said, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing like you could shield yourself from his smugness. your lips twitched, betraying you.

“‘course i did,” he said, tapping his temple with a long finger. “you said it during that 2 a.m. ramble about cursed vending machines. blue raspberry ring pop, ‘cause it stains your tongue and freaks out the first-years.” he leaned closer, voice dropping to a mock-whisper. “i pay attention, y’know.”

your cheeks warmed, and you hated how your mouth kept trying to smile. you kicked his shin lightly under the table, just enough to make him yelp—a dramatic ow that had the students at the counter glancing over. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, but your eyes flicked to his glasses, still folded neatly beside his elbow. “and put those back on, idiot. you’re gonna give yourself a migraine squinting like that.”

he blinked, then laughed—a real one, not the showy kind he threw at missions or bad jokes. “what, you worried about my eyes now?” he said, but he didn’t reach for the glasses. instead, he propped his chin on one hand, staring at you like you were the only thing worth seeing. “i took ‘em off for you, y’know. six eyes makes everything loud—too many colors, too many things. but you…” he trailed off, and his voice softened, like he was peeling back a layer he usually kept buried. “you’re clearer without ‘em.”

your breath caught, and for a second, you forgot how to be a smart-ass. your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, and you ducked your head, letting your hair fall forward to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “that’s sweet,” you said, voice dry but wobbling just a fraction. “also stupid. you’ll strain yourself, and i’m not dragging your whining ass to a healer when you’re seeing double.”

he grinned, undeterred, and flicked a sugar packet across the table at you. it bounced off your knuckles, and you swatted it back without thinking, starting a lazy game of tabletop tag. “would you rather i didn’t see you?” he asked, catching the packet mid-air with infuriating ease. his fingers were quick, precise, like he could’ve dismantled a curse in the same motion. “c’mon, admit it. you like being seen.”

you rolled your eyes, but your lips curved, and you couldn’t quite stop it. “i like when you’re not a headache,” you shot back, snatching the sugar packet from his hand. you tore it open, dumping half into your coffee just to mess with him—he’d gagged once during a call when you’d done it, claiming it was “coffee abuse.” now, he just watched you with a smirk, like he was cataloging every move you made.

“liar,” he said, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt rode up, flashing a sliver of pale skin above his waistband. you looked away, quick, and he noticed—his smirk grew positively diabolical. “you told me last week you like my voice best at midnight. all raspy and annoying, you said. direct quote.”

you groaned, sinking lower in your chair, but your foot nudged his ankle under the table, a traitor to your own defenses. “i was delirious from a mission,” you said, pointing a stirrer at him like a tiny sword. your brows furrowed, but your eyes were bright, dancing with the kind of energy you hadn’t felt in weeks. “and you were the one who kept talking about cursed tanukis stealing your socks, so who’s the real mess here?”

he laughed again, loud enough to make the barista glance over with a raised brow. his hand dropped to the table, fingers drumming a restless rhythm, and you noticed how his pinky brushed the edge of your mug—like he was testing how close he could get without you pulling away. “guilty,” he said, tilting his head until his bangs fell into his eyes. he shook them away, and the motion was so boyish, so normal, it made your heart do a stupid little flip. “but you laughed. i heard it. best sound in the world, by the way.”

you froze, stirrer halfway to your mouth, and your eyes flicked up to meet his. he wasn’t grinning now—just watching you, steady and soft, like the rain outside had melted all his edges. your lips parted, but no snark came out. instead, you reached across the table, picked up his glasses, and slid them toward him with a pointed look. “put these on before you ruin yourself,” you said, but your voice was quieter, like you were afraid of breaking whatever this was. “i’m not worth a headache, satoru.”

he didn’t touch the glasses. instead, he caught your hand before you could pull it back, his fingers warm and a little calloused, curling around yours like they’d been waiting to. “disagree,” he said, simple as that, and his thumb brushed your knuckle, light as a feather. “you’re worth a lot of things.”

you swallowed, and the café seemed to hum quieter—the clink of cups, the murmur of students, all fading into a soft blur. your pulse was loud, though, thudding in your ears as you looked at him. his hair was drying now, curling at the ends, and his eyes were still bare, unguarded, like he’d stripped away every barrier just to sit here with you. your lips twitched into a smile, small but real, and you squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“you’re gonna regret saying that when i steal your last mochi later,” you said, leaning back to break the spell, but your foot stayed pressed against his under the table, warm and steady.

he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d cursed him. “not the mochi,” he wailed, but his eyes crinkled, and he leaned forward, stealing your stirrer to twirl it between his fingers like a baton. “fine, but only if you say ‘satoru, you’re my hero’ first. gotta earn it.”

“in your dreams, pretty boy,” you shot back, but you were laughing now, soft and easy, and the sound made his whole face soften, like he’d been chasing it all along.

you stayed in that café for hours, trading sugar packets and stupid stories, your shoes bumping under the table, his glasses still untouched. the rain slowed to a drizzle, painting the windows in lazy streaks, but neither of you noticed. the world was just this—cinnamon air, warm mugs, and the way he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted to see clearly.

and somewhere in between the rain tapering off and your drinks going lukewarm, something shifted. not abruptly. not dramatically. but gently, like gravity starting to lean in a different direction. he was exactly the same—annoying, charming, impossible—but there was a quiet steadiness beneath it all. like he looked at you and saw not just a person, but a place. somewhere he could stay.

all while you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that gojo satoru had been the idiot on the forum sending you tanuki memes at 3am.

he called you a cryptid. you called him emotionally constipated. he told you your voice was the only one he actually waited to hear. you told him he needed better taste. he laughed so hard he knocked his knee on the underside of the table.

when the café finally closed, the barista shooing you out with a tired smile, satoru held the door open, his clear umbrella already unfurled against the drizzle. it was comically small for his ridiculous height, barely shielding his broad shoulders, but he angled it carefully, keeping the rain from kissing your hair. his sleeve darkened, soaked through where the mist clung, but he didn’t seem to care. the night was quiet, steeped in that velvet hush that trails a long rain, streetlights casting blurry halos through the mist, like half-forgotten curses glowing in the dark.

his footsteps matched yours, slow and deliberate, scuffing softly against the wet pavement. he didn’t need to adjust his stride—you noticed how he shortened it, just enough, like he was savoring every second of this walk. his fingers brushed yours once, a fleeting warmth against your knuckles. he didn’t grab your hand. brushed again, lingering, like a question he wasn’t sure he could ask. you didn’t pull away, your pinky curling slightly, grazing his, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward, like he’d caught a secret.

“can I see you again?” he asked, glancing down at you, his voice stripped of its usual swagger. it was quiet, raw, like a wish he’d whispered to the night before daring to say it aloud. his glasses slipped low, catching the streetlight’s gleam, and his eyes—too blue, too open—held yours like you were the only thing tethering him to the ground.

you tilted your head, pretending to mull it over, your lips pursing to hide the smile tugging at them. your scarf fluttered in the breeze, and you tugged it tighter, catching the way his gaze flicked to the motion, like he was memorizing it. “I’d kinda like it if you called me first,” you said, voice dry but warm, your eyes darting to his before skittering away.

his smile softened, reverent, like you’d handed him a talisman he hadn’t earned. he ducked his head, damp hair falling into his eyes, and pushed it back with a quick flick, scattering droplets. “yeah?” he said, and it was so soft, so hopeful, it made your chest ache like a bruise you didn’t mind.

“yeah,” you said, and your fingers brushed his again, deliberate this time, a spark in the quiet.

he didn’t kiss you. not yet. but the way he looked at you—head tilted, eyes tracing your face like he was mapping a new constellation—felt louder than any words. like maybe, finally, he’d found the place he was meant to land, and you were standing right there beside him.

you kept walking, the umbrella tilting as he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. the mist curled around you like a veil, and he started humming—some off-key pop song he’d probably heard on a mission, the kind you’d mocked him for liking during one of your calls. you shot him a look, eyebrow arched, and he only grinned, utterly unrepentant.

“you’re gonna ruin my reputation,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, and you nudged his arm with your elbow, just enough to make him sway.

“too late,” he said, voice lilting like he was sharing a conspiracy. “you laughed at my tanuki tax joke. you’re already doomed.”

you snorted, the sound sharp in the quiet, and he laughed—low, warm, like it was his favorite sound in the world. “you remember that?” you asked, glancing up at him, your scarf slipping to reveal the curve of your neck. his eyes followed it, then snapped back to your face, like he’d been caught.

“‘course I do,” he said, tapping his temple with a long finger. “filed it under ‘proof you’re secretly fun.’ right next to you admitting you like my midnight voice.”

your cheeks warmed, and you shoved your hands into your pockets, muttering, “delirious ramblings don’t count.” but you didn’t step away, and he didn’t either, the umbrella wobbling as he tilted it to keep you dry.

then he stopped walking, abrupt enough that you turned to face him, a brow raised. “what?”

his expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between mischief and something heavier, like he was about to say something that could tilt the world off its axis. his hair was wet now, silver strands curling at the ends, clinging to his forehead, and his glasses fogged slightly at the edges, making his eyes look softer, closer.

“come work in tokyo,” he said, the words spilling out like they’d been waiting all night.

you blinked, your breath catching. “satoru.”

“no, I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer, the umbrella dipping until a stray droplet grazed his cheek. he didn’t wipe it away, just kept looking at you, earnest in a way that made your throat tight. “same uniform, better pay, vending machines that don’t eat your coins. plus—” he leaned in, voice dropping to a mock-whisper—“you get me. scientifically proven to make life less boring.”

you laughed, sharp and startled, and it broke the tension like a snapped thread. “you’re the cause of my stress,” you said, poking his chest with a finger, your nail catching on his damp coat.

“and I’ll keep causing it,” he said, catching your hand before you could pull back. his fingers were warm, curling around yours, and he tilted his head, grin softening. “but I’ll be closer. way better than those kyoto stiffs who don’t know how you take your coffee.”

you froze, lips parting, because he did know—black, no sugar, the way you’d grumbled about during a 3 a.m. call when a mission had you wired. “you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice wobbled, and you didn’t yank your hand away.

“you don’t belong there,” he said, quieter now, his thumb brushing your knuckle, light as a wish. “they don’t see you. not like I do.”

you opened your mouth to deflect, to toss back something sharp, but nothing came. because he was right, and the way he looked at you—steady, unguarded, like you were more than a shadow in a debrief room—made it impossible to argue. you closed your mouth, exhaling through your nose, and he smiled, small and real, like he’d won something bigger than he’d planned.

two weeks later, after one strongly worded proposal, two forged signatures, and a very public argument with gakuganji that ended with a chair launched across a meeting room, satoru showed up at your apartment, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that screamed trouble. his coat was slung over one shoulder, and he held a crumpled paper bag that smelled suspiciously like mochi.

“congrats,” he said, voice bright as a spark. “you’re moving to tokyo. pack a toothbrush.”

you stared, one socked foot still on the tatami, a half-packed box of books at your side. “what the hell did you do?”

“justice,” he said, tossing the bag onto your counter, where it landed with a soft thud. he stepped inside, kicking the door shut with his heel, and winked like he’d just saved the world. “also, maybe a little bribery. you’re welcome.”

and just like that, you were tokyo’s problem now.

on your first day, he was waiting at the jujutsu tech gates, a paper flower crown perched crookedly on his head, petals fluttering in the breeze. he held a sign—scrawled in marker, “WELCOME HOME, CRYPTID”—and two matcha lattes, one wobbling dangerously in his hand as he waved like a kid spotting their best friend. the other sorcerers passing by shot him looks, but he didn’t care, his grin wide enough to rival the sun spilling over the campus.

you tried to scowl, to keep your cool, but your lips betrayed you, curling into a smile that felt like surrender. “you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, stepping into his orbit, close enough to smell the sugar on his breath and the faint cedar of his cologne.

he looped an arm around your shoulder, easy as breathing, like the space beside him had been yours all along. his lips brushed your temple, a fleeting warmth, then lingered, soft and deliberate, like he was testing if you’d pull away. you didn’t.

“and yet,” he said, voice low, teasing, “you never left.”

you rolled your eyes, but your head tilted into his touch, just a fraction, and you felt him exhale, like he’d been holding it in. “I’m not wearing the flower crown,” you said, flicking the sign with a finger, making it wobble in his grip.

“not yet,” he said, adjusting the crown on his head, petals catching the sunlight like tiny flames. he handed you a latte, the cup warm against your palm, and you noticed he’d drawn a tiny cat face on the lid—lopsided, with one ear missing, like your stray back in kyoto.

“not ever,” you shot back, but you took a sip, and the matcha was perfect—sweet, not too bitter, exactly how you’d mentioned liking it months ago during a call about bad coffee stands.

he laughed, a sound like summer breaking through clouds, and you looked up, catching the way his eyes crinkled, the way his hair glowed gold in the morning light. his thumb brushed your cheek, featherlight, like he was confirming you were real.

and then he kissed you—no fanfare, no dramatic build, just the quiet press of his mouth against yours, soft and certain. it was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission because it already belonged. like the final word in a sentence you’d both been writing in secret.

his lips were warm, moving against yours with a reverence that made your breath catch. his hand cupped the side of your face, fingers splayed gently against your jaw as though afraid to press too hard, like you were something delicate, worth holding and not breaking.

your eyes fluttered closed. the air between you and the world seemed to hush, like even the breeze knew not to interrupt. your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat—soft, heavy, smelling faintly of rain and something that had to be him.

your knees went a little soft. your heart, stupid and loud, climbed up into your throat.

he pulled back just barely, but didn’t let go. his forehead rested against yours, breath fanning across your lips, sweet with matcha and something sweeter beneath it—something like hope.

his grin was criminal. boyish. blinding. like he’d stolen something precious and gotten away clean.

“told you you’d like tokyo,” he said, voice low, still laced with laughter.

and before you could even think of dodging, he plucked the flower crown from his head—now slightly lopsided from the kiss—and dropped it gently onto yours.

you blinked. scowled. felt your cheeks catch fire.

you shoved it back onto him, petals scattering onto his nose, and he sneezed, dramatic and loud, making a passing student jump. “shut up,” you said, but you were laughing now, full and bright, and his fingers laced with yours, warm and steady, like they’d never let go.

and in that moment—the sun dusting your cheeks, his hand anchoring you, you knew one thing for sure:

no one else needed to notice.

because he did.

and that was enough.

(and yeah, he’d submitted three fake transfer forms in your name, because apparently love means committing light fraud. you’d yell at him later. probably.)

tag list : @akeisryna @esotericsorrow @prettilyrisse @cherrymoon55 @linaaeatsfamilies @k0z3me

[cinnamanz]

— ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ MAMMA MIA ⋆౨ৎ˚ .ᐟ SOPHIA LAFORTEZA

❝𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐀, 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

𝐌𝐘, 𝐌𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔?❞

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

tags .ᐟ smau, crack, fluff, awkward idiots, grumpy x sunshine (or at least my attempt to), childhood bestfriends to lovers, theatre children, coarse language, suggestive themes, nonceleb! au, university au!, sexual jokes, kys nd die jokes, mentions of substances, my writing

featuring .ᐟ katseye, p1harmony, ive, le sserafim and etc

pairing .ᐟ sophia laforteza x female reader

status .ᐟ ongoing

notes .ᐟ this smau was made for fun and entertainment. it is not an actual portrayal of the people mentioned in this smau, nor are the photos used to portray y/n. ignore timestamps. dream academy is a performing arts university. divider cred: @/adornedwithlight. TAGLIST CLOSED.

❝𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐀, 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍?

𝐌𝐘, 𝐌𝐘, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐈’𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔?❞

PROFILES

rock, paper, 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 (and keeho) — mommy day care

01. oomfchella @ school

02. dire omen

03. livin la vida loca

04. tying the noose as we speak

05. lore

06. just like old times

07. extracurricular

08. for evermore

09. best friend of the year

10. casting

11. square up

12. a b c d e f g

13. love finds a way

14. petty

15. nonchalant mfs

16. getting somewhere

17. shady ahh tweet

18. concerned

19. easy to draw

20. u look like u hump trees

21. cry to ur homeboys

22. cool cover!

23. for free

24. onto sumn

25. I WILL NOT BE SILENCED

26. tom holland

27. awkward!

28. thoughts nd prayers

29. hardest battles

30. let her cook

more in progress!

™ CINNAMANZ 2025

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[kunareads]

how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

you and satoru fulfill the prophecy (he picks you up, pulls them down, turns you around).

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 4.7k

satoru "filthy mouth" gojo!!! i had to stop writing this multiple times because of what he does to me. PART 3 VALENTINE'S DAY (comment for taglist)

content: fluff and SMUT! even more tension, you and satoru are once again the subjects of internet speculation, making out, 69, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, pronebone, cowgirl, he's very much in control here

18+ please <3

the internet does what it does best: fill in the blanks.

neither of you say anything. no statements, no denials, no acknowledgments. but speculation spreads like wildfire.

it started small. the blurry afterparty photos, the red carpet chemistry dissection, the think pieces about hollywood's most unexpected flirtation. the usual.

then you post an instagram story.

nothing special. just a close-up of a wine glass, city lights blurred in the background. no context, no caption. but the fans? they think they know.

twitter erupts.

@/satorumess: not to be crazy but i mapped out their locations based on timestamps and—

@/fulltimeshipper: this is worse than when the CIA redacted half that UFO document

@/ynupdates: y/n posting a cryptic story the same night satoru is spotted downtown… oh we are in the trenches forreal

then, satoru likes a tiktok.

a slow-motion edit of you in your red carpet and afterparty looks, set to some dramatic song, captioned this woman is dangerous, your honor.

he doesn't comment, doesn't follow the account. just leaves one single like. and the internet implodes.

@/fandomedits: nah this isn't pr this is a man down BAD

@/popcultupdates: GOJO SATORU LIKING THIRST EDITS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT WE HAVE LOST HIM COMPLETELY

@/ynstan: this man saw a slo-mo thirst edit and said "yeah let me cosign that"

but it gets worse.

an old clip resurfaces. a red carpet from last year. you and satoru, near each other but never interacting. a moment that meant nothing—until now.

fans slow it down, zoom in, analyze every tiny detail:

satoru steps onto the carpet, and your eyes flick toward him, barely noticeable.

he glances in your direction.

there's a beat where he exhales, seems to collect himself—something no one caught before.

and suddenly, it's evidence.

@/fathergojo: why do their interactions feel like deleted scenes from a romcom

@/yninvestigator: guys. GUYS. what do you MEAN she looked at him FIRST. what do you MEAN HE TOOK A BREATH AND LOOKED AWAY.

@/stanwars: suddenly i believe in fate. suddenly i understand greek tragedies.

apparently, none of this is new.

you and satoru are just catching up.

+++

+++

satoru isn't good at waiting.

patience isn't exactly his strong suit, but when the reward is this good? he doesn't mind.

you walk in like the last week never happened. like the chaos never even registered.

the rooftop lighting catches the silk of your dress, the shine of your jewelry, the sheen of your lips. it makes you look untouchable.

attention follows you effortlessly. heads turn, backs straighten. someone says something, you smile—polite, charming, distant. you're impossible not to watch.

and satoru watches.

he's become acquainted with the effect you have, but it hits harder tonight than it did a week ago.

because now he knows how you taste.

the glass in his hand is cool, condensation falling between his fingers. he takes a sip, tracking you, cataloging details no one else would catch.

the way your shoulders shift, subtle, as you get closer.

the flick of your gaze toward him before you fully reach him.

you stop beside him, close enough for the scent of your perfume to settle between you.

a pause before you meet his eyes.

"so… how's your week been?" you ask, tone light, a smile gracing your features.

satoru exhales a laugh, tipping his glass like a toast. "surprisingly quiet. you?"

as you talk, your fingers trace the rim of your glass. he watches. you let him.

he leans in when he speaks. you don't move away.

he notices the way the waiter lingers, the way you dismiss it with a polite, distant smile.

you notice the way his expression shifts at that, just slightly. neither of you acknowledge it.

"you're kind of a nightmare," you tease.

satoru grins, unbothered. "funny. some people call me a dream."

you laugh and roll your eyes at him. he takes his time with his next sip, letting the tension settle. you're watching him watch you.

it would be easy to let you play this game, to see how long you can act like you're not as impatient as he is. but he leans in, voice quiet, just for you.

"you gonna make me wait?" low, taunting.

you could, but you don't. instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway. you set your glass down carefully. he mirrors you.

someone—a bartender, another guest—tries to pull you into conversation, but you don't reply.

you lean into him, your voice calm but sure.

"let's go."

+++

streetlights skim over sleek black paint as the car pulls up, satoru swinging the door open. you barely take a step before his hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to guide you.

he grins lazily. "last chance."

you roll your eyes as you step in. "so dramatic."

he closes the door after you and circles the car, the driver pulling off.

the backseat feels too small.

you cross your legs. his knee brushes against yours, and he doesn't move away. his hand rests on his thigh, relaxed, too close to yours. deliberate.

you pretend not to notice, but he knows better.

the silence is louder than words. the city blurs past the tinted windows, neon bleeding into the dark. the hum of the engine, the distant murmur of traffic, the faint pulse of something unsaid.

satoru exhales slowly, gliding his tongue over his teeth, thinking. he pushes a button, the partition rising.

you're both quiet, but it's a silent signal: stop pretending.

the second it clicks into place, he moves. or maybe you do. it doesn't matter. he's closer now, facing you, and you're already leaning in.

a beat. a sharp inhale.

his fingers skim your thigh, higher this time.

"i was trying to be good," you say quietly.

his voice drops, tight with restraint, and your breath catches. "don't."

the second the word leaves his lips, you're on him. a hand finds the back of his neck, drawing him in.

the first kiss is slow, but not reluctant. he drags it out because he can. he tilts his head, deepening it. he hums against your lips when you press closer, pleased.

his fingers tease higher. yours twist into his hair, nails scraping just enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

the car rolls to a stop.

neither of you move. not right away.

satoru's grip tightens, like he's considering pulling you onto his lap. like he could keep you here a little longer, let the city blur beyond the tinted glass while he takes his time.

instead, he drags his lips down your jaw, then lower. he breathes you in before murmuring, "upstairs."

+++

the door clicks shut, sealing you in. no music, no distant hum of the city, just quiet, dense and charged.

neither of you break the silence.

satoru steps in first. the air seems to crackle around him here the same way it does everywhere else.

you hold his stare, challenging. he waits.

a test. a game.

then, finally, you reach for him. his grin is lazy, knowing. like he was waiting for you to break first.

this kiss is purposeful. his lips brush yours—once, then again. a silent question, just the slow press of his mouth, the barely-there slide of his hands down your waist.

your fingers slip under his shirt, nails grazing skin, just enough to pull a slow, amused breath from him.

his hands find your hips, insistent, pulling you in until there's no space left. the shift makes you gasp into his mouth, and he drinks it in, looking smug, like he expected it.

like he's been waiting for this all week.

his grip tenses, like he's about to pull you closer—but then he's gone. his heat vanishes, his lips just a ghost of pressure before they disappear completely.

he barely moves when you chase him a bit, just tilts his chin, smiling. like he knew you wouldn't let him go. like he was counting on it.

you inhale, frustration sparking low in your chest, and you move before you think. your hands find his shirt, tugging him back in—but before you can, his fingers close around your wrists, catching you with ease.

his grin is knowing, his grip firm but teasing. he tilts his head, amusement spreading across his face.

"easy, princess," he murmurs, voice low, eyes flicking to your lips. "what's the rush?"

you arch a brow, fingers flexing in his grasp. "you did haul me out of the car."

his grin widens. "not like you put up a fight."

you push.

you press into him, backing him towards the wall. he lets you. lets you kiss him deeper, hands still wrapped around your wrists but relaxing, giving you room to move.

for a second, you think you've won.

then the world tilts and your back meets the wall with a gentle thud, your head tipping back slightly as he crowds you.

he smiles at you, eyes sparkling, enjoying himself too much. his hands settle at your waist, keeping you where he wants you.

you should be annoyed. instead, you match him and smirk right back.

you like the way he handles you.

+++

his touch is maddening.

his fingertips skate over your ribs, your stomach, but never where you need them. it's intentional and exploratory, like he has all the time in the world.

and he does. his apartment is a sanctuary from the mess of the last week. no prying eyes or a disgruntled kento to interrupt here.

you shift, trying to lead him downward, but he only chuckles, barely making a sound.

"you can be patient for me, can't you?" his voice dips lower, "or are you already too far gone?"

he's mocking you, and reflex kicks in—your thighs squeeze together, and you feel the heat creep up your neck when he notices.

his fingers ghost up your inner thighs, teasing warmth into your skin before retreating. every near-touch is calculated, just enough to remind you of how easily he could give you what you want.

he watches as impatience builds in your expression, as your breath stutters when his hands graze your waist again.

your nails press into his shoulders, a silent dare. before he can smirk, before he can gloat, you roll your hips against him, slow, deliberate. the response is immediate.

his breath falters, a groan through gritted teeth. his jaw tightens like he wasn't expecting you to test him. for a split second, he stills entirely.

you smile at him. message received.

"if you wanna ruin me, do it right, satoru." a taunt disguised as a whisper, just enough to chip at his restraint.

his hold turns bruising, like he wants to leave something behind. the teasing tone vanishes, his smirk dissolving into something darker. your breath catches—not in surprise, but excitement as something kindles in your stomach.

because suddenly, it's not a game anymore.

the realization barely registers before he has you pinned, wrists above your head, mouth at your ear.

"hope you know what you're asking for," he murmurs, hips flush against yours. his voice is different now—rough, heat twisting through every syllable. you shudder at the sound, your body responding. he makes good on his words immediately.

his hands find the backs of your thighs—then, suddenly, you're weightless, gasping, clutching at his shoulders. your legs draw around his hips, heat pooling fast.

a startled breath leaves you, but he's already moving, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing at all.

+++

he drops you onto his bed, grinning at the glare you send him when you bounce.

you don't even get the chance to scold—his hands are already on you, pulling your panties down.

his teeth graze your inner thigh before he bites down, sharp enough to make you whine, hips squirming. he exhales with a smile. "thought so." his tongue follows—slow, indulgent, a promise to ruin you.

you've barely found your breath when he shifts, broad hands pressing into your thighs, spreading you open. his gaze lifts, dark and teasing.

"comfortable?" he asks, lips skimming the inside of your knee.

you roll your eyes, about to retort—but your fingers curl into the sheets instead when his mouth finds your core, hot and devastating.

your hips shift, back arching, and he hums against you, content.

you move the moment he adjusts—quick, decisive, hands pushing into his shoulders. he lets you shift the balance, rolling onto his back, breath catching when he opens his eyes to find you above him.

your fingers work fast, tugging at his belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull. you work on the button, the zipper, pulling the fabric down just enough to free him.

he was so fucking cocky a second ago. now, he's not even breathing right, body taut under your hands. so you stroke once, then twice, then take him into your mouth.

no warning, no reluctance.

his grip tightens on your thigh, breath punching out like you knocked it loose. his head tilts back, jaw tensing, a soft "fuck—just like that, baby" escaping him.

you hum around him, pleased, tongue teasing, and he swears again under his breath. his hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground himself.

but satoru doesn't like being outmatched.

his fingers skate up your thigh, squeezing. and then his mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and deep.

you gasp against him, body tensing, and he grins.

"that's better," he mutters against you, lips brushing sensitive skin before his tongue circles once, twice.

the sound you make is muffled around him, and he groans in response, the vibration rolling through you both.

you try to keep a rhythm, fingers curling at the base as you sink down, but every time his tongue moves just right, every time he sucks at your clit, you falter.

he notices, and he loves it.

his hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as he buries his face deeper, determined, fucking into you with his tongue, sending you to the edge without mercy.

you try to keep going, try to keep your lips wrapped around him, but every nerve in your body is on fire, pressure winding as you moan around him.

he grins against you. "that's it, princess. lemme hear it."

his fingers dig into your skin, tightening as he licks into you with purpose, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

it's too much. you pull your mouth off of him, panting, lips slick and hips twitching against his face as the bliss hits all at once, unraveling you from the inside out.

"satoru, fuck," you gasp, the words nearly unintelligible through your moans. you can't do anything but let it consume you, your body seizing before the release finally drives through you.

you gasp, sharp and unsteady, his name tumbling past your lips again, voice cracking into a whine.

satoru doesn't stop until you're shaking, your legs weak, pleasure rolling over you in dizzying, tormenting waves.

only when your thighs twitch, too sensitive, does he finally pull away. his face is wet, and he's breathless. he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking up at you, eyes dark and lazy.

"you're fucking perfect," he murmurs, voice hoarse, before flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress.

+++

you're still coming down when he lifts your hips, tucking a pillow underneath them.

his breath is warm against your shoulder, steady and grounding. his lips trail down your spine, flirting, savoring the way you squirm. a hand settles on your hip possessively, making sure you don't slip away.

his other hand trails lower, sliding between your legs, fingers pressing in—gradually, unhurried, teasing the mess he left behind.

"fuck, baby—you're dripping for me." his voice is all rough edges and satisfaction, murmured against your ear. you shiver. his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your slick, teasing the spot he knows will make you gasp.

"been thinking about this all week," he mumbles, kissing the curve of your neck. his fingers dip lower, pushing inside, slow and deep. "bet you have, too."

you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"should've had you like this that night. should've fucked you right up against that wall."

his fingers move at an unbearable pace, curling, pressing into the spot that makes your knees weak. your hips jerk, but he holds you still.

"needy, huh?" his breath is burning against your ear, teasing, smug. "tell me how bad you want it, baby."

your fingers clutch the sheets, patience fraying. you should fight him— push back, make him work for it—but you're too far gone for games.

"satoru—"

his fingers stall. "mm, not good enough."

"want you," you gasp, growing desperate. "need you inside me."

he groans like you just hit him where it hurts. he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty for barely a second before the thick of him replaces them.

he slips the tip through your folds, slick and teasing, but doesn't push in. "this what you wanted?" he asks, rougher now.

"yes."

"say it again."

your breath stutters, but you give him what he wants. "yes. please," you gasp.

his hands flex against your hips, keeping you still as he pushes forward, stretching you open with an unrelenting drag that knocks the air from your lungs. it's almost too much—almost—but you want all of it. you take all of him.

he moves in slowly, and a shaky gasp escapes as he bottoms out, deep inside you, holding himself there, letting you feel it.

his breath is ragged now, his exhale hot against your skin. "fuck."

his hands slide up your sides, guiding you, holding you where he needs you.

"you feel so fucking good," he breathes, voice dipping into something ruined.

his hips roll, deep and slow, like he wants to feel everything. like he wants to make this last.

you think for a second that you won't survive at this pace.

satoru brings his body lower, pressing his chest flush against your back, all heat and tension, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he sinks in.

his arms slip under yours, palms spreading over your shoulders, drawing you into him. not just pulling you back, but owning the space between you.

hi thrusts are indulgent, stretching, coating himself in you. his breath is uneven, satisfaction humming in your ear.

you push your hips back into him, matching his rhythm.

satoru exhales a sharp breath, fingers digging in. "you trying to make me lose it?"

you don't answer, just push back harder on instinct.

his response is immediate—a sharp, precise thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, ripping a moan from your throat before you can swallow it down.

"thought so," he murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder.

his pace turns deep and steady—controlled, measured. he brings his face close to yours, wanting to watch you react, to feel you tighten around him with every movement.

but you're impatient. you shift, pressing up onto your elbows, angling your hips just enough to take him deeper.

his pace stutters. he swears under his breath, voice raw, and one arm locks around your waist. he holds you in place as he fucks into you now, hard enough to leave you trembling, helpless against the bed.

his name leaves your lips, breathless and desperate.

"fuck—it's so good," he groans, half-choked, messy. his face buries into your neck, hands gripping like he's holding on for dear life. "let me hear you, baby."

you can barely think, barely breathe. his hand slides between your legs, fingers finding that spot, pressing slow, teasing circles.

"satoru—"

he chuckles, low and smug, but there's an edge to it now, a tension in the way his hips stutter, his movements losing their precision.

and then you tighten around him, body seizing, pleasure cresting all at once—

"fuck," he bites out, breathless, grip tightening like he's trying to hold on.

and then—he pulls out.

a sharp inhale, the loss making you gasp, but before you can even form a thought—

he flips you over.

"not done with you yet," he mutters, voice rough, gaze dark as he hovers over you.

+++

and just like that, everything shifts.

his hands find you the second he pulls out—a sharp, dizzying shift as he flips you over, settling beneath you. his hands slide up your ribs, brush over your breasts, then slide back down.

his fingers splay wide on your hips, steadying you, but it's his gaze that pins you in place. "wanna see you like this," he murmurs, voice low, still rough from before.

your lips part, but the way he looks at you makes it hard to tease. instead, your nails drag down his chest, unhurried, feeling his abs tense beneath your touch.

"yeah?" you breathe.

his fingers flex, tightening just slightly. "yeah, baby. show me how bad you want it."

you wrap your fingers around him, stroking once, slow and teasing, just to watch him squirm.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn't push. he lets you take your time, lets you set the pace, struggling to hold back.

you don't make him wait long.

you line him up and sink down, savoring the stretch—the way he exhales, sharp and shaky, fingers digging in.

"fuck," he breathes, watching you, eyes dark, half-lidded, all heat.

one of your hands finds his shoulders, nails scraping lightly as you start to move. the other moves down to where you're connected, feeling just how far he spreads you open.

at first, it's slow—like you're figuring each other out all over again. a careful roll of your hips, tension simmering, teasing at something deeper.

but it doesn't last.

his grip firms, guiding you down, matching your rhythm. he thrusts up to meet you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"you feel me, princess?" he asks, pulling you down harder, deeper.

you answer him with a desperate little whimper that makes him melt.

both of your movements are messy, desperate—like you both know exactly where this is going and you need to get there.

your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping, tugging just slightly, and he hisses, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

his hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing to yours, breathing hard.

"you feel so fucking good," he murmurs, almost a whine. "so wet for me, so fucking perfect."

you can't even speak. your thoughts blur, pleasure winding tight, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

he shifts beneath you, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you need him. the sudden jolt of pleasure makes your whole body tighten, makes you let out a sound you didn't mean to make—

a loud, broken moan, breathy, helpless.

his head snaps up, eyes wild, something cracking behind them—like he just lost his last thread of control.

"oh," his breath shudders, grip tightening. "oh."

and then he's gone.

he snaps his hips into yours, his hands gripping, guiding, setting a pace that's relentless, that has you gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

your vision goes hazy, body tightening, winding up unbearably fast. you try to tell him you're close, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken "satoru—"

"oh, fuck—there it is," he breathes, voice dropping, eyes dark and triumphant. "knew you'd sound so fucking sweet falling apart for me."

his hand finds your clit, pressing just right—teeth gritting as he holds on, watching you break first.

and you shatter.

it slams into you, sharp and consuming, a shockwave rolling through your body. your breath stutters, a broken gasp stumbling free as you tighten around him, locking him in.

he feels it—the way you pulse around him, the way you tremble, how your moans dissolve into something helpless. it undoes him. his arm slides your waist, his other hand finding the back of your neck, and he pulls you closer like he needs you.

he curses as you tremble against him, holding you close, burying himself deep in you as he falls apart.

your name leaves his lips like a prayer, breathless, reverent. he groans against your skin as he finally spills into you. pleasure crashes through him, and for a moment, all he can do is feel **the heat of you, the way you throb around him, the way your body takes him like you were made for this.

for a second, you both stay still; the only sound between you is the sharp, uneven puff of breath.

your hands shake against his chest. his fingers are still locked around your waist.

he exhales a wrecked laugh, warm and lazy against your temple.

"so fucking worth the wait," he murmurs, voice low, sated. he kisses all over your face, palm smoothing down your spine. "knew you'd be perfect for me."

+++

the morning light spills through the curtains, golden and soft, warming tangled sheets and bare skin. everything is still. quiet, but not empty. satoru is warm against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. at some point in the night, your leg found its way between his, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist.

you shift, stretching slightly, and his fingers flex at your hip, like some part of him refuses to let you go.

he murmurs something unintelligible, voice low and drowsy. then, with a slow, easy smile against your skin, "stay."

you huff a quiet laugh. "clingy."

"mmm," he hums, voice is thick with sleep. "you're warm."

he still hasn't opened his eyes. he just shifts a little, nestling deeper into you. his fingers pressing idly into your hip, like he's memorizing the shape of you beneath them.

you stay like that for a while.

you steal a button-up from his closet when you finally get up, slipping it over your shoulders before following him into the bathroom. he doesn't comment, just flicks his gaze over you, lips twitching, before rummaging through a drawer. a moment later, he presses a spare toothbrush into your palm.

"definitely took you for the clingy type."

he grins, stretching lazily against the counter. "not my fault you're so soft."

you brush your teeth side by side, bleary-eyed in the mirror. he stands just a little too close, bumping into your arm like he can't help himself.

and when you head back to bed, he follows, catching your wrist just before you climb in, guiding you back under the covers with ease.

"wait." his lips brush your shoulder. "just stay there."

"i am staying," you point out, amused.

"good," he hums, pressing one last kiss to your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

satoru returns minutes later, two mugs in hand. he sets yours on the nightstand before wordlessly disappearing back to the kitchen.

you wait until you smell breakfast, then you get up and follow the scent out to his kitchen island.

he doesn't ask if you're hungry. he just plates your food and sets it in front of you without a second thought.

you steal sips from his juice between bites, and he lets you, just watching, amused, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his glass.

soft touches happen naturally, thoughtlessly.

his palm finds the small of your back when he moves past you, warm and steady.

your fingers brush when you both reach for the same thing.

his knuckles graze your thigh when he leans back against the counter.

none of it feels unfamiliar.

you stay longer than you expected to. he doesn't call you out on it.

the goodbye is unserious, drawn out in a way that makes it obvious neither of you is in a rush.

"try not to miss me too much," you tease, pulling on your shoes with a grin.

he smiles, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "oh, i will."

his tone is playful, but something about the way he says them makes you hesitate, just for a second.

and as you step out, just before it closes behind you, he calls after you.

"i'll be thinking about you, y'know."

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[miumura]

SOULMATE UNDERCOVER ⌕ TAESAN SMAU

LOGGING IN ｡ ｡ ｡ With Find my Lover on the rise, it only makes sense to take down Soulmate Tracker once and for all. As one of the creators of Find my Lover, you have been tasked with going undercover as a client of the rival service to complete your team’s goal. However, things go completely wrong when instead of sticking to the plan, you find yourself falling for Han Taesan—the very person who could jeopardize everything you worked hard for.

OR IN WHICH What was supposed to be an easy plan to take down competition quickly spirals out of control—your mission now in shambles, leaving you torn with the possibility of being with someone unexpected.

MATCH FOUND ➜ han taesan x fem ! reader ──────

LOADING DETAILS ↻ social media au, school au, fluff, a little bit of angst, crack, she fell first / he fell harder, secret identity kind of thing, strangers to lovers

OTHER SEARCHES ⌇ boynextdoor ( all mems ), illit ( iroha and minju ) zerobaseone ( gunwook ) enhypen ( riki ) + other brief idol mentions ( sunghoon, anton, yuna, jiwoo + tba ?! )

WARNINGS AHEAD ➜ language, insults / bickering, random timestamps, moments of denial ? (how’d u think i dragged this out 🫰) + more will be added if any !

STATUS ↻ ONGOING [ 4/30/25 — … ] ( every weds + sat )

EDITOR’S NOTE ⌇ miumura smau cb !! this is what i’ve been doing all this time… thank you @flwoie for passing along and trusting this idea of hers with me 😭🙏 consider this as another universe of “soulmate tracker” and to check it out! and of course, this is dedicated to @juyeoz ♡ because i 爱 her & smau4smau 😽 !! happy birthday my love ♡ !!

as always, playlist is linked in title ‘soulmate undercover’ !!

PROFILES ──── the trackers & the finders

THE CHAPTERS › prologue — bootleg tinder

001 › ROBLOXGAMER2984 NOOOO

002 › i’d like to Thank the academy

003 › it’s just the instigator in me..

004 › We got em boys 😂🙏

005 › Delete for ur Bro pls ❤️?

006 › i just said anyone BUT you

007 › all these jabs coming from left and right 💔💔💔

008 › that’s heat!

009 › what’s up youtube!

010 › the dumb dumber and dumbest trio

TO BE ADDED!

› SOULMATE UNDERCOVER TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK OR COMMENT TO JOIN!

› SOULMATE UNDERCOVER TL ( OPEN ) ──── @haruharua @en-dream @nekotoni @nicholasluvbot @asteroidzs @kazukazukiiii @hollxe1 @niinaskrr @mochamvgz @koocreampie @onlyjungchan @ijustwannareadstuff20 @amarecerasus @banez @kekaekeke @jungwonbropls @uncasings @yoonzns @winteringdream @8makes1atom @heeheesang @liyaliar @jmclouds @eunandonly @stantxtforabetterlife @zclread @yuyita-rosier @enzstr @lov3lyaaru

› BND PERM TAGLIST ──── @juyeoz @j4d @itsactuallylina @rizzwoos @fleurhoons @htaesan @macapunoz @pumpkg @mimimimiaa @deeour @s0shroe @mari3s

[flwrstqr]

⌕. 𝓓EAR SOULMATE ❪ 니키 ❫ SMAU

( PREVIEW )⠀ ⠀❛ maybe i already know you & love you, but will fall in love some day. do you think of me? 'cause i do. one day i'll give this song to you

two influencers, total strangers, cross paths when a single comment sparks an unexpected back-and-forth online. as their exchanges turn into viral moments, fans start shipping them, blurring the line between content and something real. but when the internet’s favorite “ship” starts feeling less like a game and more like fate, they’re left wondering—was it all just for the views, or were they meant to find each other?

✶ SELECT PAIRINGS — influencer! riki x influencer! fmr

FEATURING . . . haerin from njz, minju from illit, winter from aespa, enhypen

CLICK, GENRE : influencer au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smau series

⟢ WARNINGS profanities/use if harsh language, small pinch of angst if you squint hard enough, kys/kms jokes, both being in denial, ignore all the timestamps

BEFORE READING . . send an ask, private message, or comment to be added to the taglist. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated. this is not how i view these idols! this smau is just for fun and crack, and is purely fictional

NOTES — this is my first smau series for 2O25... trust i will lock in finish this smau soon (> <) also this is based off the nassie internet couple ㅠㅠ i will try to post episodes every weekend.

status : ONGOING | 27/02/25 — ??

ㅤㅤ‎‎PROFILES #OO1 ❪ loona tics ❫ . . . #OO2 ❪ bad decision club ❫

CHAPTER𝓢

OO1. truth or dare

OO2. who is this fine shyt?

OO3. viral my ass

OO4. rikiyn

OO5. more to be added . .

[guzhufuren]

do you have a post for wlw shows in specific? i dont mind just going through your main masterlist if not

as well, do you have any wlw shows w transfem leads? that one might be asking for too much, lol.

i don't have an asian wlw list yet, but i will make one here for you bun! i will only be including shows that pass my personal minimum standard for dramas. all shows are sorted in a recommended watching order

WLW

1. She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat neighbours; self-discovery; food; comfort watch

Nomoto loves to cook, but tends to make too much food and has no one to share it with. Luckily for her, turns out her neighbor Kasuga has a big enough appetite for the both of them.

No international streaming available, translated to english by Furritsubs, S1 & S2, watching instructions provided, consider supporting the translator on kofi.

2. The Loyal Pin period drama; princess/noble lady; childhood friends to lovers; forbidden romance

A love story set in 1950s Thailand, about naughty but charming Princess Anilaphat and prim but kind Lady Pin, who are close friends and have grown up together.

YouTube

3. Uranus2324 movie; sci-fi; astronaut/diver

Story of Lin, an astronaut who is about to embark in a remarkable space mission and Kath, a passionate free diver who is willing to defy the limits of time and space just to meet with her lover over and over again.

Netflix of South Asian countries (can be accessed with VPN)

4. Petrichor crime; investigation; cop/forensic doctor

Lieutenant Tul, a rookie officer and Dr Cherran, a physician from the Institute of Forensic Sciences, become reluctant partners.

iQIYI

5. 23.5 high school setting; secret admirer

Ongsa moves to a new school and meets Sun, a cute popular girl who she immediately falls for. However, she decides to approach Sun in instagram dms under the pseudonym Earth, leading Sun to believe she's talking to a guy. But Ongsa does not want to lose the opportunity to talk to Sun, so she decides to keep the fact that she is a girl a secret and continue talking as Earth.

YouTube

6. Ayaka Is In Love With Hiroko office setting; comedy; misunderstanding

Ayaka, a young office worker, is madly in love with her senior team leader, Hiroko. As Ayaka tries to make her attraction known, Hiroko consistently misreads the situation, thinking that Ayaka is a straight girl.

GagaOOLala

7. Soul Sisters period drama; wuxia; crossdressing; arranged marriage

Gu Jinyu has disguised herself as a man since childhood. While undercover, she is kidnapped by Bai Yunxi, the sweet but clumsy heiress, and forced into a marriage. The two form an unexpected partnership to save the failing stronghold, facing rival plots, enemies, and challenges.

iQIYI. *Because of chinese laws demanding censorship of queerness, the romance is censored and toned down to sapphic homoerotism for the show to be able to be broadcast. Nevertheless it's pretty obviously meant to be a romance.

8. Couple of Mirrors period drama; socialite/assassin

You Yi is a kind-hearted socialite and a successful author. Her perfect life is turned upside-down when she discovers a betrayal by the two most trusted people in her life. With no one left to turn to, she finds refuge in the friendship and support of Yan Wei, a lonely female killer disguised as the owner of a photo studio. YouTube. the show doesn’t have a happy ending, but it can be a happy ending for you if you stop watching at episode 12 timestamp 28:02. *Adapted from an explicitly queer novel, the show is undeniably and obviously queer, but nevertheless the queer romance part is censored.

9. Affair childhood friends to lovers; love triangle

A girl's life is upended by family bankruptcy. Her best friend becomes a source of comfort. They get separated, but years later they reunite, reigniting old memories and feelings amidst changed circumstances.

YouTube & iQIYI

10. Us love triangle

Dokrak crosses paths with an older dentistry student Pam during her coffee shop shift and gradually develops a crush. When her brother Kawi meets Pam, he falls for her at first sight. Kawi turns to Dokrak, asking her to play matchmaker and Dokrak agrees.

YouTube

11. The Secret of Us exes to lovers

Dr. Fahlada guards her heart due to a past love, rendering her unable to open up again. Her situation becomes complicated when she has to work with Earn, her ex girlfriend, who has come to work with her at the hospital.

Netflix & Ch3+

12. Pluto twins; blind character

Twins Ob-oom and Ai-oon are worlds apart until Ob-oom's wedding, when she tasks Ai-oon with breaking up her affair with May. A tragic turn leaves the newlywed comatose, and Ai-oon must carry out the request, only to find May is blind. And fall in love with her.

YouTube

13. Reverse 4 You superpowers

One sister foretells the future, and the other controls time. When a promised love seems doomed to tragedy, the pair sets out to change fate itself.

Netflix

14. She Makes My Heart Flutter bar setting; niece and aunt dynamic

The extroverted Gang Seol is hired by her aunt Jung at her only-women bar. Even though they are both lesbians, they seem to be worlds apart and have very different love stories.

YouTube

15. Sleep With Me radio; disabled character in a wheelchair

A science textbook writer with a sleep disorder meets a wheelchair-using radio host who runs the midnight shift. This chance encounter at the radio station quickly sparks their interest in each other.

GagaOOLala

16. GAP The Series office setting; boss/employee; class difference

Long after Sam first came to Mon's rescue when they were kids, Sam is unambiguously Mon's idol. In order to be near Sam, Mon gets a job working under her. When they finally meet again at the office, Mon is surprised by Sam’s icy exterior, so different from the image she'd had of her. Mon and Sam aren't just different in demeanour; they stand apart in class and age.

YouTube

17. Lucky My Love office setting

In the pursuit of love, Nabdao has been doing everything. She has got her fortune read. She's gone on a string of blind dates. Unfortunately, no one seems to be on the same page as her. She starts to think that perhaps her gorgeous and caring boss Pheem could be the one for her. Then Vela, her new team leader, comes into the picture and shakes things up with her observant and affectionate care.

YouTube

18. Show Me Love beauty pageants

Meena moves to Bangkok to achieve her singing dreams. She chances across Cherine who asks Meena to join her in a beauty pageant. The girls' journey for the crown begins and a romance between them sparks.

YouTube

19. My Marvellous Dream Is You magical dreams; actress/personal stylist

Dawan's father abandons their family to elope with a neighbor girl's father. Turns out this is Kimhan, who Dawan has been seeing in her strange yet lovely dreams for years. While they become friends in reality, Dawan hides her deeper feelings, as in her dreams their bond goes far beyond friendship. She never realizes that Kimhan shares the same dreams.

YouTube

20. Unlock Your Love

Rain locked up her heart after getting disappointed in her past relationship. However, things turn around when Love enters her life. They embark on a journey to “unlock their love.”

YouTube

21. Love Bully barwoman/heiress; obstacles

Irene and Night meet at the bar Night works in the night Irene returns from overseas, and hit it off instantly. However, their passionate relationship is threatened by meddling people who want to ruin it.

YouTube

Various chinese WLW mini web-dramas.

Various chinese WLW short films.

WLW as side couples:

1. Wedding Plan mlm wedding planner/groom; lavender marriage

Nuea is a professional wedding planner. Sailom happens to be the perfect man for Nuea based on his visual considerations for a man. But the universe has an unimaginable sense of humor as Sailom and his fiance Yiwa turn out to be Nuea's new clients.

Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or cut on Youtube & iQIYI (special episode), girls don't have high heat scenes here so you can just watch Youtube version for them

2. Love Sea mlm rich big city writer/countryside diver; class difference; wlw personal assistant/celebrity

Tongrak is a writer of popular romance novels. After travelling to countryside in search of inspiration, he chances to meet an irritating southern man Mahasamut. When they end up in bed together, however, Tongrak finds himself hooked. Tongrak has a secretary Mook and a popular actress best friend Vi. Vi enjoys ordering Mook around as if she was her own assistant.

Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or cut on Youtube

With smaller screentime there are wlw side couples in shows: Bad Buddy, I Feel You Linger In The Air (this one has period typical homophobia and assault though, so careful).

Bigger list of asian GL shows: link [tumblr post].

Transfeminine representation in asian QLs:

1. 23.5

Secondary couple are a pair of teachers, both of them trans women played by trans women. For now this is the only show that has a sapphic trans plotline, even though small.

YouTube

2. 3 Will Be Free polyamorous trio; on the run; mafia

After an unexpected event that involves sex work and mafia gangs, three individuals find themselves on-the-run together as they attempt to escape death. Important secondary character is a trans woman played by a trans female actress. Has a trans storyline in the show (the girl gets male romantic partners). Trigger warning for transphobia. YouTube

3. Secret Crush On You “nerd”/popular guy; queer friend group; university setting

A nerdy young man Toh fell in love with a popular third-year senior. Because his dream is so far from reach, observing is the only thing he could do. Toh has a queer friend group, one of them is a transfeminine/3rd gender/kathoey character Daisy. Can be a bit jarring for a western person at first, but her story is very lovely if you give this girl a chance (also gets male romantic partner).

YouTube

Noticeable small appearances of trans female characters: The Sign (the actress Yoshi was the 2019 winner of Thailand's biggest trans beauty pageant, YouTube), Not Me (YouTube), You're My Sky (Viki), KinnPorsche (iQIYI).

Sadly we aren't at a point where Thailand makes shows with trans people as leads yet, even though I so badly wish it was already a thing. But trans women and kathoey generally have supporting roles in BL and GL shows very often, so you can see them a lot in stuff! It's the transmascs who never ever appear here!

Queer shows directed by trans women and transfem people:

Anucha Boonyawatana is a trans woman and the director of Not Me, mlm show about anarchist freedom fighters (YouTube).

Golf Tanwarin is a nonbinary director and the first openly transgender person to have been elected as a member of parliament in Thailand. They were the one who submitted the thai marriage equality bill to parliament, which since then has been approved in 2024 and came in legal force 2 weeks ago. Their directing works: Love Bully (wlw, listed above), The Eclipse (mlm show about repressed boys in a corrupted school system, YouTube), Wandee Goodday (mlm boxer/doctor romcom, Viki).

Just in case, adding shows where I personally enjoyed headcanoning characters as transgirls or enby transfems sometimes:

1. Meet You At The Blossom

Romantic interest is wearing female clothes and makeup for disguise in the first episodes, and despite not passing well no one questions that this is a woman. The character is happily called "wife" by the lead character until the end of the show.

YouTube & GagaOOLala & Viki & iQIYI

2. The Sign

Main character used to be a female snake princess in his past reincarnation. Sometimes played by a female actress, sometimes by a male actor, but always referred to as a princess and wearing period thai female clothes. It's also possible to headcanon the character as a transmasc here though, it's really neat.

YouTube

Many of all these shows are free on YouTube, in other cases I recommend paying for subscriptions to show appreciation and support of content in order to get more of it in the future, but if you can't or don't want to, you can watch online on KissKH or get files from MkvDrama!

Blogs you can follow to get updates and posts specifically about asian GLs: @girlsloveupdates @glgifs

[edenesth]

Clumsy Hearts, Steady Love

Pairing: boyfriend!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: He was a great friend but a terrible lover, and he knew it. For the longest time, he believed he wasn’t cut out for relationships. But then you came along, and for the first time, he wanted to try. He wanted to be better, to be good for you, even if it meant being clumsy along the way. For you, he was willing to learn how to love.

A/N: Only @itstheghostofmypast knows this was initially meant to be a timestamp🤡

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Don't drive today, darling. I'll pick you up from work this evening."

Those words from Kim Hongjoong echoed in your mind. For the first time in a year of being together, he offered to pick you up. Your heart soared at the unexpected sweetness from him.

It wasn't that you thought he was a bad boyfriend, but you knew his nature from the very beginning. Your friends had warned you when you accepted him; he was a workaholic, someone who would always put anything and everything before you. A good friend but a bad lover—that was his reputation. Yet, you couldn't deny the way he made your heart race, the way his presence made everything better, the way he vowed to love you as you deserved, the way he promised he would try for you.

From the start, you knew what you were getting into. You didn't expect perfection. You didn't want perfection.

You just wanted him.

But loving Hongjoong truly was not easy.

It could be exhausting. Perhaps today was another one of those days.

You had looked forward to this day for so long, hoping he would be the boyfriend he promised to be. But deep down, you knew better than to have such high hopes.

Letting out what felt like the thousandth sigh of the day, you nearly froze to death from being soaked in the rain, your ankle throbbed from a sprained heel as you stood by the bus stop outside your office building where he was supposed to pick you up.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Every call went straight to voicemail, escalating your worry to panic. You didn’t dare move, fearing he might arrive at an empty bus stop.

After hours of agony, trying to reach him, and calling all his friends, you got the same useless response: he was unreachable, and they had no idea where he could be.

Three hours.

You sat there for three hours, sick with worry about him, when you were the one who needed care, only to end up taking the bus home. So much for the excitement and anticipation of him picking you up for the first time. You should have been furious, but the pounding headache and rising fever stole that from you. Another heavy sigh escaped your lips, the disappointment of what should have been an exciting Friday evening turning into an utter disaster.

"Enough, my darling. I'm here now, am I not?" said Kim Hongjoong.

The audacity.

You had left work to be greeted by a heavy downpour, cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella. As if things couldn't get worse, your sprint to the bus stop where he promised to pick you up was interrupted when your heel chose that moment to snap. You yelped in pain, stumbling forward onto the wet ground, your belongings scattering everywhere. Crawling on the rough pavement to collect them, you finally stood up, only to feel a sharp throb in your ankle.

But it was supposed to be okay because seeing Hongjoong was sure to make everything better.

Ha, bitch you thought.

He left you panicking like a mad woman for hours, only to show up in the most infuriating way. When the 8pm bus finally rolled to a stop before you and the automated doors swooshed opened, you were busy dialling his number yet again.

"Come on, pick up pick up pick up—"

Wait a minute, is that...?

You did a double take when the very person you had been desperately trying to reach this whole time stepped off the bus with a sheepish smile, only for his expression to fall when he saw the miserable state you were in.

"Please throw your phone away if you have no intention of using it," you said flatly, walking past him and intentionally bumping his shoulder as you boarded the bus, no longer caring if he followed.

Of course, he did.

He cursed under his breath, noticing your limp, the heels in your hand, and your soaked, shivering form.

Settling into the last row of seats beside you, he quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. You were too weak to fight back or refuse. His heart ached as he pulled you close, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. Silently, you accepted it all. Not only were you too exhausted to reject his gestures, but you also felt you deserved this and more after what you had endured. When you were warm enough, he immediately checked on your now swollen and bruised ankle, careful not to hurt you. The concern in his eyes was enough to melt your heart, but he didn't need to know that.

Once he was done fussing over you, he leaned back in his seat, offering his shoulder. Stubbornly, you turned away and leaned your head against the window instead. Knowing you needed time to calm down, he kept quiet and let you be, but not without staying close. He needed you to know he was there for you.

When you sighed again, he could no longer take it. He felt the need to explain himself.

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, and I'm so sorry. I got caught up in something I couldn't get out of, and I swear I was going to call you, but my phone died and the stupid car broke down. God, I'm such an idiot. I should have tried harder to reach you or get to you sooner."

Still, you said nothing, your silence more punishing than any words you could have spoken. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss.

"I love you," he whispered, almost to himself. "I just want to make things right."

For a moment, you softened, but the memory of the cold rain and the throbbing pain in your ankle kept your resolve firm. He had to understand the gravity of his actions.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just show up and expect everything to be okay, Joong. You scared me. I thought something terrible had happened to you. And all the while, I was the one who was hurt and alone."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "And I'm so, so sorry, my darling. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he got on the bus. The sincerity and regret in his gaze were undeniable.

"One chance, Kim Hongjoong," you said firmly. "Don't mess it up."

He nodded, relief washing over his face. "I won't. I promise."

With that, you leaned back against the window, still not ready to forgive, but willing to see if he could truly make amends. And for the rest of the ride, he stayed close, his presence a silent vow that he would try his best to make things right.

As you slowly drifted to sleep, he guided your head to his shoulder, gently pressing his cheek against your forehead. Feeling your breath steady and the tension ease from your body, he allowed himself a small, relieved smile. He reached for your cold hands, stroking his fingers against your skin to warm you, finding it funny how he used to judge couples in public, but now that he had you, he realised he couldn't blame them—you were all that mattered.

The truth was, he had been late leaving work today, and to make matters worse, his car had broken down in the middle of heavy traffic. When he tried to call you, his phone had died. In desperation, he had caught the quickest bus he could find, but traffic had been relentless. He could have told you all of this, but he didn’t want to make excuses. He knew he should have done better.

Hongjoong glanced down at you, his heart aching with tenderness and guilt. He was still clumsy when it came to love, but for you, he would learn to be a better lover. Stroking your hair gently, he whispered, "I’m so sorry. I won't make you wait again. I promise to do better. I promise to always be there for you."

The bus ride continued in peaceful silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional jostle of the road the only sounds. He held you close, vowing silently to never let you down again. As the bus neared your stop, he adjusted his position, cupping your cheek softly and kissing your head, whispering, "We're here, darling."

You let out a small groan as your eyes fluttered open, unconsciously snuggling closer to his warmth and comfort as you tried to register your surroundings. If only you knew what your little actions did to his poor heart. Tightening his grip around you, he helped you up from your seat and carefully guided you out of the bus, ensuring you didn't put pressure on your injured ankle. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod as the two of you stepped off. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the night was calm.

As you walked the short distance to your shared apartment, you suddenly remembered what had happened and peeled his hands off you. You weren't necessarily cold to him but you still needed space to cool off. He gulped, his fear of losing you was apparent. "Please, you're hurt. Let me take care of you."

To be fair, he knew he deserved your reaction. You weren't upset merely because of what happened today; he believed this was you letting out all the frustration you had kept in for the entirety of your one-year relationship. And he knew now that if he wanted to keep you by his side, this was his sign to take things more seriously.

No more excuses.

You had been nothing but the best and most attentive girlfriend to him. So, what was stopping him from doing the same for you?

He knew you didn't want to be near him right now, but he also didn't have the heart to stay away. Offering his hand, he nodded toward it. "Come, let's go home."

Tired out of your mind, you swallowed your anger, deciding to save it for another time. For now, you needed him. You reached out with a pout, surprising him by holding onto his pointer finger. "Fine, let's go."

He chuckled, his heart bursting with affection at how cute you were. This was better than nothing. Walking slowly, he made sure you weren't hurting yourself, each step a reminder of his promise to himself and you.

As you entered your apartment, he helped you settle onto the couch, your injured ankle elevated and cushioned. He fetched a blanket and wrapped it around you, his eyes filled with concern. "I'll make us some tea," he said softly, heading to the kitchen.

While he prepared the tea, you watched him move with a newfound determination. You could see he was trying, truly trying, to be better for you. And that thought, more than anything, began to melt the icy wall you had momentarily built up in your heart.

He returned with two steaming mugs, setting them on the table before sitting beside you. He took your hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I promise, I will. You mean everything to me."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty and love there. It was a start, and as you sipped your tea together, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could truly change.

Just as you finished your tea, you sighed and looked up at him, intending to get up and head to your room. But before you could move, he gently squeezed your hand and stood up. "Let me help you," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to assert your independence and appreciating his newfound care. "I can manage," you insisted weakly.

"I know you can, darling," he replied softly, crouching beside you. "But let me take care of you this time, please."

His sincerity was palpable, and despite your initial resistance, you found yourself nodding. He carefully helped you to your feet, supporting your weight as you limped towards your room. Once inside, he waited patiently as you freshened up and changed into dry clothes, his presence a reassuring warmth in the quiet of the room.

As you emerged, feeling somewhat more composed, you glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you, Joong," you murmured, genuinely touched by his unexpected tenderness.

He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting relief and determination. "It's only my job as your boyfriend," he replied earnestly.

Returning to the living room, you settled back onto the couch together. The warmth of his tea and his presence beside you enveloped you in a sense of security and hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, things could indeed change for the better between you.

You couldn't deny his affections any longer, his pleading look was enough to melt you into his embrace. As he gently pulled the throw blanket snugly around you, drawing you closer, your heart fluttered. His actions conveyed a heartfelt apology, reminding you why you could never leave this man, no matter how tiring things became. At the end of the day, you both belonged to each other, despite his occasional clumsiness; your love remained steadfast.

Nuzzling against his neck, you breathed in his familiar scent. "How's the car? Have you contacted insurance?" you murmured, slipping effortlessly into the role of the attentive girlfriend he knew so well.

With a tender smile, he shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Take care of everything. Take care of you."

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you tightened your grip on his sweater. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Kim Hongjoong," you teased gently.

He reassured you with a squeeze of your shoulder. "I won't, my darling. Not anymore."

Looking up at your boyfriend, you could see the honesty in his eyes. You knew perfection wasn't guaranteed from this point onward, but you at least trusted that he would always give his best effort.

And that was what mattered most.

"If you say so," you whispered, your eyes closing as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. Hongjoong understood your doubts, but this was where he would begin to earn your trust.

From now on, he would do everything to be the lover you deserved. He would learn from his mistakes and grow, all for the sake of the person he loved most in the world.

I swear, this came out of nowhere lmfao. I was supposed to be working on Jongho's TWTHH spinoff but this happened. Tbf, this has been swirling in my mind for the past week at work because something similar happened to me. I was soaked in the rain and my heel did snap. The 3-hour wait was also a past experience of mine, except that douchebag was no Kim Hongjoong HAHA

Thank you for reading and I hope you lovelies enjoyed this random little oneshot. As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Unedited

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

Full story (unedited) in KoFi

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man: That's My Girl Timestamp

Summary: Russell and reader’s casual morning plans turn into anything but when an unexpected visitor appears on their doorstep…

He’s My Man Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language, gunshot wounds, life-threatening situation

A/N: Welcome back to more Russell Shaw! This story is considered a timestamp to He’s My Man and it’s highly recommended that story be read prior to this one. Please enjoy!…

____________

You stretched your arms overhead as you padded out in your bootie slippers from the bedroom. The smell of something yummy filled your nostrils and there was a faint melody in the air. Russell’s forest green tee clung to his broad shoulders, falling loose around his tapered waist, hitting the top of his charcoal gray sweats.

“Chappell Roan this early?” you teased. 

“It’s grown on me,” he said with his back to you, bopping his head back and forth. You hummed, walking around the kitchen island to spot him making two spanish omelets. 

“God, I love that you know how to cook,” you said, pecking a kiss on his cheek before going to the fridge to get out some orange juice.

“I’ve heard that once or…” he trailed off as he turned his head, jaw dropping slightly. You looked down, OJ in hand. You were wearing your favorite yellow pajama shorts but you had a feeling it was the peach bralette you wore he was stuck on. His lips curled up as you reached over, pushing the pan off the heat before he burned breakfast. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Huh. Must have lost it.” You looked up through your lashes, Russell smirking when you stepped back. “What a shame.”

“I might have to disagree with you there,” he said, pouting when you pointed at the skillet.

“Breakfast first, then dessert.” He grumbled to himself but smiled all the same. You scooted behind him and got out two glasses. “Do you want to eat on the porch?”

“Set us up at the island, qark. I don’t want you to get too cold outside,” he said, sliding an omelet onto a waiting plate. You worked around each other easily, Russell getting the food on the plates and dressing it with a creamy green avocado sauce he’d whipped up with the blender.

You took a seat, Russell taking a bow as he set it on the mat in front of you, kissing your forehead and taking his own seat beside you.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” he asked between bites. You shoveled a large bite in your mouth, a delicious explosion of flavors hitting your taste buds.

“After dessert,” you said, Russell brushing his leg against yours, making sure to touch as he cut off a piece of breakfast, “I was thinking I’d join you out at the brewery. They’re framing the building today, right?”

“Yeah. It’s starting to feel real,” he said, a quiet sigh under his breath. “I’m scared I fucked up. What if I threw all that money away on a pipe dream?”

You set your knife and fork down, frowning at him. “Russ. Your beer tastes amazing. You have investors, remember? They believe in you. If it doesn’t go well, then so what? At least you tried and I will always be proud of you for that. We’ll be okay. Now stop worrying about the money and let me handle the budgets, okay?”

“Alright,” he relented. “To be fair, I probably should let the woman that somehow had hospital grade medical equipment in the backroom of a warehouse run the books.”

“Exactly,” you said, Russell rubbing your leg with his left hand as he picked up his fork and ate again. “To be fair, it wasn’t that hard to get. The whole mob connection thing.”

“This is true. You’ve been running your own business for years.”

“Yes, which is why when I say to chill babe, chill. You have a great business plan,” you said. “Plus an amazing partner.”

“She’s so modest too,” he chuckled, wolfing back the last of his eggs. He clapped his hands together, turning to face you. “Dessert time.”

“Eh, I’m still eating,” you said, pointing at your plate. He faked a pout before he was up, cleaning up the kitchen and saving the leftover sauce in the fridge. You barely had your fork down when he was taking your plate and shoving it in the dishwasher. “Russell.”

He bounced around the island, far too adorable for a forty year old man, hands on your hips and a deep grin on his face. 

“Yes, wonderful?” he teased, pulling you to the edge of the stool. You wrapped your legs around his waist, Russell’s hands under your ass lifting you up as your gripped his shoulders. “New agenda. How about we make out a bit, let our tummies settle, then we can get our exercise in for the day-”

“Russell,” you groaned, pressing your forehead to his.

“Then we’ll pop over to the brewery for a bit, I can help you research your next job this afternoon, you can call Colter and harass him about making sure he’s still doing his stretches-”

“It is not harassment-”

“And then I’ll cook up that salmon in the fridge on the grill for dinner and we can watch X-Files on the back porch under a blankie.” 

“I love that you say blankie,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose. “Sounds like a great day, Mulder.”

“Hey. I know things about the lizard people, Scully,” he chuckled, carrying you off towards the bedroom.

“Oh yes. I forget you’re such an expert,” you said as tires screeched outside. You shared a look for only a split second, Russell setting you down and grabbing the hidden gun safe from the end table. He had it in his hands in less than two seconds, nodding as you ran back into the bedroom and got yours out of the closet. 

Fists pounded on the front door, Russell’s weapon aimed at it when you returned, yours going towards the garage entrance.

“Russ! Open up!” Russell lowered his gun, scrunching up his face at the voice. “Shaw! Open the fucking door!”

“Stay back,” Russell said quietly. He jogged up to the front of the house, pulling back a curtain. “Jesus fuck.” He tore open the front door, two of Russell’s special ops friends standing there.

Well, standing was a stretch. 

“What the fuck happened, Hank?” said Russell, throwing his arm around Kelly who was very much actively bleeding from the abdomen. 

“I fucked up,” he said, Hank staring at you. “Can you fix her?”

You did a quick survey and spotting four, no five, bullet wounds littering the left side of her body.

“She needs a hospital-” Hank grunted, Kelly nearly passed out in his arms.

“They will find us there. Please. We knew the risk of not going. Please just try,” said Hank. You closed your eyes, setting the gun down on the island.

“She’d have better odds at a hospital,” you said, going to the pantry and grabbing the black bag tucked away at the top. You went to the dining room table, shoving chairs out of the way and ripping open the bag, pulling a blue tarp out and laying it out. “Don’t just stand there, get her down.”

You let the guys get her down, Russell shoving a throw pillow under her head while you washed at the kitchen sink. You snapped on a pair of gloves, digging through your bag and pulling out supplies left and right. Russell ran off into the garage, returning with one of his shop lights and attaching it to the light fixture overhead to give you more visibility.

“Russell,” you said, organizing your tools while tossing an orange box at Hank. “I need you to scrub your hands and put on gloves. Hank, cut off Kelly’s shirt and bra and open that box. Attach the leads to the right side of Kelly’s chest and then turn the box so I can see the numbers on the screen. What’s your blood type?”

“O positive,” he said, fumbling with his hands as she did as asked. “S-She’s A positive.”

“Good,” you said, pulling out tubing and handing it to him. “Tourniquet your arm and call Doug when you’re done. Tell him to break into the nearest blood bank.”

“Blood bank? Why not a clinic?” asked Hank as you got a good look at Kelly’s wounds. Her very, very bad wounds.

“Because I’m not fucking over some patient when a doctor in an emergency goes to their supply and finds it drained. Get it from the bank where odds are less likely it’ll impact someone,” you said, Russell appearing by your side, blood staining his shirt and pants already. He nodded, watching you grab the tubing and shove the needle into the exposed vein on Hank’s arm. “Let’s pray this fucking works.”

Twelve Hours Later

You checked Kelly’s pulse as she stirred awake, her eyes hazy from the strong pain killers you’d given her.

“Hey,” she whispered, glancing around. “Am I on your dining table?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Last second decision,” you said, adjusting the sheet over her body. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Do you feel cold?”

“Just my feet,” she said. You looked down, smiling to where they were uncovered.

“I’ll get you some of my fuzzy socks. Nothing in your stomach, no chills?” She shook her head barely an inch but it was good enough. “Alright. Sounds like no internal bleeding right now then. I’m going to keeping checking every hour so you’ll probably want to throttle me by morning for not letting you sleep.”

“S’okay,” she mumbled. “How’m alive?”

You rested a hand on her head, stroking it gently. “You have either extremely shitty luck or extremely good luck. You were hit five times. Once in the arm, through and through, non life threatening. Three hit your rib cage and got stuck. A sliver more and that would have been it. The last one was tricky. Gut shot. Thankfully, it missed your digestive tract or you would have been septic or dead by now. Bad news is you no longer have a spleen. But again, in terms of if you have to get shot in an organ, the spleen’s a pretty good one to pick.”

“Thank you.” You hummed, Kelly forcing her eyes open. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” you asked. 

“I told Hank to let us take our chances, that Russ was out of this life. We should never have brought this to your front door.” You smiled, leaning down so she could see you better.

“You guys helped me with Owen and you didn’t even know me. I will always help Russell’s friends,” you said. She smiled a smidge, relaxing when you wiped a washcloth over her face. “You don’t have to worry. The boys are dealing with those guys that shot you right now. You’re safe.”

“I’m so sorry to make Russ-”

“Russell’s a big boy. He doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to and trust me, he was more than happy to go fuck up the people that tried to kill you. So you focus on resting and I’ll be right here, okay?” She hummed, her eyes darting down to where dried blood clung to your chest.

“Did you operate on me only wearing a bra?”

“...It’s a long story.” You glanced at the monitor near her head, her heart rate and blood pressure looking good at the moment. “So. When did you and Hank become a thing?”

“Me and Hank?” she asked with a pout. “We’re not…I’d like to be, you know, more but…”

You smiled, Kelly’s brow unfurling. “He has been a nervous wreck all day. You two ought to have that talk. In the meantime, let me walk you through next steps.”

The sun was just starting to break the horizon when the door to the garage opened. You sipped from your cup of coffee, glancing over Kelly’s wounds, no sign of infection by some miracle. She had a long road ahead of her but her making it through the night gave you hope she’d be able to recover.

“Hey,” said Russell quietly, giving you a small smile you returned as Hank trailed in on his heels. Russell nodded as Hank rushed over, taking the chair on the other side of the table and taking Kelly’s hand in his.

“How’s she doing?” asked Hank as you rose to your feet.

“Hanging in there. It’d be better if we could get her in a more sterile environment, had more equipment to monitor her vitals,” you said.

“We have a medical evac on the way now that the…issue’s been dealt with,” he said. You relaxed a bit at that. Her odds were much better if you could get her in an ICU with a dedicated team.

“Good,” you said when faint sirens sounded in the distance. “Let’s help clear a path so they can get her out of her fast.”

Thirty minutes later the house was quiet. You put a hand on your head as you looked around the room. Blood was everywhere. You were thirsty, starving, needed to pee and caked in dried blood that made your skin itch. 

“Come on,” said Russell, taking your hand and leading you back towards your bedroom. 

“I should clean up-”

“Later. You have more than earned a shower and some rest.” Russell tugged you behind himself, lifting you up and carrying you straight into the bathroom. “You didn’t sleep at all.”

“Neither did you,” you said, gently set down on the shower seat. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t perform major surgery in a kitchen yesterday for eight hours,” he said. You rested your head against the tile wall, Russell peeling your clothes away and tossing them in a pile on the floor. “Thank you for saving Kelly.”

“She could still die,” you mumbled.

“You did extraordinary for what we had on hand,” he said, arms around you again. “Now let’s clean you up.”

You peeled open your eyes around lunchtime, the air smelling of disinfectant. Rain was hitting the roof, Russell popping his head in just as you sat up. 

“Hey,” you yawned, holding the covers to your body. 

“Hello my queen of darkness.” He stepped in the room with a sleepy smile, kissing you before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His long fingers fixed your hair behind your ear, grazing your cheek. “Jammies are on the bench when you’re ready to get up and the house is all set.”

“Russ, I could have helped-” He pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you.

“You did help. My friend is alive because of you. Now are you going to let me take care of you today?” You grumbled but nodded, laying back down in bed. “That’s my girl.”

“...Give me another hour of sleep,” you whispered.

“Whatever you need, sweetie. Anything at all.”

___________

[thebrothel]

Madame 😊

here's a pic for game 3 🙏

and I'd say slasher, nw or sd 🙏🖤

it screams early stepdad to me (reader being a menace) 😁 🩷. a ficlet from the madame...

fandango/tinder interlude

stepdad!Joel x f!reader

Joel was avoiding you, since you couldn't seem to keep your hands to yourself. You were dead set on making him fuck you and had moved from teasing him with your skimpy little outfits to sitting spread eagle on the kitchen counter to straddling him on your sofa. After Thanksgiving Day, he texted you to say he wanted space.

Then, your mom had to go out of town on an unexpected "business trip," and the very same day, you claimed the heat went out at your apartment. You were cheeky about it too.

He groaned at your suggestive text, then called your apartment complex to ask if there was an issue with the heating. No, they weren't aware of one. He called you out on your lie, and you said "come see for yourself." He wasn't falling for that, and he didn't respond at all.

He expected you to show up at the house at some point, probably with your tits hanging out. He fell asleep watching a movie and when he woke up, he had a new message from you "it's ok, my neighbor's heat is working. He has a 2 BR and doesn't have his kid this weekend so I'm just gonna crash there."

Joel abruptly sat up, put his glasses on, and looked at the timestamp. Received an hour ago. WELL FUCK. His ears burned with jealousy and his hands shook as he boiled over into a possessive rage while throwing on a shirt inside-out. He called you, and you didn't pick up. He got in his car and started driving that way. He imagined your neighbor--played by Jon Hamm in his head--giving you a sultry look, taking a glass of wine out of your hand and placing it out of the way, then tilting your chin toward him, and saying "hey you," with a sparkle in his eye.

Joel imagined busting in the door, apologizing to Mr. Hamm for your intrusion, then manhandling you to your feet and marching you back to your own unit in the building. That's where, for starters, he'd pull up your short skirt, and spank you hard enough to leave a mark for days.

He was jolted from his fantasy when he passed you on his way out of the neighborhood. You were headed to his house after all. His relief was short lived before he got irritated that it must have been a rouse. By the time he got back to the house he was drained from the emotional journey. He was ready to silently trudge back up the stairs and crawl in bed.... Only, he had a sneaking suspicion that's exactly where he'd find you.

He stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water and to calm down and muster all his restraint.

"hey," you startled him from the dark living room. You checked him out, ogling his pumped up muscles, his his inside out shirt, his messy hair, and the nice hard-on in his sweatpants.

You looked him up and down, then strode upstairs to your room and shut the door.

---

----

---

Ty for playing, Milla. Love you 🫶✨

[most-tragic-character-tournament]

So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

[daisyvisions]

[9:51PM] Change of Plan - (c.ch)

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), dom!reader x sub!Chanhee, handjob, edging, begging, handcuffs, humiliation, blackmailing (but it will never go public), mentions of attempted manipulation, panty stealing, perverted tendencies, cum eating, allusions to more sexual acts, pet name (good boy), Word count: 0.8K

A/N: Part 2 to this fic! (sorry for the wait to those who were asking for it huhu) I was having a hard time trying to find the right tone for the second part of the story but here we are! Another timestamp for y’all hehe proofread once! Tagging @deoboyznet @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers @winterchimez

Chanhee couldn't believe it. To be here with you in this moment almost exactly how he wanted it to be, the way he’s thought about you like this in his late-night fantasies is finally coming true. He has you where he wanted you to be, his plan actually worked!

Well… sort of.

The one thing he did not consider was that he’d be completely chained up to his bedpost, unable to touch you the way he wanted to.

It was totally unexpected really, how both of you would end up in this situation. Chanhee stuck handcuffed to his bed while you continuously tease and edge him for the nth time tonight. Tears running down his cheeks as he begs you to just let him reach his high.

But little did he know while he was concocting his plan to have you as his that he was playing with the wrong person. In fact, you might’ve been even freakier than he was (but he didn't need to know that right now).

“Please let me touch you, I promise I’ll be good.” He cries out. You chuckle in response as you continue fisting his length.

“I highly doubt that.” Chanhee whimpers as you tighten your grip on him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted Chanhee? Isn't this what you’ve been planning all along?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “So be a good boy and take what I give you!”

That last statement definitely got his cock throbbing in your hands. You being a dominant was definitely something he did not expect but here he is, turning into a mess because of it.

This was not the plan at all! The plan was to spread rumors around campus on how heartbroken he was when you rejected him, eventually everyone at school would make you feel bad about it, you’d say sorry and start over, become friends, throw a grand party at his place, and finally get you loosened up enough to want to have some more fun with him.

The plan was going smoothly, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever! But one thing Chanhee failed to take into consideration was holding back his perverted tendencies with you, especially when he would secretly steal your panties and bring them home with him.

That is how you discovered his ulterior motives to your so-called “friendship” as you wandered around his room and eventually found your missing underwear in his not-so-secret drawer full of other erotic items… Which is how Chanhee ended up being chained to the bed by his own handcuffs.

He should’ve known your sudden advances towards him when he came back to the room were suspicious. But no, he only thought with his dick in that moment.

The feeling of your body pressed against his as you made him get close to his headboard, pinning his hands above his head while kissing his neck. And before he knew it he heard the clinking sound of metal and the cold material wrapped around his wrists.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, Please let me cum!” He whines as he continues to struggle in place. You take a while to respond, his eyes pleading for you to let him release his load but instead of a “yes” you pull out your phone.

“W-what are you doing?!” Chanhee’s eyes grow big.

“If you wanna cum, admit that you’re a little pervert for stealing my panties.”

“Never!” He protests.

“But don’t you wanna cum already? It’s very simple.” You smile as you continue to jerk him off vigorously, pointing the camera in his direction.

Chanhee’s still hesitant, but if he doesn’t say anything his balls might just explode.

“Alright fine!” He lets out a big sigh. “I’m- I’m a pervert and I stole your underwear!”

“Ooh such a good boy!” You coo at him. “Alright you can cum.”

As soon as you give him permission his load started spilling in globs, most of it landing on your hand and on his stomach. You’ve never seen someone cum this much, especially because you were the reason for it. You inspect his release on your hand, mesmerized by how it looked under the low light. The sight alone made your core throb harder than you cared to admit.

“Hey uh…” Chanhee mumbles, making you look back at him. “Can you unlock me now? My wrists are starting to hurt.” He shakes the handcuffs as he says this. You don’t respond for a while, a sudden idea coming to mind as you smirk back at him.

“I’ll only let you go if… you give me another load.” You lick your hand coated in his essence before climbing on top of him, opening his jaw and spitting in his mouth.

“Fuck-” Chanhee hisses, feeling his cock kicking again by how turned on he is right now.

“Our little secret okay?” You look into his eyes as he just nods in return.

Guess Chanhee did get what he wanted after all, but better than he could ever imagine.

[happyfoolz]

unexpected. — a txt smau (+ written chapters!)

summary: y/n has had a crush on soobin — the cute waiter from her favorite restaurant — for a while now. but when she's sure things will finally work out for her, she finds out her dreams don't always come true.

a/n: hello! i haven't written much in the past year and a half so i apologize if this is a little messy. and i'm sorry for the weird first plot, it came to me in a dream (literally) and i just ran with it. oh and also! i always pay a lot of attention to timestamps and all, so they might be important sometimes. just an fyi!

disclaimer: this is a fictional story with fictional characters. it's not meant to represent the real idols in any way. y/n is basically an original character that you can name.

rating: 16+ probably

release date: nov. 7th, 2024

status: in progress

featuring: all of txt, lea huening, chaewon and yunjin from le sserafim. others might be mentioned.

content: smau + written chapters, non-idol fic, fluff, crack, probably some angst tbh bc apparently i love making characters suffer, slice of life i guess, waitstaff!choi line, strangers to friends to lovers???, all characters are in their early to mid twenties

warnings: explicit language, mentions of (and jokes about) sex, might have some suggestive parts but no smut so nothing explicit, written chapters might be long... i'm sorry.

wanna join the taglist? please fill out this form!

chapters under the cut!

PROFILES: five stars | tea time

01. prophetic dream

02. funny story...

03. tiny waiter (wc: 1.9k + sns)

04. shut up

(more tba...)

[soon-palestine]

An interactive evacuation zone map, touted by the Israeli military as an innovation in humanitarian process, was revealed to rely on a subset of an internal Israeli military intelligence database. The US-based software developer who revealed the careless error has determined -> that the database was in use since at least 2022 and was updated through December of 2023.

On Tuesday, July 9th, we discovered an interactive version of the evacuation map while examining a page on the IDF's Arabic-language website accessible via a QR code -> published on an evacuation order leaflet.

The map is divided into "population blocks" an IDF term to refer to the 620 polygons used to divide Gaza into sectors that a user can zoom into and out of.

However each request to the site pulls not only the polygon -> boundaries but the demographic information assigned to that sector, including which families - and how many. members - live there.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐩𝐬:

Evacuation maps have played a central role -> in determining which sectors of Gaza were deemed "safe", but repeated instances of Israeli bombing in "safe" sectors has prompted international bodies to state "nowhere in Gaza is safe"

To determine how these sectors have been affected over time, assess the presence of vital -> civilian infrastructure, and gauge the potential impact on the population following the military's evacuation calls to Gaza City residents, the latest of which was two days ago, our team created a map tied to a database using software known as a "geographic information system” -> With the help of volunteer GIS developers, our map of Gaza included individual layers for hospitals, educational facilities, roads, and municipal boundaries.

This endeavor took an unexpected turn earlier this week when we started to work on -> the layer of "evacuation population blocks"

using a map shared to the Israeli military's Arabic site. Unlike static images, these maps responded interactively to zooming and panning. A software developer suggested that dynamic interaction was possible because the coordinates -> of various "population blocks" were delivered to the browser with each request, potentially retrieving the coordinates of the "population blocks" in real time and overlaying them on the map we were building.

The software developer delved into the webpage's source code -> —a practice involving the inspection of code delivered to every visitor's browser by the website. The source code of every website is publicly available and delivered to visitors on every page request. It functions "under the hood" of the website and can be viewed without -> any specialized tools or form of hacking.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐚

Upon examination, the data retrieved by the dynamic evacuation map included much more than just geographical coordinates. The source code contained a table from an unknown GIS -> database with numerous additional fields labelled in Hebrew.

These fields included population estimates for each block, details of the two largest clans in each block (referred to as “CLAN”), rankings based on unknown criteria -> and timestamps indicating when records were last updated.

Some data terms, such as "manpower_e," were ambiguous for us to interpret, possibly referring to either the number of fighters or the necessary personnel to maintain the area -> Using this information we determined that Block 234, Abu Madin was last updated on 27 April 2022. This suggests that Israel's effort to divide Gaza into 620 "population blocks" began one and a half years before the current Israeli offensive -> Additional modification dates indicate that the military updated data in this field regularly throughout October and November, before formally publishing it on the arabic Israeli military webpage on December 1, 2023.

It appears that the IDF has accidentally published -> a subset of their internal intelligence

GIS database in an effort to impress the world with a novel, humanitarian evacuation aid. It is easier to retrieve a database in its entirety than to write a properly selective query. Such mistakes are common among programmers that lack -> experience, security training, or are simply unwilling or unable to do meet standard data security requirements for a project.

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 -> In January, Israeli security chiefs proposed a plan for "the day after" where Palestinian clans in the Gaza Strip would temporarily administer the coastal enclave. In this concept, each clan would handle humanitarian aid and resources for their local regions. Israeli assessments of the proposal suggested such a plan would fail due to "lack of will" and retaliation by Hamas against clans willing to collaborate with the army. The plan has since been modified to include Hamas-free “bubbles,” (as reported by the Financial Times) -> where local Palestinians would gradually take over aid distribution responsibilities.

As this plan is to be initially implemented in Beit Hanoun and Beit Lahia. Al-Atatrah Area and Beit Hanoun, we have analyzed the information in the database assigned to those three areas -> Israeli army classified the Al-Atatrah area as region 1741, although there are only 620 'blocks' on the map. The registered population was listed as 949, last updated by the IDF on October 9th. We assume this represents an estimate by the IDF of current residents as of Oct 9th. Residents of Al-Atatrah were among the first to evacuate following the initial bombardment on October 7th and 8th and were not given a formal notification to evacuate. The Israeli military noted that the Abo Halima family comprised 54% of the block’s population -> In area west of the town Beit Hanoun, Israel had desginated the Almasri clan as the largest in the sector, consisting 18% of the block's population. Second largest was the Hamad family, with11% of the block's population. This area were also associated with rankings, however -> without the criteria used to determine the ranking, these numbers are difficult to interpret.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥?

Although some of the data were inadvertently truncated during publication, posing challenges for comprehensive -> interpretation, this database provides a valuable window into the Israeli military's perspective on Gaza.

For one, it prompts questions into why the military had already partitioned Gaza into 620 population blocks a year an a half before October 7th -> This suggests an early inclination to implement a governance policy where clans would assume authoritative roles, as well as detailed population surveillance. Tracking dense populations in the chaos of urban warfare is a difficult task -> It may be that the QR code on the evacuation map actively collects the locations of people who scan it, allowing the IDF to collect real-time data on Palestinians in Gaza as they attempt to find safety.

END

[couldawouldashoulda50]

previous Chapter here Chapter Two - word count 5.9k Notes/Warnings - 18+ only, profanity, alcohol, brief female masturbation ◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈ A few hours had passed from the time Loren and Gary left the event, to the time where Loren picked up her phone to text William.  The fact she even had his number at all left her mind reeling.

He’s just a guy.  Only a guy.  And are we interested in guys right now?  No, we are not. Loren silently reminded herself as she inhaled deeply.

Nerves shot through her stomach as she started to type a message.

Hey William, it’s Loren.  Gary’s home safe and he’s resting now.  Hope you have a great night!

After she pressed send, she threw her phone into her purse and tucked it away on the kitchen counter.  With her shift about to end, and with the final rush of adrenaline with sending a text to “the” William Nylander, Loren’s head was beginning to pound.  She took a couple of headache tablets before saying goodbye to her co-workers and the rest of the residents, hopped into her dated SUV and headed home.  As a means of decompressing, the 20-minute drive was silent.  No streamed music and no radio; only her recollections from that afternoon played in her mind.

Relief washed over her as she pulled into her driveway.  She sat for a moment in her vehicle and stared at her house.  Each time she pulled into her driveway, after every double or triple shift she worked, she felt a sense of pride and accomplishment for still being able to call this house her home.  God knows she’s fought hard to keep all the bills paid and the house maintained.

After she entered and removed her boots at the door, she padded along through the open concept layout toward the kitchen.  She turned on the recessed lighting above the small marble island in the kitchen.  The house still smelled of fresh paint and she continued to assess the results of her long and arduous transformation from the outdated green walls to the light and breezy white walls with leaden-blue contrasts throughout.

It had taken every moment of spare time and money that she had, but shopping at stores that resold donated building supplies allowed her to stretch every dime to the maximum.

After opening a bottle of red wine gifted to her from Christmas, she absent-mindedly fished around for her phone in her purse.

The text notifications that appeared from William startled her, making her stomach twist once again.

Thanks.  Glad you guys made it safely.

The next message was timestamped 20 minutes after William sent the first text.

It was great meeting you both. How are you doing?

Once Loren’s frazzled mind reassembled itself from reading William’s text, she managed to type out a response that she hoped didn’t sound as eager as she felt.

It was amazing to meet you all.  I’m doing well - just really glad to be home now.  How are you?

Loren cringed as she pressed send; texting one of the stars of the Maple Leafs was most definitely an unexpected turn of events.

Loren leaned against the island and took a healthy sip of wine.  She leaned her head back and slowly swallowed; the tannin giving the distinct dry sensation on her tongue from the rich Valpolicella Ripasso.

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol travel from her neck into her face; a very familiar feeling given the number of times she was flushed in William’s presence earlier that day.

It wasn’t long before her glass was empty and the text conversation, if one could call it that, had completely dissipated.

It was fun while it lasted, she thought as she locked the front door and ascended the stairs to her bedroom, accompanied by another full glass of wine.

Walking into the ensuite bathroom from her bedroom, she lit candles and began to run the water for a bath.  She propped up her phone on the closed toilet lid next to the tub and wandered back into her bedroom to undress.

Two more healthy pulls from her wine glass had her wishing she had just brought up the bottle, but she joked to herself that a hot bath, too much wine plus exhaustion could be a bad combination.

Walking back towards the bathtub, Loren stopped to view her naked reflection in the vanity mirror while gathering her hair into a messy bun.  A smile formed on her lips as she flexed her abdomen and saw the faint outline of her core muscle groups.  She twisted her waist and looked over her shoulder to see definition along her shoulders and back.  Turning back around, she gently cupped her breasts and silently thanked the boob gods that they were no less droopy than when she was in her early twenties.   After the end of a disastrous relationship years ago, she finally felt happy in her skin and continued to nourish her body to the best of her ability, every single day.

Loren stepped into the tub, eased herself into the almost too hot water and leaned back, flinching at the cold enamel surface when her skin pressed against it.  Sitting upright again, she bent her legs and rested her chin on her warm kneecaps, waiting for the still-running water to reach the perfect level.

Wiping her hands on a nearby towel, she grabbed her phone and selected a playlist that reflects her mood.

Definitely low key.  Maybe a little bit of slow R&B.  Something chill.  Like the Swede you met today.  No - don’t think of him.  Ugh….too late.  Fuck.  Loren scolded herself in her head.

Loren started to giggle at her own musings as she turned off the water.  The wine had settled into her system, and as the music softly streamed from the speakers on her phone, she took another long sip of wine and leaned back again, letting the water’s movement rock her gently as she released her muscles into total weightlessness.

She gently placed the glass on the wider ledge beside her head and closed her eyes.  It wasn’t long before the feeling of being completely encompassed in warmth started to stimulate a need between Loren’s thighs.  She softly smiled to herself as she allowed her fingertips to brush over her own taut nipples that were not fully covered by the water’s surface.  The warmth of her wet fingers against the exposed flesh that was chilled by the air, made her skin prickle with goosebumps despite the temperature of the water.

Loren squeezed her thighs together as the pressure began to build in her core.  Her hands leisurely traced an invisible path along her lower abdomen and she quickly indulged herself by running her middle finger between her folds.

As much as she tried to ban images of William’s perfect features in her mind, she gave up the fight easily and granted herself full permission to visualise his mouth pleasuring her.

“God dammit” she gasped as she inserted her middle finger from one hand into her pussy, trying to mimic the feeling of his tongue.  The middle finger of her opposite hand stroked her clit as she gently bit her bottom lip.

A chime sounded and as Loren’s eyes quickly opened, a text notification appeared. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that the message was from William, a continuation from her last message.

I’m good thanks.  It was a bit of a crazy afternoon for you so I wanted to see how you’re feeling?

Loren smiled at William’s thoughtfulness and for his concern.

She took a picture of her wine glass, now just half full, followed by the lit candles on the vanity and sent them to William, with the caption

“Nice and relaxed now…”.

Feeling a little cheeky, she followed her message up with:

I’ll spare you the picture of my bathtub but it’s currently part of the solution too 😉

While envisioning your mouth on my…. Loren joked to herself, but the thought was interrupted by another text notification from William.

That sounds NICE.  What kind of red wine are you drinking?

Loren blanked; she knew the type but she hadn’t really looked at the label when all but downed the first glass of it as she stood in her kitchen earlier.

Some kind of Ripasso - but please don’t ask me the name of it…I yanked the cork out and poured as fast as I could when I got home…I didn’t bother to look at the label (haha) How is your evening?

Loren set her phone on the plush bat mat on the floor, with the screen down.  She covered her face with her hands to try and calm the rise of adrenaline in her body.

He’s only asking how you are - don’t get too ahead of yourself…he’s likely got a million girls on the go anyway, and you’re not going to be one of them Loren reminded herself.

However, as another text chimed in, her mind went spinning all over again.

Haha that’s usually how I do it too. Just buy whatever JT says is good and then I drink it. It’s alright, me and some of the boys are at Mitchy’s new restaurant just chilling.

Loren smiled as she pictured the gorgeous Swede amongst a table of his other handsome teammates enjoying a little bit of downtime during this late part of the season.

Loren and William continued their light-hearted text exchange.  Loren explained she had no idea Mitch had a restaurant; William suggested Loren come and check it out with her husband or boyfriend.

Well hmmm, Gary’s pretty much the main man in my life, but he’s more of a Swiss Chalet kind of guy

At the restaurant, William laughed aloud as he read Loren’s response, which caught the attention of Max, who was sitting in the plush club chair across the table from him.

“I have never seen someone on their phone as much as you - fuck Willy, you need to hire some help to deal with all of that….peel yourself away from that thing,” Max joked.  “How many are you chatting to right now anyway?” Max continued to tease.

“Nah, man - it’s not like that,” William smiled, pushing his fork around on the table.

“Not like what?  Hey uh - Willy, have some of this - it’s Chef Selection,” Mitch arrives at the table and slides a beautifully assembled sushi tower towards William and Max.

William wasted no time in snagging a couple of pieces from the elegant display of food.

“Mmm…so fucking good,” William said as he eyed another piece and lobbed it in his mouth.

Max begins to respond as he lifts a piece of sashimi off the plate.  He rolls his eyes once the flavour hits his tongue in obvious satisfaction.

‘Ah - I was just asking Willy how many ladies he’s got on the go…he needs an assistant just to manage all of his text messages,” Max quipped.

“I don’t think Willy even knows how many girls he’s in contact with - probably couldn’t even give an educated guess,” Mitch said as he and Max continued to rib their friend.

“Oh yeah, speaking of which - Angelina, that server from last time…she’s working the other section tonight but she saw you…she wondered if you’d stop by and see her before you leave,”  Mitch nudges Max with his elbow as he waits for William’s reaction.

“I hope you didn’t say that I would…I told you last time too…no interest in her,” William chuckled, hoping they would change the subject.

William’s phone chimed and he glanced at the screen; his smile widened when he saw another message from Loren.

I googled the restaurant and that menu 🤤  Can you indulge me a little and tell me how amazing the food is please (all i had for dinner was a lousy grilled-cheese sandwich lol)

William started to take a picture of the sophisticated platters of food that had just been brought out which was a mixture of the most tantalizing array of surf and turf options.

“You taking a pic of the food?  For who?” Max asked with a wry smile.  When William didn’t answer him right away, Max stealthily changed positions to peer over Willam’s extended arm and saw the name “Loren” in the list of names in William’s message app.

“You got Gary’s worker’s number? Jesus dude…that was quick.  Hey, has there ever been a girl that’s turned you down?” Max laughed but based on William’s eye roll, he knew he needed to start backing off the subject.

After a few minutes passed, William excused himself from the table.  Remarkably, there was an empty corner at the bar and William slid onto the stylish leather seat, resting his elbows on the expensive marble bar top.

William thought about just sending the food pictures through to Loren, but he quickly changed his mind and decided to FaceTime her instead.

The distinct chime indicating FaceTime triggered panic in Loren.  If she answers, and it’s actually him, she’s literally going to be naked while on a video-call with William Nylander.

Answering the call, and despite the lump in her throat and her stomach being in knots, she managed to fake looking relaxed and at ease.  She tried not to critique her overall appearance when her face appeared in the small window on the screen; her cheeks were flushed and damp with moisture from her still, rather hot, bath and her hair loosely piled up in a bun atop her head.

William had forgotten she was in the bath and her wet wisps of hair that clung to her beautifully contoured neck quickly jogged his memory.  She looked so incredibly pretty as she smiled back at him, so much so that he had to shift in his seat to accommodate his burgeoning hardness.

William apologised.  ”Ah - shit…sorry - I totally forgot you were in the bath….I can call back later if you want?”

“I’m ok if you are?  I’ll even try and keep it classy and not flash you,” Loren laughed as she shook her head in slight disbelief that those words just flew out of her mouth. “Jesus, sorry William - I shouldn’t have said that….”

“Ha - well, if you’re offering,” William said, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Ah well, shit - I knew I should have brought the whole wine bottle up with me…it just might have happened had I polished it off,” Loren imitated disappointment, followed by a grin.  “Considering that I think I already reached my low point when I couldn’t remember my name after you introduced yourself this afternoon,” she smiled.

William loved Loren's ability to poke fun at herself.  He almost forgot he was sitting at a busy bar as he laughed aloud at Loren’s personal play-by-play of the event earlier that day. William even had the bartender and other patrons chuckled as they overheard his distinct giggle as he and Loren continued their conversation.

Although the restaurant was beginning to fill up with more customers, William was completely unfazed and unaware of anyone else’s presence at that moment; he was completely engrossed in the conversation with Loren.

As William talked about the incredible menu items that he was fortunate enough to sample that evening (at Loren’s request), his hunger eventually drew him back to the table to rejoin the group, with Loren still on his phone.

William disconnected his air pods and continued his conversation with Loren, despite the drone of the background hustle and bustle of an extremely popular establishment.  He wasn’t even concerned about the group knowing who he was talking to; he just knew his face already hurt from smiling and laughing with her.

As he spanned the table with his phone showing the smorgasbord of food, fit for a king (or friends of one the restaurant owners), Loren stared in amazement, and she could feel herself salivating while William asked her if she were ordering what would be her menu choices.  After Loren rhymed off every single one of his favourites, he found himself wishing she was there enjoying the evening with him.

It wasn’t long before another face on the screen appeared beside William’s.  Max leaned over William’s shoulder and gave Loren an exuberant greeting, making small talk with her as William grabbed some more food from the platters within proximity of his reach.  More of the team popped their heads into view to say hello, leaving Loren feeling like she could float away on a cloud.  For not only could she return to work and let Gary know that so many players asked about him and sent along their best wishes, William especially, had also made a huge impression on her.

When William resumed his one on one conversation, Loren suddenly realised that her once piping hot bath was barely above lukewarm.  Her skin was suddenly riddled with goosebumps, and she involuntarily began to shiver.

William suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence.  “Hey - uh, what’s happening…you ok?”

William paused for a moment and noticed she hadn’t really moved since they started their video call. “Oh, wait…holy shit, you’re still in the bathtub…have I kept you from getting out?” William asked, borderline embarrassed.

“No!  Well…yes, I’m still in here but I swear, I just noticed it myself…you didn’t keep me from getting out….”, Loren giggled, as she turned over her hand and looked at her fingertips.  “Jesus - I’m as wrinkled as a ninety-year-old nut sack.”

When Loren realized what she had uttered aloud, she clasped her hand over her mouth and looked wide-eyed at the screen, unsure if William had heard her.

He did.  And he was totally laughing at her.

“I promise you, I’m not normally this bad with words…and yes, I’m cutting myself off from the wine tonight,” Loren said with a smile despite feeling a little flustered.

“I say keep going - let’s see how much trouble your mouth can be,” William said with a wink.

Loren paused and shook her head slowly; a playful grin spanned her face as she mouthed the word “wow” while arching an eyebrow.

“Given I’m about to step out the tub, the odds of me showing you something I shouldn’t just got a lot higher, my friend,” Loren joked as she set her sights on a bath towel.  She turned off the camera and quickly stepped out of the tub, wrapping her cold body in the thick cotton bath sheet.

She heard William’s laugh through the speakers and decided to throw caution to the wind and turn the camera back on.  “Ok, I admit it - I was totally bluffing - there’s no way I was going to flash you.

With a playful grin, Loren continued. "Alright, I’m changing subjects for a sec….my curiosity has been killing me to hear how the other half lives…what does the rest of William Nylander’s Friday night look like?”

There was no way he was going to explain what he originally had planned.

“Nothing too interesting.  Hey, wait - I thought you were going to finish that bottle of wine still?” William hinted, not wanting to end the call.

“Yessir I am - but…. wait...are - hmm…are you…planning to stay on the phone while I finish it up?” Loren asked, her teeth still slightly chattering from being cold.  She walked with her phone towards her bed where she had already laid out warm, zip up hoodie and flannel pajama pants to change into.

“Is that okay?” William asked, his eyes softening as he smiled.

“Of course, but - it’s gonna be a bit…boring….at least in comparison to where you are and who you’re with tonight,” Loren said, smiling until a shiver ran through her body again.

“Nah, meeting and talking to you today has been anything but boring…and I see these guys all the time,” William said, with a hopeful tone.

William was at the point that if he gave into his basic urges, he’d be in his car or an Uber or whatever mode of transport would get him to her door the quickest.  He had to caution himself to remain laid back and not get too wrapped up in this girl, but he was rapidly losing that battle in his mind.

“If you’re sure, I’ll take you downstairs in a sec - I’m fucking freezing…just going to change real quick,” Loren said, semi-apologizing to William for her profanity.

“Hey uh, can you leave the camera on?  And no, I don’t mean for you to gimme a peek of anything…I’m just looking at the jersey you had on today…there’s something wrong with it,” William said wryly.

Loren set the phone on her nightstand, looking around to make sure William couldn’t see her or her reflection in the nearby mirror as she dropped her towel to get changed.

“OK, spill it - what is wrong with it?  Wait - it was a Christmas gift so maybe don’t tell me,” Loren chuckled as she slid into a tank top and panties.

William could hear her voice change as she pulled on her clothing.  He tried not to picture her naked, for too long anyway.

“I won’t say it then, it’s nothing major.  So Matty is your favourite player?” William asked.

Loren paused as she zipped up her white hoodie.  She picked up the phone and turned it to face the screen. “Hold that thought for a sec,” Loren said as she padded down the hallway leading to the stairs.

As she made her way downstairs toward the kitchen, Loren could see on the screen that William was suddenly talking to a woman that appeared next to him, dressed in a sleek black dress and looking like she belonged on a Paris runway.  Loren hated the slight pang of jealousy that suddenly made her stomach twist, and her first instinct was to flee the situation, excuse herself and hang up.  It’s not as though she would be seeing him again anyway.

But instead, Loren propped up her phone and busied herself by pouring another generous glass of wine - the last of the bottle.

William looked back toward the phone screen and saw Loren sipping wine and leaning against the counter, trying to mind her own business.  How William wished he was there with her or even at home with his dogs - basically anywhere except where he was - sitting next to a woman who was making a play for him, and whom he had no interest in.

Loren watched as William spoke to the woman, and she suddenly stood to leave while leaning in for a hug.

Coolly and casually as ever, William resumed his conversation with Loren.

“So you’re all set - is that the rest of the bottle?” William said, still with his unwavering smile.

Loren raised the bottle, angling it in the light and closed one eye to make sure she did, in fact, get every drop in her glass.  William watched her in total awe of her striking features with every expression and every movement she made.

“It’s all in there,” she giggled.

“Good - so you told me ‘hold that thought’…” William reminded Loren, hoping to continue the conversation for as long as possible.

“Right, Auston’s jersey.  The thing is…I actually wanted a Nylander jersey…your jersey - my parents tried to find one of yours at Christmas, but they were sold out, so I was given a Matthews’ jersey instead,” Loren explained.

William’s eyes grew wide in sheer delight.  He asked Loren to hold on for a minute and he scanned the nearby tables, apparently looking for someone.

Loren then heard William call out Auston’s name and seemingly waved him over.

“Hey man - what's up…what’s going on…”, Auston slid up next to William and saw Loren’s face on the screen smiling back at him.

“This is Loren - Loren, meet Auston,” William smiled as he introduced the two.  Auston exchanged pleasantries with Loren as her cheeks increasingly grew hot to the touch.

“So, Loren was wearing a Matthews jersey today, and I asked her if you were her favourite player,” William said tongue-in-cheek, and as Loren’s mouth began to drop and as Auston started to chuckle (somehow knowing William was going to chirp him about something), William continued.  “And Loren, you explained that…what - you had hoped to get a Nylander jersey…but they were…?” William trailed off.

What a little shit Loren snickered to herself.

“The Nylander jerseys were apparently sold out, so I was given yours as a gift instead,” Loren half-laughed as she jokingly glared at William for putting her in that position.

“She haaaad to settle for a Maaaatthews jersey because mine were soooold out”, William repeated as he laughed, elongating certain words for extra effect.

Auston looked at the screen, shaking his head and noticed Loren was doing the same.

“Has he been a total asshole all night or is this something new that he's trying to impress you with?” Auston laughed.

“I - hey….that's all between you two….I'm not getting involved,” Loren said as she laughed and put her hands up in faux surrender.  “But to answer anyway, no, he’s nowhere close to being an asshole…”, Loren said with a warm smile.

William jokingly backhanded Auston, laughing as he said “See?  She knows what she’s talking about AND…she’s clearly got great taste…you know with me…being her favourite player and all”, William said, laughing even louder at Auston’s unimpressed expression.

Auston glanced back at Loren and joked “You just had to tell him that…he’s never gonna shut-up about it now.” Auston turned back to William and patted his shoulder. “And just so you know - we’re heading out to the other place in a few minutes so…,” Auston hinted to William that he’d better wrap up the call sooner than later.  “It was really nice meeting you Loren - hope to see you….maybe you can bring your friend back down to a game sometime.  Heard about what happened - that was really too bad for him,” Auston said apologetically.

Loren’s pulse raced and pounded in her throat.  “Thank you so much Auston; it was so great to meet you too and for sure, I think something’s in the works so hopefully he’ll get a chance to see you guys play,” Loren grinned and waved to Auston as he left the frame.

There was a pause in the conversation as Loren took one last sip of her wine. Loren realised that her and William had spent a significant amount of time chatting on the phone and he did not seem concerned at all about whether his teammates were waiting for him to finish his call.

Nevertheless, Loren didn’t want to keep him from leaving for his next spot of the evening.

“This was - I don’t even know quite what to say but thank you so much again...it was really nice talking with you.  And… I know I’ve said it like a million times, but I really appreciate you taking Gary around the ice today - and well, everything else,” Loren said, her eyes sparkled as she showed her sincerity.  “But I’ll let you go - I know you guys are getting ready to leave,” she smiled.

Loren suddenly felt a jolt of disappointment knowing William was heading to some other joint in the city, likely bumping into a hundred more women who looked exactly like the model-type girl that she just witnessed him hugging.   Definitely a far cry from what she looked like currently, or so Loren felt.

“Yeah - it was really great talking with you too.  So….I guess my luck ran out then?” William grinned.

A smile crept across Loren’s face as she looked at William quizzically.

“Your luck ran out?  How’s that?” she asked with amusement.

“You finished the bottle and now I have to leave….so I guess the chance of you flashing me has passed…,” William teased.

“Ha - well….hmmmm….yeah, I think everything that was flashable has been tucked away for the night…but the evening’s still young; I’m sure half the female population in Toronto would gladly give you a peek of something….I don’t think luck has much to do with it either” Loren winked, hoping she didn’t sound petty or jealous.

William only responded with his signature laugh.

“Alright William, be safe…enjoy the rest of your night then,” Loren said with a wide grin.

“Yeah, thanks, Loren…. I guess have a good night to you too,” William smiled softly as he ended the call.

William slid his cellphone into his pants pocket and readied himself to leave with the rest of the group.  He faintly chuckled as his teammates chirped him about being on the phone for most of the evening and how he always seems to increase his already substantial roster of female admirers everywhere he goes.   He laughed along as he normally would, but William silently disagreed with their taunts about his supposed list of readily available women.

At that same moment, Loren stood in her dimly lit kitchen, processing the conversation that just ended with William.   Such was the way her mind had worked for years; for every optimistic or cheery thought, often-times, a negative or cynical one would supersede it.

‘He seemed so nice’ was ousted with ‘it was all an act’.

‘He was so easy to talk to’ quickly evaporated and in its place, ‘glad you enjoyed it because it’ll never happen again’.

‘It would be fun to hang out with him’ was at once replaced with ‘you’re way too beneath him’.

Loren let out a long audible breath; the excitement she had been feeling since William first messaged her that evening, had morphed into an aching pit in her stomach.  It was from within that pit that the negativity, pessimism and overall cynicism stemmed from - beliefs that Loren continually had to fight within herself to overcome.  The beliefs that were fed to her from the words of her ex-boyfriend that she was never good enough clearly were still alive inside of her.

Turning off the overhead light in the kitchen, the light-sensor night lights flickered on, guiding her back up to the bedroom.

To say it was a whirlwind of a day would be a massive understatement and whatever energy Loren had earlier rapidly drained.  She finished her bedtime routine, brushed her teeth and braided her hair and wearily traipsed back to her bed.

Every muscle and joint throbbed, releasing the built-up tension from the day as she sank into her pillow-top mattress.  Despite her momentary relapse into despondence, Loren relished this moment of the day.  She was safe and secure in her home; she had food in the fridge and money in her bank account to cover the bills.  She reminded herself that she did all of this on her own, and with turning off her bedside lamp, her contentment eased her into a deep slumber.

Meanwhile, William and various players from the team entered a lavish night spot along King Street West; the pulsating beat bounced off of every surface and could be heard from the street.  Strategically placed lights and lasers that hung from the iron beams and rafters cast a seductive glow through the expansive square footage of the club.

Throngs of fashion-forward and upscale club go-ers eyed the popular athletes as they meandered through the maze of reserved booths toward the security-monitored VIP section.

Within minutes, the scantily clad bottle girl designated to their table for the evening arrived with some additional servers for assistance, placing multiple bottles of expensive spirits on the table.

William ordered a cranberry-vodka and flashed the server a smile as she leaned over the table enticingly to select the bottle of Grey Goose.

She returned the smile and said “I’ll make this extra delicious, just like you Mr. Nylander,” followed by a wink.  In no time at all, she handed him a tumbler with his mixed drink.

William laughed and had a sip.  He looked out into the increasingly crowded club as the music pumped out heavy basslines and the strobe lights flashed to the beat.  Bodies bounced to the music as the DJ worked his magic, getting everyone up dancing and working them up into a fever pitch on the dance floor

William nodded to the beat and continued to scan the crowd.  There was no shortage of attractive women; in fact, everywhere he looked, there was a certifiable knock-out that he could easily approach, and likely leave the club with, if he chose to.

As William’s gaze randomly fell upon each perfectly put together woman, his mind travelled back to earlier in the evening when he was on the video call with Loren.

He found her absolutely striking as she sat in the bath talking with him; no make-up, her hair swept up on the top of her head, and really, no clothes to even speak of.  Loren had immediately caught William’s attention at the Easter Seals event and hadn’t been decked out in a low-cut mini dress by the latest designer, or wearing a pair of Louboutin stilettos, or carrying a Dior clutch.  She was ravishing just by simply wearing a Leaf’s jersey and leggings.

William scanned the other booths with their magnificent sushi boats and other gourmet fare and smiled as he recollected Loren’s wide-eyed reaction to the delectable platters of food at Mitch’s restaurant, after having a “lousy grilled cheese” presumably for her dinner.  And yet, she had immaculate taste, in William’s opinion at least, in the menu options she selected as thought she had she been sitting across the table from him.

Regardless of how gorgeous of a woman she was, it was Loren’s brand of wit mixed with shades of vulnerability that had William completely enchanted. In the middle of a crowded club, at that moment, he found himself unconsciously smiling as he thought of her.

Before he could change his mind, he reached into his pants pocket and scrolled through his message app until he found Loren’s name.

He opened the last received message and paused, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.

William quickly typed:

Are you still awake?

Waiting for a reasonable period with no reply, William sent another message to Loren.

Do you have a day off coming up that we could maybe get together?

Knowing a response was unlikely, but satisfied that he reached back out to Loren, William rejoined the rest of the players that had congregated around the booth.  William smiled and laughed along with jokes, stories and observations of the club dwellers, but the night now felt stale and uneventful.  He chipped in on the club tab, ordered an Uber, and much to the dismay of his teammates (and several women who had been eyeing him all night), William exited the club and headed home.