#whose heart is still broken
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One year ago…
And how many of our hearts are still broken?
#one year ago#they began existing in separate places#my poor babygirls#whose heart is still broken#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#gos2 anniversary
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i’m just sayiiiiiiiin’ bro, there was never a world where rei thought nayuta wouldn’t be by his side as they created their ideal world, with all the struggles that came with that goal
and similarly, just as ichiro had resolved to be alone, to play the bad guy as long as he gets the means to keep his small world safe, he bonded with kuukou, who was determined to not let ichiro be alone thru all their shady shit, and was devastated when he left bc ichiro never considered kuukou wouldn’t be by his side IM JUST SAYIN
#vee queued to fill the void#IM JUST PUTTING IT OUT THERE#THAT THE MARRIED COUPLE HAVE BONDED IN A VERY SIMILAR WAY TO ICHIRO AND KUUKOU WHOSE DUET TITLE IS A DOUBLE ENTENDRE FOR GETTING MARRIED#IM JUST SAAAAAYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING#lol i think rei creating nayuta’s ideal world is very much his special flair for their bond#but i was thinking about how nayuta’s words are his north and wondering if kuukou imparted wisdom that ichiro lives by#there is one i talk about occasionally lol but what immediately came to mind was a line i was kinda stumped by while tling the bb track#when the bros are arguing about their respective sides of the generational argument saburo says a community broken up is gone for good#and i was very pleasantly surprised that ichiro told him bonds aren’t so easily broken by distance#lol like that feels like a point jiro would make so i was surprised ichiro said it#kuukou actually says something very similar to ichiro in dod chapter one iirc like their bond isn’t something so easily broken#and i think that was reinforced by ichiro and kuukou still clicking after all these years#like ichiro wasn’t afraid to call kuukou frame one and share his idea for the bp they still have trust in each other#so maybe that’s something kuukou imparted to ichiro that he kept close to heart 🥺
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oh.
#this yuri on ice news…..#i really can’t#little closeted 16 year old me lived because she saw that#like this HURTS me#that series was THE thing that made me okay with my sexuality#that made me feel like i could live a happy and loved life#like this is ABSURD to me#i dont even know what to say#the things yoi did for just general acceptance and representation#the amount of queer kids who found themselves through it#the amount of people who came out to me who I came out to because we talked about yoi like god#this is like kind of actually nonironically devastating to me#cause yeah it’s just a piece of fiction but like cmon man thats THE fiction got me to love myself#this is crazy#i need to go buy that little piece of 16 year old me that still exists some ice cream#that girl deserves it after waiting what like 8? years just for this#man im like about to cry over this this is dumb#ughh that childhood stuff really does stick with ya huh#anyway sending love to all the other people whose childhood hearts are getting broken over this#im an adult and im normal and great at taking bad news
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𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!
𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍��𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.
Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.
Until you find yourself locked in a cage.
For three days.
No AC.
With a body you carved up.
You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.
Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.
So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.
"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.
The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.
Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.
You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.
"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"
"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."
You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.
"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.
Holy shit.
A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.
While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.
He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.
"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.
You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.
You can't deal with this shit.
"Self defense." You say.
The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.
"And how would you know that?"
"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."
You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.
And of course, just your luck, he is stunning
Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.
Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.
"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."
You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.
"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.
Oh, what the hell.
You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.
"Wha-"
"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.
"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.
"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."
Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.
You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.
You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.
And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.
Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.
"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"
You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.
"I-"
Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."
"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.
"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.
"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.
"The Crucifer?"
You shake your head.
"The cross maker?"
You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.
"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."
Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.
"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.
"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."
You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"
Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.
"Fine by me."
~
The Mute Collector.
Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.
And god you are beautiful.
Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.
The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.
Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."
He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."
He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."
"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.
Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.
He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.
No bra.
"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.
"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."
You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."
Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."
You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.
"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."
You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."
He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."
"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.
"Touché."
He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.
No bra.
"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?"
"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"
Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.
"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."
"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"
Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.
A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.
"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."
"Fucking hell."
"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"
You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.
"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"
"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.
"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"
Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"
A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."
You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"
Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"
For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"
He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."
"And what do we get if we win?"
Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."
You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"
"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”
~
You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.
"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.
Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."
You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."
By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.
You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since.
Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."
You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party. His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."
There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"
You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."
Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.
"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"
Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."
"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on.
"And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."
"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”
You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”
Are you gonna do it?"
"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."
"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"
You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."
"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."
"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"
"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."
"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"
"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."
"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.
You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.
With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.
~
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”
Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.
"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.
"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.
"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.
Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."
Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.
Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."
Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."
Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.
Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.
Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?
Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled
Y/n: Shut up.
Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.
Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?
Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me.
Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.
Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”
Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.
Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you
Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?
Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.
Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?
Suguru: Can’t it be both?
Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.
Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.
Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.
Suguru: Really?
Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?
Y/n: *One attachment*
You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it.
Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.
“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.”
When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.
“Trouble?” Suguru asks.
“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.
On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents. What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.
Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.
“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.
Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”
~
You can't believe you are doing this.
You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.
It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.
Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation.
Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.
“Hiya.”
A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.
“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.
“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.
Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.
“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”
“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”
Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.
“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”
“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.
For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle.
Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.
“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.
Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.
Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.
The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.
The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.
Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.
For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.
Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.
He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.
Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.
You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.
Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”
With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.
A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.
Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.
You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.
Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.
Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree.
"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.
His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.
“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.
~
Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen.
To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.
The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”
Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.
He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure.
No bra.
The sight makes his mouth go dry.
"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.
You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?
His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”
His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”
Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”
You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you.
You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"
He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up."
You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"
Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"
You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."
Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."
The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.
Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”
You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.
"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.
He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"
Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.
You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"
"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.
"On how good you are at it," you murmur.
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.
The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.
"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"
You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."
"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."
Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.
His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.
But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.
“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?”
You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.
“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”
You cave.
As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.
“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”
His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.
Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”
Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.
He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.
Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”
You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.
He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”
With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring.
You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.
"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.
"No please Sugu~, I can take it."
You don't have to tell him twice.
In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.
"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.
You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.
"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words
"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”
You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.
“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.
His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.
"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.
Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.
You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.
“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”
You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest.
Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.
Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.
“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”
A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.
It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.
What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.
"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?
You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.
"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.
He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.
"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.
Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.
"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess.
The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.
Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.
“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy
And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.
Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.
You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.
“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"
So you do.
Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.
“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?”
Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.
The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.
The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.
"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.
"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto x reader#getou x reader#geto x you#geto x reader smut#getou x you#getou smut#geto smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#kinktober
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degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)
context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.
ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.
‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.
‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.
correction, you shatter.
somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.
and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.
‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’
quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.
‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.
when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.
‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’
‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.
god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.
‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.
‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.
geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.
‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.
‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.
‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.
‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.
‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.
‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.
‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.
since when did he-?
out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-
‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.
‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.
what the fuck am i doing, he thought.
slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.
‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.
‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.
‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.
his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.
he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.
nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.
‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.
‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.
the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.
he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.
‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.
a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.
slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.
‘sweetheart…? why are you…’
you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.
‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’
his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.
‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’
#bro i’m actually so scared to post this cuz i’ve never written anything like it before god bless#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#geto smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#geto x reader smut#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna smut#geto x reader#nanami smut#sukuna x reader smut#sukuna x reader#nanami kento smut
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before the bell rings (a loving family, an unpalatable desire spin-off)
ft. romatic yandere bruce wayne x gn reader x platonic yandere batfam.
tw: slight nsfw. bruce watches and kisses you while you sleep. in no way, shape or form do i condone this behavior irl.
ihave a raging headache but i don't care because i love making spin-offs of my original series'. and now i've been thinking of something related to a loving family, an unpalatable desire where just like again &. again being the opposite of like him, in this current universe i'm writing about;
you're much too loved by your husband, bruce wayne.
there are eyes everywhere when you two have been into the first stages of your marriage. he may have proposed to you for the sake and promises of protection both your families agreed upon from when martha and thomas and alive— your relationship must've been purely transactional during your childhood; but in the process of knowing you better during the planning for your wedding, in the process of grief and accepting his parents' deaths, a broken childhood and cold glances—
bruce came to love the comfort and warmth you offered him.
the entire time he was convinced that your marriage will be all but a distant relationship all throughout planning for possible venues, cake designs, guests and attires; a task he chose to uphold for the sake of your preference of a picture perfect wedding and his reputation to keep in public.
it was all that, mere promises to maintain cordiality.
there would be no affectionate touches, or the need for intimacy during both your honeymoon stages. he respects your boundaries, and you do with his privacy. after the entire wedding, everything will return to normal; with the added fact that you'd simply be living in his mansion with no qualms to bother him whatsoever.
those were unsaid agreements that you yourself knew to abide by. you were never close with the man you'd be married with during childhood, after all. for him, you must've been a checklist for him to fulfill his parents' will; there was no love before or after his grief, not even when you'd attend the funeral and expressed your apologies for the loss— his eyebrows furrowing at your shorter form, but never quite looking at you.
younger you knew it was the protection that will be granted, and never the love you wanted, but you still held on to that flicker of hope that somehow, someday you'll eventually form an amicable bond with your soon-to-be husband.
yet to you, he was the only ticket way out of your abusive home life, one filled with not only coldness, but sharp glares from a mother who never wanted you and painful beatings from a father who criticizes his own child's every mistake, each hit more painful than the last.
as much as you desire something more homely from your soon to be husband, you've long since accepted that your life will never be filled with visceral love that eats you up, love whose hands tangle upon your hair not out of sheer hatred but desire, love whose strong arms raise you up in the air rather than raises itself up to hit you.
and as you both prepare for your wedding, an air of awkwardness and discomfort was expected. backs turned, never facing each other, your eyes never quite looking at his, and unwanted brushes of each other's bodies bumping into each other translates itself to tension and mere desire to get over the plans just as quickly.
bruce tells himself, it will all be over soon. this is necessary to keep up facades and earn more connections. he hasn't been as close with childhood friends after his parents' death, hence why he was too ruffled to properly communicate with his partner after years of isolation from peers. he knows you know to understand that fact.
you tell yourself that as much as your heart aches at the impending doom that you wouldn't be able to spend time with your husband as much after the entire fiasco of dealing with wedding arrangements, with wayne enterprises and hundreds of other duties to fulfill— you've nothing to do but embrace that mere fact.
so it was all that.
bruce will never love you as much as you force yourself to love each and every flawed part of him. the first steps of planning your marriage already reflected what would soon be the damning years of a loveless courtship.
love is painful, loving bruce will be painful. your heart will never flutter at the meaningless bouquet of flowers he'd gift you, or jewelry that was never your preference, all because you both knew it was a necessary farce to make things prettier on the outside. bruce can never learn to love again after the heartbreak of losing two of his loved ones.
all that.
yet the longer you two spend time in the same room in stuffy outfit fittings and bakeries whose warmth both your loves you thought would never quite reach— the more bruce notices the slight quirk of your lips every time he guessed your favorite color or design, the gleam in your eyes glowing brighter at him choosing what he thought would be the perfect confectionaries for reception, and the tiny claps and soft tugs at the cuffs of his sleeve the more he chooses to accommodate each and every preference of yours.
he starts to fall, not out of hindsight. he was never an obvious man, no.
but he fell in love, either way.
with your habits, the way your hands gesture your excitement, and the shy grin you show his way whenever he pursues physical affection to you in both private and public; with you melting into his once stiff chest and ridged shoulders, hands wrapped around your waist, head slowly nuzzling into the crown of your hair. sometimes he'd be brave enough to caress your hips and run his fingers through the flesh between your neck and shoulders.
every damn time he takes a newer risk, every time, you'd be left shocked, yet never pushing away at his ministration.
a surprise that rewires your perception of him in your mind— not less pleasant nonetheless.
he falls in love whenever his heart beats faster— a feeling he thought he'd never come across after years of hardened training— at the way you buzz every time he proposes you two go out on dates, at your unheard gasps whenever he actually gives you bouquets of your favorite flowers as gifts, at your incoherent mumbles as you two walk through the farmer's market with his body shielding you from stalking paparazzi's and countless of admires; your mouth forming words, brows furrowed, oblivious at bruce's unwavering gaze and arms ready to rest upon your shoulders as if he never once hesitated to touch you.
and he soon realizes that he begins to yearn sleeping in the same room as you. you still stay at your home at the time being, only to be housed at his right after your marriage— but bruce loses sleep all the same. at thoughts of what you would feel like all pressed up against him, the warmth that emanates off your body every time your arms would explore his chest, and how he'd wake up to your wide, intoxicating smile, calling him, bruce wayne, your husband as you caress him and tell him breakfast is ready.
he could picture you sitting beside him, your arms unknowingly on his thighs because you crave physical affection, your attention on both your children, chattering with them as if you were always their parent. he sees you scolding damian for sneaking food under the table for his, telling jason and tim off for arguing yet again, whilst dick laughs at his brother's clumsy way of eating with barbara rebuking his statements. you'll always be the first person cass would talk to about her ballet recitals, the one duke chides for advice about which club to choose, and steph's first choice every time she stumbles upon drama.
the entire atmosphere would be spontaneous. there could be small fights, little debates and sometimes even tension, yet they listen to you nevertheless. at your pretty voice giving them an earful altogether whilst bruce would worship you with his hungry eyes, forgetting the breakfast on his plate just to hold himself back from the urge to pepper kisses on you in front of the family.
the perfect dream, like a gomez to his morticia who admires every side of them. their beauty, their sadness, anger and flaws. you complete him, he only realizes at such a late time.
just as quick as he imagines those fantasies, bruce would find himself stalking through the confines of your family home as batman; confirming to himself your breathing patterns, the flutter of your eyes, soft mumbles, and your tight hold on one of your pillows, wishing it was him instead. there, he takes in the state of your room: the decor, your wallpapers, each and every trinkets and hobbies you've collected all over the years; and most importantly, just how small and confined your room is, yet cozy at the same time.
the manor would be your castle soon enough, and he promises that it would feel as homely as your previous room. he promises that you wouldn't be sleeping alone eventually. you'll be so loved... so cared for. he'll learn to properly love you, how to touch you in all the ways he could imagine, to kiss parts left neglected, to satiate the hunger watching you every damn time.
every night, he gains newer information about you as you sleep oblivious to the presence looming above you. every night, he notes the texture of your bedsheet, the blankets that hug at your body tightly, the pillows you drool on and the softness of your mattress.
he'd ruffle your hair, and begin to trudge closer and closer to you, to the point his confidence would be at an all time high and he'd be breathing the same pattern as you, body nearly pressed atop yours as his hands tangle itself upon your messy hair. bruce watches your skin bathe in the moonlight's glow, he admires the slow rise and fall of your chest and the delicious peaks of skin from the fabric that threatens to fall.
his desire only grows stronger, his willpower grows weaker all the same.
and at a time of momentary weakness, at the passion that drips off his body merely watching you, at the unsated hunger and moments of restricting himself from touching you too much during your times together— he kisses you while still sleeping, deeply and unregretful at his choice. devouring your lips, wishing he could instead feel his tongue pressing against yours, and licking at the drool that escapes from his relentless kisses. his hands would be on either side of your head, but his thighs pin your waist, heavy and unrelenting on moving from its position.
when he lets go, he laps at his lips for any remaining taste of you, hardwiring the memory into the deepest, most sinful parts of his brain, and admires your beauty from up close. bruce watches just how angelic you look sprawled atop a bed that soon would be big enough to fit two, he sees the smile slowly forming on your face, and the giggles that erupt all while you still remain asleep.
you must've been dreaming something pleasant. he hopes that it is him, he hopes that it would be him lavishing you in his love.
and he'll be coming back home right after pecking your lips and cheeks one last time, before leaving your room, to sleep in his bed all alone after a night of a passionate endeavor. he'll be dreaming of a night with you, every night with you in fact. of your pleasured closed-eyed smile in bed and arms that reach to wrap around his body like you do your pillows. he'll cover you like a blanket with his warmth, too.
and you'll always be in his mind, even as he wakes up every morning after another day of sleepless patrol, without you by his side, without your body pressed tightly against his, without the feeling of your plush skin on his scarred one, or the melody of your snores and flutter of your eyes at the light that hits it; bruce would never be satisfied.
in fact, he begins to crave for more as he touches his lips, remembers how easily pinned you are, how fitting your body is wrapped around his. he realizes that mere fantasies would only serve as distractions, he realizes that he needs the real thing.
soon, he'll invite you to the manor, all in his own accord, without hesitation or implications that it was all for mere planning.
there you would be, shy and modestly greeting his children. bruce notices the way your finger shivers, and the barely concealed smile that makes it way to your face when you finally meet your soon-to-be family, your soon-to-be children.
unaware, oblivious to the night he took your first-kiss. he knows it is your first kiss, you've written it in a journal of yours that you're saving it for whoever is your future husband— it's only right that he prides himself in the fact that he is your fiance.
he notices how well you fit in the manor, how you're such a perfect match to the neverending energy of adrenaline to fight and to patrol, acting as a mediator, a peacemaker to the hustle and bustle of spontaneous fights and arguments that alfred used to deal with alone. and his children—?
god, his children love you.
after first impressions, after you spend time coddling beside your fiance, talking to each and every one of them with a fond smile; acting as if they're all already your children without any second thoughts, never forcing yourself into their lives or invading private topics or inside jokes like the other suitors interested in bruce who visited; after you leave the manor despite their insistence that you stay—
all of them took it in their hands to help you both prepare for the wedding arrangements; damian made a comment to push for the wedding date to be way earlier. dick says he'd be in charge of the music, steph butts in saying she knows how to play the piano, cass opens up about performing a ballet piece during the wedding, duke suggests alfred should be handling the food, barbara says she has connections with entertainment factions, tim states matterof fact that he will be organizing the entire schedule, even jason insists on attending, just simply disguised amongst the background.
it would've been a marriage where it's only your side of the family who attend, an agreement you both settled for in the earlier stages of planning, but...
if the family loves you so much at just a first impression then...
bruce wayne loves his spouse even more.
and you, being the hopeless romantic you ever are, craving intimacy at such a young age from the lack of it, took the bait and fell into his controlling hold when you've still had the chance to back out.
after all, what is love without sacrifices?
soon enough, what once were lingering, unsure touches would be bruce holding you tightly against his chest like you two were puzzle pieces fit perfectly together. he was never the type to compliment through words, but every time you wear your favorite shade or those that matches his suit colors every time you both go out for outings, his bright blue, yet dull eyes would glimmer in the sunlight, taking in your entire form. he'll kiss you for what feels longer than half a minute, and sometimes even pin you down against the mahogany door of the office if it meant he was that pleased.
you love the attention, you bask at just how easy it is to love his children. even if their personalities contrast, even through the fights they sometimes have in front of you; none ever lash out at you for breaking it up, even the youngest, damian, who would always be the most violent amongst the siblings.
hell, he'd always be the most possessive, the most demanding of your attention for whenever you stray too close to his other siblings. always glaring, always picking up fights and insulting everyone, but never directing anything at you, even threatening to bite those who dare touch any gifts you give him.
yet you love them, either way, and you've come to love bruce, too. at the most unexpected of times, even. you love it when his touches linger a bit longer, you buzz with joy every time he'd hide your face from paparazzi and hold you tighter, never once letting a hand stray far away from your body, always having you in his arms just like how your perfect fantasies would always play in your head.
and even if you're still unaware of bruce's identity of being batman, the same hero you used to fear, you still insist on kissing bruce's scars that he always comes home with every night after patrol. you let yourself become a treasure he worships, you allow him to kiss you, defile you, and never once let you out alone anymore— your occasional manor visits before your marriage turned into countless of nights spent under a roof with people you thought you'd never be... that closely intimate with.
it is only before the wedding bell rings that bruce falls in love with you, and it would soon be after that you realize just how trapped you truly are.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: after this, i will return to hibernation. and if anybody asks, yes, superman wanting to smash you in this au is still canon. and yes, he will find a way to persuade you in smashing him.
taglist: @donnaaurelia, @prince-nikko, @neerathebrightstar (i hope u like this :))), @mr-celestial-writings, @glasscurrents, @sh4rk-k1d, @vellichor-and-hiraeth, @sammytheotakunerd.
#🌷... yael's works#series: loving family unpalatable desires#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere dc comics#yandere bruce wayne#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian waybe#yandere barbara gordon#yandere cassandra cain#yandere stephanie brown#yandere duke thomas#platonic yandere#romantic yandere#yandere smut#yandere angst#soft yandere#yandere#yandere x male reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x gn reader#yandere x darling#male yandere
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Loser!Ghost that’s confident in his work. he’s a well-respected Lieutenant, a big, strong soldier that strikes fear into others. as soon as you walk into a room his dark brown eyes are glued to you. suddenly his lack of speaking isn’t from being reserved, it’s because he’s nervous
Loser!Ghost that’s silently eyeing you, making sure no one is bothering you from across the room. in his mind he’s just standing guard from afar, monitoring your environment. from everyone else’s perspective? their Lieutenant is staring straight at you - hasn’t moved or twitched for a couple minutes, just breathing steadily as he watches you
Loser!Ghost that sweats hard when he’s next to you. his breathing gets heavier, side-eyeing you while trying not to make any sudden movements. he feels like a wolf standing next to fawn - not that you’re frail or weak, not that you’re necessarily small, but because he doesn’t want to startle you. his heart beating wildly against his chest, sucking in a breath when you glance up at him
Loser!Ghost that’s stiff around you. even after he’s known you for a while he’s still on edge. he doesn’t want to sound too harsh, doesn’t want to seem too intimidating, doesn’t want to wig you out. he knows you tolerate him at least - he’s not great at reading you, too caught up in his head. when you talk to him, smiling up at him and friendly, all he can muster is a gruff hum, acknowledging your words with grumbled noises
CW: erm Virgin!Ghost because I said so?
Loser!Ghost that finds himself invited into your room - tense and heart beating rapidly. he isn’t too sure what to do, he isn’t sure what this is. he can’t find the words he needs, simply watching as you move about. when you ask him if he wants to stay over for the night his brain is doing backflips, it isn’t until you bluntly mumble that you want him that it clicks in his mind
Loser!Ghost who’s a virgin, never really having the time for hookups… or the charisma to land one. he can be a little off-putting, not the greatest quality for getting with someone. but you? you’ve noticed the way he behaves, oddly enamored by him. he doesn’t think to tell you he’s a virgin though, he’s too busy tugging his balaclava up to sloppily kiss you, hands moving to grab your hips - unpracticed movements, a silent excitement bubbling in his gut
Loser!Ghost whose balaclava is askew, half tugged up and awkwardly shifted to the left slightly. he can’t bring himself to care though, broken, deep groans rumbling from him as he tries to push into you. it takes a few tries before he’s nudging into you, eyes screwed shut as his hips stutter. he’s got you caged under him, forearms on either side of you as his forehead rests against your shoulder. he’s breathing heavily, panting against your skin
Loser!Ghost that doesn’t know what he’s doing, just moving on instinct. you feel so good, squeezing him just right as he sinks into you. garbled moans leaving him, his mouth pressed to yours as he bucks against you. you rarely hear Ghost speak, on and off duty, always quiet and looming. maybe that’s why he catches you off guard, hips moving erratically as he mumbles against your lips, “Love you—”
#uuh is this anything?#did we like this?#who’s to say#virgin!ghost#virgin!simon riley#loser!ghost#loser!simon riley#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost headcanons#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod#cod thoughts#call of duty#hit post
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Love Me Again
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: smut
Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!
To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.
You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.
You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.
His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.
You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.
She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.
Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.
Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.
And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.
It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.
On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.
"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.
"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."
"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.
"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.
"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.
"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"
"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.
"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.
He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.
"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.
"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.
"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"
It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.
"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.
"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.
"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.
"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.
"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.
"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.
"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.
"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."
"Even me?"
You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.
"I'd rather not answer that"
He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.
"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.
"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.
"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.
"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"
"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.
"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.
"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.
"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.
"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.
"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.
Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.
He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.
You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.
"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.
Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.
"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.
His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.
"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.
"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.
"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"
He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.
As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.
"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.
"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.
"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.
He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."
He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.
"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.
"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."
Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.
Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.
"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."
"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.
"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.
"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"
"So close"
"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."
"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"
"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.
When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.
"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.
"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"
"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"
"Lando, that's not what I meant…”
#lando x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#f1 smut#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#formula 1
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ANGEL — Simon Riley x Reader
cw: toxic situationship, emotionally unavailable Simon, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Simon is canonically in his late 30s).
wc: 2,027 | Part II
“Shh, shh.” Simon can feel his heartstrings being forcefully pulled, the image of you crying, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cling to him for dear life, your fingers gripping his black hoodie.
“S'okay. I can introduce you to some o' my mates.” The look of exasperation you shoot his way is enough to make him try to hold back his laughter, knowing it's not appropriate. Part of him feels bad, but the other part defends itself by telling him he warned you.
Simon Riley doesn't do love. He doesn't do feelings— he's a dog, too tainted and dirty for someone like you, too doomed. He doesn't deserve you, and yet he can't stop crawling back to you despite the heartbreak he sees in your pretty eyes the moment tells you he has to leave.
“I don't want 'em.” His attention is dragged back to you, the whiny tone making his gaze soften despite himself.
“Can you just... fuck me like you love me? I don't care if it's fake, I just...” Another choked sob escapes your lips, soft fingers tightening their hold on the fabric of his hoodie. Simon doesn't say anything— there's nothing he can say to make it better for you. The one condition to your situationship was broken, yet he couldn't find it in himself to abandon you, not when you look up at him like a lost, needy puppy.
“Y'can pretend it's love...” He offers, his tone lacking any mirth or empathy, not when his lips are busy going down your neck, trying his best not to leave any marks or be too rough with you, fighting his own nature for your sake.
His scarred, pink lips travel down your bare body with a gentleness meant to soften the blow of his emotional unavailability, trying his best to counter the heartbreak, secretly hoping that he can slowly mend your broken heart.
“I'll be nice to ya.” His hot breath hits your bare stomach, making your muscles tense up at the sensation, an unwilling shiver running up your spine at the tenderness of his words and actions, something he never showed you when he used to fuck you.
“Treat you like the proper angel y'are.” Simon's guilt is pushed to the back of his mind the moment his lips plant against your clothed mound, his calloused hand going up to your stomach to gently push you down the moment your back arches, wanting to keep you nice and still for him. To take care of your needs, for once.
Simon is a patient man. A patient man, who runs his warm, wet tongue over your clothed cunt, paying especial attention to your hardened clit, only making the knot in your stomach tighten by the second, fingers lacing on his short blond hair, pulling him closer. The display of pure neediness makes Simon's lips tilt up into a small, soft smile despite himself.
His hands explore your soft legs, squeezing softly every once in a while just to reassure you that he's still there. That he's not going away for once. He can feel your muscles twitch beneath his palm, almost mirroring his neglected, throbbing cock.
Simon's warm hands sneak to the back of your thighs, subtly feeling up your ass with the pads of his fingers, slowly sinking into the fat and muscle before he's pulling your legs up, soft kisses planted on your pretty inner thighs, even going as far as to give them gentle love bites, knowing you don't care if he leaves marks— not when your slick is seeping through the fabric of your panties, ready as ever.
“Needy fuckin' girl.” His touch is as gentle as it could be for someone whose hands are used to responding with violence and aggression, sneaking up to the waistband of your panties, pulling down enough to reveal your glistening cunt, not minding how the black cloth was left neglected, hanging on your ankle.
Just like a man starved, Simon's wet tongue darts out of his mouth to give a long, sensual lick against your folds, savoring the taste of your slickness. His rough hands grip your hips to steady you, no longer minding the way your back arches from the pure pleasure he's giving you. He takes a second to admire the sight in front of him, his hot breath fanning against your cunt.
“Good girl.” His skilled, hungry tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your wetness with a need that matches your own. He explores every single inch of your pussy, his tongue flickering and swirling over your hard, swollen clit. His free hand reaches up to fondle one of your tits, his fingers digging into the fat as he devours you.
Simon's hips rock softly against the mattress, looking for any sort of possible relief for his hard, throbbing cock, neglecting it until he can't handle it, hesitantly letting go of your sweet cunt, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his strong, muscular arms. Your soft hand goes to his tattooed arm out of pure muscle memory, earning you a small smirk back.
“You want it, angel? This fat fuckin' cock inside you?” His hips jerk involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels the familiar heat pooling in his abdomen, his hand going down to his zipper out of habit, lowering it just enough to pull out his cock— until he realizes that he promised to make love to you, not to fuck.
With slight hesitation in his movements, Simon gets up from the bed, brown eyes watching your reaction with such focus you'd think he's a predator ready to pounce on its prey... and in a way, he is.
His chest rises and falls heavily as he starts to discard his clothes until he's completely bare and vulnerable, something he's never done before for anyone. The way your gaze softens as your eyes examine his scars almost makes him want to put his clothes back on— to leave and to never come back. Simon doesn't deserve your empathy, not when he keeps making you cry, yet he swallows his discomfort back down, his body resting on top of yours, lifting himself up with his arms.
“Y'always take me so well, don't you?” Simon teases in a whisper, his breath hot against your ear. The sound of your wetness mingling with his leaking tip fills the room, dragging a small whine out of you as he teases your entrance for a few seconds, his eyes on yours the moment he sinks into you, giving you time to get used to his thickness before starting to push in deeper, a low groan leaving his lips the moment he hits your sensitive, spongy cervix.
Simon leans down, his lips pressing against yours as he starts to thrust into your needy, sopping cunt, every single inch of him stretching you out like you were made for him. A small shiver runs down his spine when your hand goes up and down his back, caressing the scars from the torture he suffered at the hands of Roba. He pushes the bitter sensation away, putting his entire focus on the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his, tiny strings of saliva staining the corners of your soft lips.
He pulls you closer, his grip possessive yet still so gentle and tender, his touch becoming more intimate. Simon buries his face on the crook of your neck, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your soft, warm skin.
“Y'like this, princess?” He rolls his hips against yours, pushing himself as deep as possible into your pussy.
“Bet my mates could fuck you better.” Simon silences your protests with a quick kiss, thrusting faster into you just so you become willing to hear him out.
“Could treat ya better, too.” His forehead leans against yours, staring deep into the pleading look you're giving him, silently begging him to stop talking about it— to love you, begging for something he can't give you even if he were to force himself.
“My captain's a good man. Y'like older men, don't ya?” His breath is hot against your cheek, his eyes finally screwing shot as your cunt tightens around him at the mention of Price, a low, deep groan making its way out of his throat.
“'Course you do.” He says with a small chuckle, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks, feeling your breath against his face as more whiny, needy moans leave your lips, your velvety walls tightening around his hard cock.
Simon's back bends slightly as he rests his cheek against your chest, your fast-beating heart giving him a slight sense of comfort he's never found anywhere else. His thrusts grow more desperate— faster and deeper, feeling your tits vibrate with each loud moan you're letting out, pretty legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
“My pretty girl.” Even if he's just playing pretend, the words coming out of Simon's lips feel right, his thumb massaging your cheek while he admires you from beneath him, looking just like an angel. Part of Simon pities you, knowing that he'll never be able to love you back, but he can keep pretending for as long as you need.
The knot in your stomach starts to slowly come undone with every single thrust, feeling his meaty cock throb inside you. Your head leans back against the pillow, pretty eyes closing as you allow the illusion of love to set in— to imagine what it's like to be loved by someone like Simon, to get fucked like this daily, with such tenderness and care.
Simon can feel your walls gripping him harder, only encouraging him to slam his hips against yours the way he knows you love it, the upwards curve on his veiny cock allowing him to hit your spongy cervix over and over, low groans and loud pants escaping his lips. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into the skin as he gets closer to the edge, his heavy balls tightening.
Simon lets out a shaky breath as you hold him closer to your sweaty body by the waist, the arch of your back allowing both of your hearts to be against the other's, both beating wildly with the heat of the moment. His face goes back to the crook of your neck as he lets out a loud, throaty moan as he spills his hot cum into you, riding out your orgasms, feeling your tight cunt grip him like vice.
He waits a few seconds before slowly pulling out of you, cupping your cheek just to have those pretty eyes look up at him with nothing but pure trust and love— so lovely, so pure, so untainted, unlike him. He lays down next to you, wrapping his burly arms around you and bringing your exhausted body against his, cuddling you up.
He plants gentle kisses all over your pretty face, basking in the afterglow of the intense love-making, admiring you like you're a piece of art... and truly, in Simon's eyes, you are. His phone vibrates against your bedside table, reaching out for it and letting out a small sigh at the message. Duty calls, and unfortunately, Simon can't get out of a deployment, even when part of his heart stays with you.
“My mates need me for a mission.” He says softly, planting one last kiss on your forehead before getting up from bed, putting his military-provided clothes back on. He stares at the sticky notes on your desk, giving you a small glance before leaning down and writing something on it, ripping the paper away from the rest and putting it down on your bedside table so you won't forget.
“'S my captain's number. Give 'im a call, yeah? He'll answer.” He promises, not daring to leave until you give him a small nod in confirmation, shooting you one last glance before leaving your room, the entrance door slamming shut soon after.
Your already teary eyes stare at the number written down on the sticky note, looking more enticing by the second.
John Price.
#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon riley#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x f!reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#ghost x female reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon x reader#ghost call of duty#cod#mw2 ghost#mw2 fanfic#mw2#cod modern warfare#mw2 smut#mw2 x reader#situationships
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୧ ‧₊˚ 💐⋅ ☆ ➛ You bagged that?
Lando Norris x Fem!Actressreader
Summary: Lando has seen everyone of your movies— from tv shows to random videos, he’s just so updated about you in everything it’s crazy, but what’s more crazy is him spreading that you guys are dating.
Genre: SMAU
Fc: Elle Fanning
Note: There are some grammatical errors to look out for!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist
─────── ─ ✉⋆˚。 ⋆୨୧˚─ ───────
Liked by Landonorris and 3,901 others
No.1fFan_ Yn is an actual princess, i love her so much😍
Tagged; @Not_Yn
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Username1 SHE IS THE EPITOME OF ROYALTY 👸🏻
Username2 I love her movies sm🥹
Username3 BESTIE SAME!!
Username4 lando on likes??👀👀
Username5 uhm who?
Username6 some f1 driver whose been liking her for years
Username5 ohhh
Username7 he just likes every pic of hers ig🤷🏻♀️
Username8 I’VE SEEN HER IN PERSON, SHE’S SUPER NICE🥰
Landonorris Lucky😢😢
Username9 DHSHUSUWB LANDO😭
…
Liked by louispatridge_, Landonorris, Netflix and 2,378,901 others
Not_yn I have two sides😚
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Landonorris love all ur sides!
Carlossainz55 Dream on lover boy😝
Landonorris Fuck off
Username10 lmao them fighting in the comments r so iconic
Username11 y/n not even giving a damn😭
Username12 HER BEING SO ETHEREAL IS EVERYTHING
Landonorris I AGREE😫
Username13 not lando being her no.1 fan
Username14 stalker much??
Username15 girl stfu, u do the same
Annehathaway why is ur comment sec always chaotic
Not_yn even I don’t know😭
…
Landonorris just posted!
Liked by mclaren, and 12,378 others
Landonorris so pretty😍
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Username16 THE DELUSION😭
Username17 Y/n didn’t even like this
Username18 A+ for the confidence
Username19 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ON HOW PRETTY SHE LOOKS
Landonorris real😢
Charles_Leclerc Dude…
Carlossainz55 Man…
Georgerussell63 🤦🏻♂️🤦🏻♂️🤦🏻♂️
Pierregasly Oh brother..
Username20 THEY HAVE MIXED FEELINGS😭
Username21 lmao the whole f1 attacking him
Username22 the whole gang came to shame him
Username23 yn being so unbothered😎
Username24 MY QUEEN FR🥰
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➛ Messages
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WAG.updates ACTRESS Y/N L/N WERE SEEN KISSING THE KNOWN F1 DRIVER LANDO NORRIS— The couple have been spotted together a few times already.
Tagged; @Not_yn, @landonorris
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Username25 oh…
Username26 we owe him an apology
Username27 LANDO DESERVES AN APOLOGY FROM ALL😭
Username28 nobody believed the poor man
Landonorris WHAT’S UP NOW BITCHES
Landonorris and they call me crazy🙄
Maxverstappen u still are😑
Landonorris Yeah..crazy right that is🤪🤪
Username29 gaslighting myself that this isn’t true
Username30 Y/n isn’t even in the likes must be fake
Username31 GIRL PLS LANDO ALR COMMENTED
Username30 doesn’t prove anything
…
Liked by Landonorris, urbff, and 5,092,278 others
Not_yn wanted to soft launch but the jig is up
Tagged; @Landonorris
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Landonorris can finally say i love you without being judged😛
Not_yn my poor baby has been so much
Username32 NOOO MY HEART IS FOREVER BROKEN
Username33 welp good bye cruel world
Username34 they lowkey adorable ngl
Landonorris now u ship us🙄🙄
Username34 WE’RE SORRY😭
Charles_Leclerc we stand corrected
Carlossainz55 i know when to say sorry. Sorry
Username35 she’s so pretty💕💕
Landonorris the prettiest😁
Pierregasly aww lover boy
Landonorris fuck off
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➛ Messages
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Loved this!!
#imagine#fanfic#oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n
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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 (p.js)
PAIRING: hades!jay x persephone!reader
SUMMARY: labelled as unable of being loved, jay decides to steal a mortal to rule his realm with. what he hasn’t expected, though, is that it wasn’t you who he kidnapped, you had stolen his heart.
WARNINGS: kidnapping, enemies to lovers (but only reader hates jay), greek mythology, mentions of other idols as Gods, kisses. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.
PUBLISHED: 22nd December 2024
WC: 3.5k
TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi (oneshot) @monstaxdirtywonk @love4choso @heechwe
a/n: guess who’s back, back again. lol, i’m so happy with how this turned out! and i sincerely hope y’all like it too 🩷 have some nice holidays!
The gods of Olympus were never silent. Their laughter and taunts echoed across the heavens, filling their golden halls with noise and light.
Among them, Hades — so few knew him as Jay — was the quiet shadow in their midst.
Rarely did he grace their celebrations, his duties below pulling him away from the vanity of their world.
But he wasn't deaf to their jests.
“He'll never know love," Hermes — whose former name was Jungwon — had said to one banquet, leaning onto his caduceus with a smirk.
"Who would want to walk in those dark halls with him?" Aphrodite chimed in, her melodic laughter cutting through the room.
Jay had sat silent, his face impassive, but their words lodged deep within him.
He had never been a creature of longing— his domain demanded stern control, not vulnerability. And yet, as centuries passed, a hollow ache had begun to grow.
Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps he would remain alone. But then, there was the smallest flicker of rebellion within him.
“Let them doubt me," he whispered, his voice cold as the mist of the Styx. "I will find someone who can see me for what I really am."
♡.
Jay seldom visited the mortal world. It was too loud, too bright, too alive.
But something had pulled him there that day, a whisper in the back of his mind, a tenuous tug he could not ignore. And so, he walked among the mortals, his dark robes altered to blend in with their simple garb.
The sun beat above, merciless. Apollo — also known as Heeseung — really enjoyed making mundanes suffer. Mortals bustled around him, their voices a cacophony of trivial concerns.
He had nearly given up, retreating toward the shaded edge of a golden orchard, when his eyes fell on you.
You stood beneath an ancient apple tree, reaching up toward the highest branches.
Your hands grasped the fruit carefully, inspecting each apple before placing it in your basket.
The sun played in your hair, catching the edges of your figure like a halo. But it wasn't your beauty that arrested him; it was the way you moved— with confidence, with purpose.
Suddenly, a strange thought assailed him: You belonged in no one's shadow. It seemed as if not even the apple’s shadow could make you lose your spark.
A step closer he came, and almost faltered. You laughed softly as you took a bite of the sweet fruit, a slice of sound that cut through the din around him. Something in his chest stirred. An unfamiliar pull, sharp and insistent.
Before he knew better, he acted.
The earth had shaken beneath your feet, and you had stood stock-still, startled.
A chill had saturated the air, unnatural and heavy. You turned, your gaze darting around for the source, but the orchard had fallen silent.
Then the earth rent asunder. Shadows poured from it, twisting and coiling like living things. Swimming around you like water would from a waterfall.
Up from the chasm rose a chariot of black iron, its wheels spinning silently above the broken earth. The horses were ghostly, their eyes glowing like dying embers.
Your breath caught in your throat as a figure stepped from the chariot, the bitten apple falling on the ground, rolling. He was cloaked in darkness, his hood obscuring his face, but his presence was overwhelming.
Power radiated from him, pressing down on your chest like a physical weight.
"Who—" Your voice broke, trembling with fear and defiance. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer, only lifted a hand. The shadows surged forward, binding your legs like chains. You cried out, struggling against them, but they held fast.
"Let me go!" you shouted, anger flashing through your terror.
Jay raised a brow; he moved closer, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood.
His features were sharp, almost otherworldly, and his eyes were a cold, unyielding gray.
"I cannot," he whispered, and then before you could reply, he took you into his embrace.
You struggled against him, your fists pounding against his chest, but it was like hitting stone. He stepped back onto the chariot, holding you fast as the horses reared and plunged into the chasm.
The world above disappeared in a swirl of darkness as you lost your senses.
♡.
When you awoke, you were no longer in the orchard.
The air was cool and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine.
You sat up slowly, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The chamber was huge, its walls carved from gleaming black stone that seemed to drink in the dim red light emanating from the ceiling.
And there, sat on an obsidian throne on the other end of the room, was him.
He watched you intently— his hood discarded, with pale skin and a face chiseled, striking yet severe. His dark eyes felt to see right through you, and you hated the way your breath caught under his gaze.
Hades. Ruler of the Underworld.
"Why?" you demanded, your voice hoarse. You stood shakily, glaring at him. "Why did you bring me here?"
"I needed a queen," he said simply, as if that explanation was enough.
You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls. "A queen? You think I'd ever agree to rule this… this pit with you?"
His expression didn't change, though you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something in his eyes-annoyance, perhaps, or amusement.
"You misunderstand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have a choice."
That struck a nerve. Your hands curled into fists, and despite the fear twisting in your gut, you stepped closer. "No one owns me," you hissed. "Not you, not anyone.”
For the first time, his calm cracked.
He rose with a slow, deliberate movement, and all the weight of his presence came down on you.
"I am Hades," he said, his voice thundering with power. "God of the Underworld, you are here because I chose you, and you will learn to accept that."
Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to back down. "And if I don't?"
The silence hung heavy between you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he looked away. "Then you'll remain here as my prisoner. Either way, you belong to me now."
You swallowed hard, anger and fear warring within you. But one thought rose above the rest: You will not let him break you.
With the snap of his fingers, two servants in the form of a skeleton appeared in front of you. They looked at you with their void eyes and then turned around, walking.
You glanced up at Jay, who only beckoned you to follow them.
A scoff escaped your lips as you did just that, anything would be better than staying in the same room as him.
The skeleton's bones made a funny noise as they walked you down the neve -ending hallways. The castle was huge, crimson coated the walls as well as dark black.
“So,” you cleared your throat “Is your boss always like that? Or does he change expressions sometimes?” you tried to joke, but the skeletons didn’t reply.
Of course, they didn’t even have lips, “You can’t tell me anything, uh? Not even where the exit is?”
They just stopped in front of a door, opening it for you. Taking the hint, you slowly stepped inside, cautious.
The chamber was so spacious for only one person, a bed stood in the middle of the room, its sheets a dark shade of red.
The walls were coated with drawings of black dahlias, the ceiling so high it made you think the room never actually ended.
The skeletons closed the door behind your back, leaving you there, alone.
You walked to the bed, sitting on its edge. At least, the mattress was soft, the sheets silk and warm.
You finally allowed a sob to escape your lips, another followed and then another again.
Gods always did what they wanted, never truly considering someone’s feelings. You hated them, but more than anything, you hated Hades.
Your fingers gripped the sheets, if he wanted a wife, you’d show him just what you were made of.
♡.
The tension hung between you like a storm cloud.
Jay had come to visit you when you woke up, followed by a skeleton that placed a trail of pomegranate on your bed.
You didn’t know how much you slept, neither of it was morning or night. The Underworld had no light.
“I hope the chamber is of your likings.” He spoke after an awkward silence. You dared glance at him, but daren’t reply.
Jay let out a soft sigh, “It is the only fruit that grows in my realm, if you want anything in particular, I’ll have one of my servants fetch you something from the orchard in the Olympus.”
Finally, you reached down, picking up the pomegranate. Its scent was sweet, and the faint shimmer of the seeds made them look like tiny jewels.
Usually, you’d go crazy for the bittersweet fruit, but the Underworld made even that look dead, poisonous.
You turned it in your hands as if inspecting it. "And what if I refuse to eat?" you asked, tone sharp.
Jay's lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though it was fleeting. "You won't," he said simply, his voice soft but sure.
Your glare deepened. "How do you know?"
"Because you don't hate life," he said. "Even here, in this place you claim to despise, you'll find a reason to keep going.”
The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came.
You picked up one of the seeds between your fingers, observing the way the surface shimmered before finally placing it into your mouth.
The flavor burst on your tongue, sweet and tart, and for a moment, you were reminded of the orchards above— the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair, the simple joy of being free.
Jay watched you in silence, his expression unreadable. When you finally set the pomegranate down, he inclined his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your evening," he said, turning to go.
So, it was evening.
But before he could go, your voice stopped him. "Wait."
He turned back; his eyes were steady but questioning.
"Why do you keep trying?" you asked, quieter now. "Why not just leave me to my misery? Use me just for your plans?” after all, it would be typical of the Gods.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a voice so soft it barely carried across the room, “Because I've spent eternity surrounded by shadows, and for the first time, there's a light here."
His words had left you speechless for a moment. He bowed his head slightly and then left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
♡.
The Underworld had a strange beauty to it, though you’d fought to see it.
The palace gardens, in particular, drew your attention on restless nights— or days. They were like nothing you’d ever encountered in the mortal world.
The flowers glowed faintly, their petals a soft silver-blue, and streams of water that sparkled like liquid starlight wove between them.
It was here, one evening, that you sat on a stone bench, your eyes fixed on the ghostly blooms. You didn't hear Jay approach until he spoke.
"You come here often," he said, his voice quiet.
You startled slightly but didn't turn. "I don't have many options," you replied, your tone still edged with defiance.
You had tried to wander around the castle, and Jay let you, but whenever you came too close to the exit, a puddle of shadows rose from the ground and brought you back to your chamber.
Jay sat beside you, leaving enough space to show he wasn't trying to intrude. He looked out at the garden, his gray eyes contemplative. "These flowers," he said after a moment, "Only grow here, nowhere else in existence."
You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "You care about them?"
"They're life in a place where life shouldn't exist," he said simply.
The words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of understanding: the Underworld wasn't just a prison to him— it was a responsibility, a realm he nurtured despite its darkness.
It was the realm given to him by his father, and it was his job to keep it going, no matter how much he despised it.
After a moment, you exhaled, leaning back slightly. "Why do you do that?"
He looked at you, brow furrowed. "Do what?
“Say things that make it hard to hate you,” you said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.
You didn’t know how much time had passed, perhaps weeks or months. Time seemed to flow slower there.
But you thought it would be easier to hate him, had he been scarier and less gentle. His sharp edges always seemed to soften whenever you walked into the room, and his clothes clung to his form, revealing a body any girl from your village would go crazy about.
Not that you stared at it too much, of course.
To your surprise, Jay’s lips curved into a faint smile of his own. “I thought you’d hate me forever.”
“I’m still considering it,” you shot back, though the teasing note in your voice was unmistakable.
Jay chuckled softly, the sound low and unfamiliar. For the first time, the weight between you seemed to lift, if only slightly.
“Will you ever let me see the light again? The orchard?” or your family. Would your parents be worried, or had Jay already cast a spell on them?
“Depends,” he spoke, “Will you run away if I do.” fair point. The moment the sun kissed your skin again, you were sure you wouldn’t step inside this gloomy castle anymore.
Seeing your lack of reply, Jay just got up and turned around, murmuring “That’s what I thought.”
And for a seconds, you thought you saw something like hurt flicker in his eyes.
♡.
More time passed, and though you had resisted at first, you found yourself softening toward Jay. He had a quiet strength about him, a steady patience that wore down your walls like water against stone.
You spent most of your days in the library. Though your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, your imagination worked just as fine.
You daydreamed of the life outside the suffocating walls of the Underworld’s castle, you dreamed of someone rescuing you.
And sometimes — but just sometimes — you fantasised about Jay, and his heart made of iron.
One night, as you sat by the fire in the great hall, he joined you, a small bundle wrapped in dark cloth clutched in his hand. "I have something for you," he said; his voice held a rare note of uncertainty. You lifted an eyebrow, curiosity pricked despite yourself. "Another 'gesture'?"
"Of a sort," he said. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a delicate necklace of silver and black opals.
The stones shimmered like starlight, their glow faint but mesmerizing.
You stared at it, then at him. "Why?"
"It reminded me of you," he said simply. "Strong.. luminous, unyielding."
Your heart skipped a beat, though you fought to keep your expression neutral. "You think flattery will make me forgive you?"
"No," he said, holding the necklace out to you. "But it's the truth."
You hesitated, then reached out to take it. The metal was cool against your skin and for a moment, an odd sense of belonging overtook you, like this place, this moment wasn't entirely foreign.
"Thank you," you said softly and surprised yourself.
Jay's eyes relaxed, and for the first time, you saw not the god who had stolen you but the man beneath— the one who had spent centuries in solitude, yearning for connection.
for someone understanding, someone to love. Perhaps, you could learn to be just that.
You handed the necklace back to him, he looked at it, hurt. He thought you had rejected his gift, but as you turned around and held your hair up, his breath hitched.
“Would you help me put it on?” you questioned, your voice soft, unlike the usual bite it held.
“Of course.” Jay murmured quietly, his touch gentle as he put the jewel around your neck.
It fit perfectly, the dark necklace adorning your once tanned skin.
You smiled. holding it between your fingers, “It’s beautiful.”
He smiled.
Your eyes widened when he took in the sight, he smiled so warmly, and for a moment he even looked human.
“You’re beautiful.” Jay spoke, his voice so soft.
“Hades—“ You said, but he shook his head “Call me Jay.”
You gulped, the room suddenly feeling too hot, “Jay.” you repeated, the name rolling sweetly down your tone.
He let out a soft groan, like it both pained and healed him.
“I know you keep thinking ‘Why me?’” He murmured, caressing your cheek. The first time his skin met yours voluntarily “But for me, it has always been you— from the moment I saw you picking those apples, my heart belonged to you.”
You didn’t even have time to think about it, but your feet went on their tip-toes as you pressed your soft lips on his.
To say he was taken aback was an understatement. His eyes wide as body rigid, and for a moment you thought if maybe, he didn’t love you as much as he claimed.
But then, his hand held your face, the other tangled in your hair as his own lips moved on yours passionately.
Your fingers curled around his shirt, grounding you as uou got lost in the taste of him.
You took the hand that was on your cheek and guided it to rest on your racing heart, “Maybe you have the same effect on me.” You murmured on his lips.
His eyes darkened and he pulled away, “Will you marry me?”
You blinked faintly, your breath hitching at his straight-forwardness.
“Do I have a choice?” He stepped away, his breath still heavy from the kiss, “Yes— yes, I’m giving it to you right now.”
Your brows furrowed, so he added “If you think your future still belongs in the Olympus, then go. The door is actually just around the throne room.”
Jay gulped, hope flickering in his usually gloomy eyes “But if you have some sense of future here, with me, then stay. Stay and let me be your husband.”
You clenched your jaw and looked at the door of the throne room. If you exited it and followed the long hallway, you would be out.
You would see the light, feel the sun tickle your skin, see your family, your friends.
But you weren’t sure that was what you wanted anymore.
Your eyes set again on Jay. His expression had lost hope, like he had already lost.
But you smirked, crossing your arms over your chest “So,” you cleared your throat “When’s the wedding?”
A smile, brother than Apollo’s sun lit up his face as he closed the distance he had put and claimed your lips once more.
“Whenever you want, Y/N.”
♡.
In time, the Underworld became your home. Though the darkness remained, it no longer felt oppressive. The palace, once cold and foreign, now echoed with your laughter. And Jay, once a figure of hate, had become something else entirely.
One day, as you stood by the garden's edge, watching the silver streams flow, he approached you. His steps were quiet, but you felt his presence before you turned.
"You've changed this place," he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.
You looked at him, a faint smile playing on your lips. "And you've changed me.
He reached out and took your hand in his, holding it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the ring. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with meaning.
Then he bowed his head slightly, his voice a low murmur "Will you teach me how to love you right?”
You looked at him, at the man who had once been your captor but was now so much more.
Slowly, you nodded. "I will."
#enhypen#enhypen fics#enhypen x reader#enhypen au#jay#park jay#jay park#park jongseong#jongseong#enhypen jay#jay fics#jay oneshot#park jay fics#park jay oneshot#park jongseong fics#park jongseong oneshot#jongseong fics#jongseong oneshot#park jay au#park jay enhypen#park jay fluff#park jongseong enhypen#park jongseong fluff#park jongseong au#jay fluff#jay enhypen#jay au#jay fic#park jay scenarios#park jongseong scenarios
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A Date (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 3)
Thank you so much for all your kind words, likes and reblogs on my last two posts! You guys are keeping me so entertained with the comments!
Ugh I rewrote this like 3 times :( I just couldn't get it right and I'm still not sure how I feel about it OH WELL
Benny x Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 2.2K
Summary- You were sure you'd never see Benny Cross again. . . you were wrong.
******
“Benny’s been asking for ya.”
Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly dropped the receiver into the bowl of cake batter. Kathy’s statement came out of left field, the two of you having been discussing the latest news on the block – what kind of lipstick Sheryl Dickie uses that somehow always lasts an entire night of bar hopping. “What?”
“Yeah, says he’s real desperate to ask you somethin’,” Kathy’s tone was flippant, but you’ve known her long enough to hear the excitement she’s hiding in her voice.
“What could he possibly have to talk to me about?” You asked as you set the whisk down and moved around the kitchen counter to peak down the hallway towards the living room where you knew your father sat in his large recliner, watching a rerun of Bonanza.
“I dunno, maybe you should come to another meetin’ so you can find out.”
“No, I’m not going to anymore of those.” you declared firmly, yanking the cord so that the phone was up to your other ear. “I don’t know how you can stand being around those guys.”
Kathy laughed, the static spiking. “C’mon, they’re fun, and you know it. Did you tell your parents how you got to ride on the back of a Vandal’s bike, and not just any Vandal!”
“No!” you squeaked. “And they’re never going to know. It was a one-time thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be. They’re having another meetin’ tonight. I’m sure Benny could pick you up–”
“Well, I can’t tonight,” you cut her off. “I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“My date.”
“Date?” Kathy asked, voice lowering dubiously. “With who?”
“Pete,” you said quietly.
“Who?” she asked again.
You sighed. “Pete? The guy from Mama’s church?”
Pete was introduced to you last week by your mother who was introduced to him by his mother. It was a train of people who wanted to matchmake, to see young love blossom before their eyes, even if it was forced. Pete was nice enough and he had kind eyes that sat behind wide-rimmed glasses. You’d been on one other date with him. He was an engineering student in his first year and he talked a lot about his school. He liked school. And he liked to golf nearly every weekend (his family belonged to the country club on the upper side of town). And mostly – he talked a lot about himself. He seemed to really like himself too.
“Oh, okay.” Kathy sounded unimpressed.
“My family really likes him. My dad likes him.”
“Yeah?”
At her unenthusiastic response, you added quickly, “And I’m excited!”
“Is that why you’re stress-baking?” Kathy inquired as if she could sense it.
You glance down at the bowl of cake batter. No, it wasn’t, actually. You weren’t nervous to go on your second date with Pete; he didn’t make her nervous, didn’t fill your belly with those pesky butterflies. Pete was . . . just Pete. No, you were stress-baking because of a certain blonde Bikerider whose ocean blue eyes wouldn’t leave your thoughts all night. You were up, tossing and turning, replaying every moment with him like a broken record. It was one ride, the logical side of your mind had to say, and you’ll never see him again. You allowed yourself the rest of the night to think about him, and then you wouldn’t set aside any more time.
In theory, it was a nice strategy. But when you woke up today, your thoughts were absolutely clouded with him and his incredibly direct eye-contact and his deeply rich voice and his hand touching your thigh and his lips encasing the cigarette—
You were doing it again! It had been one ride! One ride and a few hours. One ride where your arms wrapped so tightly to his solid form. One ride where he showed you places you’d never seen before, from a point of view you’d never been before. One ride where you felt as though you were seeing the world in a whole new light. One ride that you couldn’t get out of your head.
“Yes, because of Pete,” you replied evenly. “And I’m going to have a good time with him tonight.”
There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, sure. Say, what restaurant did ya say he was takin’ you?”
********
Thanking the driver, you stepped out of the cab, your heels connecting softly with the concrete of the sidewalk. Taking a moment to smooth any wrinkles on your pink dress, your gaze fluttered across the street to the restaurant Pete told you to meet him at.
Ricardo’s was one of the most expensive restaurants in town, somewhere you never found yourself frequenting, but Pete absolutely gushed about their food. Coming from old money, Pete had no hesitation picking here for your second date. Pete’s family was well off, that’s what your mother liked to point out. He was a good boy with good money. He would provide for you, buy you a nice house with a picket fence in the front yard. A safe bet for the same routine life that nearly all the women of your family had spanning back several generations.
You made your way across the street, eyes taking in the lineup of expensive cars parked out front: Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Cadillac . . . Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You did a double-take at the shiny metal glinting underneath the streetlamp, eyes traveling upwards to the figure leaning casually against it. He was looking at the restaurant, head turned to give a generous view of his profile, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. For a split second, you considered taking advantage of that and booking it into the front door before he had a chance to stop you. But some deeply intrinsic part of you yearned to memorize every detail of him and you simply couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, you were drawn to him, to the golden streaks of his hair, down to the strong slope of his nose, the curve where his top lip sat so perfectly against the bottom – even with the cigarette tucked between. He wore long sleeves under his club jacket and the same distressed jeans from your last encounter. Half shrouded in the darkness of night, with the orange glow of the streetlight nearest to him, he looked like a beacon of mystery. Abandoning your previous course, you turned and approached him.
“What are you doing here?” You asked once you were close enough for him to hear you.
Benny turned and a smile broke out over his features, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Do you dress like that all the time or only when you’re gonna see me?” He asked, nodding to your dress and heels.
You stopped about 6 feet away from him (a reasonable distance), hopping up onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“What a chance encounter,” he proclaimed with a secretive wink that sent your stomach on a roller coaster ride.
“Chance encounter, or Kathy’s loose lips?” you quipped and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from smiling, fingers grazing through the blonde, recently-trimmed facial hair.
“Why are you here?” You asked again, this time a touch quieter.
“Well, I have a coupon,” he replied simply.
You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips, your brows raising incredulously. “A coupon? To Ricardo’s?”
“Mm-hm,” he nodded, straight-faced.
You rolled your eyes at his antics. He had a coupon, your ass. A well-dressed elderly couple walked past you both on the sidewalk, each shooting a look of disapproval toward the dirty young man leaning against his death machine. Benny seemed not to notice them, his gaze still on you.
“Why are you here?” he questioned.
“I–I have a date,” you replied and desperately tried to ignore the heat rising to your face at the admission. “But something tells me you already know that.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down to the ground for all of five seconds before his gaze flashed back up to you. “Wanna go for a ride, Little Bunny?”
“What? No.” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Why not?”
“Well, I just told you I'm here for a date,” you replied with a tilt of your head.
Benny shrugged. “So?”
You shook your head but he continued, “Why are you wastin’ your time with dates when we’re gonna be married anyway?”
Your mouth fell open in surprise. The nerve on this guy! Part of you was surprised that he still had it in his head of marrying you. You thought maybe he had a few too many beers last night or was just smooth-talking you so that you’d let him sleep with you. But here he was, showing up on the sidewalk, giving you those puppy eyes. You’d already denied him once. Could he not take a hint?
“I don’t recall you ever asking.” you pointed out, feeling emboldened by his casual attitude.
He perked up at that, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “You want me to ask?”
You fought to remain neutral-faced at his playfulness. “No, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . I have a date.” One that you were excited about before you caught sight of Benny and your train of thoughts completely derailed.
Benny held his hands up in a conciliatory way and you turned on your heel, leaving him out on the streets as you made your way inside.
******
The clock on the far wall seemed to be mocking you, minutes ticking by mercilessly. You resisted looking at it, instead planting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watched the door, waiting for Pete’s familiar face to appear. It had been over an hour. He was over an hour late for your date.
Each time the waitress returned to fill your glass of water, you told yourself a new lie. He was just stuck at work, he’ll be here soon. He was running behind getting ready, he’ll be here soon. There must have been an emergency, he’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t stand you up, he’ll be here soon.
But as the seconds passed, you sunk further and further into your seat, humiliation forming a ball in your stomach. Surely, he had gotten his days mixed up? He really seemed to enjoy your first date, so why was he nowhere to be seen. Every time someone walked through the front door, the little bell chiming above, you glanced up, certain it would be him. But it never was. At first, you were angry. How could he have the audacity to leave you hanging without so much as calling you before he left if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. Then a bitter thought came to mind: what if he stood you up because he didn’t want to go out with you again. What if you weren't good enough for him. You had spent your whole life on the never ending hamster wheel of trying to be good enough for everyone else. Was your hard work even noticed?
Recognizing the sting of unshed tears, you looked down at the napkin folded neatly in your lap, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get control of yourself. The bell chimed over the front door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at it, not wanting to feel the crushing disappointment of another wealthy customer walking inside and not your date.
Then a flash of dark clothing popped across from you and you looked up just as Benny Cross slid into the empty seat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He leaned forward, elbows of his leather jacket propped over the tablecloth.
“Pete not show?” he asked, expression solemn.
Your ears burned and you shook your head. Too preoccupied by your embarrassment, it didn’t even occur to you that you had never told him Pete’s name.
He frowned and he genuinely appeared upset. Unable to maintain his direct gaze, you glanced away and caught the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant staring wide-eyed at the two of you. You realized that it was Benny who they were gawking at. And you didn’t seem to notice until now that he looked totally out of place with his worn clothes and dirty hands. As if sensing their not-so-subtle staring, Benny turned and looked about the room.
“What’s with all the stiff shirts in here?” he asked, sending you a conspiratorial glance. “I think they might be intimidated by you.”
“Me?” You furrowed your brow. It definitely wasn’t you they were looking at. In fact, the only person who was staring at you was Benny.
“Yeah, I bet they’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. Most people haven’t and they don't know how to act when they do.” He grinned and you had to look down at your lap as heat rose to your face.
“I guess Pete wouldn’t agree,” you muttered quietly, feeling the anger in your heart fizzle out to meer disappointment.
“Fuck Pete,” Benny said passionately, causing an elderly woman behind you to gasp and you giggled, shocked at his language. Benny was bad, he was trouble . . . but he was also fun, and you couldn’t hide your eagerness as he leaned his arms across the table, moving closer to address you privately.
“You wanna get out of here, Bunny?” His question sent a gust of anticipation through your veins.
“Yeah,” you admitted, smiling shyly.
He stood quickly and you followed in suit. Then he did something that caused a wave of butterflies to roll through your stomach; he reached out and clasped his hand with you, interlocking fingers tightly. You grinned, excitement making you feel light and airy as he pulled you through the restaurant, past all the staring faces and harsh whispers and out the door into the night which felt alive with a whole new feeling of possibilities.
*Tag List*
@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan
#i need a biker boyfriend#benny cross#benny x bunny#benny cross x reader#the bikeriders#benny the bikeriders#fluff#imagine#austin butler x reader#austin butler#benny x reader#motorcycle#austin butler fandom#austin bulter x you
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Help Shahed and her family!
i want to create a post about @shahednhall whose fundraiser has not been getting the attention it deserves. Shahed's campaign has been verified by @/nabulsi here so please don't hesitate to share this and give to her campaign generously. the associated account here was her old one before it got terminated. if your eyes are currently glazing over because this is yet another fundraising post, STOP AND DON'T SCROLL! PLEASE GIVE ME A MINUTE OF YOUR TIME!
Shahed is a 20-year old accounting student who has been through unimaginable horrors, along with her family of 15. her father suffers from a heart condition and two of her younger sisters have contracted hepatitis from the polluted water in Gaza.
not only is there no medical treatment available for any of them, with the prices of food skyrocketing, there is also no way for them to buy enough food for everyone, leaving them starving and malnourished. at 20 years old, Shahed is the oldest in her family. with her parents both battling illnesses and being too sick to take care of their children, she is solely responsible for her family at the moment. she has 5 younger siblings to look after, the youngest one Bilal being just a baby.
their home was completely destroyed and they were displaced multiple times. please imagine having to flee so many times, while packing up your few belongings as fast as you can and not having had enough food to eat.
i want to emphasize that her campaign has been running since February of this year and her fundraiser is still only at 22%
$11,019 USD / $50,000 USD raised so far. follow @shahednhall for updates on her situation, share her posts and leave her nice words of encouragement. please be there for her, as she needs our support urgently. we cannot let her down.
tagging for visibility under the cut
@brutaliakhoa @appsa @buttercuparry @three-croissants @aces-and-angels
@turian @communistchilchuck @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2 @commissions4aid-international
@dykesbat @feluka @terroristiraqi @transmutationisms @sawasawako
@neechees @mangocheesecakes @stuckinapril @socalgal @sayruq
@irhabiya @meaganfoster @timetravellingkitty @briarhips @rhubarbspring
#free palestine#from the river to the sea palestine will be free#mutual aid#gaza mutual aid#free gaza#gaza fundraiser
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Grays & All
no warnings just fluff :)
Joel groaned softly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body stiff and aching from another night of fitful sleep. His knees cracked as he stood, stretching his back, the familiar twinge of discomfort settling into his joints like an unwelcome guest, reminding him of every year he’d survived. He let out a slow, weary breath, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and turned his gaze to you.
You were still curled beneath the covers, a serene picture of softness and peace. The golden rays of sunlight that filtered through the curtains bathed you in a warm glow, making you look even more ethereal. The rhythm of your breathing was steady, your chest rising and falling in quiet slumber, and Joel couldn’t help but watch you, captivated by the quiet beauty of the moment.
You’d been together for some time now, but each time he saw you like this, it felt new. His heart—old, aching, and hardened by years of survival—skipped a beat as he took you in. He couldn’t quite grasp what he’d done to deserve you, or why you’d chosen him.
His thoughts tangled, heavy with doubt, circling like vultures. He couldn’t help but wonder what someone like you, so young and full of life, saw in him—a man worn down by years of pain, loss, and hard living. You deserved someone who matched your energy, your light. Someone whose body didn’t betray them with every creak and groan, someone whose laughter wasn’t tinged with regret.
In Jackson, there were plenty of younger men, men who hadn’t been weighed down by the past, who didn’t wake up with an ache in their bones. Joel couldn’t fathom why you’d chosen him, but he knew deep down that he was afraid to ask, afraid of the answer.
With a heavy sigh, Joel made his way into the bathroom, the cool tile beneath his feet grounding him for a moment. He turned the water on as hot as it would go, letting the steam rise and fill the small space, hoping it would wash away the doubts swirling in his mind.
Stepping under the showerhead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head forward, pressing his palms against the cool tile as the scalding water cascaded down his back. The heat soothed his aching muscles, but it did little to ease the weight in his chest.
The water pounded against him, each drop heavy, like the thoughts he couldn’t shake. Every streak of gray in his hair, every wrinkle around his eyes felt like a reminder of the years he’d lived, of the mistakes he couldn’t undo. He let the water stream over his face, his hands gripping the edge of the tiled wall as if holding himself together. Joel felt the pull of time in his bones, the relentless march forward, and it terrified him. The world had taken so much from him already, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could hold onto you.
When he finally emerged from the shower, steam billowing around him, he wrapped a towel low around his hips and caught his reflection in the mirror. His damp hair clung to his forehead, but the strands of gray were unmistakable, streaking through the dark like threads of time woven into his life. He ran a hand through it, frowning slightly as his fingers tangled in the silver that seemed more prominent with each passing day.
His eyes traveled to the dresser beside the mirror, where the necklace he’d had made for your birthday lay draped next to a photograph of the two of you from one of Jackson’s gatherings. The image was one of laughter, of a time when the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy.
Joel’s hand hovered over the photograph, his thumb brushing against the frame as a flicker of doubt tightened in his chest. How could someone as radiant as you love someone as broken as him? He dropped his hand, letting the question go unanswered.
The soft rustling of sheets behind him pulled him from his thoughts. You stirred, waking to the lingering scent of his familiar body wash that clung to the steam in the air. As you sat up, stretching lazily, your eyes found him standing in front of the mirror.
The sight of him—bare-chested, hair slicked back, still damp from the shower, the early morning light framing his body—made your heart stutter. Joel, even with all his scars and his age, was the most beautiful man you’d ever known. Every line on his face, every silver strand in his hair told a story of survival, and you loved him for every part of it.
“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep as a soft smile tugged at your lips. “What a nice view to wake up to.”
Joel turned to face you, the tension in his shoulders easing at the sound of your voice. “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he teased, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you noticed the flicker of something unsettled beneath the surface.
You watched him for a moment, noticing the way his gaze flickered back to the mirror, the way he ran a hand through his hair with a sense of hesitation. “What’re you doin’?” you asked gently, sensing that something was weighing on him, something more than the usual early morning stiffness.
Joel sighed, his hand raking through his hair once more. “Ah, it’s nothin’,” he muttered, though the heaviness in his voice told you otherwise.
You sat up straighter, your concern deepening. “Joel,” you pressed softly, your gaze locked onto his. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he stared at his reflection as if it were someone else looking back at him. Finally, he sighed, a quiet sound that felt like the weight of the world slipping through his chest. “It’s stupid,” he said, his voice low, rough. “These damn gray hairs… they’re gettin’ worse. Feels like I’m really startin’ to show my age.”
Your heart softened at his vulnerability. Joel wasn’t one to open up easily, especially about things that made him feel exposed. You hadn’t given his gray hairs a second thought—if anything, you loved them. They were a testament to his resilience, to the life he’d lived, and you found them incredibly sexy. But now you could see how much they weighed on him, how they reminded him of every year that had passed, of everything he thought he might lose.
You adored Joel in every angle, in every moment. The way his calloused hands ran through your hair, gentle despite their roughness, always sent a warmth through you. Watching him as he worked, his broad back flexing as he repaired something around the house or chopped wood outside—it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite explain. His movements were always purposeful, a quiet strength in everything he did, whether he was leaning over the table, focused and determined, or simply reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face with such care, you’d almost forget the harshness of the world outside. Even the way he drank his coffee in the morning, his jaw clenching and relaxing with each sip, or the quiet hum of satisfaction he’d make when he stretched after a long day—it all captivated you. He was rugged, raw, but to you, every motion, every glance, was filled with tenderness that only you were lucky enough to witness.
Without hesitation, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded across the room to him. You reached up, your fingers sliding through his damp hair, smoothing back the strands as you offered him a soft, reassuring smile. “I love your gray hairs,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth and sincerity.
Joel shook his head, still looking uncertain. “I don’t know, darlin’. Feels like the world’s catchin’ up to me.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Don’t know why you’d want someone like me when there’s plenty of guys in Jackson who don’t groan every time they get outta bed.”
You frowned, your hand sliding down to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing lightly against the rough stubble that shadowed his skin. You’d noticed the way Joel had become more self-conscious lately—the way he moved a little slower, the quiet sighs he thought you didn’t hear when he sat down after a long day. But to you, he was everything. “I want you,” you said firmly, your voice steady and unwavering. “Just as you are, right now.” Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers lightly tracing the lines of his body, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “Those other guys? They don’t know how to make me laugh like you do. They don’t take care of me like you do,” you added, your smile turning playful as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, then another to his neck, letting your lips linger there.
You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, and in a soft, teasing whisper, you added, “They don’t know how to make me cum like you do.”
Joel’s breath hitched slightly, his hands tightening on your hips, and you felt the tension between you shift, the vulnerability of moments before melting into something heavier, something laden with the desire that had always simmered just beneath the surface.
“And those gray hairs?” you continued, a smile dancing on your lips as you met his gaze again, your voice low, “They make you even sexier.”
Joel’s eyes flicked up at that, his gaze dark.
“You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel better,” he muttered, though the gruffness in his voice was starting to fade.
“I’m not,” you insisted, stepping closer until your bodies were flush, your hands resting against his chest. “I mean it, Joel. You’re everything to me. The gray hairs, the scars, the rough edges… they’re all part of you, and I love every single part.”
For a long moment, Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his chest rising and falling slowly as he let your words sink in. He stared at you, as if trying to figure out how someone like you could love someone like him—with all his flaws, all his doubts.
Finally, Joel reached up, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you gently into him. His lips pressed softly against your forehead, lingering there for a long moment as if trying to absorb every bit of comfort and reassurance you were offering him.
When he pulled back, there was something different in his eyes now—something softer, more accepting. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and rough, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips now, a hint of the Joel you knew so well.
You grinned up at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “I know,” you teased, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
It was a quiet promise—of love, of everything you cherished about him, flaws and all.
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#ellie tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal one shot
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1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ
summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.
content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread
💭 masterlist | next part
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”
Your ears were ringing.
After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.
“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.
Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.
Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.
Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.
You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.
“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.
“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.
“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”
“We?”
“Kaiser is downstairs.”
Of course, he is.
Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.
You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.
If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.
“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.
The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.
“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”
In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”
“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”
“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”
Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.
Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”
“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.
“Fuck off.”
“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.
You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.
You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.
You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.
Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.
If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.
Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.
“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.
“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.
“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”
Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.
“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.
Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”
“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.
Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.
It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.
Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.
Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.
But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.
“I swear to god this better be important–”
“Get ready,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“Look out your window.”
Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.
Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.
“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.
You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.
It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.
It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.
“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”
He’s taking me to it? “Why?”
Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.
“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.
You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.
The first one today.
Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.
But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.
You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.
And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.
“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.
Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?
“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”
Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.
Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.
“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”
“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.
Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.
Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.
It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.
You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”
Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”
Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”
“Call me by my name.”
“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”
“The one you used to call me.”
Mikka.
It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.
You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.
“I’m Michael.”
“That’s… long.”
“What?”
“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”
“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.
“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.
He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.
“Same thing.”
“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”
“Your point?” you countered.
“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.
“He was nice to me!”
“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”
You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.
“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.
Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.
“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”
“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.
“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”
“And you? Are you a gentleman?”
Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.
Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.
Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.
When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”
He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.
“Especially not one, doll.”
“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.
Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.
The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.
Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.
Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.
He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.
“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.
The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.
“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.
From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.
After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.
You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.
Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.
As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).
“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.
“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.
“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”
Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”
You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.
But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.
“You should be flattered.”
Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”
“Accepted.”
If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.
At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.
You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”
The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”
“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”
“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.
If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.
Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.
Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.
“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”
If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.
You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.
Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”
“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.
“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”
You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”
“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.
Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.
You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.
“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.
“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”
“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.
Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.
You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.
“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.
Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.
Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”
Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.
And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.
But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.
If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.
Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.
“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”
Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.
You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.
“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.
“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”
“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”
“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.
“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”
“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.
Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.
“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”
What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.
“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”
“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”
The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”
“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”
What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.
He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.
And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.
His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.
Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.
Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.
“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.
As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.
“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.
Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.
“Easy, doll.”
Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.
Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.
Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”
The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.
Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.
Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.
He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.
Damn it, doll.
Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.
Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.
The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.
It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.
Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.
It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.
The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.
What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?
Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.
Just then, a knock on the door startled you.
“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”
It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.
Shit.
note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!
#☁️ my ode to you#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock imagines#michael kaiser imagines#kaiser imagines#michael kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#michael kaiser#blue lock fluff#first milestone event!#writing: 004
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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]
synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).
Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.
Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.
You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.
“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.
Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.
And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.
Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.
“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”
“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.
A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:
Should I tell her?
Should I tell him?
What would she say?
Would he leave?
If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.
But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.
And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.
Whatever fine means.
“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.
You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.
“That depends, you gonna let me win?”
“Never.”
“Y/N! There you are.”
You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.
But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.
“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”
You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”
“Yeah.”
Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.
Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.
“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.
“…I know.”
You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.
What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?
“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”
You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.
“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”
Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!
“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”
Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”
“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”
You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.
“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.
Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?
In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.
“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”
Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.
Keyword: friend.
He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…
“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.
But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.
Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.
And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.
The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.
Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.
He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.
This was it.
…
…
…
…
The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.
Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?
Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?
No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.
Should I tell her?
Should I tell him?
What would she say?
Would he leave?
The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.
And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”
A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.
This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.
“I knew it.”
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