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testrella · 2 days

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CRAZY RICH ASIANS..! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER THREE : just..friends!

NEXT… CHAPTER FOUR : tutoring.

gojo was reclined on his couch, legs sprawled out everywhere. the comfort of his own home at 17 was a luxury not anybody could afford. yet, it was gifted to him by his grandma on his 16th birthday. a 32 acre estate mansion designed by switzerland’s best architect. a blend of traditional japanese and a mix of modern luxury. despite the mansion being large enough to home a village, it was only filled with servants, gojo and silence.

which is why his father thought it was a great idea to have him take on a responsibility, a quite immense responsibility.

“who the hell are you?”

gojo glances up from his phone and looks for what voice peeped from the entrance of the lounge room. the large dark oak doors were fully opened yet from his peripheral vision, there was no one there. that was until he looked down at a young boy.

his jet black hair, fair skin and green eyes stood out from any other kid has ever laid his eyes on. a shiver runs down gojo’s spine and goosebumps slowly form on his forearms as he continues to stare at the young boy.

“satoru,” his father’s voice echoed from the hallway, slowly becoming more apparent as he got closer. “this is megumi fushiguro, he will be staying with you from now on.”

the young white haired male’s jaw drops to the very floor as he repeated the last name out loud, “..fushiguro?” he glances at the boy then back at his father before raising an eyebrow, “and why is that?” there was no curiosity in his tone, just genuine concern.

his father opens his mouth to respond before shutting it as megumi turns around to face him, seeming to have the exact same question. why is he staying with 17 year old gojo satoru?

“his father has..business to take care of. it required him to leave for a certain period of time so i’ve agreed to take him in.”

the explanation was typical; vague and left no room for any further questions. gojo knew better than to further poke the sleeping bear and just nod in agreement. but even though he answered gojo’s question, his eyes told a different answer. there was no doubt the boy’s father got into some trouble and was taken out for good.

gojo shrugged the lingering thoughts away before making his way to megumi. he knelt down to megumi’s height, to come off as less intimidating, and patted his head. “megumi, right? i’m satoru, looks like we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

“i am not sharing a room with you.” megumi spat out while clutching onto a small dog plushie. even if he tried to come off as fearless, gojo couldn’t help but notice the way he was violently shaking.

he chuckles at megumi before pulling him into a tight and unwarranted hug. “sure man, whatever you say goes.”

the busy streets of tokyo were alive every night, capturing the life of the city and its residents. honking horns, distant chatter, and the same rhythmic footsteps of busy people wanting to get from point A to point B. gojo suggested the two shopping the day after the party, which clearly irritated megumi.

“do we really have to go shopping during rush hour?” megumi grumbled and shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have better things to do.”

satoru only chuckled at the angsty teen’s behavior. he watched megumi grow from a know it all toddler to a slumped moody teenager. “oh come on megumi! i’ve been meaning to buy you something nice. besides, it’s not like you actually have friends to hang out with.”

megumi shoots him a glare, “i do have friends, and i could have plans that only involved myself.”

“like what? brooding in your room all day?” gojo teased, ruffling megumi’s hair before he slapped his hand away.

as they entered a high end luxury store, gojo’s attention was immediately caught by a limited edition pair of sneakers. he nudged megumi towards the display before picking it up and carefully inspecting it. “what do you think megumi? these would look great on you!”

megumi barely glances at the shoe before mumbling a response, “they’re fine i guess. can we get them and go home now?” irritation was written all over the poor boy’s face.

gojo was able to immediately pick up the teen’s attitude towards him. he rolled his eyes at the moody behavior, “you’re in a mood today. something bothering you?”

“i don’t know… maybe it's the fact you're texting my teacher and asking her out for dinner again!” he whispered-yelled in the middle of the store.

gojo clicks his tongue. “ah, so that’s what this is about huh?” he said with a stupid smile plastered on his face, “well i happen to think miss. l/n is a lovely person to be around. she’s humble, intelligent and she seems to talk to me like a normal person. she’d be a wonderful friend!”

megumi scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest, “you’re not fooling anyone, you know there’s more to it!”

gojo leaned slightly towards megumi with a slight mischievous look in his eyes, “it’s refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with the whole gojo clan nonsense. she’s not stiff and never talks about business.” he leans further into megumi’s personal space, “but you seem to be real caught up on this. are you jealous..?!”

megumi’s face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “i am not jealous! i just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make plans with my teacher. it’s weird..” he mumbled the last sentence.

gojo raises his hand to scratch his chin and pretends he’s in deep thought. “hm, well if it makes you that uncomfortable then i suppose i have no choice but to cut contact.”

“r-really?! you’ve decided that quick?”

“of course,” gojo said, ruffling his hair once again. “you’re more important to me than making a new friend.”

a small pang of guilt hit megumi’s chest, and his expression softened. “i mean, you don’t have to stop being her friend. just..stop trying to invite her to private dinners.”

“deal!” gojo says with a wide grin, “now, let’s go find some shoes you’ll actually like.” despite megumi’s outburst, he knew he cared for him in his own way. no matter how many times gojo has been a victim of megumi’s prickly demeanor, he would still let him have his way.

the duo exits out the store, with gojo swinging multiple bags over his back, into the bustling streets. the both continued to have a quiet conversation about tonight’s dinner options. just as they turned the corner, a small figure collided with him, again.

“ah, miss. l/n!” gojo exclaimed, caught completely off guard. standing before them was today’s topic of discussion dressed casually with a few bags in her hand.

“megumi, mr.gojo! what a lovely surprise to see you two here.” you smiled.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to regain any composure he had left “y-yes, quite a surprise indeed! we were, uh, out shopping for new shoes for megumi.” he tried to reach over to pat megumi’s shoulder, with his eyes on remaining on you, and ends up patting his face.

you glance at the multiple bags being held by gojo, “seems like you guys found something nice.”

“yeah thanks to this idiot.” megumi muttered before swaying gojo’s hand out his face, “he insisted i get new shoes.”

“well, it was nice seeing you both.” you replied. “i’m actually on my way to a movie. i’ve been meaning to watch the new action movie that recently came out.”

gojo’s eyes light up at the mention of the film, “oh really?! we were just about to grab something to eat but a movie sounds even better! right megumi?” he glances back at the teenager who seemed to be absolutely mortified by the sudden turn of events.

“uh, sure but we really shouldn’t intrude-”

“don't be ridiculous!” gojo chuckled before turning to you, “we’d love to join you if that’s okay with you miss. l/n. tickets and snacks on me!”

you laughed softly at the man’s eagerness, “i don’t mind at all, some company would be nice.”

megumi gave gojo a “what are you doing?!” look but he was too infatuated with you to even notice.

as they made their way to the theaters, gojo makes an attempt to make conversation to fill in the comfortable silence. but his nerves seem to hate him.

“s-so, miss. l/n.” gojo’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before attempting again. “i hear that the, uh, curriculum changed throughout the year. i-is it difficult for you? but i mean i wouldn't be surprised if not since someone like you is capable of handling it well..”

you smiled kindly despite being confused at his sudden awkwardness, “it’s just an adjustment. i’m fine as long as the students are.”

megumi sighed before yanking gojo aside and whispering, “ please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. can we just-”

“relax megumi, i’m just trying to make conversation.” gojo said while nervously chuckling.

when they reached the ticket counter, gojo confidently stepped in front of both of them. “three adult tickets please, i’ll be paying.”

the young cashier smiled, “sure thing. i’ll be sure to add on tonight's family discount.” she prints out the tickets and hands them over to gojo. “enjoy the movie and your family night out!”

both megumi and gojo froze, processing her words while you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

“we’re not-” megumi started but was quickly cut off.

“thank you and we will!” gojo said before snatching megumi by his collar.

as they entered the theater, megumi gave gojo a stern look before muttering “did you seriously go along with that?!”

gojo only laughed at megumi’s response to the situation. “why not? it’s kind of nice to be seen as a family, don’t you think?” he turned to you, waiting for your approval.

your eyes softened towards megumi, “the two of you certainly give off the dynamic of a family. it’s cute to see.”

the theater’s lights start to dim and the chatter that was once there starts being hushed. gojo, being sat in between megumi and you, couldn’t help but keep up his playful demeanor. whenever a dramatized scene came on, he would whisper in your ear witty but funny remarks on it. all megumi heard were giggles coming from his teacher, and being caused by his mentor.

it was annoying enough to see gojo play his classic playboy persona in front of his teacher. that was what he thought until he further inspected him. despite the horrible lighting, he noticed the subtle signs of nervousness.like the way gojo would lightly tap his fingers on the shared armrest, how he would stumble over his words, or the way he constantly looked over at you as if he seeked approval.

no matter how much of a distraction the both of you were, he couldn’t help but find amusement in watching the two of you. it was a rare sight to see gojo, the overly confident playboy, be genuinely flustered. for once, he decided to let gojo’s antics slide.

once the credits rolled, megumi leaned into gojo’s ear. “you owe me for this.”

and before gojo could question what he meant by that, he sees him turn his attention onto you. “miss. l/n, i’m actually having trouble adjusting to the curriculum you mentioned earlier. would it be okay if you could tutor me at gojo’s house? he’ll pay you!”

and being the dedicated teacher you are, you respond with genuine concern in your tone. “of course! why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

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if you’d like to be added, please do the inbox thing! it’ll make it easier on my part. this is the updated tag list (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

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darkstarofchaos · 1 day

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Okay. While we're talking about EarthSpark S1 problems that have been made worse by S2. Why is Megatron special?

One of the weakest parts of EarthSpark for me has always been the fact that Megatron is the only Decepticon known to have defected. Later on, Cons like Breakdown, Tarantulas, and even Starscream added some nuance by showing them willing to risk themselves for non-Decepticons, though understandably, none of them were willing to defect at that point. But even though such Cons clearly existed, none of them defected along with Megatron, or at any other point during the war.

And Megatron's own defection was just... It's painfully obvious that he was developed to be a Good Guy and didn't have a lot of thought put into what he was like as a Decepticon. By his own admission and Starscream's assessment, he was a violent leader who ruled with fear, but all it took to make him change sides was... Seeing a human care more about his side than he did? That's it? And if that is why he changed sides, he clearly took the wrong lesson away from that, because he still doesn't care about what used to be his side. Instead of trying to do better by them, he abandons them. And then all he has to do to make Optimus trust him is... Scan an Earth altmode. Really.

It all feels very weak to me, and doesn't adequately explain anything. Did Megatron make any attempt to be a kinder leader, or did he just defect immediately after seeing the Error Of His Ways? How did we get from "damn, I don't care about my guys enough" to "my whole cause is corrupt, I'mma go now"? Did he ever try to use his position as leader of the freaking Decepticons to end the war peacefully or steer them onto a better path, or did he just wash his hands of them the moment he considered himself morally superior to them? If he did try to use his influence before bailing, how did he change so much so fast that none of his officers wanted to follow him anymore? Why did he give up on his entire faction and not bring any of the more open-minded Decepticons with him?

There are so many questions that either aren't answered or only get vague suggestions of what might have happened, and the answers we do get aren't enough for me to buy Megatron's redemption. It all feels too fast and too easy, and I do not understand why he could defect from the faction he led but less committed Decepticons just didn't.

And now all of these issues are worse than ever, because all the nuance the other Decepticons had is gone. Now it's just "Y'know, Decepticons. They're evil." Apparently not all of them, because Megatron is still hanging out with the Autobots, Con insignia and all! I ask again, why is Megatron special? Why does he get to change but all the others have to be flat and evil?

The real-world answer, of course, is that he never changed. He was conceived as a good person and ally to the Autobots, and that's how he's going to stay. But you cannot have a "Cons are just evil" story while the ex-leader of the Cons is walking freely in the Autobot base. Megatron's entire character is only possible with the assumption that Decepticons are capable of changing, and trying to revert to Cons Evil makes his redemption weaker than ever. Because it's so painfully obvious that he was written to be a good person and his dark history doesn't actually matter.

#transformers #Transformers EarthSpark #EarthSpark spoilers #Barely spoilers since this is mostly about S1 but eh #Unpopular Opinions #Megatron #I haven't seen anyone talking about how S2 reflects on Megatron #Outside of commenting on the fact that Starscream is once again made worse than his abuser #And to be fair I'm probably one of the only people who has a problem with Megatron's redemption in the first place #But it was always a weak spot in the show and has gotten weaker

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kahvilahuhut · 23 hours

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just a normal workplace conversation

Summary: What happens when you have two people, who have known each other since university, work on the same project leading different teams? Definitely completely normal conversations that definitely stay on the the same topic all the time (sarcasm). What else can you talk about on your way from one room to another.

Tws: mention of a wound

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"Hey, Toby. Do you have a moment? Can I get your thoughts on something?"

Tobias turned around and saw Aleena leaning on the door frame, hologram gloves on. He waved his hand. "Sure! If we also get more coffee on our way to your little hologram room," he glanced at his three empty cups standing in the same corner of his desk, one clearly leaving a stain on his to-do list.

"Still a coffee freak, I see. Have you ever tried matcha?"

"Green tea is for evenings when you gotta calm down but don't want to sleep yet. Speaking of, hang on, need to write this down or I'll forget," he opened his whiteboard marker and wrote 'buy more genmaitcha' on his notes section of the board.

"I disagree with your tea opinions but sure, do whatever you want."

"Funny how you're talking about tea when all our office had back then was english breakfast and some flavored green tea."

"It had earl grey too."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway," he closed his whiteboard marker and placed it in his lab coat's pocket, "what do you need my thoughts for? Though, if it's something anatomy related, I probably barely have any thoughts."

Aleena smirked and motioned him to follow. "Weren't you the guy with the heaviest physiology book in dorm?"

"Bold of you to assume I ever opened it," he chuckled. "I think I mostly used it as a press for things. Like if I accidentally fucked up my notebook's front page and couldn't straighten it out with bare hands or a ruler. Never been into collecting leaves, though. I even managed to skip the whole school year that had it."

"City kid."

"Hey, I was raised in suburbs, we had trees and plants there! A pair of pigeons used to make a nest in front of my house. I just, you know," he shook his hands, "don't want to touch anything dirty. One of the reasons I suck at gardening, too."

"Honestly, that explains while you prefer working in a clean lab environment."

"Hah, nothing better than the smell of dimethyl sulfoxide," he paused with a wide smile, "Get it? Because it doesn't have a scent. At least when it's pure."

"Missed your humor, lab boy. And your sweaters. Is that a bee?"

"Yes! I think the first time I knitted one like this was almost seventeen years ago. I've made at least four of these. First one got ruined when I accidentally knocked a wine bottle while leaning to- Well, anyway! Glad you noticed. I think Samuel hates it. Saw him today when I came to the office in the morning and he just stared at me and my sweater."

"He hates everything related to you, it seems, if I can be honest?" She looked around to make sure that no one was close by, "I heard he wanted to pick someone else as the lead chemist, and the project board overruled him."

"Oh, god, you should have seen his face when I mentioned in the interview that I've only been doing part-time roles for last decade due to health problems. I mean, he's a Mackie guy, though, so no surprise there."

"They seem to have not liking you as a personality trait. Which is funny, considering how your wife works there."

Tobias laughed. "I think Klara's the only reason why their agents haven't shot me in some dark alley yet," he paused, "Can you blame them though? Imagine a guy who tried to whistleblow one of your projects now appears on your new project rekated to the previously mentioned project."

"Christ, Toby, you know how to have fun, don't you," Aleena laughed and opened the door to hologram room. "Speaking of projects, that's one of the things I need your help with. I found something while looking through the old project's files. Since you were there, I thought you could explain it."

He walked in after her, slightly wincing at the bright lamp shining in the middle of dark room. "Oooooh. I'm already having a bad feeling about this." Tobias wasn't sure himself whether he said that about the thing Aleena was asking him about or that he forgot to refill his migraine meds in the bag.

"You said the same thing about taking Frank as one of the ad faces."

"Was I wrong?"

"You tell me - is he good in bed?"

"He sucks. Interpret that however you want."

"Alright then, keep your dirty secrets." She walked to the round, grey area on the floor and pressed a button on the screen next to it. A hologram appeared, showing a scanned part of a hand, stab wound clearly visible. Aleena switched on her gloves and waved her hands to zoom in on the inside parts of the wound. "This was the problem, wasn't it? The substance clogging literally everything around the wound."

Tobias nodded. "Uh-huh. And then they decided to use it as something to cause lethal damage with. And failed."

"Yeah, well. I was thinking, you know," she swiped her hand to the right and an animation appeared, "what if we managed to somehow make it only block the wound, like some kind of magic band-aid?"

"When they closed the project they were indeed theorizing that, if I remember right."

"So it might just work?"

"Hell yeah it might work."

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #my writing #oc writing #original writing #creative writing #writing

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snekdood · 4 months

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at some point in the future:

*non vegan reading about a new vegan leather*: psh. bet it has plastic in it tho.

*scrolls down and finds out theres 0 plastic. the non vegan gets angry since now theres finally a vegan leather they dont get to complain about*: psh, bet it doesnt feel like real leather tho.

*scrolls down to find out the creators of this leather spent a lot of time to make it more "like real leather*: psh, bet they exploit their workers tho

just say you want to use animal leather and you were never going to consider an alternative in the first place, bud

#bc ik for a damn fact plenty a yall are gonna do this.#excuses excuses #ooo but im sure all that leather you buy is totally not from exploited workers either #im sure you take Great Care making sure its not 😒#and if you do. great for you! why do you think human lives and comfort is more important than animal lives and comfort btw?#you'll do anything to avoid hurting exploited workers yes? but having anything vegan now and then is just. off the table. am i right?#am i correct? have i read you for filth?#and then you'll tell me 'no ethical consumption under capitalism' yet you still try to avoid buying from exploited workers-#so seems like more or less you just say that to avoid feeling any guilt about eating or contributing to the harm of animals?#just say you value human lives more and move on.#'no ethical consumption' to some people means 'i get to say this to excuse any behaviors i do that exploit others and to justify #why im only considerate about 1 (one) thing when it comes to buying stuff'#but what if you could do more than that though- clearly you only buy from places that dont exploit their workers bc of your morals and #not bc you think it actually changes things if you believe in the 'no ethical consumption' argument #so why cant you ever acknowledge that you're harming animals or try to make excuses for why its fine? ik deep down it conflicts with #your moral outlook too. you're selective about what you think you can change because theres some stuff you're unwilling to change.#be real. its not because of capitalism. you think meat tastes good and you like how leather makes you feel Cool and Badass or whatever #you feel Punk and Rock And Roll for wearing dead animals. never mind that that fascination is hard to distinguish from southern right #wingers who love their snakeskin cowboy boots and hunt for sport.#they also feel Very Cool for wearing dead animals 😒 bb girl you're not as counter culture and punk as you think you're coming off as #at least native ppl dont generally do it to Feel Cool

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thirsty-4-ghouls · 3 months

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No one has been more convincing about encouraging me to play fallout new Vegas than the queer people in my phone. Literally every straight man I know in real life could not be half as convincing as the autistic queer people on this website

#emma posts #i don’t know what this says about me #but I’m going to be honest with you. it’s now making me think about playing some other games too #you guys are better at selling me on a game than every straight guy I know in real life #and honestly most company advertisements #i would be buying more of these games you speak of if i had more money #and also knew how to make and use a gaming laptop #I can’t even figure out new digital art programs. the last program I used on a computer was in 2011 #i feel like an old woman and I’m only 26 #at least when I’m trying to figure out new computer stuff #I also have to look at the keys when typing #despite how hard my computer class teachers tried to change that #my brothers will be using their gaming pcs and my brain will get overwhelmed #also those bitches are expensive af #just me and my ps4 doing our best #I guess i also have a ds from my childhood but it’s not like I could play new games on it #it still works though. I was super careful with it #aside from getting my improvised stylus stuck in the storage spot #i found my original stylus eventually #you know what. I think I have an art tool that might be able to remove that now. I’d have to bring the ds from my next visit to my parents #but maybe if I could buy some of those old games everybody talked about but my parents never got me I could play them now!#they can be spendy though 😩#and I don’t see many in the thrift stores #as much as I love thrift stores for things like silverware books and picture frames #also some other stuff. that’s just the most notable things #I’ve been looking for a table there for awhile but they are always too big for my tiny apartment #I’m kinda scared of buying clothes there because I’ve heard of people getting bedbugs 😖#but not from the local one I suppose 🤔#oh! I found nice glass mixing bowls there too! they are clearly well used. but it was nice to find cheap ones #I’m getting distracted though. I hope someone can get use out of the jeans that got too small for me. I donated them

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remi-thirsts · 2 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 !

pairing: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, and toji x fem!reader (separate) summary: when you catch them with a suggestive piece of clothing from your wardrobe... content: kinda suggestive, established relationships, toji has no shame at all, allusions to sexual themes, jerking off, pillow humping(?), roommates to lovers (for geto's) pet names, cursing. lmk if I missed anything. wc: 2.5k

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

The house was awfully quiet when you arrived home with your shopping bags in hand. "Satoru?" You call out setting all of your stuff down. Nothing. No over dramatic gasps, no 'babyyyyyy you're back!!!!!!" Absolutely nothing.

Satoru hadn't told you he was going anywhere, had he? Sometimes the man talks so much that you drown out his voice, so you can focus on whatever you need to get done. Which means you could have missed something.

Or maybe he's asleep? Only, Satoru doesn't nap if it isn't with you. So... where could he be?

Before going deeper into your home, you remove your shoes and place them neatly on the wobbly shoe rack he built. He insisted he could build anything, when he'd never even picked up a screwdriver in his life. That's kind of what happens when you belong to a wealthy family, but you didn't want to hurt his pride, so you let him build it.

You tread quietly toward your bedroom in hopes of finding him there. The door is cracked open suspiciously, with caution you slowly push the door open, "Satoru are you- uhhh what are you doing?"

The man in question tenses up when he hears your voice. As if you hadn't seen him he hides your lace panties behind his back.

"I was uh," He does that little coughing thing to make him look less suspicious, but if anything it makes him even more suspicious .

"You were 'uh' what?" Satoru thinks you look like a mother scolding a child the way you stand with your hands on your hips.

"I- I was hah- are you really gonna make me say it, baby?" He looks so red, cute.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me what you were doing snooping through my underwear drawer." He sighs, but it's soon replaced with a sneaky smile.

"Ineedednewjerkmaterial." He says all jumbled up and quietly.

"Speak up, 'Toru." A whine leaves his lips. What a little baby he is.

"I needed something to help me when I think about you while jerking off." He spoke clearly this time, so you stop teasing him.

"Well you can't use those ones, 'cuz those are my favorites. Let me find you a different pair." He's in shock the whole time while watching you dig through the dresser.

"Really? You're just gonna give me a pair?"

"Why not? All you had to do was ask. I'm sure you'll buy me more anyway, knowing you." He snorts at that. It's true, Satoru likes to buy you anything and everything, sexy underwear is no exception.

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You've noticed that some of your favorite bras have gone missing since you asked your roommate, Geto, to do your laundry when you get too busy. It was a little suspicious when he seemed more than happy to do your laundry, but who were you to think anything of it when he was making one less chore for you?

Sweet, little, and innocent you, didn't suspect that Geto could be the one stealing your bras, though. He's too much of a gentleman, you think. He always opens doors for you, lets you use the bathroom before he does, and when you aren't up to make something, he'll cook you dinner.

He's a picture perfect roommate so there's no way he could be the one. You'll still ask him his opinion on the matter though, because your bras are not cheap, and if they keep going missing you'll have to buy more.

It's Wednesday, which is the day Geto usually washes your laundry for you. There is a very important job interview you have to leave for in ten minutes so you rush to get your hamper to him.

"Suguru- I um I need your help with something." Geto cannot help but stare you down. You're dressed in a black blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that should reach around to your knees, but because you had bend down earlier to pick something up, the skirt hiked up just a little bit.

"What's up, princess?" The first time he had called you 'princess' you just about had a meltdown. He told you not to think too much of it, it was just a nickname.

The smell of his lotion fills your nostrils and his hair is still wet from his shower. There's also no shirt covering his perfectly built body.

"Well.. uh. Some of my bras are going missing. Can you keep an eye out to make sure there's no pervert at the laundromat stealing my bras?" A chuckle almost leaves his throat. You are too cute for him, of course you wouldn't blame him for the disappearance of your bras.

"Of course, I'll keep watch." Since you are running short on time you give him a tight lipped smile and quickly make a run out of your apartment.

"Cute." Slips from his lips, although no one hears it.

-------

There's hope. The interview had seemed to go great, the woman interviewing you said she'd give you a call letting you know if you got the job or not.

To celebrate the potential job, you bought yourself a pint of ice cream on the way home.

When you unlocked the door you didn't even announce yourself, assuming he might have been out or napping.

Before going to your room, you grab a spoon from the kitchen in order to eat the deliciously sweet treat you bought for yourself.

Your room was at the end of the hallway so you would have to pass Geto's room to get to yours. As you walk past his room, you almost drop your spoon in shock when you hear your supposed goody two shoes roommate moan out your name.

A series of grunts and 'fucks' leave his lips after the sudden call of your name. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Well you don't care enough to let that stop you. It's rude not to knock but when Geto's calling out your name like that you think you have plenty of reason to barge in.

"Suguru what are you-" You should have just went to your room. The sight you walked in on had you dropping your ice cream and spoon on the floor. Geto is not as innocent as you thought he was, not when he's got your favorite laced bra attached to his pillow while he fucks it like they're your tits.

You would think he'd have the decency to stop when you caught him, but you catching him only made him speed up, his hips snapping at an extraordinary pace.

"Fuck, princess. Didn't want you to find out like this. Shit- need your tits so bad." He cums with no shame over the part of the pillow that would be the crevice of your breasts.

You can't even be mad at him, it's hot, but you'll still give him a peace of your mind.

"Suguru! That's- that's my bra! And you- gosh you are so perverted!!!! I never would have thought-" It takes him a minute, but when he comes down from his high, he apologizes sincerely for taking your bras.

And now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you indulge in his fantasies of fucking your pretty tits.

♡ 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He was going on a business trip for a few weeks and took a pair or two with him so he wouldn't have to bother you.

It doesn't even register that any are missing either, because he picks the pairs that you don't care too much about. They don't have to be sexy, Nanami loves anything you wear.

The only reason he does get caught is because he allows it to happen.

It's the second week, day two of his business trip and he decided to have a drink with his coworker, which he never does, but he misses you and a drink would help, even if only for a little while.

Nanami's toleration is high, so one drink turns into seven and he starts to feel the effects around the 8th one, which his coworker cuts him off after that.

"Dude, that's a lot, even for you." He says to Nanami, which he has to agree with, but his drunk mind doesn't want to.

"'s not nearly the 'mount I drink when 'm at home." His coworker chuckles and pays his tab along with Nanami's. (nanami will pay him back in the morning when he's in his right mind)

Said coworker drops him off at his hotel room and makes sure he gets in okay, he also reminds him to, "Call your wife, she might get worried if she doesn't hear from you."

He will. He'll call you as soon as this boner goes away... just thinking about you along with the alcohol in his body has him hard.

He stumbles through his suit case looking for the panties he'd packed in there. A smile graces his face when he finds them, they aren't cute, at all by any means.

He chose them not because they're sexy but because they're just normal, meaning you wear them a lot more often.

His steps are heavy as he about marches to the bed he's been sleeping in for the past two weeks. His conscious starts screaming at him not to jerk off with your panties but in the end, his dick wins.

-------

It's about 11:43 pm when you receive a face time call from your husband. He called you earlier, telling you about his day, so you find it a little unusual for him to be calling at this hour.

When you slide the accept button, you're met with your husband's dick and your panties covering his tip. For a second your eyes widen trying to register what exactly is going on, once you do, arousal pools in your gut.

"What's this honey?" He strokes his dick faster when he hears your voice.

"Keep talking, pretty." He's completely gone, you notice. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his eyes rolled back.

"I see you have my panties, what's that about?" A low groan leaves his throat but it's cut off by his words.

"Knew I would miss you. Packed them in my suitcase." The chances of him remembering any of this in the morning was low. Nanami usually has a hard time remembering anything from when he was drunk.

So, being the tease you are, you take a screenshot of him in this state.

"Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, please keep talking, Honey." You do as he wishes, saying random little things to help him reach his orgasm. It happens so fast and he's got you rubbing yourself through your shorts.

"You still with me baby?" You ask after he goes quiet for a few seconds. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he was knocked out.

You

[image attached] pervert 😊 sent 11:58 pm

My love 💖

I'm not going to drink anymore on this trip. sent 7:39 am

You

You should, it's hot when I get phone calls from my needy husband 😝 sent 7:40 am

♡ 𝐂. 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

He can't hide it. In fact, he gets caught before he even makes it anywhere with them.

Last night was another night shift so you got home at the dawn hours of the night. A shower and a hot pocket later you were in bed. You made the assumption that Choso had gone out to see his brother, since you didn't see him anywhere in the apartment.

The sound of rustling around awakes you from your sleep.

"Cho? Is that you, baby?" It didn't sound concerned or anything, just a sleepy mumble.

"Oh uh- yes. Hi, good morning." His words are rushed like a kid who's trying not to get into trouble for something they did.

Your pretty eyes peek open to see Choso digging through your drawer for something.

"What are you looking for, babe?" He starts to stutter and try to come up with something you'll believe.

"You were picking out a shirt for me in my bra drawer?" His cheeks turn a bright red as he tries to explain himself.

"It's not what you think-! Okay it is what you think... but I haven't been seeing you much, since you always work late so I wanted to take one of your bras..." He's so cute. Gosh how could you not give him one.

"Okay, pick one out and I'll tell you if you can take it or not. You have to bring it back later though, it's not for you to keep.

He shakes his head furiously fast like a bobble head, and you can't help but laugh.

Choso is the most adorable thing to walk this earth.

♡ 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

He doesn't even try to hide it, AT ALL. Today was the day of your once a week girls night with your friends. It was usually just some karaoke and dinner and on the occasion; shopping.

Instead of the usual your girls had taken you partying at a club. It was fun to dance around with your friends and scream song lyrics while being slightly intoxicated. Luckily, you aren't the designated driver.

When you had clumsily slipped your shoes off in your drunken stupor you realized that it was quiet in the house.

Too quiet, even for your husband. Toji's definitely up to something, because he'd usually be waiting on the couch for you to return home, and he's not.

"Oh baby~" It's slurred tremendously but you still get it out. Silence returns your call, so you take it upon yourself to find him.

The first and most obvious place to look is the bedroom; you'll start there and keep going. The door was closed but you could still hear him. Upon contrary belief Toji is loud during sex. He probably couldn't shut up to save his life.

His loud groans and moans start to cut off meaning he must be close. Is he watching a video he's recorded of you? Potentially.

Most would probably leave their boyfriend alone to finish so he doesn't get embarrassed, but this Toji Fushiguro we are talking about; he does not care.

You slowly pull the door open only to find out that your husband is not in fact watching a video, but getting off to your panties around his dick.

"Tojiiii, without me?" It doesn't even click that he's using your underwear at the moment.

"Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be back until-" You must have shocked the shit out of him, because he stops touching himself to check his phone.

"Oh. You're home on time." He throws his phone down onto the bed and sighs.

"Waita' minute," It finally registers that those are your panties he's jerking off too.

"Toji, why do you have my panties? Pervert." And to nobody's surprise, Toji gets off to that kind of stuff. He likes when you call him out.

"Hah- shit. Don't ask such stupid questions... are you gonna come over here and help me finish?" A little smirk covers your face as you walk over to the bed.

©𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

note: lmaoooo geto's got a little bit out of control

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babyleostuff · 2 months

Text

call me back

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . fighting with you is never easy for hoshi. especially not when an ocean is separating you

was fighting over the last piece of cake stupid and immature? yes. did it feel like hoshi’s whole world was about to collapse when he noticed you ate it? double yes. while your boyfriend wasn’t known for his great patience and non-existent anger issues, he never took his anger out on you, no matter how frustrated and annoyed he was.

well - until last week.

hoshi came home tired and very, very hungry, nothing out of the ordinary, though you could clearly see he was a lot more agitated than usual, so you did what you always did when he came back exhausted like that - gave him space. you were just about to start your nighttime routine when you heard your name being yelled from the kitchen, and not in a happy “baby, my love, my darling, please come hereeee” kind of way.

you didn’t even get a chance to take a breath as you entered the kitchen, coming face to face with soonyoung and his angry pout. “where the fuck is my cake?” he asked, and now, a week later, his words were still echoing through his head.

it was never his intention to lash out at you like that. obviously. he was tired, and hungry, his muscles were aching, he felt like a bad boyfriend for spending so little time with you, and he forgot to buy a gift for his mom's birthday - not that it mattered, nothing could excuse him for being so mean to you. to make matters worse, instead of acting like a man and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, he chickened out and just left.

“man, why don’t you just don’t call her and apologise?” woozi sighed, throwing his head back because it had to be the tenth time he had to listen to hoshi’s story of how he decided to act like the biggest dick over an overpriced piece of a strawberry cake.

“i did but she’s not answering.”

“no shit, i wouldn’t have answered either.”

and that exactly was the biggest problem - it was hard enough to go through a fight while he was home, but now that he was overseas, a thousand kilometres away from you it was impossible. yes, he could send you flowers and shit, but it would only piss you off even more. there was no way for him to show you how truly fucking sorry he was.

“i know you’re angry with me right now, but please,” hoshi took in a shaky inhale. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… sad. “please, just call me back,” that had to be the tenth voicemail he left you ever since he left home.

you, on the other hand, weren’t doing much better. you felt like slapping the shit out of him that night in your apartment, and although you were able to control your sudden surge of violence, you didn’t hold back on cursing him out after he left. you even thought about burning his side of the closet but if you did that you’d lose all of your favourite hoodies and flannels, so you gave up on that too.

after your short rage situation, you sat down at kitchen island, and stared at the empty plate where soonyoung’s cake was supposed to be. how were you supposed to know he’d act like that over a cake? obviously you wouldn’t have eaten it then. you figured your boyfriend must’ve had a really bad day at the rehearsals. the past couple of days were really harsh on him, and if you could you’d wrap him in bubble wrap, a couple of blankets, and cuddle the shit out of him for being so strong through all of this.

all of those excuses for him and still - you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his calls and texts, no matter how much listening to his voicemails broke your heart.

“so, um, i know we’re not talking but i’m just calling to tell you good morning. remember to eat, and um, have a great day, baby.”

the boys were slowly losing their patience too (seungcheol asked mingaho if he could share some of his calming tea) because a grumpy hoshi was never a fun hoshi, plus - they hated seeing their best friend constantly beating himself over your fight. there was something lacking without their performance team leader’s spark.

“should we just call her?” mingyu looked over at soonyoung, who was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. “he looks pathetic, moping around like that,” he snorted.

seungcheol groaned, banging his head on jeonghan's shoulder. as they started to get older he started to feel less like a leader but more like a therapist (he really thought about resigning the day seungkwan came whining about a love triangle he got himself into). “they are adults, they should figure it out between themselves.”

“oh come on, do we have to remind you what we had to do for you when you forgot about your girlfriend's birthday so she would forgive you?” mingyu snickered, and pulled out his phone.

you didn’t know what to expect when you saw mingyu’s picture flash over your phone screen. it definitely had something to do with your boyfriend, that much you gathered, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what he had to say. your boyfriend’s words really hurt you, and no matter how much you wanted to forgive him, you weren’t sure you could do it yet.

eventually, you clicked on the green button with a shaky finger. “yes?” you took a deep inhale and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to hear.

“okay, so you know exactly why i’m calling. your boyfriend looks like a kicked puppy, he stopped saying horanghae, he’s dressed all in black and he looks like he drank an entire bottle of soju. i mean, don't worry, he didn't do it because he would be reeling now, but you get what i mean. whatever happened between the two of you, give us back our hoshi."

"well, that was very tactful," you heard coups' voice in the background.

“can you shut up for one second?”

“no, in fact i can’t.”

“okay, boys, i don’t want to interrupt whatever is going on, but i really need to know if he’s doing as bad as you're saying.”

“bad” didn’t even come close to what hoshi was feeling. at this point he was so angry and frustrated at himself for acting like he acted, that seriously had to be one of his lowest points of his life achievements. now you were going to dump him, and he’d have to drown himself in soju, and grow a beard, and write a sad love song that he’d hear at the radio for the rest of his life, and-

there was no way you were calling him right now. and yet, “h-hello? babe?”

“no, the fucking pope,” he’d have to add a cabin in the woods to his list of what he’d do after you’d break up with him. “kwoon soonyoung, you have to be one of the most insufferable, impatient and immature people i know. all this because of a piece of cake? do you hear how childish that sounds?"

loud and clear, honey.

“that’s why i didn’t apologise in the first place. i immediately realised how fucking stupid i acted, and felt so ashamed of saying all of those awful things to you, and so i just left.”

you sighed defeated. you kind of anticipated him saying that - your boyfriend had a habit of doing things before thinking them over, and as much as you understood him being exhausted and overworked, you still couldn’t forget how small he made you feel that night.

“look, i really don’t want to fight, being away from you is hard enough, but…,” you ran a hand over your face. what were you supposed to do? you spent the last three nights on the couch because you couldn’t fall asleep in your shared bed, and there were so many times when you wanted to text him about the most unserious things that only he’d get, but you just couldn’t. “your words really hurt me.”

“i know, shit, i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. whatever i’ll say it won’t be enough, i should’ve apologised right away. fuck, your boyfriend is such a loser,” you heard him laugh, but it was not the usual soonyoung laugh that made the flowers bloom, and sun shine. “i understand if you want to take a break.”

“that’s the thing, i don’t want to take any breaks. i miss you so much. i miss talking to you every night, i miss our silly conversations, i miss getting my daily hoshi boyfriend pics. i’m sick of seeing your face on twitter and not over face time,” you pulled the sleeve of his sweater over your hand, like it would make you feel any closer to him. “let’s take it slow, maybe?”

you could swear you heard soonyoung exhale, “yes, yes, let’s do that. whatever you need, babe,” he said immediately. “my poor baby must’ve been so nervous.”

“i love you, you know,” you whispered. there was no point in making things worse and pretending that you didn't miss him, and even though it would probably be a while before everything went back to normal, you didn't want him to doubt whether you still loved him as much as you did before.

“i love you too. very much,” he whispered back, finally sounding a bit happier. “and baby? thank you for calling me back.

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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emphistic · 2 months

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐀/𝐍: thank you all for more than 505 followers (see what i did there with the song?) have this as a token of my gratitude (this is superr long overdue, mb you guys)

𝐖/𝐂: around 2500

“Why? Why, Sukuna? Why the hell did you not pull away?” You failed to keep your voice down.

“Baby, please. Trust me, she flung herself on me. I–”

“So you didn't push her off?”

Sukuna raked his fingers through his hair, clearly exasperated and struggling to find the words to answer you. “Look — the last time I did that I almost got arrested for assault. And guess what? You yelled at me for that, too. You said, ‘Why would you do that? You couldn't have just told her to get off?’ So really, what did you want me to do this time?”

You covered your mouth to stifle your sobs, at this point, your mascara was completely ruined, running down your cheeks. “Okay, okay, I get it. I'm wrong, you're right.”

But I crumble completely when you cry

Sukuna turned away from you, scratching his neck. Your mascara was smudged along your cheeks, your tears dampening your eyelashes. He couldn't bear seeing you like this, not when he was the cause. Was it cruel of him to say, to believe, to think, that you were most beautiful this way?

“That wasn't my point, and you know that. You know that damn well, sweetheart.” Sukuna said — after a moment of silence — and turned back to face you, albeit he hesitated before meeting your glossy eyes.

“Then what was it? What was it, Sukuna? Tell me. Enlighten me.” You frantically wiped away your tears as they fell, and though desperate as you were, you were still too slow.

“. . .” Sukuna stared down at you with a stoic expression painted on his face. His gaze remained unwavering, though yours flickered throughout the room, seemingly unable to face him properly. If he knew better, he would realize it was only because you would start bawling immediately after meeting his crimson eyes.

It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

“Fine!” You threw your arms up, utterly defeated. You had no time for Sukuna's games. “Be that way; go have fun with all your other girls!” You stomped away, but decided — in the moment — to turn around for a second just to flip the pink-haired man off. “Burn in Hell, Sukuna, for all I care. I don't want to see your stupid, stupid face ever again.”

Sukuna sighed, his eyes burned holes into the back of your dress as you left him standing there. Standing there with nothing but his thoughts, dreams, and regrets. Standing there in the club alleyway. The same club alleyway that you pulled him away to so you could yell at him.

But it didn't feel like the same club alleyway, because Something was missing. Something very dear to him — but he was no better than a man.

I'm always just about to go and spoil the surprise

He was no better than a man. He didn't have the courage. He didn't have the brains. He didn't have the wit. He didn't have the assets. He didn't have anything that he had had with you. Not anymore, at least.

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

He didn't have anything, because you were his everything. You were his light. His match. His flame. He didn't know what his point was. He didn't know. He didn't know. Because alas, he was no better than just a man. A man helplessly in love — with you.

So what would a man — helplessly in love with you — do? Perhaps he would visit your favorite jewelry brand and buy you an exquisite necklace. Maybe he would stop by a florist's shop and get you flowers. Or he could get you a baked good from the local bakery you like so much. And so, Sukuna — possibly being the most indecisive man alive — did all three of those things.

He purchased you a glimmering diamond necklace, a bouquet made up of your favorite flowers, and a cake of your favorite flavor.

Now, Sukuna was never a nervous nor self-doubting man, that was until he met you. He gets butterflies at the thought of you, though he'd never admit that. What could he say? He loved your laugh, the way your eyes crinkle as you do, your smile, your habit of tucking your hair behind your ear, your meticulousness when choosing earrings to match your outfit, your eyes — especially when they appeared to almost be glittering, he loved everything about you. But most importantly. . . He loved you. And that is why he sits in the driver's seat of his car, with his head in his hands and his back hunched over in thought.

He messed up. He messed up bad. And now he had to clean up the mess.

Fifteen minutes prior, his younger twin brother — Yuuji — had given him a pep talk, hyping him up. Yuuji knew how much you had helped Sukuna. He remembered the way Sukuna appeared happier, as if 100 pounds had been lifted off his shoulders — not that he would have any trouble carrying that weight — when Sukuna came home from your first date together. Yuuji saw the difference in Sukuna from that day on. Yuuji saw, Yuuji heard, and Yuuji felt the difference.

Albeit the younger twin could be a bit . . . dull, at times, Yuuji knew that you were what Sukuna needed most. If you had affected Sukuna so greatly when you came into his life, just think about the effects that would take place if you two separated. Yuuji got chills just thinking of that, which was why he was so desperate for his older brother to just rip off the bandaid, set his ego aside, and make amends.

I'm going back to 505

Sukuna was going back. He was going back to you . . . even if it was the last thing he would do. He finally raised his head from his hands and started the car. He was going to see you, apologize and explain how stupid he was being, and he was going to give you all the gifts he purchased. If his words couldn't satisfy you, he was going to spend the rest of his life proving himself to you with his credit card.

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

The drive to your apartment from his penthouse was only 3/4s of an hour, though it felt much longer as his dread grew and grew. It didn't matter how long, how far, how dangerous, the journey — he would always go back to his girl.

His girl.

That's what you were. That's what you are. That's what you will be — for as long as Sukuna lives. He would make sure of that.

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

But it didn't feel that way, certainly not when you opened the door with a frown on your face that only deepened as you immediately moved to close the door upon seeing the pink spikes of Sukuna’s hair. But he was already two steps ahead of you. He — already expecting that reaction — had quickly blocked you from closing the door by sticking his foot out between the door.

Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

“Sukuna. Didn't I tell you to never—!”

“Baby, please. Hear me out — for just a second.” Sukuna's lips were dry, his throat parched.

“Fine.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, he would've missed it if he was not as desperate as he was now.

Three days. It had been three days since you two had last spoken, in that damned alleyway. Three days of plain torture. Three days of sleepless nights. Three days without you. Three days of Hell.

God, he was so glad to hear your voice again; it was like music to his ears.

The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

You slowly pulled the door back and took a step backward, silently giving Sukuna your consent for him to enter. However, he didn't feel deserving of it, so he stayed in his position.

“Look, this is probably a waste of your time—”

“It is.”

He shoved the gifts into your hands.

“Oh? What's this?” You raised a brow, digging your hand through the bags to investigate, but Sukuna cleared his throat and you met his eyes.

“I want to apologize, for what I said and for how I acted. I'm really, really sorry. You know I'm not the best with these kinds of things, but, I really am. Believe me. And . . . I wasn't in the right state of mind, I was already a few drinks in — y’know that — and I know that's not an excuse but, I just. . . I'm sorry, okay? I haven't slept a wink since you left. And I was a fucking coward: I should've done this earlier but I didn't. So—please, forgive me.”

You didn't say anything, averting your gaze to the ground at your feet, and still processing his words. You mulled over what he had said in your head.

“Say something. Anything. Please.” Sukuna was so close to getting on his hands and knees that it was almost embarrassing.

“Sukuna, I don't know what to tell you. I believe you're sorry but I. . . I'm not ready to forgive you, not yet. It's just a lot, y’know? I mean, if you were in my shoes right now, you would feel the same way—”

“That's why I'm apologizing.” Sukuna cut you off, his desperation quickly turning into agitation.

“Yes, I get that, but . . . I'm just not ready to forgive you yet. I'm not ready to just push this aside and move on. I'm not . . . ready — for any of that.” Your eyes softened, as did your tone.

Despite his desperate pleads, you couldn't bring yourself to just forget the whole ordeal and why he was apologizing in the first place. But Sukuna was no better than a man. He had no clue why you felt this way. The only thing he's known in life was to move on. That's what he does and will do. That's why he is the way he is. That's why.

“Do you even want this relationship to last? Can't you see I'm trying to fix this problem?”

“I do, Sukuna. I really do. Couples fight and have arguments. It's normal. It's what we're doing right now. But just because it's normal doesn't mean I'm going to brush it aside as if it didn't happen.”

“Are you out of your—!? Do you have any idea how many girls would like to be in your spot right now? Do you have ANY idea?” By now, Sukuna had completely lost it. He was frustrated, so frustrated. He didn't understand what more you wanted from him.

“I—Sukuna, what?”

“Have you any idea? Any idea at all?”

You would be lying if you said you weren't scared, utterly afraid of the man standing before you right now. For you could see nothing past his eyes, no love, no care, nothing. Only the deep, rich crimson color that you once loved and held so dear to your heart.

“You know what? Good for you. Good for you that you have so many other better options but you chose me. Good. For. You. I guess you don't need me anymore. Goodbye, Sukuna.”

You slammed the door [shut] in Sukuna's face, falling with your back against it seconds later and bringing your knees to your chest. The waterworks started soon after and Sukuna could hear your quiet sobs from beyond the door.

He was dumbfounded, absolutely appalled. Did he really just say that to you? Sukuna knew he was not the brightest, but, damn, he's really done it this time.

Sukuna ran his fingers through his hair, now sitting in his car. He definitely did not mean to say what he said. In fact, he didn't even know how it slipped out. One second he was basically on his knees for you and the next, he . . . wasn't. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? He thought. He continued to sit there, reflecting on his actions and words. But he still couldn't believe it. What the fuck just happened?

He came to your apartment hoping to salvage the remnants of your guys' relationship, but he ended up ruining it — forever. Sukuna was 100% sure this was the worst fuckup in the history of mankind.

But he couldn't just leave it like this. He could still fix this, right? Alas, Sukuna had lost all hope; he lost his mind; and he lost the love of his life.

“Shit,” Sukuna muttered. He had really lost it, he thought, as he walked back to your apartment door. He had really lost it, he thought, when he spared a glance at your apartment number.

I'm going back to 505

That was the whole point of this, right? He was going back — no matter what, right?

When you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

He had really lost it, he thought, when he saw your glossy — yet still absolutely mesmerizing eyes after reluctantly answering the door, waiting for Sukuna to say something, anything. Anything at all. But he didn't. He didn't say anything at all. He had really lost it, he thought, when he pulled you in for the most zealous kiss he had ever experienced that left you gasping for air. His lips slotted against yours, moving fervently simultaneously. Albeit, he pulled away rather quickly — afraid of what he had just done.

I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Mere seconds after Sukuna pulled back, you moved your hand so quickly — that Sukuna didn't even notice at first — and slapped him. Hard. You slapped him hard as fuck. But then you did something that surprised the pink-haired man even more. You embraced him in a hug, and a tight one at that.

“Hug me back, dumbass.” You quipped.

Or I did last time I checked

“You just slapped me.” He hugged you back, nevertheless, wrapping his arms around your figure. Because, he had to admit, it was kinda hot [getting slapped].

“Duh. ‘Cause you're such a loser.”

A pause of silence occured, before Sukuna spoke up.

“I didn't mean what I said,” Sukuna murmured against your hair. He had longed for this moment. God, you made him so soft sometimes.

“I know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“I missed you.”

“You never stop talking, do you.”

“To you? Never.”

I'm going back to 505

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

With your hands between your thighs and a smile

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #with a happy ending #sukuna #first time writing angst #pls dont flop

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hgfictionwriter · 1 month

Text

Long Distance Call

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you are doing the long distance thing. What's she to do when you surprise her with a fun photo?

Warning: Smut. Phone sex. Explicit language!

A/N: Based on this request.

“Alright, everyone. Settle in. We have a big game this Friday and we’ve got lots to go through to prepare. Let’s look at some footage.”

Jessie was honed in on the analysis until she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. Coach was addressing the defenders, so Jessie took the opportunity to check.

Jessie had to stifle a gasp, nearly choking in the process as she shot straight up in her chair so aggressively that it caused the chair to scrape loudly against the floor. The noise immediately drew curious looks from the team.

“Sorry,” she offered quietly as a deep blush began to radiate off her cheeks.

It wasn’t the “Morning, baby 🥰” message that’d caught her so off guard. It was the accompanying picture of your mostly naked body that had her shook.

She’d alluded to wanting photos like this, you know, for some added inspiration while you were apart, but you’d never followed through - until now.

Jessie subconsciously cleared her throat as she settled back into her seat. It took valiant effort to not fidget and squirm as heat was now pooling in a totally different area than her face.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she tried desperately to refocus on game day tactics, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking of how she was going to get you back for messing with her. Mostly though, she thought of how she wanted to fuck you ragged until you could barely think and the only words coming from your mouth would be her name.

But she couldn’t. Not a while anyway. She swallowed her irritation and frustration. Long distance sucked.

“What was that all about?”

Janine’s overly intrigued query caught Jessie’s attention as the blonde fell into step with her as they were all leaving the meeting. Of course Janine had to inquire.

“Nothing really. A reminder came through on my phone and I thought I’d missed something, but it’s all good,” Jessie fibbed.

“Uh huh,” Janine responded, clearly not buying it, but benevolently let it go. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

“Dreaming of fucking my girlfriend silly,” Jessie thought.

“Not much. Maybe a bit more prep for the game, but I’m pretty tired, so it’ll be a low key evening,” she said instead. “You?”

“It’s date night,” Janine said with a bright smile. A moment later she offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard with Y/N so far away. How many weeks until you see her again?”

“5,” Jessie responded without missing a beat. She could even tell Janine the exact number of days if she’d asked, and there was a countdown on Jessie’s lock screen to prove it.

“It’ll go by quickly,” Janine said with dogged positivity. Jessie nodded and gave her a half smile.

“I know.”

Laughter suddenly erupted from a group of their teammates, drawing Janine’s attention away and leaving Jessie to fall back enough to find some privacy. When she was sure she was alone, she opened your text once more.

She inhaled deeply as she took in the image and a smirk tugged at her lips. She replied.

“Best text ever. Well, surprising - I opened it during analysis, btw! You look so fucking sexy. I miss you so much. I can’t express it. I wish I was coming home to you.”

She locked her screen and was about to leave when her phone buzzed again.

“That would be too much fun 😘. I wish I was waiting at home for you.”

Jessie expelled a slow, shaky breath. It was going to be a long afternoon.

By the time Jessie got home, the heat between her legs had only gotten worse. The image of you was burned in her mind and she kept replaying past times you made love and kept envisioning what she’d do to you if you were around.

She dropped her bag by the front door and immediately opened up the picture you sent.

“Fuck,” she breathed as she took you in.

She walked over to the couch and sat down heavily on it and immediately tucked a hand underneath the waistband of her shorts and into her underwear.

“Jesus,” she muttered when she felt how wet she was just from picturing you. She ran her fingers through her folds and dipped them briefly inside. The wet sounds each motion made would’ve made her blush on some occasions, but not today. She drew her fingers back and began circling her clit as she looked at your naked body.

She was releasing a heavy breath when her phone suddenly vibrated and a notification came up startling her. She drew her hand out of her shorts immediately and her heart raced until her mind caught up, realizing it was you calling.

She took a few deep breaths before she answered.

“Hey babe,” she said, still feeling hot and flustered in a couple of ways.

“Hi baby,” you greeted cheerfully. “How was training?”

“Uh, good,” Jessie said, a bit stilted in her reply as she tried to refocus. “Yeah, it was a long day, but good. How was yours?”

“The day was fine,” you answered easily. “I missed you. In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jessie breathed as she was brought right back to what she was doing a moment ago. “That was,” she struggled to find the words, “so hot. I was not expecting that at all. But holy shit - you are so sexy.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to make sure you miss me, too,” you joked.

“No challenge there.” Jessie breathed heavy into the phone.

“Well, if I can’t be there in person, the least I can do is give you some inspiration.” You told her in a flirtatious tone. Jessie gave a breathy chuckle.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Mmm, is that so?” You asked, a lilt in your voice. “Tell me more.”

“Um,” Jessie felt her cheeks start to warm. “You’re just super sexy.” She paused momentarily before relenting, lowering her voice unnecessarily to a near-whisper. “And I was definitely wet.”

You didn’t skip a beat. “Mm, baby. Tell me more. Did you think you were wet or did you confirm?”

Jessie blushed further. “Confirmed,” she nearly mumbled.

“God. I wish I was between your legs right now. I’d love to taste you and see for myself just how wet you are.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jessie’s voice was raspy and she fidgeted in place as the need between her legs was reignited and began to pulse once more. She cleared her throat quietly and added, “Pretty fucking wet.”

“Right now?” You asked. Jessie hummed a bit before replying.

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, baby, don’t tease me,” you told her and she responded with a short laugh.

“Excuse me? Who’s teasing who here?”

“You know, for someone who wanted nudes and finally got one, you seem to be complaining,” you joked, knowing she’d offer an immediate rebuttal.

“I’m not! I fucking loved it. And yes, I’m wet right now,” Jessie countered. She fidgeted again and went on in a hushed voice. “In fact, I was…you know, doing stuff, when you called.”

“Jesus,” you said with a sharp inhale. “Now that is the sexiest thing. Oh my god, Jess.” She could hear the satisfied grin in your voice. “Don’t let me stop you,” you went on in a soft voice. “Maybe I can even help you.”

“Yeah?” Jessie asked, shifting her jaw subconsciously and very intrigued now. “How so, baby?”

“Imagine it’s my hand between your legs. Lower the phone and let me hear how wet I make you,” you instructed.

Jessie grit her teeth, eyes rolling into the back of her head already at the events that were unfolding. She gave you want you wanted; lowering the phone and dipping her fingers back through her slick folds. Her arousal was obvious right away.

She held the phone back up, but began to circle her clit.

“Holy fuck, Jessie. That was so incredibly sexy. I’m aching for you - I need you so bad.”

“Fuck, baby,” Jessie breathed, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She rubbed her clit with a firmer touch and rocking her hips up in slow gyrations. “I was so wet at training too just thinking about what I’d do to you if you were here.”

“Baby, please, tell me,” you pleaded. You heard her chuckle softly, but you detected how her breathing grew heavier in your ear.

“Only if you’re a good girl,” Jessie smirked. “Touch yourself for me. Two fingers - tracing around your clit and between your lips. Dip them down until you can tell me how wet you are for me.”

“Oh my God.” You nearly panted. Jessie often took control in the bedroom, but you hadn’t explored this facet of it before. Hearing her speak like this was unexpected, but so sexy. You did as you were told and moaned softly into the phone. “Baby, I’m dripping wet,” you told her as you drew your fingers back up and the tips were covered in your juices.

Jessie groaned into the phone and bit her lip.

“Just what I like to hear,” she affirmed as she continued to rub circles around her swollen clit. “God, I miss fucking you.”

You groaned in need and agreement as you continued to run your fingers through your lips and grazing your clit. “Me too, baby. My fingers and toys just aren’t the same.”

Jessie breathed heavy as a satisfied grin crossed her face. “Damn right they’re not.” She moaned faintly as her hips bucked against her hand. “If you were here, I’d have you on your back, legs on my shoulders as I pin you down, and I’d be knuckle deep in you.” She dipped her fingers inside of herself and her eyes fluttered shut. “God, I can feel your cum all over my fingers. And you know I love the way you start to pool around my knuckles and in my palm.”

“Jess,” you panted. “Oh my god. Keep going. I love the way you fill me up. The way you fit perfectly inside of me, stretching me just right.”

“Fuck, baby,” Jessie breathed as she went back to rocking her hips against her fingers on her clit. “You’re perfect for me. I’d be stroking you hard and deep. I’d be pumping my whole body against yours I’d be fucking you so hard. The bed would bang against the wall every time I bottom out inside of you, pushing you deeper into the mattress.”

“Oh god, Jessie, you fuck me so good,” you praised. You could vividly picture the prideful and smug look on her face and it turned you on even more.

People loved talking about how humble Jessie was. But when it came to fucking and pleasing you, there was nothing humble about her. And frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love when you say my name,” Jessie said, her voice growing strained as her breathing continued to pick up. She grinned once more. “But I love it even more when you scream it.”

You moaned loudly into the phone, letting your head fall back as you rubbed your clit harder and faster.

“So make me,” you challenged her.

Jessie groaned, biting her lip again, her back arching off the couch. “I love you so much,” she breathed with a laugh of appreciation. “Baby, you know I’d be hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. I’d be making sure that every time I fill you to the hilt I’m sending a wave of pleasure through your whole body. My thumb’s on your clit, circling and rubbing it. And after I kiss you deeply, my lips hard on yours, I’ll kiss your neck.

“I won’t mean to suck on your skin too hard, but feeling you buck and writhe beneath me, moaning in my ear as I pump in and out of you makes me fucking feral for you. Like I can’t get close enough or love you hard enough. I mark you, but I don’t feel so bad about it because that’s how much I want you, to the point where I can’t control myself.

“When you moan as I latch down on your neck, I push a third finger inside of you. You wrap around me tightly, but you’re so fucking wet I just slip in. Feeling your walls grip me and pulse around me as I move nearly sends me into a frenzy.”

“Jesus Christ, Jess. I’m so close,” you warn her, your voice high and faint.

“I can feel your body start to tense up. Your legs start to shake and your breath quickens as I continue. I curl my fingers inside of you, relishing each punctuated moan you release each time I make contact. Your arousal is pooling on the sheets now as I’m driving my hips into you. I’m absolutely soaked because of how sexy and beautiful you are beneath me.”

“Holy shit. Jessie.” Your eyes screwed shut and her name was loud and strained as your climax hit. “I’m cumming.”

“Umph,” Jessie moaned as she bit her lip. “Baby girl. So fucking hot,” she said as she bucked her hips against her fingers which desperately rubbed her sensitive clit. The tightening sensation deep in her core built rapidly as she heard you cumming in her ear and she envisioned your body against hers.

A tight groan worked its way up Jessie’s throat as her core began to pulsate. Her hips jerked against her fingers as she brought herself over the edge.

You both whimpered and breathed heavy into the phone as you rode out your joint orgasms. Jessie’s chest heaved up and down and she slumped into the couch, her underwear thoroughly soaked through and too lazy to remove her hand from them. She could barely hold up the phone and had yet to open her eyes. Eventually, you spoke.

“Babe. That was insane. And totally incredible,” you relayed in pure appreciation and admiration. “You’re amazing.”

Jessie chuckled languidly, slowly opening her eyes.

“Amazing what one can do with a great muse.”

You laughed. “Well, I have to say, long distance may not be quite so unbearable if we have repeats like this.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” Jessie assured you. “You send me fun photos, and I promise I’ll take good care of you. Deal?”

“Deal.” You agreed with a breathy laugh.

“For real though,” Jessie started, “I really miss you. I love you, you know that, right?”

Again, you chuckled. Of course you knew. And you knew how lucky you were too.

“I know, baby. I love you, too. And I miss you more than you know.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #jflem #woso #canwnt x reader #woso imagine #smut fic

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yan-maid-cafe · 2 months

Text

Yandere Sorcerer

Imagine "falling" for a yandere sorcerer...

You had met Aod years ago, the owner of a local magic shop. Considered a master of many fields ranging from runes to potionology to even astrology. He was a unique man to say the least. One day while you were in there to buy some more Wolf's Bane, he awkwardly asked you on a date. Something you happily accepted.

When reaching the cafe the next day, he handed you a box of homemade chocolates urging you to try one. Feeling the sweet treat melt on your tongue, it was the best chocolate you had ever eaten. And the date just kept getting better from there. It felt like love at first sight, as if you two were made for eachother.

Your relationship moved fast, faster than anybody in the village had seen. Within a month you both had already moved in together, and a month after that you were already considering marriage. People would occassionly come to talk to you, saying things were moving too fast and that maybe you should slow down. But you never listened, why would you? The world has been so much brighter ever since you and Aod started dating. You never wanted this to end.

He was the perfect fiancee. Providing for you, caring for you, loving you more than anything. What more could you ask for? Who cares if things were moving fast, that's just how in love you two were.

Though one day you were left sick in bed, coming down with some kind of stomach bug. You remained in bed in order to heal. Aod walked into your shared bedroom, holding a teacup in his hand, the tea he would brew for you every morning. Placing the tea on the side table, insisting you to drink it even if you could barely keep anything down, saying that it would make you feel better. Refusing to leave the room until you drank the entire cup. Once you had done as told, he gave you his usual kind smile before turning around and leaving the room.

You lied in bed for what felt like hours before your stomach lurched around inside of you, causing you to need to grab the bucket beside your bed. Upon emptying your stomach into it, you were shocked to see what was inside. It was the usual digusting greens and yellows you would expect. But there was also large blotches of bright pink within it, dropping the bucket on the ground in shock as you tried to stand up from the bed. You legs shaking beneath you as you broke out in a cold sweat. Your heart was beating a mile a minutes as it felt like the room was losing the color it once had. Your only thought...

Where the Hell were you...

It felt like the past few months were a blur, the last thing you remember clearly was arriving for your first ever date with Aod. Everything else was a blurry mess. You were left with a feeling of terror as you walked out of the bedroom, trying to reach the front door. Something deep in your mind was screaming at you to get out before Aod came, to get out and get help before he returned.

Though before you reached the front door a firm hand grabbed hold of your shoulder, a familiar voice sounded out behind you.

"Dear, what are you doing out of bed?"

It was Aod. You tried to pry yourself out of his grip and scream for help but he quickly pulled you into his chest, covering your mouth with his hand. He tried to talk to you but all it took was a single look in your eyes for his gentle gaze to change into one of frustration. He kept a hand over your mouth as he dragged you further into the house. Easily overpowering your struggles as he forced you into his office, locking the door behind you both.

Dragging you towards a large cupboard, Aod opened one of the drawers revealing countless bottles of the same bright pink concoction you had just expelled from your stomach. He brought one of the bottles to your lips and upon having to fight you, he began to pry your mouth open with his hand. Now pouring the sweet tasting mixture into your mouth, forcing it down your throat.

It only took a few minutes for the room around you to become blurry again, as if your brain was going numb. The color returned to your surroundings as Aod pulled you into his chest, gently stroking your head with a soft smile. His voice gentle as he whispered into your ear.

"Don't worry, it's okay now Dear. You just got a little restless there for a second."

His smile spread as he nuzzled his face into your neck, speaking in a voice dripping with obsession. Looking down at the ring on your finger.

"I've been thinking. We should get married as soon as possible and finally leave this backwards town. It will finally just be you and me. Would you like that Hun?"

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, a loving smile on your lips as you nodded without a thought. After all, what was so wrong with that? Aod was the best fiancee you could have asked for...

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere sorcerer #tw vomit #tw drugging

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

someone who loves you wouldn't do this

the fourth and final chapter of family line solstråle faces some more challenges and makes some important decisions. angst. like angst... but then fluff :) cw: more of the same... poor mental health on sol's part.

it must be said that this chapter would be absolutely NOTHING compared to what it is now without @wileys-russo. for every comment you leave on this, YOU BEST leave bailey something telling her thank you, too :)

------

“Solstråle… that is just… wood. Your bed would just be on some wooden slats on the ground.”

You beamed at your sister. “I KNOW. It’s so cool. It’s like camping. But with a comfy mattress, and it’s oversized, so I don't need a nightstand, it’s like a built-in shelf! It'll go so well with my new map because the wood is the same as the frame and…”

Ingrid didn’t need to hear your reasoning; the excitement on your face was more than enough for her. She would have bought you anything, no matter how hideous, just to keep seeing this joy on your face. This alleged bed frame wasn’t even that bad; it was woodsy and earthy and the precise thing you loved.

The bed frame was the final thing you’d needed. Ingrid had come in with a gameplan, because of course she had, and you had systematically made your way through the store.

You’d seemed unsure at first, and very hesitant to really pick anything out. Mapi, meanwhile, was too excited to see that she was overwhelming you. After the 8th time you’d said the words, “I don’t know, do you like it?” your sister knew she had to step in.

Mapi was busy talking your ear off. “OOO what about this dresser? With the matching mirror? Or we could get the other mirror with this dresser and paint the wood framing so it would match. Or we could get-”

Ingrid cut her off. “María, darling, I love you, but take a breath.” You watched amused as Mapi literally took a deep breath at Ingrid’s instruction. “Okay, now go pick out a couple new mugs over there and then come back.”

Mapi nodded enthusiastically, bounding off towards the mugs. “Do not run, María Pilar!” Ingrid shouted after her, smiling to herself when Mapi slowed down to an awkward shuffle.

Your sister turned to you then, a sympathetic look on her face as you regarded her cautiously.

“Which dresser do you want?”

“I don’t-”

“No. Which dresser do you want?” Ingrid insisted.

You shrugged, looking away from your sister, and inexplicably starting to tear up. You didn't want to pick the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to make anyone buy anything for you.

The brunette put her hands on your shoulders, looking down at you insistently. “Listen, Solstråle. I want you to have a space that is yours, with things you pick, and things you like. Let me do this for you? Please?”

You sighed, nodding slowly. “I like that one.” You said softly, pointing at one of the dressers Mapi hadn’t even glanced at.

“Good.” Ingrid said. “MARÍA, come here.”

Mapi returned like a puppy being called back to its owner, with a single mug in her hands. Ingrid had been about to scold her, and tell her to stop hijacking your shopping trip, when Mapi handed out the mug towards you. You took it into your hands, turning it around until the design was facing you.

It was a ceramic mug, painted with a minimalist map of Spain. There was only one marking on the map, signifying Barcelona. It was a little sun, right on the coast, marking your new home.

“Get it? It’s a map. Like the one I got you. And it has a sun. Mapi and Solstråle. Un mapa y el sol.” She joked, clearly thinking you’d laugh, and put the mug back, as it wasn’t normally the sort of thing you’d like.

You grinned at her, though, looking between the Spaniard and your sister, who also had a big smile on her face. “Can I get it?” You asked.

Mapi looked surprised, but Ingrid just kept smiling, knowing instantly that the silly mug meant something because Mapi had seen it, and thought of you. “Of course. María, she picked out a dresser.”

“Which one?” Mapi asked, looking around excitedly.

You’d laughed, shaking your head, and pointing at the one you wanted. Ingrid was a little worried Mapi would jokingly complain that you hadn’t picked one of the ones’ she’d pointed out, and inadvertently make you feel guilty, but Mapi just nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh I didn’t see that one! Good call pequeña!”

You’d looked relieved, Ingrid felt relieved, and Mapi was just happy to be there.

-------

You couldn’t sleep. It felt dumb, laying in your new bed, in your redecorated room, but your mind just wouldn’t turn off. You’d spent the day with Ingrid and Mapi, and they’d done everything right. Everything. Your room felt like your room, now, not just the guest room. Their home felt like your home.

And yet. You were still empty. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t convinced. It didn’t make any fucking sense, because they’d gone out of their way, over and over, to show you that they loved you. That seemed like something that couldn’t be reality, though. You weren’t… loveable. How could you be? You were just you. And that had never been enough, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

You couldn’t stand laying in bed any longer. It was too soft, too comfortable. It felt too safe, like everything was about to be ripped away from you. The living room was safer. It was so viscerally Ingrid and Mapi’s space. You didn’t have anything to lose down here.

You turned the TV on, appreciating the array of Norwegian options Ingrid was subscribed to, and put on a mindless one. You sat and watched, and tried not to think. You weren’t very successful if the way you jumped when the couch moved next to you was any indication.

“Can’t sleep?” Mapi asked, tucking herself under the blanket you were using.

“Nope.”

“Thinking about how much better you’d sleep in that race car bed we saw? That’s why I'm up.” Mapi replied wistfully, causing you to crack a smile.

“Something like that.” You replied softly. The defender studied you for a moment, before throwing an arm around your shoulder, contact you leaned into, almost on instinct.

A scene came on in the drama that was playing, one which took place in a tattoo shop. Mapi perked up, and you saw an opening to change the subject before your mood could be questioned.

“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?” You questioned.

“18. It was this one.” Mapi said excitedly, holding out her arm to point at the partially covered up tattoo. “I covered it kind of a couple years later. Would you ever get a tattoo?”

You weren’t a bad liar, but for some reason, you didn’t feel like lying to Mapi. She felt like a judgment free zone, in a way your sister didn’t. “I have one.”

Mapi looked at you in surprise. “You do? Where? What is it? When did you get it? How did you get it?” The law in Barcelona was that you could get one at 16 without parental consent, but Mapi hadn’t known when you would have done it.

You laughed at her rapid fire questions. “I got it in Norway. It was a stick and poke, I don’t even remember getting it, I was blacked out.”

Mapi tried to school her features, but you could sense her disapproval anyway. It wasn’t for the reason you expected, though. “Someone gave you a stick and poke while you were blacked out?” She asked evenly.

You just shrugged. “I asked for it, apparently.”

It was quiet for a moment while the defender tried to act like that didn’t upset her.

“What is it?” You blushed, then, and Mapi cracked a smile. “Tell me, tell me. I won’t tell your sister.”

Instead of telling, you showed her, pulling your shirt up so your rib was exposed.

So the 23 clearly inked into your skin was visible.

Mapi’s touch was delicate when she traced over it, a small smile on her lips.

“23, huh?”

You shrugged. “It was the only thing I asked for, apparently. I couldn’t remember the number, I was so drunk, but I made someone google what it was, and then… got it.”

“That’s really sweet.” Mapi said quietly.

“Hope she doesn’t change her number.” You said quickly, trying not to linger on the sentimentality of it all.

“Eh. You can always turn it into something else. Tattoo cover ups aren’t that expensive.” Mapi said casually, knowing exactly who was just a few steps from the family room. Sue her if she wanted to see Ingrid’s reaction to your tattoo.

“Tattoo? TATTOO? You have a tattoo, solstråle?” Ingrid asked, practically falling into the room. You tensed, suddenly terrified that this would be it. She’d make you leave after this. But while ingrid looked a little stern, she didn't seem angry. Still, you were a bit frozen still, and Mapi took her opportunity.

“Stick and poke. Got it while blackout drunk.” She said, holding up a hand for you to high five, despite clearly disapproving minutes earlier. Apparently, Mapi only needed to be a protective adult in Ingrid’s absence. You high fived her, allowing yourself to smile a bit, though you shot your sister a nervous glance.

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, sighing heavily and sitting on the couch.

“Alright. Let me see it.” You sat up to lift the side of your shirt again, stopping when she threw a hand over her eyes. “Wait, no. Is it bad? Is it a bad word? Is it a vagina?” You and Mapi collapsed into giggles, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her face. “Oh grow up, both of you. Let me see, solstråle.”

A bit smugly, now, you showed her the tattoo, watching carefully as her face morphed from apprehension, to surprise, to… emotion. Ingrid was tearing up.

“Oh my god, don’t cry, please, Ingrid,” you begged, sitting up and looking at your sister anxiously. Mapi was shaking with silent laughter next to you, and Ingrid was waving her hands in front of her face frantically.

“I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m just- tattoos are bad. Really bad. You shouldn’t have that. Tattoo. Of my number. On your body forever. My baby sister,” She trailed off, biting her lip when it began to tremble.

“Ingrid,” you complained, looking away uncomfortably.

“Ven aqui, princesa,” Mapi said quietly, pulling Ingrid into her side, though she was still smiling. Ingrid took a few calming breaths resting against her girlfriend, staying silent even though she had a million things to say. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to break the ice, seeing as though you looked to be on the verge of bolting out of the room. “ You know what would look good, solstråle? A 4, on the other side.” She suggested with a grin.

Ingrid sat bolt upright. “NO! No more tattoos. María, I swear to god.”

Mapi laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m just kidding, princesa, relax! God you sound like Alexia when I joked that I was going to tattoo Fresa when she was 12. I thought Ale was going to hit me.”

“I might hit you.” Ingrid mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at her girlfriend.

“Nah. I’m too hot for that.” Mapi said confidently, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek. Ingrid fought a smile and you turned away with a grimace on your face.

“Well. I’m going to bed. Please, keep the volume down, I don’t wish to be scarred this evening.” You said, walking briskly out of the room, ignoring Mapi’s cackle, and Ingrid’s gasp.

“We don’t have sex! We don’t! Abstinence is key!” Ingrid shouted after you, sighing heavily when she heard you laugh from the stairs. She turned to Mapi with a defeated look on her face.

“Nicely done, princesa.” Mapi teased.

Ingrid groaned, collapsing against her girlfriend. “She laughed a lot today. Like really laughed.” Ingrid commented after a minute.

Mapi ran her fingers through Ingrid’s loose hair. “I know. It was nice. She’s making progress, mi amor. You’re doing really well.”

Ingrid smiled shyly into the Spaniard, privately thinking that she’d do a lot worse without Mapi around to help. It takes a village, she supposed.

-------

You hadn’t quite drifted off when you heard your bedroom door open quietly. You were half asleep, too sleepy to open your eyes, assuming that either Ingrid or Mapi were putting something in your room you’d forgotten downstairs. You cracked an eye open after a second when you heard a noise closer to your bed, and saw your sister picking up Snø, who had fallen off your bed. She turned towards you, and for some reason, you shut your eyes before she could see they were open.

You pretended to be asleep. You weren’t sure why.

You were glad you had, though, when you felt Snø placed just next to your face, felt the covers pulled up a little until they were just under your chin, and felt Ingrid press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“God natt solstråle, jeg elsker deg,” she whispered, before quietly creeping back out of the room.

You were wide awake now, opening your eyes as soon as you heard the door shut. You weren’t quite sure what you were so upset about. Ingrid tucking you in had felt safe and loving and warm. Those were all good feelings… so why did it feel like a part of your chest was caving in on itself?

It was just… where had Ingrid learned to do that? You couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your parents doing anything similar with you. Even when you were young, putting you to bed consisted of them standing in the doorway while you got under the covers, and them bidding you a goodnight. Had it not been like that for Ingrid?

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course it hadn’t been like that for Ingrid. She had been intentional, wanted. She was their favorite. They loved Ingrid in a way they never loved you. Of course they tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, and told her they loved her. Words you hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time. Ingrid got everything you always craved, and you couldn’t even really be that mad about it. Because if anyone deserved the absolute best the world had to offer, it was your sister.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, quietly muffling your sobs in your pillow. It was a sadness that plagued you, mixed with hope. Your parents didn’t love you, you were pretty sure of that. But it seemed like, maybe, Ingrid did.

-------

The following day was a match day. Well, not for Mapi, obviously, but it was an important league match for the team, and for Ingrid, and you were actually looking forward to going.

You woke up well rested in your bedroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. You looked around when you woke up, a bit confused at the transformation it had undergone. It was cozy, and you relished laying in bed for a bit, not in any rush to leave this newly comforting space. It felt like home, and thought that still scared you, it wasn’t as terrifying in the daylight. Everything was always better in the morning.

And though the morning was good, the afternoon only went downhill.

You’d disappeared up to your room to get some homework done before you were set to leave for the game, and Mapi and Ingrid were lounging downstairs, watching a WSL match. Ingrid was ignoring the repetitive texts from her mother. After another one buzzed her phone, quickly followed by a sharp ring as her mom resorted to calling her, Ingrid flipped her phone over with a heavy sigh, turning to hide her face in the crook of Mapi’s neck. The Spaniard frowned sadly, wrapping her arms tight around the Norwegian, softly rubbing her back.

“I love you.” Mapi whispered, not really sure what to say, but figuring that those words couldn’t hurt. Ingrid whispered them back, feeling a bit braver now, before pulling away and reaching for her phone again.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t want to talk to her right now, but she can tell something is wrong. I never ignore her like this.”

“You’re not ready to talk. Just say that.” Mapi suggested. Ingrid thought for a few moments, before slowly nodding and beginning to type a response.

Please stop calling. I am focused on Solstråle right now. You’ve really hurt her, and neither of us are ready to talk to you yet. Please respect that.

Ingrid showed Mapi before hitting send, an apprehensive look on her face.

“Perfect, amor.” Mapi assured her, watching as Ingrid hit send and snuggled back up against her girlfriend. She felt the words more than she heard them when Mapi spoke into her ear. “I am proud of you. You’re doing the right thing for your sister, and I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well, mi princesa. I’m so proud of you.”

Ingrid blushed heavily, but smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but it suddenly felt like things might be okay from here on out. She would be wrong.

-------

You shouldn’t have answered the phone. You should have known better. You couldn't help the hope that bloomed inside of you when you saw your mom’s name on the caller ID as your phone rang, though. You answered the phone.

“You’re ruining our family.” She ruined it first.

“You’ve made my daughter hate me.” You’re her daughter too.

“Ingrid doesn’t want you there. She’s not your parent, I am.” Ingrid says she wants you here. And Ingrid acts more like a parent than she ever has.

“If I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I wouldn’t have bothered with having you.” Sometimes you wish she hadn’t bothered with it.

“You cause more trouble than you’re worth, and one day Ingrid will see that. And I won’t be here to take you back.” You were a lot of trouble, weren’t you? Your mom was right. One day, Ingrid and Mapi would reach the point she had. And you’d have nowhere else to go.

Your thoughts only spiraled from there. You hung up the phone without saying a word, letting it fall to the ground. You curled into yourself and thought. Thought hard. Until your mind felt like a prison you were locked in, and you weren’t sure how to get out. Until the room disappeared around you, and all you felt was hatred. Not towards your mother. But towards yourself.

-------

You wouldn’t look at Mapi. You wouldn’t move. You didn’t even really seem to know she was there. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest on the floor by your bed, a vacant look in your eyes.

“Come on, pequeña, come back. I’m right here, you’re safe.” Mapi said softly, careful not to touch you. She’d come to ask you if you’d be ready to go in an hour, wanting to leave at the same time as Ingrid and spend time with the team as they got ready in the locker room. She’d found you like this, making yourself as small as possible against your bed. You looked tiny, and Mapi spoke quietly, delicately, trying to coax you back to her.

Still, even her soothing words didn’t bring you out. And she knew she needed to get Ingrid, even as she knew that Ingrid would freak out.

She stepped away from you, leaning into the hall and calling quietly towards her room, where your sister was.

“Ingrid, come here please.” She said, as calmly as she could. Ingrid appeared in the hall, walking towards your room as she fiddled with the braid in her hair.

“What’s up?” She asked, following Mapi into your room. “Solstråle?” She looked between you and her girlfriend in confusion.

“I think she’s a little out of it right now. I’m not sure what happened, I found her like this.” Mapi explained, trying her best to not make Ingrid panic.

Ingrid sat down next to you, grabbing your hand. When you didn’t even flinch, she looked at Mapi in horror.

“María, what do we do?”

“She’s all right, amor. She just needs a bit.” Mapi reassured, sitting down on your other side.

“I… I don’t understand, what happened?”

“I don’t know, mi amor. Something probably upset her. She’s very vulnerable right now.” Mapi replied, before pausing briefly. “Do you remember when I withdrew from camp for the first time? I got like this. I was okay, I just needed some time, and my brain was trying to protect itself. Solstråle is okay, she just needs the same.”

Ingrid nodded slowly, because she did remember. That was different, though, that was… a traumatic experience for her girlfriend. And whatever was happening with you right now, this couldn’t be a reaction to a traumatic experience. Yes, you were struggling, and yes, the last couple years had been hard, but you weren’t… traumatized?

As Ingrid sat and waited for you to come back to her, though, she realized that you were. If she put herself in your position, she couldn’t see how you could have come out of everything not traumatized. The marks your parents had left on you ran deeper than Ingrid had realized. And there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them unless you let her.

“María,” Ingrid said quietly, a desperate plea for some reassurance as minutes passed and nothing changed, as she stared into your eyes and you didn't react.

“I know, cariño, but she’s okay. She’s okay, I promise. Just try to stay calm.”

Ingrid wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay calm. Especially when she glanced at her phone and saw it was several minutes past the time she was supposed to leave for the match. “Can you call Ale? And tell her I can’t come?”

Mapi was nodding before Ingrid finished her sentence, standing and stepping out of the room. The phone only rang once before Alexia picked up, her reassuring voice calming Mapi, who was pretending to be a lot less panicked than she felt.

“Hola.”

“Ingrid and I can’t come.” Mapi said simply.

“What’s going on? Are you both okay?” Alexia asked with concern. Ingrid wouldn’t just miss a match she was supposed to be starting. Not unless something was wrong.

“It’s her sister, she’s not… well right now. We have to stay here with her. Ale, I’m really sorry,” Mapi said, cutting herself off before she got choked up. She wasn’t an emotional person but seeing you like this, seeing Ingrid so upset, and hearing her best friend’s voice over the phone… she couldn’t help it.

“No, don’t be sorry. Family first, always. I’ll talk to Jona. Do you need anything? Can I help?” Alexia asked. Hearing Mapi cry was always unsettling, because it happened so rarely.

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you, Ale, really.” Mapi said back, clearing her throat.

They said goodbye, and Mapi walked back into the room, raising her eyebrows when she saw Ingrid on your phone.

“She talked to Mom. Like 20 minutes ago, she answered a call from Mom.” Ingrid stated. “Could that…”

Mapi took her spot back next to you, absentmindedly taking your hand in hers. You gave it the faintest of squeezes, but the Spaniard didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so she said nothing. “It could be that. It makes sense. A lot of this seems to have to do with your mom. I don’t know what she said on the phone, but… it probably wasn’t good.”

Ingrid sat with that information for a bit, startling slightly when you slumped into her. Carefully, she lowered you so your head was in her lap. You seemed a little more aware, now, but still nowhere near normal. Softly, she began to pull your hair out of the braid it was in, combing it back away from your face.

“Our Mom did this to her.” She said evenly. Mapi rested her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder, nodding slightly. “I am never letting that woman near Solstråle again. I don’t care what I have to do. She’s been hurt enough. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.”

It didn’t matter that Mapi had come to this conclusion a couple days ago. It mattered that Ingrid was there now, and Ingrid was going to keep you safe.

You heard what Ingrid said. Your ears still worked, you were just a bit… out of it. You heard what she had told her girlfriend. And as she sat above you, relaxing you with every touch of her fingers to your scalp, you knew that you were failing at the rules you’d set yourself years ago.

Don’t get attached. Don’t expect anything from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t listen when people tell you they love you; they almost never mean it.

You were trusting, again. Just a little bit, piece by piece, and you knew that it would take time before you healed fully, before you trusted fully. Very quickly, though, you were losing the will to be independent, losing the will to be strong. You didn’t want to have to be strong anymore. And you were beginning to think you didn’t need to be.

Of course, healing isn’t linear. Nothing is that easy. So even as you slowly sat up off your sister, and inquired as to why she wasn’t at her game, some part of you knew something else would go wrong. It had happened too many times for you not to know any better. There was still a hesitation when you leaned into the hug your sister offered, as she explained that you were more important than football. There was still hesitation when she asked what had happened. You told her the fewest details possible, which she clearly wasn’t happy with. You were still holding yourself back, somewhere in the middle of healed and broken. It was almost a race to see who could get to you first. It would either be Mapi and Ingrid to reach you, to put you back together. Or it would be the trauma and pain that pulled you backwards, back to the version of yourself you hated. Breaking you for good.

------

The answer would come in the form of a knock on the front door, later that day. After you’d gotten up off the floor of your bedroom, and returned to pretending to be okay. You were in the garage with Mapi, working on the bike, while Ingrid cooked dinner. You were loosening up a bit, and Mapi could tell you were getting closer to telling her what your mom had said on the phone.

Your sister answered the door, thinking maybe it would be one of their teammates, coming to check on them after her rather abrupt withdrawal from the match.

When Ingrid opened the door, though, it wasn’t her teammate on the front porch. It was your father.

-------

Your father, who was significantly less at fault than your mom, but still complicit in how you’d been treated. Your father, who always worked too much to really have a say in anything regarding your life. Your father, who you’d always felt closer to, always trusted more.

Your father, who loved you more than he’d ever admit.

Ingrid knew what he was there for the minute she saw his face. She was proven right when she got you and Mapi from the garage and brought you into the family room. When he began to talk and explain what he wanted, began to try to convince you to come home.

“I know Mom messed up. We both have, really. Our home isn’t the same without you though, Solstråle. I officially retired yesterday, which is why I wasn’t here sooner. I want to make things right. We weren’t good parents, but I’m here now, my darling. I want you to come back home. We can fix things with your mom. We can fix things at your school, get you back with your friends. We can be a family again.”

We can be a family again. A few months ago, maybe that would have gotten you home. Maybe the temptation of your friends and Norway and the promise of being loved would have worked. Things were different now, though. You felt like you had a family here, or that you could.

You’d always had a better relationship with your Dad. He loved all the outdoorsy activities you did, and though he’d been busy with work practically your whole life, the little time you spent together was always nice. Him retiring would ensure one sane person was home with you, that it wouldn’t just be you and your mom. And maybe you would have said yes, if you hadn’t seen the fear in Ingrid’s eyes, and decided it was because she wanted you to stay. She wanted you here, you told yourself. You wanted to be where you were wanted. And that wasn’t Norway, not with your mom.

“No.” you said simply.

“Solstråle,” your father began, with an exasperated sigh.

“No. I appreciate you coming here, and I appreciate you caring but it’s too late. It’s not enough, and it’s too late. Mom doesn’t want me home. She made that clear on the phone today. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. I don’t want to go back to Norway.”

Next to you, Mapi, who had been silent this whole time, squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

Your Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You got the idea he thought this would be easier, which made sense. You hadn’t put up any fight when they’d sent you to Spain, and your Dad hadn’t expected any fight now.

“Take a day or two. Think about it. For me?”

Ingrid and Mapi wanted to snap that you didn’t owe him anything and he was in no place to ask you for anything, but they didn’t want to cause any more conflict than was necessary. Besides, you could handle yourself.

“I’ve made my decision but if you want to hear me repeat myself in two days, that’s fine.” You said calmly. Ingrid bit back a laugh, but Mapi smiled openly.

Your Dad didn’t seem phased, to his credit. “I’d like to talk to you both. Alone.” He directed that at the older girls, and you took the opportunity to flee upstairs, far away from the man that was… doing nothing but confusing you about your feelings towards your parents.

Your Dad didn’t stay for much longer, giving your sister a little speech about encouraging you to “make the right decision,” and why the right thing would be sending you home with him.

It left your sister with a bit to think about, her parents often making her rethink her decisions. Mapi could sense this turmoil, but she didn’t say anything, knowing Ingrid would come to her. Ingrid was completely silent as her and Mapi went to clean up the kitchen from dinner, allowing you space and time upstairs to process.

After a few minutes, though, Ingrid spoke up.

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Ingrid asked, turning to Mapi as she finished putting away the dishes.

“We aren’t making a decision. Your sister is.” Mapi reasoned. “Besides, Ingrid, you said it yourself. Solstråle shouldn’t be around your mom. There are no real, tangible reasons why she shouldn’t stay here.”

“My dad had a couple.” Ingrid said skeptically.

“Okay. Why should Solstråle go back to Norway?” Mapi asked, taking a seat at the counter across from her girlfriend. Ingrid sighed, and began to list off the reasons her father had given her.

It was, of course, at this moment that you came down the stairs to fill up your water. This moment, the worst possible moment, as Ingrid tried to convince herself that you should stay, while inadvertently convincing you that she didn’t want you to stay. You froze in the hall, just out of sight, after hearing your name when Mapi asked her question. It was a miracle you stayed silent and on your feet, as every fear you still harbored about being a burden to Ingrid and Mapi was, apparently, proved to be true.

“She doesn’t have friends here. She doesn’t speak Spanish very well. We’re both busy athletes, and she is… not easy. We’d have our hands full. We are young, and we aren’t her parents. I’m her sister, not her mom. She needs help, and I’m not sure how to convince her to get it. My mom and dad can get her back on track better than I can.”

Ingrid was simply restating what her father had said. None of it she agreed with, none of it felt true. You didn’t hear her tell Mapi that, though. No, you quietly crept back upstairs, and sat on your bed numbly. Your stupid bed that she’d bought for you. In the stupid room she’d redecorated. With the absurd presents she’d gotten you. All of it wasn’t true. All of it was a lie. She didn’t want you here, how could you have ever let yourself be convinced that she did? Just like that, with only a few sentences overheard, every ounce of trust you’d begun to place in your sister had evaporated. They were downstairs, talking about how they didn’t want you, after spending so long lying and saying they did.

It should have been confusing, this contradiction. But it wasn’t, because you’d spent your whole life feeling unwanted. And what is a few days of being told something against 18 years of being told something the complete opposite? Your mom had been right. Ingrid had come to her senses. You weren’t wanted here. Your Dad said he wanted to fix things, and though that was hardly believable to you, you’d go back. Maybe you weren’t wanted anywhere, but you’d go back to Norway, where no one cared what you did as long as you didn’t get in trouble. You supposed they didn’t really care here, either, they’d just been pretending to. It had all been an act, probably to spare your feelings, but an act nonetheless. You ignored that it didn’t make sense. You pretended that the complete contradictions in what they’d been telling you and how they’d been acting didn’t exist. Because you’d rather convince yourself then be convinced by them. You’d rather hurt yourself than let them hurt you first. You’d take the first step. You’d make it easy, and you’d go.

Very suddenly, you couldn’t stand to be in this house, this room for a second longer. You pulled out your phone, and told your dad you’d reconsidered. You took a few calming breaths, preparing yourself to rid your sister of the burden that was taking care of you, apparently. You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You'd been right, the whole time, to not trust her when she said she wanted you here. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Doubt swirlied around in your head. Nothing made sense, nothing made any sense. There had always been one constant in your life, though. And that was being unwanted. Ingrid didn’t want you. Ingrid couldn’t want you. It was too good to be true.

You stomped down the stairs, hearing Ingrid and Mapi’s voices grow quiet upon your approach. You assumed they’d been talking about you, and they had. About finding you a therapist. Not about wanting you to go.

You entered the kitchen, startling both girls with the hard look on your face. “I’m going back to Norway.” You asked, voice monotone, but shaking dangerously as you regarded your sister and her girlfriend.

“What?” Ingrid asked, thinking she must have misheard you.

“I am going back to Norway. I texted Dad.” You turned to leave, but Mapi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked. You could only glare at her.

“You said you wanted to stay, solstråle, I don’t understand…” Ingrid said, trailing off.

“You don’t want me here, Ingrid, and I don’t want to be here.”

“Of course we want you here,” Ingrid began, growing more and more confused with each venomous word that you spewed at her.

You wrenched your arm out of Mapi’s grasp and stepped towards your sister, your outstretched hand connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards.

“Oye!” Mapi shouted, getting in between the two of you. You were beside yourself with rage, suddenly. Why had she lied? Why had she gotten your hopes up?

“No. You. Don’t. Stop lying, both of you.” You pushed Mapi away from you then, ignoring the angry tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “You don’t want me here, you think I’d do better in Norway. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have any friends, I’m too much work, you are young and you don’t need a teenager to take care of. I’m mean and quiet and stubborn and my own fucking mother doesn’t love me. I heard you earlier Ingrid, you don’t need to lie. I’m used to it. You don’t want me. Stop pretending you do.”

At some point during your speech, Mapi and Ingrid understood what had happened. You’d overheard something out of context, clearly. And it was evident that you’d reverted back to your original belief that they didn’t want you. It hurt them, how easily you’d been convinced. And suddenly, they weren’t confused and they weren’t angry that you’d pushed them. Their faces softened, and they inched closer to you and you hated it. Because everything inside of you was screaming to believe what you knew what they were about to say, to let yourself fall into their arms, for good this time. To trust them.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t be hurt again. It would kill you.

You stepped backwards, and both girls stopped moving. It was Ingrid that spoke first, her voice low and soothing.

“Solstråle, I don’t believe any of that. Dad said all that, to try to convince us to let you go back to Norway. We want you here. I know it’s hard for you to believe us, honey, but we do. More than anything, we want you to stay.”

You shook your head frantically, teardrops hitting the floor under you. “No. No.”

Mapi nodded, stepping a bit closer. “Yes, mi sol. We want you here. We love you, and we want you to stay.”

“No, stop!” You shouted. Ingrid was crying now, and you tried not to care. “You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that. Please, stop lying, this is too confusing, and it hurts too much, please. Just let me go.”

You didn’t mean you wanted them to let you go back to Norway. You wanted them to let you go. The tension in the air thickened at this, as both of them realized what you meant.

“No. I won’t do that. You’re staying here, with me. Here, where you are loved, and wanted. You’re not going anywhere, you aren’t allowed to.” Ingrid said, carelessly wiping a tear off her cheek as she stepped closer to you.

Mapi stepped closer, too. “Nena, I promise you. On everything I love. On my parents, on football, on Ingrid. I want you to stay. Please.” The emotion in the defender’s voice startled you, and very suddenly, all of the fight had gone out of you, all of the anger.

You wiped your eyes like a child. Because really, that was the part of you crying. “Why?” You cried. “Why do you want me? No one wants me.”

Mapi shook her head, for once at a loss for what to say, as Ingrid let out a rough sob at your words. “How could we not? You’re my baby sister, Solstråle. You are kind, funny, and caring. You’re a good person, honey. You are good, and we love you.”

It was quiet as you heaved in a few breaths, looking between both girls as you tried to decide what was true and what was false. And, ultimately, when you made your decision, it was because you were too tired to do anything else. Too exhausted of hating yourself to continue punishing yourself. Too exhausted of not letting yourself believe that you were worthy of love. Because you craved it, so deeply inside of you. And as much as you didn’t want to, and as much as you wished you didn’t care, you did.

You are good, Ingrid had said. And if you were good, you could let yourself be loved.

“Do you promise?” You asked, your voice cracking at the same time Ingrid and Mapi felt their hearts break for the 10th time today, at how completely disbelieving you sounded.

“I promise.” Ingrid said. You looked between her and Mapi silently, and Ingrid took a hesitant step towards you, before Mapi pulled her back, shaking her head slightly. You needed to go to them. You needed to decide, all by yourself.

It was the desperation in your sister’s voice that really got you, the tears in her eyes. And maybe it was also the desperation inside yourself, too, and the ache in your heart that you knew you didn’t need to carry anymore. You wrapped your arms tight around your abdomen, and prepared yourself to say the most vulnerable, most terrifying words you had ever said, and might ever say.

“I want to stay with you guys.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you were being squished into Ingrid’s arms, Mapi’s quickly following. Both of them hugged you tight, giving you the comfort you had been trying to give yourself. You didn’t need to do that, anymore. They would do it for you.

You wouldn’t have to do any of the things you’d spent a long time doing alone, alone anymore.

It had been years and years of wishing you had a family that loved you, thinking you’d give anything for a family that cared about you again. It turned out you didn’t need to give anything. You could just… have it. You just deserved it.

-------

def not the end of my girl sol ☀️ we'll see more of her... soon ish :)

hope everyone enjoyed this little series <3 I love and appreciate you all very much

also... i was 🤏 this close to leaving part 4 on a cliffhanger where mr. engen shows up but the second part wouldn't have been long enough and i am much too nice

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #🍓☀️

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kissitbttr · 4 months

Note

your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

#mafia!toji #toji x reader

916 notes · View notes

bunny-yan · 3 months

Note

Yandere Bully x male reader

non-con touching, heavy depicts of violence, mockery, depression, abuse, forced relationships.

Like this dude is VIOLENT. Makes fun of the reader for doing anything. Him ruining the reader has always been enough, finding new ways to hurt him each day. But when the reader comes to school with a bruise bully knows he didn’t make, he’s furious. Going full “you’re fucking mine, you understand?” And anyone who dares touch what’s his? Don’t live to see another day.

He is bully’s plaything. He owns him.

— he’d probably hurt him too just for letting someone else touch him

I think this would be a really nice introduction for a new yan! I'll definitely expand using some of these ideas later and I would've tried to include it in here, but it was getting a little long and I wanted to introduce how they met >.< i hope you like it! bully!yan x male reader TW: violence, non-con touching, mockery, slight depictions of depression, abuse, forced relationships, minors DNI

—

It was a new school. One that you’d been anxious about coming to since your parents transferred you in the middle of a semester, but it wasn’t the first time, so what possible complaints could you have? You should be used to it by now, right?

You didn’t want to think of the roaring headache you’d have if you tried explaining why it wasn’t fair to you to pick up and move whenever it was convenient for them without asking you how you felt about it, so you let it go. Clearly, your opinion had no weight in their decisions, but it would’ve been nice if they treated you as more than just another piece of luggage to drag around.

Saying goodbye to your friends was difficult because although you’d only been here for a couple of months, you met some people you were able to connect to, which was strange considering your short time at this school.

Promises to keep in touch were met with smiles and quick hugs before you went home to pack your life away.

There wasn’t much. You knew by now that it was a hassle to bring anything that you couldn’t fit in a suitcase, and the looks they would give if you asked to bring along anything that would’ve forced them to give up space in the moving truck was something you preferred to avoid. You’d be placated, told they could simply buy you whatever you needed when you moved to the next place, and the couple of times you tried to fight for something you cared about, you received a lecture that lasted for hours about how you needed to learn to be grateful that they could afford to replace whatever it is that you were so desperate to keep and learn to be considerate considering they were moving for the benefit of the entire family. To make a long story short, you were to shut up and be ready to be shipped out without being such a fucking hassle.

After being assigned to your new room in a house, you couldn’t bother to acknowledge it as any different from the last, even though it lacked any sign of familiarity or comfort; you ignored the order to get unpacked and slept, wondering if you would be able to catch up in the classes you’d be attending the next day.

A quick shower was all you bothered in the morning, and putting on a reasonably comfortable outfit that made you look decent was good enough for your first day. You weren’t desperate to stand out. Everything would be perfect if you could just get through the day with minimal issues, going unnoticed by most, and avoid being called out for being a new kid.

The day was off to a good start. The teachers didn’t seem particularly interested in acclimating you, which was fine, considering it would only draw more attention to you. It was a bit of a hassle trying to find what rooms your classes were supposed to be in, but you managed. You always seemed to.

Looking at a paper that listed off your schedule, you tried not to make it too obvious that you had no idea where you were going in the sea of bodies, but right as you were going to look up to see if you were heading in the right direction, you crashed into someone else.

Your arms reached out to steady them before they were sent flying backward, and you froze when your hands landed on a guy's hips.

Looking around, you noticed weird stares from guys who seemed to be friends with the guy you had crashed into, and when you finally looked at him, you froze at the unexpected curiosity in his eyes.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice bleeding with concern, but the expression on his face seemed irritated.

Noticing that you were still holding onto his waist, you quickly released your hold on him before backing up. Scratching the back of your neck, you apologized.

With a bright smile, he clapped you on the shoulder. Leaning in, he whispered, “Watch yourself next time.”

You were shocked at how hostile his voice sounded, but he and his friends had walked away before you could even think to respond.

It was strange, but there was little chance you’d ever encounter that guy again.

You thought back to that moment as you stared at him on the ground, hand covering a bloody nose. His eyes held that same curiosity you’d seen the first time you ran into him, but it was paired with amusement.

You were shoved back as one of his friends came to his defense, girls calling you a violent psycho as they flocked to the guy who was now grimacing in pain. A sea of students crowded around to see what was going on, and as you were eventually led to the principal’s office, you knew your hope of having a quiet transfer was ruined.

The principal didn’t hesitate to inform you that violence would not be permitted in his school. You would be required to write a 500-word essay that lamented your actions and would serve a couple of weeks in after-school detention. It didn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t bothered to ask why you acted the way you did.

You couldn’t even be sure why you reacted so quickly. You wouldn’t consider yourself incredibly violent, and even if someone said something that upset you, you had a decent amount of self-control. Even in a heated argument, you could be expected to keep a cool head, but one sentence from him had you seeing red before fists were flying. You couldn’t even be sure what he said. All you remember is him approaching you in the cafeteria with that same easy-going smile he’d always seemed to wear before his words made you want to crawl out of your skin, and you were moving before you could stop yourself.

The principal informed you that your parents would hear about the altercation that transpired on your first day, and you couldn’t help the huge sigh you let out as you thought of how utterly fucked you were.

You didn’t expect your victim to be waiting in the empty hallway. You also did not expect him to approach you with a smile on his still handsome face despite the bruise forming on his nose before entering your space with no hesitation. He forced you to back up the closer he got, but he pulled you to a stop by hooking his fingers into your belt buckle before pulling you forward.

Leaning to the side, he said, “I was beginning to get bored again. Thanks for alleviating that.”

You shoved him away, skin crawling as you slapped a hand over your ear, but he only laughed before walking away.

The rest of the day was a blur.

You walked to your next class, aware that eyes seemed to follow you as you sat in your seat, not just because you were coming in the middle of a lesson. Whispers flew, and you could hear them discuss what had transpired in the cafeteria.

It was a struggle not to put your head down.

Met with similar reactions in two of your other classes, you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut when you attempted to talk to one of your classmates about an assignment before you were ignored.

It was awkward.

They stood there, pretending they couldn’t hear you, and you were left wondering what you were supposed to do. Either double down and seem like an asshole for intimidating another student or drown in embarrassment at being treated like you were invisible. Considering you were already marked as someone with anger issues, the first option was out.

You returned to your desk, trying not to feel too out of place doing a group assignment by yourself, and attempted to convince yourself that everything would be fine.

Sitting through the lecture you received, listening to how disappointed your parents were that you were causing problems at your new school despite it being your first day, you didn’t bother defending yourself. There was no point. You just needed to finish the essay, attend detention, wait a couple of months, and this whole situation would blow over.

Except it didn’t.

The days turned into months, and even after spending the required time in detention, you found no one you could approach even after gaining that time back. Your classmates continued to ignore you, the teachers treated you like a problem student, and you found yourself utterly alone day after day.

You’d thought maybe enough time hadn’t passed to put the incident behind you. You would just need to be diligent in your studies and make more of an effort to get to know your classmates.

Even if they acted as if they couldn’t hear a word you said.

Even if everyone refused to meet your eyes.

Even if some of the other students looked at you with disgust.

Even if that guy’s friends seemed to remind you that you punched him anytime you saw them, passed them, existed in their space for more than a couple of seconds.

The victim seemed content to watch things play out, not stopping his friends, egging them on, or coming to your defense.

He just watched.

His eyes seemed to follow you in the cafeteria as you filled up your tray before going to eat at a lone table in the corner by yourself.

You would force the utensil in your mouth despite the fact that you couldn’t taste anything and feel embarrassed shame and disgust at the self-pity that began to overwhelm you.

You tried telling yourself it was fine; it was expected that you would eat alone, but it didn’t change the gaping emptiness you felt.

You felt eyes on you as you walked from class to class, and at first, you looked for the person who seemed to be staring holes into you, but you couldn’t hold his pointed stare when you managed to make eye contact across the room or in a crowd.

It was uncomfortable. Chilling, almost, the way his eyes seemed to want to dissect you.

You tried to ignore it, to ignore him, this entire situation, but a presence sitting across from your new hiding spot in a secluded part of the library shattered that idea.

When you looked up, you felt like a deer in headlights, looking at the amused expression on his face.

Standing up, you gathered your things to leave, but his hand caught your wrist before you could grab your bag and walk away.

“Where are you going?”

It was a simple question, but reminded you there was nowhere to go. No place with eyes that didn’t judge you from far away and remained incapable of seeing you up close.

“Let go.”

“Or what?” he taunted, gripping your hand tighter. “Will you hit me again?”

You grit your teeth, wanting to yank your hand out of his grip, resisting the urge to say yes.

“You could. You could probably take me in a fight. But that won’t change the fact that you’ll continue to be a social pariah.”

You looked into his eyes, and he could tell it had caught your attention. His expression turned smug as he gestured towards the chair you were just sitting in.

“Sit.”

“What do you want?” you asked him, voice on the verge of being desperate.

“Sit down and let’s talk about it.”

A part of you wanted to resist. You hated the confidence that seemed to roll off of him in waves, looking at you as if he knew you would obey regardless of how much of a fight you put up. A part of you was almost able to convince yourself to walk away. But remembering those cold stares, the disinterest, and the unsettling anxiety you felt each morning you woke up had you reluctantly sitting back in your chair.

Amused, he leaned forward to rest his hands on his interlocked fingers. “Let’s be friends.”

He was insane.

“I could try to improve other people’s opinions of you and get my friends to stop talking behind your back, but it would be a lot simpler if we were friends, right?”

You blinked, still not understanding what he stood to gain from all of this.

“We act as if we let bygones be bygones, and your life as a loner will be over. Two birds with one stone!”

“What do you get out of this?”

The smile on his face was unsettling. “Let’s just say I want to be charitable.”

You didn’t like it. It didn’t seem like there was anything for you to lose, and you weren’t sure you could trust his reasoning behind suddenly reaching out to you, but you didn’t like the alternative.

Waking up every morning was a struggle. You had to convince yourself to get out of bed, the most menial tasks taking so much time and energy out of you; it was a miracle you didn’t just cut classes to do anything else.

But if you missed one day, it would turn into two. Two would turn into three, eventually turning into a week until you weren’t going to school at all. Your parents would be called when your absence was noticed, if it was noticed, or they’d figure out you were playing hooky in some way and you would be forced to listen to another lecture without any consideration towards the reason behind your behavior.

Wouldn’t it just be better to take his offer?

It was strange how quickly others went along with his antics. With an arm casually resting around your shoulders, you went from being an invisible nobody to others looking on, jealous about how you got so close to this guy. It was no wonder you hadn’t gotten anybody to talk to you. The number of people who came up to speak with him within the first hour of school starting was insane, and the line of people attempting to get his attention was endless.

He knew almost everyone in this school. Kind to even those who would be considered the stereotypical outcasts. Everyone wanted to be close to the golden boy, yet no one seemed to notice the disgust on his face after any of his interactions. No one commented that he’d wipe his hands if he touched someone else or brush invisible dirt off his shoulders if someone made the fortunate mistake of running into him.

It made you sick to your stomach.

“How does it feel being popular by association?” he asked, the usual winning smile on his face as he waved at someone who called out to him.

“You’re an asshole.”

He shrugged, his smile only getting wider. “No one else seems to mind. Why are you complaining?” He tapped your shoulder, making you self-conscious about how freely he was touching you.

“Do you have to sit so close?” you asked, attempting to put distance between the two of you, but his hand grabbed your shoulder before pulling you into his chest.

“We have to sell that we’re friends. Lighten up,” he said, pinching the side of your cheek.

It took everything in you not to punch him across the face.

Again.

“Yo, man!” One of his actual friends called out, making you feel self-conscious from the way he was glaring daggers into you before he looked over at his carefree “friend.” “What’s the deal with you and psycho suddenly hanging out?”

Psycho. You winced at the nickname he didn’t bother hiding.

“Oh, him?” he said, grip locking around your neck before he pulled you in closer and ruffled your hair despite your aggravated protests. “He was just being shy. Don’t be too harsh with him.”

You grit your teeth to avoid pulling away from him. It was fucking embarrassing being treated like someone who couldn’t correctly socialize despite the justifiable reality of the situation.

His friend laughed before inviting him to a bar later in the week. You couldn’t help the bitter smile as a pity invite was also extended to you.

You got what you wanted. They didn’t ignore you anymore, but somehow, this felt worse than before.

The eyes didn’t leave. They grew more hostile if anything, and you couldn’t help but want to escape when people would come up to you to talk about the only thing they were interested in.

Him.

He always seemed to know when you were speaking to someone, and like the devil, he appeared whenever his name was mentioned, throwing an arm around your shoulders and acting uncomfortably familiar as he elegantly cut off whatever conversation you were having to introduce you to new, random faces you couldn’t hope to remember. A part of you was grateful not to have to endure such an awkward exchange, but it was suspicious how he would always appear whenever you seemed to talk to anyone by yourself.

It could be someone you’d never spoken to or one of his friends. It didn’t matter. In his presence, you were to exist as eye candy and nothing else.

You tried mentioning it, but he would simply laugh, slapping you on the back before making an excuse about not wanting you to ruin his flawless reputation.

It was utter bullshit.

He had everyone at this school eating out of his hands, including the teachers. The minute you said anything that could be mistaken to be pessimistic, they’d look at you as if you had grown another head, and he would be sure to be informed before you managed to get to where you were going.

He didn’t want to discuss it further, becoming annoyingly clingy to shut you up, and it worked.

You spent hours agonizing over what to say to gain some space from this guy. You’d watch him interact with his friends, and although he was close to each of them, he never seemed to stick to them like he did to you. It was to the point where you found yourself visibly relaxing whenever you weren’t around him, noticing the tension in your body caused by his presence.

You told yourself that you just had to put up with it. You didn’t like it when his hand grabbed the back of your neck or the way his fingers fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt whenever his arm was draped around your shoulder, but it was for your benefit. People would see how close the two of you were and naturally want to get closer to you. You could put up with some unsettling feelings if it meant not returning to being alone.

Until you couldn’t excuse it.

His lips pressed to yours, and you froze.

The two of you were alone in a classroom after school. He asked you to stay behind because he wanted to talk to you about something that he refused to mention throughout the day despite your prodding to get the conversation over with, and the minute the two of you were alone, he approached you, hands cupping your face before you could even think. Before you could even realize what he was doing.

There was a moment when fear gripped your body, rendering you unable to move, but the minute you felt his tongue prod against your lips, you shivered before shoving him away.

“What?” he laughed, cocking his head at your horrified expression. The silence hung between the two of you, unable to process what had just happened into words. His eyes turned hard as he became impatient with your continued silence. “What’s your problem?”

“Why did you do that?” you finally choked out. It didn’t make sense. After everything he’d done, it made no sense.

“What? Kiss you?” An easy laugh escaped his lips as he came closer. “Why are you being so sensitive about a little kiss?” he asked, reaching for your face, but your hand smacked his away.

You couldn’t read the expression on his face as he looked between your eyes, but the easygoing charmer disappeared as his jaw ticked and his eyes flooded with cold rage.

There was nothing to say. A restless fear urged you to leave, so you brushed past his shoulder, unable to take another step when his hand caught your arm in an ironclad grip. The minute you tried to yank your arm away, you felt yourself being thrown to the ground, a weight on top of you. You saw him rear his arm back before his fist collided with your face, giving you no time to defend yourself against his first few blows.

“Get off of me!” you said through gritted teeth, attempting to throw him, but he held firm, continuing to throw blow after blow. His punches only landed harder when you managed to lift your arms to shield your face.

“You’re fucking nothing without me.” he seethed, “You want to go back to being a loser, sitting alone in the cafeteria with no one to talk to? I can make your life miserable.”

Fear drove the sense of urgency at his words.

Shoving a fist into his side, you took the opportunity to sprint for the door when he hunched over in pain, ignoring his choked order for you to come back.

What were you going to do?

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

Showing up to school wasn’t a choice, and you couldn’t avoid him either. You felt your vision tunnel as your choices seemed to dwindle the harder you searched for an escape.

Everything he said was true.

Your breathing turned shallow.

He could make your life miserable.

Why would he do that? Why would he do that?

Had you given any indication that you were interested in him like that? You knew he was clingy, but you didn’t think-

Oh, god.

Was he going to tell everyone that you came onto him? You could imagine the disgusted stares his friends would give and it made you nauseous to think of the nicknames they’d coin. Suddenly, psycho didn’t seem that bad.

Maybe it would’ve been better to remain alone.

It was stupid to think that things would get better in the first place.

You wanted to run until you didn’t have to think about the fact that you had school the following day. You wouldn’t have to wonder how their eyes would change when they looked at you. You wouldn’t have to struggle to get out of bed.

You choked to get air out.

It was going to be a struggle to get out of bed.

If you told your parents you were sick they wouldn’t bother taking you to the doctor, but you would have to come up with a really good excuse as to why you couldn’t go to school. No matter what you said, there was a good chance it would be a waste of time talking to them anyway. They didn’t trust you to be home alone and it would be a hassle for either of them to take off work to watch you.

You had to go to school. There was no choice but to go.

When you managed to make it home, you ran up the stairs to your room. Crashing into bed, you threw the comforter over your head, begging the knots in your stomach to loosen, pleading for your muscles to relax just long enough to let you fall asleep. You didn’t want to think about this anymore. It hurt. You didn’t want to think about what was going to happen tomorrow.

You ignored the pain in your face, in your hands, in your body as you begged for anything to prevent the next day from arriving, and if that didn’t work, you thought it’d be better if you just didn’t wake up at all.

But you did wake up.

From the little sleep you had gotten, it was clear the day was off to a bad start, and the headache pounding in your skull was the cherry on top.

You stripped to take a shower, and you turned the faucet to the hottest setting, barely flinching as the steaming water hit your body.

Minutes felt like hours as you ran through the possible scenarios of how to day would transpire.

None of the endings were good.

There didn’t seem to be enough time to walk to school, and you felt your heart pound painfully in your chest as you stood in front of the school’s double doors. Other students glanced your way when you remained, stuck in place in front of the entrance, and you only managed to move when someone bumped into you, muttering a quick apology before running to catch up with their friends.

It was… relieving.

You looked around, nervous to hear any whispers, see any judging eyes, but no one seemed particularly interested in you. Managing to make it to your locker, you finally let out a breath.

"Look who finally decided to show up."

His voice made you tense, turning to see him and his usual group of friends. It was hard to meet his eyes. They were having a conversation, but you didn't hear anything, couldn't as you stared at his feet, knowing his eyes were drilling holes into you.

When your gaze finally stumbled up to his, you held your breath at the usual easy-going smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story.

Narrowed, you could feel the anger that seemed to roll off of him in waves.

Eyes snapped back to the ground, as you tried to find something to say. Anything that would get you out of this conversation he was trying to force you into.

“I’ll catch you later,” you decided on, eyes glued to the ground as you tried to not make it seem like you were running away.

You felt eyes burning through your body, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t go to your class or the cafeteria, you went straight to the little corner of the library, isolated from everyone else and comfortable. Safe.

“Hey,” a chilling voice said.

Until you weren’t.

Your body was rigid as you regarded him. He found you so easily.

“You seemed like you were in a rush back there. Are you good?”

It was mind-numbing. Watching him pretend as if nothing happened when you spent hours agonizing if you were even going to come to school. How could he smile as if nothing was wrong?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, studying your expression carefully. Walking closer, he cocked his head to the side when you took a step back. “Did I do something?” He didn’t hesitate to get into your space, frozen when you bumped into the table rendering you unable to retreat any further. “Why are you avoiding me?”

It was hard not to think about what happened the day before. You couldn’t figure out why he made you so uncomfortable and now alarms were blaring in your head that you needed to leave. To go somewhere, anywhere you weren’t alone with him.

“Back up,” you said through gritted teeth.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked, a charming smile stretching across his face. “Why are you being so cold?”

His hand came up to brush against your cheek and the expression on his face turned hard the minute you swatted it away, unhesitant to shove his hand between your legs before he grabbed you harshly.

You winced, flinching away as you tried to back up, grabbing his hand when the desk simply groaned against your pressing weight, attempting to force him to release his grip.

“You don’t want to be my friend? How do you feel about being my bitch instead?”

You couldn’t focus on the words he spit in your face, gritting your teeth as you tried to escape this situation without experiencing too much pain.

“Let go,” you said, voice bordering desperate when he squeezed harder in response to your resistance.

He chuckled, leaning in closer before resting his head on your shoulder. “You really love telling me what to do.”

You were hot. It was too much. He was making your skin crawl.

Gritting your teeth, you shoved at him, barely managing to hold back a grunt of pain as he was finally forced back. You barely managed to dodge his fist, choosing to slip past him instead of fight just in case someone in the library witnessed your altercation. No matter how great the desire to punch him square across the face, things would only get worse if you were labeled the aggressor.

Barely making it two steps before his hand tangled in the hair above your nape. His hand jerked your head towards him and you felt your heart drop in your stomach when you saw the heavy gaze he had on your lips. A flash of disgust was all you managed to feel when he pulled you in, lips parting to kiss you before your fist collided with his face.

Stumbling back, he let out a laugh as he held his nose, the blood undeniable.

When his manic eyes met yours, that same fear had alarms going off once again. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

The panic in your gut didn’t allow you to stick around to let him finish. You could only pray to god that he’d pass off his injuries as a mistake rather than use it as a way to isolate you once again.

You could only think of how easy it would be for him to trap you alone if no one bothered to see.

You should’ve just stayed invisible.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #male darling #male reader #yandere bully

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