#pretty little loserboy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Text

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

878 notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 17 days

Text

'til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours

then her eyes look at me, love breaks my bones and I laugh

gojo satoru x wife!reader; 18+ content so mdni; mostly tooth-rotting domestic fluff w mild smut; baby-making stuff [it's breeding, y'all- but not written in a very spicy way... i'm too shy; wht's my fault in tht]; satoru & you're a bit too much in love w each other; not toxic tho... js a teeny-tiny amt too much– haha; satoru calls you cookie and minx; too many kisses written to count [and 1 mention of the words 'cum' and 'cunt' each– i said right, i'm too shy :))]; loserboy loverboy 'toru; tw: talks on conceiving; 2.6k wc

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit satoru's character here to a tee ^_^

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

fic title from everywhere, everything by noah kahan // fic summary from a poem by charles bukowski // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

Gojo Satoru is in love with you. Entirely, utterly, whole-heartedly—

Simply put, the man adores you.

Reveres you even; your existence in both this world and his: one that has morphed to fit the shape and size of your form, your smiles, your frowns– Your husband believes he cannot be any more enchanted by you, any more ensnared by you than he already is...

Only to be proven wrong when you ask something of him.

The sweet croon of the music seems to dissipate away, as well as the quiet murmurs of the crowds, when Gojo sees you lift your head from where it lay on his chest. Eyes briefly flicking to where you both are in a gentle sway on the dance floor, amongst other couples; before they return to the shades on his face.

Growing an endearing quality of coyness as you gaze at him, features becoming suffused with warmth and hues before you repeat your ask to him; voice softening, trembling. Even more this time.

"'Toru," you say, fingers flexing from where they are looped around his neck, around his existence. Your smile is shaky, right at the corners of your mouth, before you take a deep breath to force them to stabilise– somehow, your husband realises.

He watches you draw in yet another deep breath, and ask, "You'll give me anything I want from you... won't you?"

He will.

Of course, he will.

Ask him to pluck the waxing gibbous from the night sky, to make you a pretty little pendant out of it— he will.

Ask him to burn this city to the ground, just so you've enough ash for your innumerable pots of cacti— he will.

Ask him to do anything and everything: whatever your heart desires– be it for a moment or for years— Gojo will do it for you, no matter the consequences he must face for it— for what bears any consequence to the sorcerer's life, if not your happiness and well-being??

He drags a hand from where it rested on your lower back, up the side, to your cheek, gently cupping the soft flesh there. Letting loose a tiny smile, fond, unguarded, true, when you lean into his touch.

"Ask away, cookie. Tell your 'Toru what you want."

"I..." you start. Voice soft and timid. Gaze darting away a second time, this time to the slowing pace of your and your husband's dance steps on the floor...

Before you raise your eyes, a mesmerising flurry of many feelings, to his concealed ones.

And Gojo swears, there's surely something different in you, making something different in him as well, when you look at him that way–

"I want to have your babies, 'Toru."

The first response you words elicit in him is a static— Noisy. Buzzing. Something that renders him dumb. Deaf and blind to everything and everyone except his wife, for a moment perhaps a tad too long...

The second response is him, very obviously, nearly dragging you off the dance floor, and having offered a bullshit explanation for leaving early to the party host, pulling you out into the toasty summer night.

Gojo teleports before the doors to the hall have been closed behind you both, not even for three whole seconds.

And bends down to smash his lips onto yours, the instant the familiar comforting feel of your home settles on his shoulders... seeps into his body, immediately setting him at ease... yet not at all at ease...

Especially because of these stupid fucking cockblocking trousers—

A loud pop! sounds through the living room, bouncing off its walls.

Soon followed by a mishmash of an aggrieved whine and an annoyed grunt from your husband, at the loss of contact with one of your best physical features to him—

it all melts away though when Gojo opens his eyes to find you looking at him with a slight sheen in your big round eyes and the tremor from before in your lips.

You push him away gently by the pads of your fingers— but the effort lasts only for a beat. Teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your small fingers let only a brief moment pass before twisting into the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. Almost as if they're scared he might turn into smoke, if their hold is loosened even a pinch.

Gojo thinks you sound terribly puny when you finally break the thick silence layering over the entire flat–

Much too puny than he would like to hear his precious little wife be.

"Do you really want kids with me, 'Toru? You're not doing this just for me– just 'cause I want a family with you— you aren't, are you?"

"Do you..." Gojo starts then pauses for a bit to curb the chuckle nearly spilling forth his mouth, before resuming. The amusement in his tone can be reduced only so much, though— despite, or maybe due to the worry marking your pretty features.

Very unnecessary worry marking your very, very pretty features.

"Do you really think I'm that selfless– that good-hearted– cookie?"

Your brows furrow for a beat— before flattening in a look of complete sincere honesty. "You always think of me before yourself, 'Toru– don't want to pressurise you into doing anything you don't want to, is all."

"Oh, is it so?" he hums, mouth curving into a leisurely grin as he trails his fingertips from where they're entangled in your hair, dancing over the side of your neck until they reach the base of your throat– A faint pressure on the flesh there.

The ensuing hitch in your breath makes his grin sharpen, his trousers tighten. He lets his voice fall to an unhurried husk of a whisper.

"So you think I don't wanna have a family with you, hm?"

"Ah, it's not that," Gojo notes you waste not one moment to breathe back. He pulls you flush to himself by the other hand clutching your lower back, fingers digging in when you stutter, "I-I was j-just–"

"What will you do if I say I don't want kids, cookie?" He interrupts, still maintaining the low cadence of his tone.

Your fingers let go of his coat, soon followed by the re-emergence of that damn shaky smile of yours. Your husband doesn't like it one bit, but says nothing to hear your answer instead...

Albeit he knows what it will be, knowing just how much of a fool you never fail to turn into when it comes to matters involving him– a fact he usually loves about you, his pride and ego adore about you; but in this specific moment... Not so much.

Your soft mumble disrupts his internal groan, "I will never bring this topic up ever again in that case, Satoru. I promise you, I won't."

"And what if I say I wanna knock you up nice and good?"

You'll short circuit, is what Gojo predicts before the last word is even out of his mouth— and he's proven right, amazingly so, in less than a beat, when you do:

Eyes enlarging. Cheeks warming. Mouth opening and closing: once, twice then thrice... As if you're an adorable fish gasping for air in the onslaught of his simple [yet cruel– he knows you deem him so right now– how can you be so cute...] inquiry.

Deciding to grant his poor wife some much-needed mercy, the man bends down to whisper into your ear, lightly grazing the earlobe with his teeth, "If saying it out loud is too much, why don't you show your 'Toru instead what you will do, hm? I'm sure that will be easier."

"I..." you hesitate, the word still a wisp of your breath, until your hands return to the front of his coat. And you lean back a smidgen, features lighting up as you ask. Slowly. Carefully. Hopefully.

A knot, your husband never knew existed, loosens in the middle of his chest at the sight of your strengthening smile.

"Can I take this as your 'yes' then?"

"You can."

And that's the only reply Gojo finds he has to give to have your lips on his... Not too soft yet so very tender in the way they move against his own... Almost as if you're scared of hurting him... Terrified of causing even a pinch of pain to him.

Something between a moan and a squeak rips itself from your throat when the sorcerer bullies his tongue into the warm welcoming space of your mouth, simultaneously hooking his arms under your thighs to lift you. Mouths never leaving each other, not even for one second, as he kicks his shoes off, hearing you do the same, heels hitting the floor with a sharp clack!— And he finally, fucking finally, takes a step into–

"Bedroom, 'Toru!" Pulling away, you exclaim hastily, breathlessly, "Not the sofa or the kitchen counter this time, please."

"Too demanding, aren't we?" Gojo coos, licking his lips then stealing a small taste of the angry swollen redness of your pretty lips– Choosing to concede when you pout up at him, "Alright, fine— Can't really deny my amazing wife anything, can I?"

"No!" You giggle back cheekily—

And you're correct.

Extremely correct, your husband reckons, smiling softly as he moves out of you; out of the embrace of your wet, warm, maddening walls— A sharp hiss escapes through between his teeth, brows scrunching in momentary discomfort whilst he faintly registers your weak whimper.

Wasting no time to scoop back the load of creamy white cum leaking out your sore cunt, Gojo lifts your hips to keep a pillow beneath them. And stuffs his fingers into his mouth— exaggeratedly moaning with a smirk when he catches your cute little face of mortification.

"You're horrible," you mutter visibly exasperated, what with that huge roll of eyes you do when the sorcerer groans out yet again around his fingers in appreciation, shifting to lie beside you.

He removes his fingers with a loud pop!. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat when your eyes stay on them a bit too long for someone who sees it as horrible... Before they skitter away to reach his face.

He wraps an arm round you, dragging you closer until your boobs are squished against his pecs. A shiver of thrill runs down his spine at the wonderful– no, absolutely heavenly feeling.

"I'm in love, cookie," he offers besides a noisy lovestruck sigh in reply.

You, as usual, as expected, take only one or two moments before the not-too-annoyed scowl on your face gives way to a tender smile.

Wrapping an arm around him in return, you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck. He feels your lips on his skin more than hears your words they shape. Whispered into the comfortable darkness of your shared bedroom.

"Love is a force to be reckoned with, huh?"

Just love? Maybe... Maybe not... Truth be told, Gojo has no idea. And he has never been too keen on forming an idea either.

But your love?

It surely is, your husband muses to himself with no small amounts of delight or adoration, It did change the trajectory of his life, did it not?

He is supposed to be by himself— The Strongest, yes, but one with a solitary existence. He is supposed to be in this bed, awake and quiet, staring up at the ceiling whilst his senses easily fall prey to the heavy weights of his past, his mistakes, his unpardonable sins— vanishing long after the first rays of the sun have broken through the curtains...

Yet... with the love you've so obstinately kept safe for him throughout the years... here he is now.

Still awake– a bit restless, in fact– but the farthest from being alone.

The love of his life, safe, sated and smiling in his careful hold. Whilst his senses tingle in smug joy and content as his eyes, all six of them, rove over the innumerable proofs of his insatiable hunger, boundless ardour for you.

Starting from your kiss-bitten lips; to the multiple splotches of purple dotting the expanse of your neck, your chest, your stomach, down to the delectable inner aspect of your thighs; to the angry red nip marks left nearly all over your body, wherever he could get access, wherever you wouldn't gently push his mouth away from with a whine—

To, of course, your belly: Flat now but won't remain so for a long time. Becoming swollen and round with your babies– his babies– A perfect mixture of you and him. A perfect result of your mutual feelings...

An impossibly anxious gasp disturbs his smooth stream of thoughts, as well as the steady downwards flow of his blood...

He looks down to find you wrenching yourself away from his arms to get hold of the long-forgotten pillow— Ah. It's the pillow.

"It's too easy to get you worried over the smallest of things, y'know?" Gojo tuts, still moves to help you stuff the pillow to elevate your hips on noticing your wince on shifting.

You throw him a cross glare, which soon changes into an upset pout.

"Shut up, Satoru. This is not a small thing, this is a huge thing! What will happen if my chances of conceiving fall because of this mistake, 'Toru?" you suddenly erupt into an anguished screech.

Gojo feels his heart threatening to burst at the seams, just from how utterly cute you look. He knocks his forehead lightly against yours.

"Wanna go for another round, cookie?"

"Huh!?!?" you exclaim, eyes growing round and cheeks flaring up yet once more— Your husband intervenes however, before you return to your struggling-to-breathe-fish form, "Don't be so embarrassed, you little minx; you were spouting all sorts of debauched stuff some time back–"

He pauses for a beat, thinking if he should quote everything you said. Then deciding against it, so as to not have you short circuit yet again, repeats, amusement lacing his tone, "Tell me, do you wanna?"

"I'm not a minx," you mumble back.

And the sorcerer almost believes you, mind being swayed by the light glimmer in your gorgeous eyes, the plush flesh of your lower lip jutted out just the right amount, the enticing manner your eyelashes appear to be batting themselves at him in the faint moonlight streaming into the room via the light curtains...

Only for the slowly, steadily enveloping bubble to be popped.

By the feel of something soft and warm– your foot– travelling up the skin of his calf; the same moment he watches your fingers trail over his chest and the planes of his stomach. Tongue peeking out for less than an instant when your gaze drops to his fingers– the very fingers he was sucking on not even five minutes back—

Pushing the pillow away, Gojo climbs back atop you. A knee wedged to part your thighs while he bends down, face angled to swallow that endearing surprised squeak of yours with his insistent, impatient lips.

You were right.

Love is, for real, a force to be reckoned with.

But Gojo Satoru— No, his cookie's 'Toru in love with her– And now, in love with the idea of having a huge happy family with her as well...

That's a force only you know how to put a leash on.

[Not that you will ever—

You're as hopeless a goner for him as he is for you!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

372 notes · View notes

doki-doki-imagines · 1 month

Note

hi! maybe a little self indulgent but was wondering if you could write a lil drabble of earthrealm gang x yn (fem y/n if possible) but she’s related to shang tsung in some way (idk sister, daughter if u wanna get real silly) and shes just as pretty but just as mean :3c ty!

author note: In some the reader is the sister in others the daughter. Going for hcs for my mental health :)

Do you like what I write? Consider tipping on my ko-fi!

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't completely trust you, even if damn, you are hot. -Like he can't resist flirting with you even if it means getting the harshest rejection ever. -At this point, it is a challenge more than anything else. Once one of your failed potions exploded right into his face while he was blabbering one of his cheesy pickup lines. "You are smoking." "Hot?" "No, just smoking." You reply, pinching a strand of hair still on fire, extinguishing it. -You know 99% of boys stop flirting just before getting a date? Johnny's positive mindset won't let him fall for this trap. -Maybe you'll fall for his loserboy behavior…

Kenshi Takahashi: -Mh the ex-yakuza doesn't trust you one bit. Even if you never betrayed them. -It's just that you like lying a bit too much for his liking. -"I'll keep an eye on you." You chuckle "What eye? I don't see any on your face." You shrug his words off. -Nobody has ever been blacklisted this fast in Kenshi's mind. -But for real, he'll keep your every step checked ready to attack at any of your missteps. -"If you like spying on me so much you could take me out on a date so I can answer all your questions." You hear him choking on his saliva before snapping back. "How do you know I'm spying on you?" Your eyes widened getting closer to him "So I was right? You are spying on me? Damn, you must be so down bad for me-" -The idea of falling one of Wu Shi mountains sounds so good now for Kenshi. "Come pick me up at 9 p.m. and take me to a nice place it has been so long since I've eaten something nice." -Seems like Kenshi has a new problem to deal with. -Also because Madame Bo is the only place nearby…

Kung Lao: -He doesn't trust you at all, your mother may have been a nice woman but your father is terrible! And with your sharp words, Lao thinks you have taken his personality too. -"Begone sorcerer! My hat will slice you in two if you take another step closer." "I'm sure my words have done more damage than that stupid hat." -Actually, a friendship will develop thanks to your constant fights, not always won by you. -Raiden better if you stay alert, you have two sly foxes in the temple now

Raiden: -He isn't as wary as the others, after all you haven't done anything wrong. Being born from such an evil guy doesn't make you evil. -But damn, you can be so harsh with him at times. More than once Raiden wanted to remind you that if it wasn't for him you would be homeless and a loser just like your father. -But then Raiden remembers it's actually thanks to Liu Kang if you are there and bites his tongue. -You are also one of the few people able to make Raiden snap! Most monks never saw such fury before he met you. -"You should thank me. Weak minds don't last much in battle." "If you expect me to thank you for pissing me off you'll have to wait your entire lifetime, snotty sorcerer."

Liu Kang: -When he created this new timeline he hoped a sister could tone down Shang Tsung's evil intentions. -But at the end he threw you away, treating you like a stepping stone to the road to achieve his goal. -So Liu Kang took you in. That doesn't mean you will so easily forgive him for his mistake. -Your words slice his heart frequently. Not because you want to cry about your condition, it's mostly your fault after all, but simply because you like to tease that raw nerve that awakens a usually hidden side of him. -"Shut your mouth or I'll seal your lips forever!" "Ohhh-" you coo at his words "But then how I'll latch my lips at your throat? You seemed to like it yesterday." You say, pressing a finger on the spot where the hickey should be, already recovered thanks to his godly nature. -Liu Kang stomps his right foot on the ground before running out from your lab. How he can love you so much and despise you at the same time is something he still has to wrap his head around.

Geras: -A saint. You may tease, joke, just be nasty and Geras will reply with the calmest voice ever. -Liu Kang told him to make you feel at home and Geras takes his job seriously. -You nagged him a lot about the hourglass, making you take a small peak at it but he never let you close. -"You are too serious Geras, loosen up a little." "It's to compensate for your lack of rules." -You still have to warm up to each other…

Bi-Han: -He doesn't like you. AT ALL. -Bi-Han looks at you with a face dripping with scorn. Even if you are taller than him, he'll make you feel like an ant. -If you tease him too much he'll snap back and won't keep himself from hitting you. -But if you stroke his ego, promising him strength and glory… -As your brother told you "If you want men to do what you want stroke their ego and they will be at your feet." -He also did an analogy comparing the ego to a di- Okay I think the point is clear.

Kuai Liang: -He doesn't trust you, but if Liu Kang decided to keep you with them he won't oppose his decision. -Liang will often ask to train with you, mostly to test your skill level and eventually prepare for a future betrayal. -Also your lab will be often spied, checking if your experiments are safe and good for Earthrealm. -Till one day Liang found a small card on your desk "Train better your men, I could tell someone sneaked in the first time. Shirai Ryu won't last long otherwise." -He tightens the grip on the card, rolling it up before throwing it on the ground. -Liang was the only one that has been spying on you…

Tomas Vrbada: -He doesn't trust you immediately but he is one of the few to give you a chance. -Tomas won't be like a dog, following you around and completely trusting you, but he'll be one to bring you a hot beverage in cold winters when you are alone in your lab. -He answers wittily to your words and rarely he gets dejected. -"I suppose you won't survive in the Lin Kueis if you had a weak mind or if you are simply an idiot…" You whisper out, Tomas' ears catching your words anyway. "…You thought I was an idiot?" -You'd like to reply "Why the paste tense? I still do." but you decide to bite your tongue. You don't mind his company after all.

214 notes · View notes

eddiemunsonw · 5 months

Text

Princess

Gator Tillman x fem!reader blurb

Summary: He's there for duty, but then you are there, you know?

CW/Disclaimer: No special warnings needed I believe

Author's note: I think sometimes this loserboy can have a little bit of rizz if he isn't shut down right in the same second. Y'know, the silence can either fuck him over or give him cocky confidence. Which is kind of what's happening here.

Words: 777

A sigh escaped your lips as you dunked the last pieces of glass in the trash. Thankfully, aside from a few broken pieces of glass and a slippery slope of olives spread around the aisle, nothing eventful had happened at the robbery, if you could even call it that. It seemed more like a kid that had been pressured into a dare to steal something and had massively fucked up by tripping over their own feet and knocking off some products. Still, you had to call someone in. Letting these things go unnoticed would only make you an easy target. Which is why you weren’t surprised when the Sheriff had sent his son your way.

Gator Tillman came to a screeching halt in front of the shop, music blazing through the speakers. You rolled your eyes and folded up your dishrag as you walked to the back to wash your hands. Behind you, the bell to signal someone entering the shop clanged. You took your time to get to the front, already hearing several “hellos”, patience dropping with each new one.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” you mumbled, holding back a sigh. Gator frowned and already opened his mouth to retort something towards the rude greeting he received until his eyes landed on you.

“That’s no way to talk to— Oh… well would you look at that,” he smirked and moved closer to the counter you stood behind. “If I’d known this place was run by a pretty bird like you, I would’ve stepped in long ago.”

“Well… What do you need, Tillman? The kid’s probably still a minor, I don’t know if the security footage is—”

“Hush, darlin’, there’s no rush on the matter at hand. Rather… I’d like to hold yours for a moment, may I?”

He held out his hand, palm upwards for you to lay your hand in it. You frowned at this weird request of him wanting to shake your hand. Maybe to introduce himself formally, which made no sense considering everyone knew Roy Tillman, which meant everyone also knew his son. However, when you extended your right hand, he tutted.

“I understand the confusion but I wanted to see somethin’...”

He beckoned for your left hand and in your confusion you held it out for him wordlessly. A soft smile introduced itself on his face as he took hold of your hand, thumb dragging over your knuckles. You vaguely noticed his hand was warm and his calloused thumb didn’t feel all that unpleasant.

“Ah… look here,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you it seemed. He looked up, his thumb still circling a repeating pattern over your knuckles as he spoke.

“No man claimed you just yet? Any suitors?”

A dry chuckle left your throat. First of all, no one could claim you. You decided to humor him a little though.

“No one’s stupid enough to try,” you said with a shrug. It was up to him however he took that bit of information. He hummed lowly, eyes flicking back to your hand again, slowly following the path towards your wrist, up your arm… slowstop at your chest, back to your face.

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart. No boyfriend? Man with a plan?”

“None of the sort, no.”

His thumb came to a stop at your ring finger, tapping it without removing his gaze from yours this time. It was your own gaze that shifted as his thumb rubbed the spot with meaning.

“I’m telling you now, I’ll be putting a ring on that finger of yours, darlin’.”

Another chuckle, one of disbelief, escaped your throat.

“I’d like to see you try.”

He smiled and finally let go of your hand to take his vape out of his pocket. You watched as he brought it closely to his lips, halting right before.

“For you, Princess,” he stated before taking a slow drag of his vape, eyes never leaving you, “anytime.”

Only now you realized that your heart rate had picked up just a notch and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to curse him or yourself for it. He leaned forward to say something else just as his radio went off. He snapped his lips shut and listened to the static voice coming in.

“Duty calls. I’ll see you around,” Gator said as he swiftly turned on his heel.

Just as you thought he was going to leave, he suddenly cocked his head back.

“You got beef jerky and Dew?”

“Sure do.”

“Good.”

And with that, he left with what felt like the promise of a marriage involving a whole ton of beef jerky and Mountain Dew. What a Tuesday.

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #joe keery

249 notes · View notes

blue-florist · 3 months

Text

ok, so i was re-watching some episodes of Teen Titans Go cuz why not, and i saw "Colors Of Raven", in which the mysterious prism appear. It appears in other episodes, here's the wiki.

So, in my very Young Just Us deprived brain, what if they went on a mission and got this prism? for whatever reason.

Problem: Tim (Red Robin era) touches it. Immediately splits and YJ calls the batfam over cuz Tim is pretty well-contained on his own.

Pls feel free to use this idea, or say what you think. I just wont write an actual fic cuz i can't write for shit.

I wonder which "traits" he would split into.

(my knowledge is mostly Fanfic-centric cuz i forgot cannon lol)

Obsessive/Detective:

Ok but tim cannonically found out batman's identity at 9 and later found out WHERE Batman was at 17. He is a genius, and i like how the fandom makes him nearly obsessive with cases he can't figure out (gifted kid much lol?)

Tired/Done with life:

Mans got that self-induced insomnia, but i also hc him as like "misses 10 hours of sleep? sleep for 10 more to balance it out." Tim is constantly tired juggling Wayne Enterprises and Vigilantism, he deserves a break.

Plus, we can see Tim sacrificing/almost sacrificing himself in some moments, so I also hc him as passively suicidal, mostly caused by the cynicism he developed with becoming a vigilante.

Serious:

Ok, but for this kid to be CEO, face down people like Ra'as and stubborn his way into everything without even being an adult? he's got some balls man. Plus, his Red Robin persona is "intimidating", much like how i imagine batman to be (that cowl is so ugly it's terrifying also)

Personas/Actor:

Tim is known as "the robin who can lie to batman", ofc he is a good actor. I think a bit of the "socialite Tim" fan hc has taken a bit of a special spot in my brain, but Caroline Hills exists also so who am I to discuss this really?

Childish/Fun:

Ok, this is a bit of a treat to me. Tim cannonically skates and has used it to fight a gang, befriended a guy who turned into a cult leader, I think Tim (in all of his LoserBoy glory) deserves to be acknowledged as a fun person. The one who jumps trains with Dick, is close friends with the YJ, befriended Steph via recieving brick to face, etc. he is a fun little guy and i want to see him act goofy and silly for once.

#tim drake #red robin #dc robin #batman #dc batman #teen titains go #young justice #young just us #kon el #konner kent #cassandra sandsmark #bart allen #batfam #batman au

77 notes · View notes

daryldamnson · 2 years

Note

We all know that Eddie's dad was a colossal dickhead to Eddie, so when his dad turns up again Eddie has a freeze response, completely shuts down, when his dad starts to hassle you, all hell breaks loose and Eddie unleashes many years of pent up resentment and anger onto his dad. His dad can mess with Eddie, but no one messes with Eddie's princess

all my homies hate eddie's birth father, thanks for requesting!

tw for violence (not very graphic), eddie's dad is gross, fem!reader, 1.1k

edit: 2 days up and it’s my first piece of writing to hit 1k notes i’m not saying i’m gonna cry but i’m gonna cry

The emptiness behind his eyes scares you. He’s normally so vibrant - even when it’s a negative emotion it’s always there, clear on his face and bright in his eyes. This complete shutdown is as new to you as it is disconcerting.

It’s instinct that drives you forward to Eddie’s side, one hand reaching out to hold his as the other wraps around his elbow. You don’t even spare a glance at the older Munson, your worried gaze laser focused on Eddie.

The leery “well, hello there, sweetheart,” barely even registers with you, but based on the way Eddie’s hand twitches in yours, he heard it all too loud and clear.

“Now, son, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty little thing tucked back here with you or I might’ve visited a little sooner.”

This time you shoot a disgusted look over your shoulder at the older man. It’s wasted, though, as you see his gaze is well and truly fixed where your skirt stops midway down your thighs.

Gross.

But, honestly, you’re more mad at the way he’d casually referred to Eddie as ‘son’, as if he had any right.

You turn back to Eddie and find yourself half relieved and half worried at what you can now see on his face.

Anger is burning bright in his normally kind eyes as he watches his father leer at your legs. You’re glad to see the blank look has disappeared, but flashes of Eddie throwing punches at the men who get a little too handsy walking past you in bars run through your mind.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did it was always in defence of you, and you can’t imagine how much worse it could be with the rage he feels towards his father behind it.

The impressed-sounding “fuuucking hell, boy,” is the final straw.

One second Eddie’s in front of you and the next he’s gone, brushing past you to sucker punch his own father. The first hit just seems to surprise him, but before he can react there’s second contact and he goes down.

That’s usually where it ends when he’s defending you from a creep. It’s not where it ends tonight.

Eddie follows him down, grasping the older man’s shirt to lift him a little only to throw him violently back to the ground a moment later. He gets in at least four more punches before your frozen body finally reacts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you rush towards the men on the floor, managing to get a hand on the front of Eddie’s shoulder to manoeuvre him backwards as you squash your way in between them. “That’s enough, Eddie. He’s not worth it.”

It takes a second, but his eyes slide to you and almost immediately his tense shoulders slump.

Eddie stands and you follow closely behind, reaching to place your hands on his chest gently, half to keep him back and half to steady him.

He’s looking past you to the man groaning expletives on the floor.

“You don’t even fucking look at her, asshole.” He spits at his father, one hand pulling you closer into him.

“Come on,” you say, blatantly ignoring the grumbled complaints of the man who seems to have given in and flopped straight onto his back. You take Eddie by his elbows and gently lead him over to the sofa. “I’ll call Hop.”

Another delayed reaction takes place, Eddie’s eyes snapping up to you just a moment too late.

“What?” His gaze flickers back over your shoulder as he seems to realise what he’s just done. “Fuck. This doesn’t look good.”

Your hands cup his cheeks as you gently encourage him to look at you, trying your best to make him see confidence and reassurance in your gaze.

“It’s self-defence. Strange man broke in, made unwanted advances on your girl...” You gently knock your nose against his once in a gesture of affection, smiling a little. “You got yourself a witness. Promise.”

His smile is small but full of relief.

After a rushed call to Hopper you pull out a few objects from the freezer. You’d invested in an ice pack after the second time Eddie had punched someone for you, so you grab that for him, but you also pull out a frozen dinner for one and throw it carelessly at the man still hunched on the floor.

He’s not as dazed as he once was, but hasn’t made an attempt to stand yet. The meal thwacks against his stomach and he lets out a loud huff of air at the impact before picking it up to press against his head, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

It’s not until after the cops have carted him away, Hop familiar enough with Eddie and his father that he barely even questions your version of events, that you finally get a minute to look Eddie over properly, gently looping your hands around his wrists to pull them closer to you.

His thoughts have apparently headed in a similar direction because you’ve only made one sweeping glance over his bruised, less swollen (thank you, ice pack) hands when he speaks softly.

“Are you okay, princess?”

Your eyes flicker up to where his are already looking at you.

“Am I oka– Are you kidding?” You sound baffled as your brows twitch into a frown. Eddie wants to brush the lines away with his thumb but your hands are still circling his wrists. “Are you okay?”

The obvious concern in your voice is reflected in your eyes and that’s what makes him snap. He feels his eyes mist up and, though you’ve seen him cry before, he hides his face in your neck, forehead pressed against the junction where your throat meets your collarbone.

Your hands don’t hesitate to come up and cup the back of his head, fingers sinking gently into his curls as you hum quietly.

“Hey,” you murmur comfortingly, one hand slipping down to rub the back of his neck softly. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” A moment passes before you speak again. “He’s gone and I’m here. It’s gonna be okay, sweet boy.”

You’ve just watched him beat the shit out of his own father and you’re still calling him things like sweet boy. Still holding him reverently. Still soothing the cracked pieces of his heart.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your throat, knowing the words pale in comparison to what he’s trying to express.

Thank you doesn’t fit either, but he’s too drained to try and uncover the right words for his complex emotions.

You twist your head a little, your cheek pressing gently against his temple as you feel the damp drop of tears on your shoulder.

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson angst #pretty little loserboy

2K notes · View notes

stqr-grl · 11 months

Text

╭﹕🍃｡♡・loser

୨୧⸝⸝﹕synopsis — rin is such a nasty and you have not the slightest clue.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕warnings — f!reader, pervy + loserboy!rin, semipublic(?) masturbation[bathroom], all characters are 18+, not proofread n a bit messy, mdni!﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕notes — i feel that this v much strayed from the original concept of loserboy!rin but you know what im not mad at it.﹐

before he met you rin was always great at masking how much of a little creep that he was. always able to maintain his cool around a girl that peaked his interest, never struggling to to keep his hands to himself or make sure that his eyes never lingered to long where they weren’t supposed to but with you it was different- so so different.

with you there was always an unspoken power that you held against him, always able to make him come undone with the tiniest of things such as sitting with him in the couch, thigh pressed against his and tits being all too visible in that tiny tank top that your nipples had no problem poking through.

despite never actually touching a woman —little the less touching you— his head filled with thoughts of how could he could make you feel- thoughts him taking the hardened bud into his mouth, sucking it intently while his digits stuff your crying cunt full as you cry at the sensation, pulling on his dark colored locks, begging for more of him as your pussy formed a white ring around his fingers.

god the thought alone has his cock straining against his pants, the pretty head of it already leaking in his shorts. he excuses himself from your presence so that he can go to the bathroom to jerk one out with you just in the next room.

with his lip stuck between his teeth, drool running from the corner of his mouth as he imagines that the fist wrapped tightly around his sensitive cock was your warm, glossy mouth licking on the most sensitive glands of his cock while your hand worked the base, a needy groan coming from his chest.

oh but he can only dream of having his hands on you —or rather you having your hands on him— as his hot, sticky release spills from his tip and into the counter that he was gripping so tightly. with tears from the amount of need rolling down his cheeks and clinging to his pretty lashes he cleans his mess, steadying his breathing and thinking.

he knows at some point his hand just won’t be enough for him, he knows at some point he’ll need more than, maybe he’ll steal a pair of panties fresh with your scent to suffice untik hemd able to work up the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend but until that day comes he’ll just have to settle for what he can get while playing the role of your best friend.

#╭🖇️﹕ ˚₊ sweet sin #╭🤍﹕ ˚₊ love rin #loser boy rin omg #so fucking filthy but so fuckin hot #rin itoshi x reader smut #rin itoshi smut #blue lock rin #rin x reader smut #blue lock x reader smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #rin smut #rin x reader

385 notes · View notes

fategoflatass · 3 months

Text

I know I've spoken multiple times about our favorite loserboy and just how angsty and interesting his character is, but that doesn't mean I'll stop anytime soon.

The fact he's been trained on not getting attached to anything—not even his toys—since he was little is, well... Just downright tragic. Don't think it would be excessive to say I'm pretty sure he never had a friend, or if he were to be more than just an acquiante to anyone it'd be someone who his family might've seen fit for anything other than sheer companionship.

We as human beings are social creatures, and being denied things like these from so early on in life should be illegal. But, well, they're powerful enough to not care about law.

But you know what? I'm happy he gets to be surrounded by such amazing people who clearly care about him, his happiness and his well-being. It took some time, but he got what he deserved all along.

#the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #knh spoilers #i won't be recovering from this #i took the ss with the idea of saying ''haha everyone knows but her part two'' but i ended up just angsting

61 notes · View notes

sexybabystevie · 11 months

Note

Hi! I just saw you reply the Steve comparing hands as flirting and I had to also then check that your requests are open, they are 😂 so could I please request that one? I had a boy flirt with me in grade 7 by doing that with shoes/feet (mind you I was oblivious 😂) and that reminded me of it and I had a giggle.

A/n: Okay so first of all, thank you for this request! It's SO cute, and I planned on this being maybe 1k, but it turned into a bigger fic, which I'm not mad about lol. This is seriously one of the softest things I have EVER written and I adore it. Like seriously, this has my heartbeat skipping down sixteenth avenue type shit 😭 Anyway, enjoy some soft Stevie, Family-Video-loserboy-with-a -crush style!

Small Hands, Big Heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Tags and Warnings: No Warnings, Pure Fluff, Soft!Steve Harrington, Semi-Shy!Reader, Flirting, Steve Harrington is a Major Dork, Family Video!Steve Harrington, Crushes, Hand Holding, Tooth-Rottening Fluff.

Word Count: 3581

Summary: Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes.

His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

Steve Harrington Masterlist

There’s an air about you – something laid back and relaxed, comfortable and familiar – that strikes Steve Harrington every time you walk into Family Video. Hair perfectly styled even on the days when you’re in sweatpants, gliding around the store like some kind of celebrity on the red carpet, he can practically see the golden, glittering stars surrounding your body like an angelic halo. You don’t even notice though, he can always tell in the way that you smile at him as you shyly ask if there’s a copy of Pretty in Pink available, like you might somehow be imposing upon him by asking him to do his job. Like he wouldn’t set his entire workplace on fire for you if you batted your pretty eyelashes and asked him to.

Okay, yeah, he’s in deep. Deeper than he should be for some enchanting stranger, that’s for sure.

But you’re cool. Yeah, that’s it, cool, and what’s he supposed to do? Just not think about slipping a paper with his number inside the case of the latest movie you decide to rent? Not have Robin point out how he gets lost in romantic fantasies while staring at you, completely forgetting to tend to the other customers in the store? As if.

No, Steve thinks he’s not about to let this go, even if it means eventually messing things up by accidentally saying his favorite genre of movies is boobies – massive apology to Rachel Moore for that disaster, although at least Robin found new reason to start up another You Rule, You Suck chart on one of the fancy sticky notes embellished with the Family Video logo. Yeah, that was great.

So far, he’s losing zero to twelve, a score that’s humiliatingly worse than anything he ever achieved – or didn’t achieve – working at Scoops Ahoy, and he doesn’t even have to wear that stupid hat anymore. His self-proclaimed best quality is flawless and in full view of anyone around, a little messier than his high school days but stylistically so, and yet he still can’t work the charm like he could just a few years ago. If it wasn’t the ridiculous sailor uniform or the hat that covered up his hair, then did he just lack game entirely?

No, absolutely not. He still had it, and he was going to prove it. He would find some way to talk to you – really talk to you, not just the small conversation he’d make while searching your name into the computer system to charge your account – and he would pull it off. He was going to get a perfect grade from Miss Professor Robin, doctorate in the study of loser and non-loser romantic interactions. So much so that she would have to give him a million You Rule tally marks, something totally achievable and normal to want, he was certain.

Were you out of his league? Absolutely. Did that deter his persistence? Not at all.

He was going to do this, even if it turned out to be a dumpster fire. Even if his hair wasn’t looking exactly the way he wanted it to be. Even if Robin was jokingly preying on his downfall in that long-time-best-friend way that she did. Even if the doorbell was ringing right now to signal your superstar arrival, and even if you were flashing him a smile that literally made him forget how to breathe for approximately forty-seven seconds.

Shit.

Steve’s leaning forward, his elbows plastered to the countertop, almost falling over it because he’s so glued to watching you. You give him a little wave that nearly sends him toppling backwards into the floor – now that he thinks of it, are you sure you aren’t a god with some kind of wind powers? You certainly are pretty enough to be one – before beelining straight to the romcom section. Like usual. He can’t help but smile to himself, definitely the lovesick puppy look Robin said he had mastered recently.

As you peruse the movies in stock, his mind does its typical wandering. Romantic-comedy seemed to be your favorite movie genre, but what was your favorite type of music? Favorite food, favorite color? Were you more into pop music, sweet vanilla cupcakes, and various shades of lilac, or did you prefer the darker hues of colors, savory cheeseburgers, and something a little more lyrically intense? Or were you a mix of both, maybe even neither?

Everything about you was addictively unknown; you were a package of silly little mysteries he wanted to unwrap bit by bit, saving the more intimate and personal details for later. The best for last, right? Thinking of the possibilities was driving him wild, though, because how could he not know your all-time favorite song yet? And, god forbid, your favorite ice cream flavor? Now that was something he was skilled in – he’d probably never forget the sweet but slightly nutty scent of pistachio ice cream ever in his lifetime – and maybe he could show you that. Would it impress you if he let you try the mean banana split he could conjure up? It was good enough to be the primary thing Erica Sinclair ever ordered from the ice cream parlor, even demanding that Steve be the one to make it himself instead of the other workers. Poor Robin – or maybe lucky Robin, knowing the sass of the young girl all too well. Yeah, lucky Robin, for sure.

But maybe Steve could be lucky too. He knew the moves other guys his age made, flirtatious comments that were borderline crude – and yeah, okay, he admits he has occasional conversations about boobies – but he doesn’t want to play that kind of game with you. He doesn’t want to be like all the other guys, expendable and almost disrespectful in his mannerisms and language; no, he wants to treat you right. He wants to be good to you, to treat you with all the care and love and wonder of a da Vinci painting, and if he’s finally lucky then maybe you’ll let him, because, really, what did the Mona Lisa even have on someone as beautiful as you, anyway?

Robin’s elbow crashes into Steve’s side a little too forcefully, which she seems to be aware of since she gives him a slightly serious, apologetic grimace before her eyes become knowing in that way that he sometimes is afraid of. Her head jerks to the leftt and she leans in to whisper, “Incoming, ten o’clock. Shoot your shot, dingus!”

It takes him too much time to realize that she means ten o’clock as in the direction the little hand of a clock makes, though, and he doesn’t have time to prepare his lines before you’re at the counter with a VHS tape between your fingers. He doesn’t even have time to properly wipe away his token furrowed brows of confusion, so when he turns to look at you, there’s a moment where his face is half grimace, half giant smile. Your eyes narrow a bit, undeniably trying to understand what that face is about, and Steve internally face palms. Great start, Harrington, you probably look like a total nutjob.

He quickly shakes himself out of it and relaxes his face into a kind smile, leaning off of the counter to make room for you to slide your movie on top of it. You do, but he’s too busy staring into your eyes – has he ever seen eyes as magnetic, as charming as yours? – to really notice.

“Hey,” he says, just like he’s talking to any other pleasant customer, except his voice is softer, more gentle. “How are you doing?” Unlike with any other customer, he genuinely wants to know the answer.

The way your eyes light up as he asks… he didn’t possibly think he could find them more adorable. If asking about your day did that, then how would you react to him actually making moves?

“Good,” you reply, tone matching the care in his. You then glance around the store briefly, giving Steve the chance to admire the soft curve of your jawline. He pretends not to have been staring when your gaze falls back onto him. “You must be pretty bored today. This place is empty besides me.”

Was there a hint of something teasing in that last remark of yours, or is Steve imagining things?

Either way, it’s only now that he realizes you’re right – they haven’t really had any other customers. Not very typical for a Tuesday night, but he couldn’t care less, really. Not when you’re here.

“Don’t worry. You’re my favorite, anyway,” he says, heart thudding with an annoying intensity. He resists the urge to wink at you – god, he really is a loser, isn’t he? – and his hand moves to rake across his head, fingers nervously tangling in his brown hair.

You don’t answer, eyes wide with a hint of surprise. Your smile grows more bashful, something that makes Steve’s mouth grow dry, and you look down, a few strands of your own hair moving to cover your eyes. The sight of you – so shy and cute – standing right in front of him, only separated by a mere old countertop, sends his mind reeling. So close, but there’s an island between you – literally.

Seeming to overcome your brief embarrassment, you look back at Steve and smile again, this time a hint of your teeth showing behind the tiniest gap between your lips. Noticing all the small details, wondering what other little things he could find out and memorize about you, he almost feels like he’s drowning in emotion.

Get it together, dude! he thinks to himself, the voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Robin.

He’s snapped out of it by your hand meekly pushing the tape further up the counter, undoubtedly trying to get him to do his actual job instead of being ridiculously distracted by you.

Like he could help it, though; you were practically his dream. Hell, he hoped that he had dreams of you each night, that he could spend time with you even if he managed to screw it up in reality. Dreams were less intimidating, despite the fact that he had no control in them. Reality was where he held the cards, where he could choose what to say and do. Somehow, that thought’s empowering enough to bring him back down to earth.

Steve takes one look at the movie you’ve chosen, though, and laughs to himself as he reads the title. Instead of staying in his mind this time, he can’t help but speak his thoughts aloud.

“Christine, huh?” He can’t fight the amused little smirk that takes over his face even if he wants to. “That’s quite a shift from your usual, isn’t it?”

You just give him a simple shrug, unapologetic aside from the way you cheekily bite the inside of your lip. Now there’s definitely a hint of that same playfulness that he thought he saw earlier, and Steve could scream out in joy as he notices that gleam in your eye. Maybe he really didn’t lose all his charm.

“Thought I might switch it up a bit, you know?”

Steve nods and turns to the giant computer next to him, tape in one hand as his other slowly and loudly types away at the clunky keyboard. He finds Christine in the film catalog and quickly flips over the tape to type in the exact product number before his deep brown eyes glance back at you. It’s like you’re a golden statue shimmering in the sun, the only neon sign in a pitch-black forest. His gaze just naturally gravitates towards you, not that he’d ever complain about it.

“You didn’t strike me as the type for Stephen King,” Steve remarks, unable to keep his true thoughts to himself.

“Is that a bad thing?” You let out a soft giggle, head tilting in a way that reminds Steve of a parrot learning how to speak. Have you been waiting to learn more about him like he has about you? You did always seem to stop by Family Video when he was on shift, making sure to have small conversations with him about your movie choices while he added the rented tape to your account, making sure that you always were in his line to be checked out, even if there were lots of other customers…

“Oh no, not at all. It was just a little surprising,” he says, shaking his head and letting out his own small chuckle. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says, “I’m the kinda guy who likes surprises.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t like the more world-ending, Upside-Down-related surprises that seem to haunt him and his unusual friend group. No, that’s more of a fourth or fifth date kind of thing to bring up.

Steve relishes the more prominent curl of your lips – oh god, don’t look at them, don’t think about how soft they would be, don’t do it! – and the way it makes you look a bit smug as you say, “Noted.”

He could think of millions of ways for that to come back into play, each one making his chest swell in an almost delightful way, but instead he continues adding Christine to your Family Video account. He finally gets to the webpage where he has to type in the customer’s name, and you must be familiar with the process because you open your mouth, the first syllable of your name escaping your lips, before Steve cuts you off. He says your name before you can, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself for the way your mouth parted in shock.

A little cockily, he says your name again as he types it. “I remembered.”

You’re only left gaping for a few moments, your expression then changing into a smile that’s even brighter than any from before, if that’s even possible. Looking at you out of the corner of his eye as the computer processes your name, Steve Harrington feels like he’s hit the jackpot.

A part of him can’t believe that you’d be so stunned at him remembering you. As if he didn’t spend far too much time thinking about you, as if he didn’t somehow end up telling everyone around him about you despite barely knowing you. As if everyone else who knew him didn’t know he was utterly infatuated and bewitched by you and your pretty little smile.

The computer finally processes the movie with a ding! and Steve reaches under the counter for a plastic bag. He takes some time packing the tape, a tiny thread of dread sewn into his heart because, while he’d certainly done a little bit of vague flirting, he still hadn’t made his real move yet, and he was running out of time. His fingers fumble with the handles of the bag as he racks his mind for anything that can help him – any line or gesture that might seal the deal.

It’s when he reaches out to pass you the plastic bag, and it’s when your knuckles brush against his that he gets a last-minute idea. With no time left to lose, he goes for it.

“Woah, you have really small hands!” he exclaims, and he’s not wrong, which is part of why it works. The other part, unbeknownst to him at the moment, is that you’ve got just as much of a silly crush on him as he has on you. “Here–” he raises one of his hands, palm facing you, “–put yours against mine and you’ll see what I mean.”

You search Steve’s eyes for a minute, a glimpse of a knowing smile on your lips, and he doesn’t even have to worry about you disagreeing or getting upset. He can just tell that you’re catching on, and that you may even be up to something when you lift your hand and press it to his.

Skin meets skin, and Steve feels dizzy. Nothing could have prepared him for how soft, how warm, it feels to have his palm against yours. It’s barely anything, an action that could be casual or friendly with anyone else, but it still makes his fingertips tingle.

He’s never felt like this with anyone else, never been quite this flustered at such a simple movement before. Not with any of the girls he knew or messed around with in high school, not with anyone else that he had few fleeting moments with working at Scoops Ahoy or Family Video. Not even with Nancy Wheeler.

He was always the cool one, always unbothered and rarely found himself blushing, never ever swooning. But here he was, feeling like he could fly over the moon because your palms were flush against each other, and despite everything, the anxiety and nerves were welcome. He likes the butterflies that gather in his stomach, that being around you puts him a little on edge, but in the best possible way.

If this is what it feels like to have a genuine, no-bullshit-attached crush on someone, he thinks that maybe he can get used to it.

He was right too; your hands are small. With the heels of your palms level with one another, your fingertips end where his finger pads begin. It’s cute, only making Steve’s heart race even faster – and if he really thinks about it, he can feel the vague vibration of your heartbeat in your thumb. He doesn’t even have to wonder if it’s pumping far too quickly like his own, he already knows it is.

His gaze moves from your hands together to your face, flickering to try and see what expression will be on that gorgeous face of yours. It’s a timid, happy smile and eyes that are staring right back at him, soft and doelike. The expression is so gentle, so special, that it makes his breath catch in his throat. He silently hopes that he’s the only one you’ve ever looked at like that.

“Told you,” he says quietly, to match the intimacy of the moment. “Small hands, but… they’re cute.”

Seemingly an instant after he says that, you shift your hand around and position your fingers between his. Before he can ask any questions or really even process it, you intertwine your fingers to hold his hand.

Luckily his body responds before his brain does, curling his own fingers and moving his thumb to rest on top of yours. Heat rises to his cheeks as he stares, and he can feel the dopey grin hopping onto his face before it’s fully there.

You giggle again, a bit louder this time, and for once his goofiness isn’t something he wants to internally chastise himself for. You actually think it’s cute, maybe even silly. He can be cute and silly for you, if that’s what you want.

Something in your eyes tells him that it is exactly what you want.

“You know,” you start, pursing your lips for a split second. “I’m used to watching all these fluffy, silly romance movies.”

You pause, eyebrows slightly risen as you wait for him to catch on to what you’re implying. He doesn’t, though; you can blame his heightened state of absence on the warmth of your skin. He’s far too caught up in that, in the fact that maybe he still does have game – thank god – to process anything you’re trying to hint towards.

The trance he’s in is visible – eyes spaced out on your face, his lips left parted so he can breathe out of his mouth slowly, and his hand gripping yours with more strength than before, like maybe you’re too good to be true and will disappear if he blinks. It’s all too much and you laugh – a real, genuine, hearty laugh that Steve immediately loves with every ounce of his heart. He’s certain that your laugh could cure anything that ails him.

“What I mean is,” you start again, taking a deep breath to recover from your short bout of joy. “I might get scared watching a horror movie.” Your eyes focus on his, giving him a little wink as you continue. “I might need someone there to keep me safe, Steve.”

The gears click in his brain, everything falling into place, and he becomes the embodiment of smugness with that signature smirk of his.

With a chuckle, he shakes his head and replies. “Well, what kind of guy would I be if I denied you that?”

The smirk fades down into a heartfelt smile, and his voice softens as his hand gives yours a brief squeeze. He can tease, but he also wants to make sure that he is being serious. “I’d love to.”

Half an hour later, after a little more conversation, you leave Family Video with a movie, a Family Video sticky note with Steve Harrington’s phone number on it in swoopy penmanship, and a promise to meet at his house tonight for a movie date.

Robin makes a reappearance from the back room, smirk on her face – Steve doesn't even have to ask her if she was watching the whole scene on the grainy security cameras, he knows her too well to already know that she was – as she marks a line and writes ‘You did it!’ under the You Rule portion of her notepad in congratulations. “Maybe you can be pretty lucky sometimes, Harrington.”

Steve can’t help but agree.

#em speaks #steve harrington #stranger things #asks #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #st4 #stranger things 4

318 notes · View notes