#How to make incense Sticks

[glitterandwitchcraft]

Some little things I've learned over a decade of witchcraft:

If you are feel called to work but are tired/drained, sit outside. Take in all the energies around you. Nature can help charge you

Every witch does a little bit of a bunch of types of magic but sticks mainly to one or two in general. You usually won't be eclectic forever. You'll find what magics work best with you.

Never be lazy or cut corners with spirits. Always be respectful and always tell them to leave when you're done

When you see a plant or ingredient with a long list of properties, there are different things at play. Season of collection, the part of the plant, the health of the plant, etc all play a role in impacting which properties it will carry.

Don't call on spirits unless you have confidence and control

Be careful with sea/water magic. Get into it gently and slowly until you have the energy figured out because it can get out of hand quickly.

Adding a little pinch of magic into your breakfast can make a major difference in your day.

Your personal emotions/feelings over something will impact a work

Planting some plants is good, not only to have a garden, but the dirt helps cleanse you too. Get all dirty and muddy. It's good for ya

Not all trees are nice

The more you listen to your intuition, the easier it will be to tell it apart from your anxieties and worries

Incense is very easy to make which is why it's usually cheap to buy. But you can find a million tutorials online on how to make your own personal incense which is great if you want a spell to take effect over a while but also want to infuse the fire energy in it.

The more you work with something the better feel you get for it. Cinnamon goes in almost everything i cook and most of my spells because me and cinnamon just get right along

Your path is yours and no one else's. It will look like yours and no one else's

[nanamiskentos]

GOOD TO ME ☓ ── ( 両面宿儺 , ryomen sukuna ) mdni.

⌗ sukuna really hates boring council meetings, but when you're around? he hates them a little less.

ᯓ starring �� ﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ the king of curses x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. true form!kuna. heian era. wife!reader. mutual másturbation, teásing, èdging. ríding. cèrvix kissing, brèèding kínk, sukuna ADORES you. wc ⌓. 3.3k. art, clloudgarden.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) there's cousin greg everywhere for those who have the eyes to see

"and, if it is to be said, my lord, so it be, so it is –"

oh, for fuck's sake, sukuna should have known it would have been another useless, dull meeting. the absolute waste of time that left him nostalgic for sticking his head in a fiery kiln, if only to save him from the droning voice of some pathetic subordinate rambling about territorial disputes between lower-grade curses, as if he gave a damn.

these insects, squabbling over scraps, too weak to take what they wanted, too spineless to act without crawling to him for approval. the king of curses can only exhale through his nose, chin propped up on a curled first as he taps fingers against the fine table. patience thinning by the second, maybe he'd kill one of these lowlifes for sport, just to keep things interesting.

"...and so, my lord, we would ask your decision on the matter."

ah, right. this fuckass council couldn't do a damn thing for themselves, can they? two pairs of russet eyes level at the insignificant wretch standing before him, frail-lookin' and wringing his wiry hands like a meek rodent.

"what would you like me to say, hmm?"

the miscreant hesitates, "the...the western border dispute, my lord," he stammers, "do we intervene? or should we let the lesser curses resolve it among themselves? o-only as you see fit, of course."

there must be a thousand other things running through the king of curses's mind at the moment. he's feeling rather peckish, for starters, for it seems the whole, marinated boar that he ravaged through to break his fast was not quite enough to be satiating.

ah, sukuna wonders, there's also that harvest festival looming up, for the cowardly emperor's timid footman did indeed deliver an invitation — lined with gold leaf. and tch', he still needs to replace the bowstring in his yumi, perhaps he would be more inclined to use animal sinew for a more sturdy yield.

all these items of agenda faintly float around in the demon's mind, until he's blinking, remembering the pathetic rogue still shuffling in front of him. sukuna decides to play it safe, falling back to his default answer and favourite philosophy.

"kill them."

"ah, w-who, my lord?"

sukuna sighs, feeling a vague itch on the back of his neck, "all of them. the weaklings who came crying for help. the ones causing the problem. heh, just take out anyone standing within five feet of them while yer' at it," he's waving a large hand dismissively, "if they can't handle their own affairs, i don't wanna' hear about it."

"that doesn't sound very wise now, does it?"

sukuna feels his thick jaw tick, and he needs not even turn his head to see the source of dissent, for he knows your voice, your presence better than he knows himself. he can hear the quiet rhythm of your steps, carrying you behind him, and then towards his side, towards your rightful place.

"the hell are you doing here?" sukuna's tongue clicking behind his teeth, taking in that intoxicating scent of incense and clean silk, and the fresh peaches that you so loved to split open with bare hands when the fruit was in season.

"you said i could sit in your council today," you murmur, sidling closer to his large frame that looms against his grandiose seat of bone and wood.

huh, sukuna does remember making some vague promise like that, some invitation extended towards you, his (mostly) beloved wife — to allow you to sit in on these tedious council meetings. damn shame, how he can't help but make promises in the golden haze of post-coital glow, and how he's obligated to fulfil them later on. whatever, focus.

but it seems that you're already a step ahead of him, smiling at the skittish scoundrel who most certainly does not deserve the privilege of that beauty, "so, what was the matter at hand?"

the wretch seems almost relieved to be conversing with you, rather than the idle terror of the king of curses, and he's shifting on the polished, marble floor, "well, my lady, it was the w-western borders you see. crops had been razed to the ground and —"

now call him a weak-minded fool (or don't, if you sensibly value your life) but sukuna does not even hear nor register the rest of the louse's words.

clawed fingers twitching, shoulders rippling at the sudden sensation of you drawing faint circles over his broad thighs. granted, there is a layer of thick, woven silk between your grazing nails and his flesh, but the sensation of your touch — even through his ivory martial pants, makes sukuna's ears ring.

what sort of game do you think you're playing?

but you're not even looking at him, "now, that is most unfortunate. i assume imperial troops have not been able to intervene?" not even batting your lashes once towards sukuna's flushing face, when your hand is drifting to low centre of his chiselled abdomen, further down so your dizzying touch finds home on his clothed groin.

sukuna only watches with a honed, terrible interest as you shift slightly and the movement parts the fine-lined edges of your robe. the sight sending tendrils of searing flames down his spine, for fuck, if he didn't know any better, you're entirely bare underneath the thin silk of your summer yukata.

and sukuna wagers, he swears, that a single claw tugging at the flimsy fabric would unravel the robes so deliciously before him, delighting him with his favourite vision in the entire world. mouth watering, fangs slipping past the corners of his red lips at the thought of laving pleasurable bruises over your chest, and lower.

fuck all this, border disputes over crops, maggots with their problems, imperial soldiers.

"out." patience snapping like brittle bone, fingers flexed against the edges of his seat at the head of the council. a subtle motion, one that sends every pathetic soul in the room scrambling to their feet. no second chances, no hesitations at his orders for they knew better.

how satisfying then, when the massive chamber doors groan open. the rustle of fabric, the hurried shuffle of sandals, all of them scurrying out like rats. not daring to look back. all except you.

still seated beside him, still watching him. as though you knew exactly what sort of effect your little stunt would have on him. he needs not even look to sense that insufferable curve of your shapely lips, the faint glint of amusement in your eyes.

and sukuna heaves heady air through his lungs, forcing indifferent into every inch of his body — not quite willing to indulge you yet. pretending like the heat licking at his veins wasn't due to you, like his pulse did not thicken, darken and quicken the very moment you walked in. as though there's not hot blood rushing through his stiff cocks at this very moment.

"why the temper today?" you tease, tone as light as a blossom in the spring, "i thought y'were tired, all these dull meetings, my love, they must be getting to you."

"tsk', don't got any attitude, woman." but your hands are on him again, gripping thick, dual shafts that are still draped in silk. and sukuna does his best not to rumble, to purr when the delicious friction of your gliding hands sets him alight, "now, what is it that my queen wants?"

you're tilting your head, giving him those distracting hazy eyes that makes his groin tense, as though your stroking fingers aren't enough to make his wide hips buck, "what exactly do you think i want, 'kuna?"

not lord sukuna, not any other simpering title that the others threw his way. just his name falling from your sweet lips, and it's enough to allow a silent snarl curl at the edges of his lips, because right now? sukuna wasn't thinking about his estate, nor any other ambition save for you. and how easily he could wipe that smug look off your face. how easily he could pleasure you so that your cheeks would flush, and your jaw would drop slack in beautiful squeals of his name, pleas for more.

dark-stained nails shooting out, yanking at your waist. sukuna revels in the sharp gasp that leaves your lips as he yanks you forward, gripping at your flesh and pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. no hesitation, no warning and no mercy for sukuna either, it seems. for your robes part and sukuna has to bite back a low, rumbling groan at the feeling of your bare cunt against his thigh. minx.

he has no doubt that you can feel his pulse beat up against you, heavy and thrumming. like war drums beneath his skin but he cares not, for you have only ever been the sole being alive that could undo him like this. aw, cute, how your eyes widen at the sight of his second mouth curling into a sharp, lazy grin.

"well," sukuna presses his lips to the juncture of your neck, amusement laced with something more lustful, "you have my full attention now, don't you? heh, i mean this is what ya' wanted, wasn't it?"

and sukuna, for all his idle threats and vague promises of suffering, cannot help himself. already leaning in, with heat, pressure and teeth. crimson mouth slanted over yours, crushing and demanding, no patience nor hesitation. just hunger.

your soft moan is swallowed by him, for he's greedy, gluttonous for the sight, the sound and the feel of you, and he drinks it all in. devouring the way that you melt against the broad planes of his chest, rocking your hips gently against the stiff tips of his aching cocks that prick through the silk.

blush-pink lashes flickering against creamy, roughened skin, savouring the way you respond. the way your hands slide up, grasping at his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere on your husband that you can touch.

there's a sharp growl lingering in sukuna's bobbing throat, deep and pleased, because this what what he had been waiting for. for you to realise that there was only ever one way that teasing the king of curses could end. and it was right here, with you splayed out for him, in his grasp.

and of course, he knows exactly what you're trying to achieve like this — chasing a sweet and easy relief against his hips. the damp wetness between your thighs crying out for any friction that made your own hips stutter but sukuna's having none of that. gripping at your waist with enough force that leaves you frozen, unable to buck yourself up against him.

"ah, 'kuna," you're whining so beautifully, sukuna has to steel his resolve, "was s-so close." huffing, pouting at your lack of trembling release as sukuna presses a gentle kiss to your jaw.

"ya' really thought i was gonna' let you have it that easy?" sukuna laughs, a deep and wicked chuckle thick with satisfaction, "mmh, i have a better idea, hah."

a broad, wide hand splays itself against your lower abdomen. arching your spine just so, pushing you slightly back so sukuna can drag his hungry gaze to the shimmering, swollen folds that he aches for. already creating such a filthy mess over his lap as he ghosts the very tips of his nails around your mound, "did ya' come in here drippin' just for me, wife? wanted to interrupt all my kingly duties?"

feisty thing you are, for you don't dignify him with a verbal answer. already reaching past the woven band of his martial pants, dipping into his trousers to wrap your sweet hands around his hard cocks. sukuna hisses, doing his best to not just spill translucent seed right then and there. bucking his hips back, slapping your hands away, "you don't get to touch."

and oh, how he loves the frown marring at your kiss-stung pout, the adorable jut of your lower lip scowling at being deprived at the chance of feeling the king of curses unravel under your touch.

"c'mon, wife, how about somethin' better?" sukuna smiles, though it is not a smile that offers reprieve, as he gently presses a soft kiss to your wrist, guiding your hand to your own core, "show me jus' how badly you wanted me."

your whines are delicious, the music of creation to his ears, as you bristle and grumble. rolling your eyes skywards, but eager to chase your own pleasure nevertheless. sukuna watches with greedy eyes, taking in at how you dip two fingers right over your glistening cunt, gently brushing them against your clit so you shiver in his lap.

sukuna is watching you, concentric-ringed eyes fixed on you with the quiet intensity of a god surveying his offerings. but it's clear that you don't have it in you to become self-conscious, already mewling at your own touch. deliciously swabbing the pads of your fingers through your soaking heat, rocking sharper against the numbing pleasure of your own motions.

he's hissing, realising that he may need to take, heh, matters into his own hands as well. matters being the thick, dual shafts that stiffly spring into the air, demanding his attention. angry pink-bulbed tips that leak small spurts of pre already, and sukuna grips at the uppermost cock, fisting a thick hand over his length. keeping his eyes fixed on how your fingers draw gentle circles over your clit (well, of course, he already knew just how you liked it, you're his wife, after all).

"g-good?" there must be a faint cherry flush painting the back of sukuna's neck, doing his very best to pretend he's not stuttering and stammering over his words. but his breath hitches, low and guttural, more growl than a gasp. like a beast caught between restraint and desire.

he's not even sure where the filthy, glorious sounds are coming from. the sopping pap! pap! pap! of skin against skin, of sukuna's thick, muscled fist tugging at his cock, or the slick slide of your fingers in your cunt, teasing at your entrance and your inner walls.

"s-so good, 'kuna," you're sighing, and sukuna loves you all the more for how you blush, jaw falling in honeyed whispers of his name, eyes hazy with the pleasure that is so close to you now, panting over and over.

and because, naturally, sukuna is a greedy and lecherous individual for his wife only, he keeps his lower set of eyes trained on how you're dipping the very tips of your fingers into your cunt, stretching the pad of your thumb up to flick and tug at your clit. a mimicry of what he bestows upon you, and he can see that you're truly that close to a finishing release. eyes droopy and lovesick as you rut at a sharp, staccato pace against him.

close, closer and right on the very edge when sukuna realises that he is a starved man (no, a starved curse? uh, not quite. these are all just semantics) and he's about to —

you're sputtering, tears springing to the very corners of your angelic eyes. crystalline lashes pooling on the very edges of your angry, reddened gaze, "i was so close, what the fuck!"

sukuna nips at your lips, drinking in your huffs and sighs, pulling your hand away from your sodden cunt, "must i ask my wife's forgiveness?" low and husky, rock-salt rasp as he jostles your hips in his powerful hold.

"now, how 'bout i keep ya' hands busy with this?" and he gently guides your slick-stranded hand to his upper cock, shuddering at the pressure of your fingertips against his aching, painful shaft. laving at your collarbone as he pulls you right over the lower shaft, brushing your swollen pussy folds over the cock, soaking him in your sweet, sweet arousal.

"hah, s-stop teasing," you grouse, already beginning a steady and pumping pace with your hands once more that makes sukuna's iron-willed concentration waver. fuck, you're too good at that, despite being barely able to wrap your hand around the sheer girth of the demon's cock.

sukuna does decide to take some small pity on you (see! he's generous!) by pressing soothing circles to your clit, easing you up, "big stretch, hah. jus' take a deep breath for me, wife." slowly lowering you down on his cock, already swabbing turgid veins against your innermost walls, and truthfully? losing his fucking mind at how the feeling your pussy wrapped around him shatters whatever dignity he had left.

"f-fuck me," sukuna breathes, "ohh, 's the sweetest thing in the world." already determined to kiss his weeping tip against your sweet spot as soon as he finds it, already swivelling your hips against the faint curl of pink hairs on his groin. determined to hit that roughened patch of heightened sensitivity.

and because sukuna does have a reputation to keep up, he would not ever admit this to another living soul, lest he be left with little choice but to flay that poor soul alive. but it's barely been half a minute of sukuna's cock being sucked in by your cunt, and he feels as though he may already burst.

it certainly doesn't help that your mouth is pressing sharp kisses to his pectorals, right over the darkened tattoos that brand his chest and the way that your hand is pumping his upper cock, the tip weakly spurting and so close to release.

pleasurable slap! after slap! of his mushroom-tip against your cervix, pressing as deep as he can, as sukuna slowly lifts your hips up and down his shaft. he loves you, he really does adore you and he fears that he may genuinely have to verbalise this sentiment more often, because he feels as though his ragged, dark heart may burst at the sight of you so ethereal, glistening in his hold.

if he were a less jealous, selfish husband, he may have commissioned the court sculptor to get in here, to capture your writhing form and prop it up in the temple for all lesser beings to leave offerings and candles at your image.

but this sight? it's for sukuna to worship alone, to capture in his memory, the image of you gasping and panting for sweet, candied breath, with your cunt drooling in his lap and spitting down his shaft.

"m-more, more, 'kuna," you sweetly murmur, with the edges of your robes slipping off your shoulder so sukuna can nip his fangs into the sweet flesh.

but the king of curses can only smile, a genuine grin that never bodes well for your endurance, splaying five fingers against the thick, bulging tip that presses against your abdomen, "more? better h-hold on, wife, then. 'cause, this?" he prods at the thick tip that is just visible through your womb, "this is where 'm gonna be, maybe give this wretched place an heir? what'dya say?"

having his wife's slippery cunt tacking against his groin, slapping all so nasty and sticky — all while scheming for an heir to finally bring down that wretched emperor in heian-kyō? to see you glowing and round with his child? sukuna's a multitasker, what can he say?

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Warmth (drabble)

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

a/n: hyunjin's room looks so comfy whenever he does his live there. he makes me so soft so i had to write this😭🫶🏻

It's raining hard outside, the droplets are hitting the window from every side, courtesy of the wind changing direction. They slide down the glass and disappear, melting away out of sight.

It's a raging tempest outside, but inside it is the complete opposite; peaceful, safe, warm.

Your body is tangled in Hyunjin's covers, one leg sticking out and the other wrapped up in the soft blanket, your face smushed against his pillow as you inhale his comforting scent, one of his shirt's is covering your frame as you drown in it all.

You were his the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time, you were his when he kissed you for the first time, you were his just fifteen minutes ago when the two of you fell into a passionate embrace, you are his now. Utterly his.

And the thought of that makes you smile in your half-asleep state. How can you not be sleepy?

He had tired you out, then held you close under the hot water in the shower and now you are resting in his comfortable bed, wrapped up in everything his, everything yours. The room smells like him, like you and the incense he burns. It's a comforting smell, lulling you further into dreamland.

Hyunjin is sitting in his chair, concentrated on a piece of paper as you listen to the gentle scratching of the pencil against the paper, and you know, he is probably sketching you. Again. And your heart flutters when you think about that.

Your eyes are barely opened when they find him, his profile is simply beautiful and you think he looks the best right now; after he loved you, now watching him concentrate on his art. His brows are slightly furrowed, he's biting on his lip as he tilts his head in concentration, his hand gliding over the paper with ease.

You can't help the flutter you feel in your heart, your stomach, your gut. Hyunjin always stirs up warmth and fire inside you, no matter how much of him you have, it's never enough. You always yearn for him even when he is wrapped around you.

His quiet breathing and the little sounds he makes, the sound of the pencil against paper, it's all so familiar. You continue watching him, feeling like you're floating away.

It goes on for a while, until Hyunjin turns slowly and looks at you. His eyes visibly soften, his cheeks become rosy and his lips are upturned in a small but blissful smile.

He is looking at you and you can't help the way your lips twitch as you almost start giggling. Hyunjin smirks a little, putting his pencil down and walking slowly towards the bed, in two big strides he is already hovering over your frame.

You shut your eyes, pretending to be sleeping and he reaches out and tickles your foot. You quickly retract your leg away from his wiggly fingers and hide it under the safety of the blanket.

"I knew you were awake." he says quietly, plopping down on the bed on his knees and palms, caging your body under his.

You smile but don't say anything.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he smirks and leans in closer, his warm breath hitting your cheek. "I don't think you can ignore me for too long, my flower." Hyunjin whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your heart is skipping beats already and he is just barely kissing your jawline and you cheek.

Your breath hitches when his hand finds it's way under the sheets, touching your soft thigh and running it up towards your hip. Butterflies start dancing in your stomach and you're about to melt just from that simple touch.

"Darling." Hyunjin sing-songs playfully, his fingertips ghosting under your his shirt.

You smile, trying not to burst out into giggles but he's done playing nice and his fingers start tickling you, attacking all the spots he knows will get you squirming the most.

And you're done for, your eyes flying open as you squeal and finally start giggling, your hands grabbing at his arms as he laughs and keeps attacking your sides.

"Stop! Stop!" you squeal through laughter and he chuckles, stopping finally when you looked at him.

"There you are." he coos at you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer so that his body is on top of yours.

Hyunjin leans in and kisses you gently, slowly, savoring the moment as all his loving feelings pour out from his lips to yours.

"Were you watching me, hm?" he asks, his lips constantly covering your skin as he keeps leaving kisses everywhere on your face.

"I was." you admit.

"I like when you do that." he smiles, his dimples showing and you have to lean in and kiss them.

"Then I'll do it always." you whisper against his lips and he kisses you again, his arms wrapping around you as your bodies tangle together.

"Are you done sketching?" you ask, touching his head and face, your fingers mapping out his features.

He chuckles a little, scooting closer to you.

"I'll never be done sketching you." he says as he pulls you into his chest, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

You shiver at his words and the closeness of his warm body, the safety and comfort his arms bring you.

Now, you can actually fall asleep.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie

[readingkitty22]

You Were Mine First

Pairing: Alpha! Satoru Gojo x Omega! Reader

description: Gojo Satoru has been everything to you since childhood: your rival, your protector, your closest friend. And always, quietly, something more. From scraped knees to training matches, whispered confidences to shared silence, your lives have always been tangled.When Gojo and Suguru present early as powerful Alphas, and you, later, as a rare Omega, everything changes. Suddenly you're no longer invisible, no longer “just” a friend. You’re desirable. Vulnerable. A political asset to a lesser clan. And when your family arranges a match, Gojo reaches his limit.Because he’s the strongest and he’s always known one truth: You were his before anyone else had the right to say otherwise.

A slow-burn, childhood-friends-to-lovers saga set in an omegaverse where obsession brews quietly, affection runs deep, and nothing stands between Satoru and what he’s claimed.

⚠️Warnings Omegaverse dynamics (presentation, heats, bonding), possessive but not toxic Alpha behavior, sorta-explicit sexual content (18+), mild angst, arranged marriage elements, clan/political interference, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy references, mild language. No major character death. Emotional resolution and satisfying ending guaranteed.

w.c. 6.1k

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a/n: I am still SUPER new to this whole writing thing, but thank you all for liking and reblogging <3, I've been working on this little work for a bit and I'm still unsure about it. Hope y'all enjoy!

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Age 6

The first time you met Satoru Gojo, he offered you the red crayon.

Not the broken one. Not the short, stubby piece every kid avoided. He handed you the longest, sharpest red crayon in the box like it meant something.

“You can draw the wards,” he said, like you were already part of the team.

Suguru smiled at you from where he sat cross-legged on the temple floor. “He doesn’t usually share that one.”

You glanced between them,two boys from powerful clans, both still too young to know what their futures would cost them. You weren’t like them. You knew that even then. You were from a lower clan of healers, support staff. Useful, not vital.

But Gojo just tilted his head and said, “You’re gonna be around a lot, right?” You nodded. “Then you should start with the best color.”

And just like that, you were part of their world.

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The three of you claimed a disused storehouse as your base. You brought juice boxes and old charms. Suguru brought manga. Gojo brought chalk and spelled salt he wasn’t supposed to have.

You were eight the first time he laid his head in your lap.

“I don’t get headaches,” he said softly, like he was surprised. “But I do when I’m around too many people. You’re… quieter.”

“Quieter how?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked up at you with those strange blue eyes, too bright for someone so tired.

“Like breathing near you is easier.”

When Suguru fell asleep with a comic book on his chest, Gojo scooted closer to you, drawing lazy circles on the floor with his chalk.

“I think we should make a pact,” he said.

You blinked. “What kind of pact?”

“We stick together. No matter what.” He glanced at Suguru. Then at you. “No matter who we grow up to be.”

You didn’t say anything at first. But you reached out and gently pressed the red crayon to the back of his hand like a seal.

He smiled, soft and secret.

And in the years that followed,when instincts started pulling you in strange, dangerous directions,he would always come back to that moment. The red crayon. Your touch. The feeling of safety he’d never find anywhere else.

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Age 9

The shrine courtyard buzzed with late summer heat and the soft clatter of ceremonial prep,silk slippers on wood, hushed chanting, incense curling in the air like smoke from a dream.

You weren’t meant to be at the front.

Technically, neither was Gojo.

You were helping your aunt with the offerings,sprigs of purifying herbs, tied together with rice paper and string. It was busy work, meant to keep the lesser clan kids out of the way.

But you caught sight of him before the ceremony started,white hair mussed by the wind, half-buttoned yukata, sunglasses tucked into his collar instead of worn.

He grinned when he saw you.

“I snuck out of greeting duties. Suguru's covering for me.” He leaned close, whispering like it was a secret. “Said I had to ‘see the herbs in action.’ Very scientific.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t tell him to leave. You never really did.

It happened fast.

One of the elders from a visiting clan,tall, grim-faced, the kind of man who wore tradition like armor,caught you whispering over the offering baskets.

“Too noisy,” he snapped, voice like cracked ice. “This isn’t a playground.”

You dropped your head in a half-bow, voice quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re distracting the real assistants.” He stepped forward, hand twitching toward your shoulder. “Leave, child.”

You didn’t move.

Gojo did.

He stepped between you so smoothly, so silently, it almost didn’t register until the man’s hand stopped mid-air, just shy of his chest.

“She’s with me,” Gojo said. Calm. Clear. Unapologetic.

The elder narrowed his eyes. “This is a sacred rite. She is unqualified.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. “She’s mine to watch over.”

It wasn’t possessive,not quite. Not yet. Just... matter-of-fact.

The words hung in the air like static.

The elder backed off without another word.

Later, walking back down the stone steps with your sleeves bundled in your arms and sweat damp on your brow, you caught Gojo watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked. “He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Gojo shrugged. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

You waited for him to tease. To make it a joke. But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out and tugged a leaf from your hair. His fingers brushed your temple,so light, so careful,and he looked down at the crumpled sprig in his hand like it had done something wrong.

“Next time,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear, “just stand behind me.”

And something deep in your chest,something instinctive, old, nameless,settled quietly into place.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 13

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training field. The air was warm but still, almost too still, as though the world was holding its breath.

You didn’t understand why Gojo insisted on this early-morning training session. You had no intention of trying to compete with him today,not when his cursed energy felt like it was vibrating in the air itself.

“Focus, focus,” he said lightly, jumping into a crouch. His hands were relaxed, casual, like he wasn’t preparing to unleash the full force of his power at any moment. But the air felt too tight, and even Suguru, ever the grounded one, was glancing sideways at Gojo in an unspoken exchange.

Then it happened,without warning.

Gojo’s cursed energy exploded, a wild burst of power that cracked the earth beneath him. A shriek of wind shot through the field. You stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of it. Suguru’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t surprised.

You were used to this,used to Gojo’s strength, to his overwhelming presence. But this… this was different.

“Whoa!” Gojo laughed, standing tall and grinning, as if he hadn’t just nearly torn the air in half. He was practically glowing, the sheer magnitude of his power both terrifying and beautiful. “Guess it’s official, huh?”

Suguru didn’t say anything, just walked over to him and set a hand on his shoulder, eyes flicking toward the distance like he was waiting for something.

“Yeah,” Gojo said, lowering his voice. “Guess it is.”

And then, just like that, the storm subsided. Gojo grinned again, as if it was nothing. He’d presented as an Alpha, raw and potent, the kind of power that left a permanent mark on the world. It had been so fast, so quiet, but so intense.

You watched him with a mixture of awe and concern, but before you could speak, Suguru was already turning to face you, his gaze soft but knowing.

“I knew it was coming,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “His energy’s always been too big for anything else.”

You nodded, unsure what to say.

A week later, Geto presented.

His was quieter than Gojo’s,his energy more controlled, restrained. It didn’t have the explosive violence Gojo’s did, but there was something just as intimidating in the way it rippled under his skin. Geto always seemed like the kind of person who would wait until the world was watching before he made his move and when he presented, that’s exactly what he did.

It was subtle. It was almost… calm.

But there was no mistake. He was an Alpha.

When Geto met Gojo’s eyes from across the field, he raised an eyebrow, and a slow, amused smile crept across his face. “Guess we’re both officially off the market now, huh?”

Gojo laughed loud, easy, like the universe was his to control. “About time,” he said, smirking in that way that made everyone around him feel both invited and terrified.

It started quietly.

You were sitting under the old cherry blossom tree, half-listening to Suguru talk about a recent mission while Gojo made cranes out of your lunch napkin. It was normal,comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

At first, it was just a lingering glance. Then two. And then you felt it,noticed it. The way people were looking at you. Students who’d never said a word to you before. Instructors passing too slowly in the hall. A lingering, curious sharpness in the air.

Like they could smell something shifting.

Suguru noticed it before you did. His head turned toward you slowly, eyes narrowing, calculating. Then his expression softened, something sad and fond flickering across his face.

“…You presented,” he said quietly, like he was speaking a truth you hadn’t caught up to yet.

Your lips parted, confusion still thick in your chest.

Gojo sat upright in a second. His napkin crane crumpled in his lap.

The moment he caught your scent,really caught it,you saw it hit him like a wave. Not with hunger, not with something feral. With something… stunned. Like he’d been punched in the ribs by the universe.

His pupils contracted. Then dilated.

No words. Just pressure.

Suguru said it for both of them. “An Omega…”

Gojo’s jaw flexed.

Among jujutsu sorcerers, Omegas were rare. Especially rare in active bloodlines,your kind burned too hot, cursed energy tangled with instinct too violently. Most faded into support roles. Some were hidden by their clans, used for arranged bonds. And some… disappeared entirely.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how exposed you felt.

Your scent was faint for now,still settling,but the students around you weren’t stupid. They’d start to recognize it soon. The way Alpha instincts shifted in your direction. The tilt of a head. The tightening of a jaw. The challenge in a stare.

And through it all, Gojo just looked at you.

Not with pity.

Not with fear.

But like he’d just remembered something he’d sworn to himself long ago: Mine to watch over.

Only now… it meant something else.

The next day at Jujutsu Tech felt different.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to walk the same path to class. Keep your shoulders relaxed. Pretend the weight of your uniform hadn’t suddenly become too tight across your chest. But the air knew.

So did everyone else.

It wasn’t even subtle.

The moment you stepped into the classroom, conversations slowed. Heads turned. And though no one said it out loud, their stares pressed against your skin like heat,That’s the Omega.

You weren’t the first in school history, of course. But you were the only one currently in circulation. Most Omegas were quietly moved to private training or matched with a pre-approved bond by their clan before it ever got this far.

You? You were still here.

And that made you… vulnerable.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

The worst part wasn’t the whispers.

It was the way some of the older students lingered a little too long in the halls. One of them,someone from a mid-tier clan you barely knew,bumped your arm in the corridor, leaned in a little too close.

“You smell different,” he murmured, eyes raking across your face like he had a right to look at you.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because before you could move, someone was already there.

Gojo’s voice was flat. “Touch her again.”

The boy turned, surprised. “Gojo—hey, I didn’t—”

“Touch her again,” Gojo repeated, low and cold, “and I’ll decorate the hallway with your teeth.”

There was no smile. No sunglasses. Just Gojo Satoru standing very, very still, his cursed energy curling around his shoulders like a stormcloud.

The boy backed off fast, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the corridor.

Gojo didn’t move.

He didn’t even look at you.

Not until Suguru came up behind him and said quietly, “You’re making a scene.”

That snapped him out of it. Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off, not looking back.

That night, Suguru walked you back to your dorm.

He didn’t say much at first. Just let the silence stretch between you like a thread.

Then, softly: “You okay?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Suguru didn’t smile. But his voice was gentle. “It’s not your fault people are idiots.”

You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “Is he mad?”

“Gojo?” He huffed. “Gojo’s losing his mind.”

“…Why?”

Suguru tilted his head at you like you were being ridiculous. “Because you’re you. And now, everyone sees it.”

You swallowed hard.

“He’s trying not to act like it’s bothering him,” Suguru added, almost too casually. “But you’re an unmated Omega in a school full of Alphas. You’ve been close with us since you were six. What do you think he’s feeling?”

You stopped walking.

Suguru paused too, then looked over his shoulder, something fond flickering behind his eyes.

“Just… don’t be surprised if he doesn’t handle this very well.”

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

You couldn’t sleep.

The day had clung to your skin,stares like needles, voices too loud and too soft at the same time. Even Suguru’s calming presence hadn’t helped this time. You’d spent hours turning over what Suguru said about Gojo in your head.

You’re an unmated Omega in a school full of Alphas. You’ve been close with us since you were six. What do you think he’s feeling?

You needed air.

The rooftop was quiet this late. The wind was cool, brushing over your skin like a sigh. You curled your arms around your knees, sitting beneath the narrow lip of the railing. It was one of the only places in the school that still felt yours.

So when Gojo’s voice broke the silence behind you, your whole body jumped.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You turned.

He didn’t look like himself. No sunglasses. Hair messy. His uniform half shrugged off one shoulder, like he’d thrown it on without thinking.

He crossed the rooftop, quiet for once, and sat down next to you with a grunt. 

You both stared out at the campus.

The silence wasn’t awkward. Not really. But it was charged,a careful kind of quiet, like both of you knew what was sitting between you but neither had the courage to name it.

Finally, he asked: “How bad was it today?”

You hesitated. Then: “I’m handling it.”

“Don’t.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. Not angry. Just… quiet. “I saw your face after that guy touched you. You hated it.”

You dropped your gaze.

Gojo leaned back on his elbows, eyes toward the stars. “I’ve wanted to break a lot of people’s noses lately.”

You smiled. A real one.

Then, after a long moment: “Is it weird?”

He looked at you. “What?”

“That I’m… like this now.”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was soft. Careful.

“You’ve always been like this,” he said. “You’re just… more obvious now.”

You turned toward him. His expression was unreadable. Still boyish, still beautiful. But something in his eyes was older, heavier.

“It’s not weird,” he said, voice low. “It’s dangerous. For them.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gojo looked away. His mouth twitched,not a smirk. A defense.

“I mean,” he said, “if one more person looks at you like they deserve you, I’m going to forget I’m supposed to be playing nice.”

Something deep in your chest curled up at that. Warm and sharp and aching.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But you stayed there. Sitting close enough that your arms touched, listening to the wind and the distant buzz of lights. He didn’t reach for you. You didn’t lean in.

But his presence wrapped around you like a barrier.

And when you finally laid your head on his shoulder, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just sat there, frozen and burning, until his voice,so quiet,broke through the night.

“I won’t let anyone take you.”

And he meant it.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 16

Three years made a difference.

Gojo had always been tall, always been powerful. But now he filled a room before he even stepped into it. Every Alpha on campus carried weight, but he carried gravity. He didn’t just stand out; he distorted everything around him. People moved when he walked past. Students whispered in the halls after he’d gone, like his presence left a burn mark on the floor.

And you… started noticing things you hadn’t before.

It was the way he laughed too loud at his own jokes. The way he chewed his gum and flicked his wrist to push up his blindfold with lazy confidence. The way people stepped aside, but he always reached back,waited for you to follow.

He still walked you home. Still saved your favorite snacks. Still rolled his eyes when Suguru got too philosophical and threw paper balls at his head during lecture.

But it wasn’t the same anymore.

One day, during sparring drills, you caught yourself staring,not because he was flashy, not because of his technique. But because he moved like lightning trapped in a boy’s skin. Fluid. Dangerous. Beautiful.

When he caught your eye across the mat, something flickered there,recognition. Like he knew.

He looked away first.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

It got worse when you were paired for weapons class.

Gojo held the bokken with casual ease, his grin tilted just enough to be cocky. “Try not to fall for me during this, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t.

The duel was fast, brutal, and completely unfair. He pulled his hits, of course,but even restrained, Gojo moved like he was born to be worshipped. Your body reacted before your brain did, drawn to him on instinct. Not just the Alpha scent, not just the power.

It was him.

After the match, breathless and warm, you met his eyes across the mat.

He looked at you like he’d been waiting.

Later, in the quiet of your dorm, you pressed your hand over your chest. Your pulse hadn’t slowed. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks, the echo of his voice, low and amused:

“You’re stronger than most of the boys that try to flirt with you, y’know that?”

You hadn’t said anything at the time. Just stared at him, too aware of his height, the closeness of his breath.

Three years ago, he would’ve teased you. Tugged on your sleeve. Laughed it off.

But now, Gojo Satoru just stood there, watching you like the only reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wasn’t allowed to yet.

And for the first time, you wondered what would happen if he did.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

You’d been aware of the stares for weeks.

But today, it shifted. Bolder. Louder.

Someone from the Zenin branch house,older, polished, confident,cornered you after class. He wasn’t rude. He was respectful. That made it worse.

“I was wondering,” he said smoothly, “if you’d consider lunch together this week. I know it’s sudden, but—”

You didn’t get to answer.

Gojo’s cursed energy hit the hallway like a wave.

It was subtle enough to be deniable. Just a tightness in the air, like the pressure drop before lightning. Your would-be suitor faltered mid-sentence. He turned his head slightly, met Gojo’s smile from a few feet away.

Cool. Polite. Murderous.

“Am I interrupting?” Gojo asked, voice light, eyes unreadable beneath his blindfold.

You opened your mouth to say no, but your classmate already took a full step back. “Of course not. Excuse me.”

He left like the air was on fire.

You glared. “Satoru.”

“What?” He blinked, innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Gojo shrugged and leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder brushing yours. “Can’t blame a guy for hanging around when weirdos keep showing up.”

“They’re not weirdos,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, close enough to smell, his body language casual. But the tension in him? Coiled. Hot. Barely contained.

Later that night, Suguru found him behind the training hall, still burning off energy with a practice staff, moving like he wanted something to bleed.

“You gonna kill every guy who talks to her?” Suguru asked, arms crossed.

Gojo didn’t look at him. “Only the ones who think they deserve her.”

Suguru exhaled slowly. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“She’s not bonded.”

“She’s not yours either.”

That finally made Gojo pause.

Suguru stepped closer. “I’m saying this as your friend, not hers. You’re not exactly subtle, Satoru.”

Gojo wiped sweat from his jaw. “Why should I be?”

“Because if the clans start noticing how you look at her, they’re going to act on it. You’re not just Gojo, you’re the Six Eyes Alpha. That makes her a target.”

Gojo’s expression shifted,still, sharp, deadly quiet.

“She’s already a target,” he said. “I’m just making sure everyone knows she’s protected.”

Suguru stared at him for a moment longer. Then he sighed.

“I’m not telling you to stop. I’m telling you to be careful.”

He walked away, his words still hanging in the air.

That night, Gojo didn’t sleep.

He sat outside your dorm window,hidden, silent,listening to your breathing just to make sure you were safe.

His hands trembled, just a little.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend this was only protection.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 18

It started with a letter.

You knew what it was the second you saw the envelope,hand-delivered, pressed with your clan’s seal. Thick, ceremonial, and cold.

Suguru’s eyes skimmed it over your shoulder as you sat in the common room. “You’re not opening that here, are you?”

You hesitated. “I already know what it says.”

They wanted to arrange a match.

A high-ranking Alpha from a politically advantageous family. One with “stability, long-term potential, and no history of excessive aggression.” Their words, not yours.

Your clan didn’t say Gojo Satoru’s name, but you could feel him in every line of that letter. The pressure to bond. The underlying threat of not doing so. You were an Omega of age. Delaying your mating was drawing attention.

It wasn’t a request.

You didn’t tell Gojo right away.

But he knew something was wrong.

You were quieter. Distracted. Distant.

He cornered you after sparring, chest heaving from the workout, a line of sweat curling down the side of his neck. He pulled off his blindfold,blue eyes sharp and worried.

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

You tried to brush past him. He moved. Blocking your way with barely a shift of his body, not touching you, but too close to ignore.

“Satoru—”

“Tell me.”

So you did.

His expression didn’t change at first. Then, very slowly, something froze in his jaw. A muscle ticked. His hands clenched at his sides like he was trying very hard not to break something.

“What’s his name?” he asked, too calm.

You didn’t answer.

His voice dropped. “They’re trying to pull you out of Jujutsu Tech.”

You swallowed. “They think it’s safer.”

“No,” he said flatly. “They think you’re vulnerable. And they think I won’t do anything about it.”

You tried to reach for his arm. “You can’t—”

He stepped back.

Not from you. From himself.

“I can’t protect you from them,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not unless you let me.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Gojo looked at you,really looked. And for once, he didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect. Just stared like you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

“It means I want you,” he said. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Silence.

“I thought I could wait,” he went on. “I thought if I kept quiet, if I gave you space, maybe you’d choose me on your own.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“But I’m not going to watch them take you away and pretend it doesn’t kill me.”

You stared at him. And then—

“You waited too long.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Soft. True.

Gojo’s breath caught.

But then you added, quieter:

“Do something about it.”

His restraint shattered.

Gojo stepped forward and kissed you like he’d been dying to do it for years,because he had. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy, desperate, a dam breaking with your fingers tangled in his jacket and his hands gripping your hips like the only way he could hold himself together was by holding onto you.

He didn’t ask for permission.

You’d already given it.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

The meeting was called under the pretense of “concern.” A gathering of clan representatives, a few staff from Jujutsu Tech, and of course your suitor’s family.

You weren’t supposed to be there. Omegas were rarely permitted to speak on their own behalf in these negotiations.

But you came anyway.

And Gojo was already seated at the head of the table when you arrived.

Not an empty seat. The seat.

His blindfold was gone. His uniform collar open. His posture relaxed in the way only the most dangerous people can afford to be. Casual, confident, and clearly amused.

“Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he said lazily, gaze sweeping over the gathered elders like they were ants on his shoe. “All this effort just to talk about my Omega?”

Your heart stopped.

So did the room.

A clan elder cleared their throat. “She is not—”

“She is,” Gojo interrupted, voice silk-wrapped steel. “She just hasn’t said it officially yet. But I’m sure you’d all agree it’d be wildly inappropriate to suggest an engagement when she’s already spoken for.”

The silence crackled.

The representative from your clan’s inner circle leaned forward, fingers laced. “With respect, Gojo-sama, no such bond has been confirmed. And while your attachment is clear, this matter concerns lineage, compatibility, and the safety of the Omega in question.”

“Safety?” Gojo echoed, smile thin. “I’m the strongest sorcerer alive. Tell me, which one of you thinks you can offer her better protection than me?”

No one answered.

The suitor’s father spoke next. “Your emotions are understandable, but our son has been vetted. He’s mature, politically sound, and has a reputation for stability—”

“And I,” Gojo cut in, “can vaporize a domain in under three seconds.”

He leaned forward then, elbows on the table, voice dropping into something colder.

“So here’s how this is going to go: you’re going to drop the proposal. You’re going to keep your politics away from her. And you’re going to do it quietly, so no one gets embarrassed. Or hurt. Or—worst of all—made an example of.”

A long pause.

“Is that a threat?” someone asked tightly.

Gojo smiled.

“It’s a promise.”

When the meeting adjourned, Gojo caught up to you in the corridor, like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just threatened half the room without blinking.

“You’re insane,” you told him, heart racing.

“Insanely devoted, yeah,” he grinned. “Did you see their faces?”

“You basically declared war on my entire clan—”

“They started it,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “They came for what’s mine.”

You didn’t move.

“Am I?” you asked softly.

Gojo’s smile softened, all that sharpness folding inward, just for you.

“You’ve always been,” he said. “Even when you didn’t know it.”

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 21

Living with Gojo Satoru was like sharing an apartment with a hurricane that made coffee in your favorite mug and left his socks on the ceiling.

The top floor of Jujutsu Tech’s private housing had been “technically unauthorized” when he moved you in, but no one was stupid enough to stop him. Suguru called it your castle, which wasn’t wrong. It was all open space, floor-to-ceiling windows, and way too many pillows.

You’d been dating,courting, by clan terms,for three years.

No bond yet. No mark.

Gojo waited. Even though you could feel it,how he watched you. How he barely held back when you kissed. How his cursed energy coiled around you when you wore his clothes or nuzzled your face into his scent gland in your sleep.

“I’m fine waiting,” he’d said once, hand tangled in your hair, voice soft against your throat. “As long as it’s me you’re waiting for.”

Suguru visited one night during golden hour. He brought food and stayed long after the takeout was cold, curled into a corner of your couch with his arms tucked under his sleeves.

Gojo practically draped himself over you, cheek resting on your shoulder, scent lazy and content. His fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your shorts.

��Ugh,” Suguru said, grinning. “You’re disgusting.”

You hummed. “He’s just clingy.”

“She likes it,” Gojo mumbled into your neck.

“I tolerate it,” you corrected.

He nuzzled you, pleased.

Suguru shook his head. “You know, I was worried at first. Thought he’d suffocate you.”

You smirked. “He still might.”

Gojo just sighed dramatically. “Let me be in love in peace.”

Suguru’s smile dimmed a little,nostalgic. Quiet.

“She’s good for you.”

Gojo didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened on your thigh, just a little.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

It happened on a rainy night.

No mission. No special event. Just you and him, alone in your shared bedroom, warm from the shower, tangled in sheets and scent and skin.

He kissed you like he always did,slow, sweet, tasting every noise you made. But when you arched into him, scent thick with heat and need, Gojo paused.

“Tell me,” he said, voice hoarse. “Tell me you want it.”

You reached up, cupping his face, fingers trembling.

“I want you to claim me.”

Blue eyes burned.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since I was sixteen.”

His control cracked.

The kiss that followed was rougher, deeper,borderline desperate. His hands mapped your body like memorization wasn’t enough anymore. Your scent bloomed under his touch, sticky-sweet and wet with submission, but your eyes never left his.

You weren’t being taken.

You were giving yourself.

Gojo groaned, rut-heavy and shaking, and when he finally sank his canines into the spot just beneath your scent gland, the shock of the bond hit like a curse.

You cried out, hips jerking, body going molten and boneless under him. His cursed energy snapped, flooding through you, marking you.

Not just skin-deep.

Soul-deep.

He licked over the mark, reverent, voice rasping against your neck: “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Your hands fisted in his hair.

“Yours,” you whispered. “Always.”

Afterward, he held you like he’d fall apart without you,arms around your waist, nose buried in your bond mark, still murmuring your name like a prayer.

When you drifted off, Gojo didn’t sleep.

He just watched you breathe.

His. Finally. Irrevocably.

And if the world tried to take you again?

Let it try.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 25

Years had passed since the world had first witnessed Gojo Satoru’s declaration of ownership over you. Since the day he'd practically claimed you, raw and unrestrained.

Since then, you and Gojo had built your lives,not just as partners, but as equals. You were stronger. He was more grounded. And the bond, always there, had deepened beyond what anyone outside the two of you could even fathom.

Your home was exactly as it had been before: full of noise, laughter, and chaos, just now with a few extra people. Jujutsu Tech still felt like the heart of the world, but with each passing year, you both had carved out more space for yourselves. Gojo was a legend, but he was also yours. And you were more than his Omega,you were his heart. His equal.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Gojo fussed with the coffee machine like he hadn’t made the same damn cup a thousand times before.

“Stop acting like you don’t know how to do it,” you teased, smiling fondly. He always made a production out of everything, even the simplest of things.

Gojo’s back was turned, but you saw him grin.

“I know how to make it. I just enjoy the effect,” he said, voice low, filled with that familiar smugness.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“No, I’m full of you,” he said, turning to you, his blue eyes locking onto yours, soft but possessive. “Always will be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“I’m new,” he said, walking closer, his body heat flooding your senses, that mix of Satoru and Gojo only you knew intimately.

His hand cupped your cheek gently, like he was afraid of breaking you. And you knew that even now, after all this time, despite the raw, unfiltered power he held, he was still careful with you. Always.

He kissed you, slow, deep like you were still the only person in the world.

“I’m not the only one who’s changed,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re more than I ever could’ve imagined, beloved.”

You smiled softly, almost shyly, remembering the long path from the moment he first made that choice, back when he was younger, less certain.

Later that afternoon, Suguru came over, as he always did. His usual routine was to catch up with Gojo, drink coffee, and discuss the growing chaos of their world, but today, something was off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but Suguru seemed a little… distracted.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching him fiddle with his mug.

He looked up at you, smiled a little, but his eyes were far away. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve known you both a long time,” he said, glancing at Gojo, who had his back turned, lost in his own thoughts. “And I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you two would finally settle into this… Whatever this is.”

Gojo grinned from the other side of the room. “It’s called ‘happily ever after,’ Suguru.”

Suguru snorted, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right, right. But still… I never expected to see you both at peace.”

You stepped forward, cocking your head. “What’s going on, Suguru?”

He sighed, meeting your gaze. “I’ve just been wondering for a while now,what’s next for you two? I mean, you’ve built your lives together. But is that… enough? Or is there something more? Something bigger?”

You stared at him for a moment, before your eyes moved to Gojo, who had finally turned around and was watching you, expression soft and almost… expectant.

You glanced back at Suguru, confused. “What are you getting at?”

Suguru leaned forward. “Well, I’ve been hearing some rumors lately. About you two. And I… I think I know what the next step is.”

You stared at him.

He gave you a slow smile,whispering. “I think it’s time you tell him.”

Later that evening, Gojo had his arm around you, the two of you lounging on the couch as you watched some random movie. His hand traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you could feel the bond pulsing between you.

He wasn’t paying attention to the film, not really,his mind was always on you, and he was letting the quiet between you speak louder than anything else.

But tonight was different.

You turned to face him, drawing his attention, your heart beating a little faster as you reached for his hand.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your voice soft and slightly nervous. “I… I have something to tell you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with that same intensity. “What is it?”

Your hand trembled slightly as you took his, squeezing gently. You knew, deep down, that this would be another step, the next chapter. The one that solidified everything.

“I’m… I’m pregnant.”

He froze for a beat, like the world itself had just shifted. Then,slowly, ever so carefully,he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

A smile broke out across his face, and it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, softened.

“You’re…” he started, the words stumbling out, but his smile grew. “You’re really doing this to me? You’re going to make me a dad?”

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "You’re going to be an amazing father, Satoru."

Gojo leaned forward, his lips brushing yours with a gentleness that matched the enormity of the moment.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the bond between you thrumming with warmth.

“Our baby,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Our family.”

And just like that, everything felt real. The years, the bond, the madness and the love. It was all leading to this. Your future. Together.

You rested your hand on your stomach, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips.

His hand covered yours, pressing it to his chest, over his heart.

And you both knew.

This—this was the beginning of something even greater than you could’ve imagined.

[6slux]

ೃ⁀➷ intertwined—eren offers to let you practice braiding his hair.

.ᐟ fluff, drug usage (weed), bf!eren yeager

“rennie, can you please stop fidgeting?”, the bristles of your Hello Kitty brush made yet another pass through his nutmeg strands. a frustrated tug dragging his lazy neck back onto its slot against your pajama pants.

your living room was a cozy mess—pink cushions scattered across the fuzzy carpet and the faint scent of eren’s incense mingling with the lazy drift of smoke from his blunt. the moonlight flickered through the sheer curtains, casting a dimlit iridescence over the room as you both lounged in this safe haven you called home.

the victim in question was your lovely boyfriend eren. he swore his only intention was to pass by and bring you takeout from your favorite restaurant. somehow that led to asking about the video playing in your background. the next moment he was surpassing your doorstep and sitting on a pillow before your tv.

your sore fingertips paused to collect the remote and rewind the tutorial for what felt like the hundredth time. again—the stylist’s annoyingly chirpy introduction blared throughout your entire house.

then they were scrambling back to the side of eren’s slanted head. it’s a pace that seemed almost too impossible to keep up with. you sat crisscrossed behind eren who’s shirtless back leaned against the couch. his legs sprawled out and red eyes low-lidded from tranquility—or maybe the weed. your presence serenaded eren, and this just so happened to be the perfect excuse to be in it.

“ugh! okay…so i section it into three parts…”, you sheepishly whispered, more to yourself than to eren. he was all for being glued at the hip, but not if that meant you being this hard on yourself. “this is so humiliating. what girl doesn’t know how to do a simple braid—and at my big, old age on top of that”.

eren took a slow drag from the burning stick, a sympathetic smile plastered on his plump lips while he exhaled. “hey, you’ve got this,” he soothed you amidst the thick fog, words punctuated by lazy curls of smoke.

you huffed softly, more in self-beguilement than frustration. “thank you for both your cooperation and the kind words,” it was a light tease as you gently parted his hair with your comb, trying to mimic the swift motion on screen without entangling your own worries.

“eh, call it free therapy,” eren nodded stiffly, “plus you get to learn a new skill. it’s a win-win.” his high might’ve slurred every intricate thought that dared to hit his cloudy brain. including the fact that he’d been glued to your floor for nearly two hours. your own patience had thinned like a thread, fraying at the edges with every failed attempt at achieving the same smooth finish as the girl in the video. yet, comfort lingered as you both sported matching face masks. the thin sheet long dehydrated against both of your tired features. when he wasn’t scrolling through his phone, he kept ahold of your nearby knee.

up until that final section, each braid was knitted with the same undying dedication. the split worry of tugging too hard and keeping the pattern intact consuming you whole. your wrist’s rhythm settled into something ritualistic and steady, tying the ends together with a tighter grip. finally you tied off the last one.

an unknown breath you were holding escaped while eren clawed up the side of the couch. poor boy—his jelly limbs nearly collapsed before he stood tall again. a nervousness washed over you as he made his way to the mounted mirror. you make out the backside of his reflection, a look of flattery could be seen as he rotated his neck to check out your artwork. you’re no renowned hairstylist—each braid varied in tightness and thickness. some ends levitated off the nape of his neck while others conjoined the neighboring braid. but, all eren saw was your unmistakable handwork. he saw the countless hours you sacrificed to bunch each strand of hair into its own group.

eren’s pupils gleamed with sincerity, he adored your efforts. “babe, i love them,” he turned to you while swooning over his new hairdo, a rosy hue overtaking his cheeks. “they are absolutely perfect.”

your shoulders slouched as you took in the sight of his wonky, puffy hairline. you’d given this style every fiber your being could muster up, yet it wasn’t nearly as neat as the scene behind him. your heart fluttered at eren’s words, at the simple honesty and appreciation in his gaze. “but ren, they’re nothing like the video. they’re uneven and that one is literally falling apart in the back,” you pointed out, a hint of insecurity lingering in your tone.

“and that’s my favorite part,” he reassured, taking the cushion next to you and slipping a palm into yours. his legs stretched out as he leaned closer to nuzzle his nose into your neck. “this is you. that makes them better than any tutorial.”

for the first time all night a smile crept onto your face. a genuine display of how soft his words had you. you gave eren’s hand one last squeeze before bringing your digits back to his head. one swipe along the top allowed you to feel all the authentic imperfections that were misplaced hairs and lopsided linework. these mismatched braids were every bit of you— delicate, rough, flawed…yet complete.

as eren settled into his spot, your head dipped down to his shoulder. his familiar scent, the mixture of lingering aromatics, and your closeness made everything feel just right. it didn’t need to be a masterpiece; it simply needed to be yours. intertwined in ways beyond braids, these were the kind of memories you cherished forever.

[duskidolsmut]

"Chaewon: Digital Whore, Brutal Revenge"

Tags: Slutty idol with a collar / Painful butt plug / Slobbery blowjob / Virgin anal fuck / Contradictory orgasms / Ripped lingerie / Shower sex / Dirty words on the body / Hardcore SimpSpace / Neon speakeasy / Turned on with beating / Humiliation with marker

Words: 5.825

Seoul at night is a neon monster, with flashing signs and the smell of fried kimchi mixed with exhaust. In the midst of this chaos, Chaewon, 21, runs through the streets of Hongdae, her black hair messy, her worn-out sneakers slapping on the asphalt. By day, she is the proper intern at Starlight Entertainment, a K-pop company that promises to transform newcomers into brilliant idols. Chaewon spends hours filing contracts, serving coffee to idiotic producers and dreaming of the day she will stand on stage, microphone in hand, singing until the world forgets she was once a nobody. But reality is cruel: the internship pays a pittance, and the rent in Seoul is unforgiving. So, at night, she becomes someone else — or rather, another Chaewon, with red lipstick and a short skirt, serving shots at a speakeasy called Black Velvet, hidden in the alleys where the police turn a blind eye.

Black Velvet is a dirty but lively hole. The walls are covered in graffiti, the air smells of cheap vodka and incense, and the electronic music thumps so loud it makes glasses shake. Chaewon glides between the tables, balancing trays of drinks with names like “Hot Sin” and “Wrong Night.” She wears a uniform that’s more fetish fantasy than workwear: a tight black top, a leather skirt that barely covers her ass, and fishnet stockings that scream trouble. The customers—guys in suits with pert hands, girls with colorful hair giggling loudly—stare at her as if she’s the main course. Chaewon doesn’t care; the tips pay the bills, and the bar is her secret stage, where she tests out the charisma she’ll one day wield as an idol. “One more shot, princess?” a drunken customer asks, and she smiles, leaning in just enough for him to toss her an extra bill. “Only if you can handle it, uncle,” she says, her voice sweet with a hint of venom, and sways away, hearing him laugh.

But it’s not all that easy. Chaewon lied to get the job. She forged an ID, changing her age to 19, and used a fake name, “Soo-min,” so she wouldn’t be tracked. The bar owner, a guy named Min-jae with neck tattoos and zero questions, doesn’t care about the rules, as long as she sells drinks and doesn’t cause trouble. The problem is Yuna, the other waitress, a 23-year-old blonde with a lip piercing and a talent for sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. Yuna is smart, sarcastic, and has a laugh that cuts like glass. She and Chaewon have never gotten along—Yuna thinks Chaewon is too big for herself, with her K-pop dreams and good-girl ways. “You can’t fool anyone with that angelic face,” Yuna always says, blowing cigarette smoke in her face during breaks.

That night, the bar was packed, the air heavy with sweat and perfume. Chaewon dances between the tables, pouring a round of green shots that glow under the neon lights. She’s in the flow, laughing with a customer, when she feels Yuna’s gaze fixed on her. In the corner of the bar, Yuna is leaning against the counter, fiddling with her phone, her piercing glinting as she smiles in a way that gives you goosebumps. Chaewon ignores her, but during her break, when she goes to the bathroom to touch up her lipstick, Yuna appears, blocking the door. “Soo-min, huh?” Yuna says, her voice acidic, dragging out her fake name like it’s a joke. Chaewon freezes, her heart racing. “Or should I call you Chaewon? You know, I thought it was funny when I saw your real name on a Starlight form that got passed around in the bar’s gossip group. Fake ID, huh? How ugly for a future idol.”

Chaewon tries to keep her composure, her lipstick trembling in her hand. “What the hell do you want, Yuna?” she says, her voice steady, but fear seeping through her. Being exposed could ruin everything—her internship, her dream of singing, the life she’s been building. Yuna laughs, crossing her arms, her vinyl top reflecting the dim bathroom light. “Calm down, princess. I won’t tell… yet. But you’re going to do what I tell you, or I’ll show Min-jae and his fancy little company that you’re a fraud.” She steps closer, her minty, cigarette-like breath hitting Chaewon’s face. “First task: tomorrow, you cover my shift. And there’s more coming, Soo-min. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll keep your little secret.” Yuna winks, sways away, and leaves Chaewon alone, the mirror reflecting a girl who’s about to enter a game much more dangerous than serving drinks.

The streets of Hongdae are a carnival of lights and chaos, with crowded bars, karaoke bars spewing K-pop, and the smell of fried tteokbokki hanging in the air. It’s Friday night, and Seoul’s nightlife is booming: girls in glitter makeup spill out of clubs, guys with bleached hair yell drunkenly, and couples make out in alleys like the world is ending.

Chaewon is in the middle of the chaos, covering Yuna’s shift as part of the blackmail. She carries a tray of blue shots that glow like poison, dodging cheeky hands and smiling at customers who shout “Baby, another one!” Her red lipstick is already a little smudged, sweat dripping down the back of her neck, but she holds her pose, swaying slightly as she serves, the charisma of a future idol shining through even in that hole. Inside, she’s a wreck: the fear that Yuna will open her mouth and ruin her life at Starlight Entertainment—where she dreams of being an idol—is on her mind. I'll fix this, she thinks, but her anger towards Yuna only grows.

During her break, Chaewon runs to the bathroom, a cubicle with cracked tiles and a smudged mirror. She’s touching up her lipstick when Yuna walks in. “Are you enjoying my shift, Soo-min?” Yuna teases, her tone acidic, leaning against the counter to block the exit. Chaewon grits her teeth, the tube of lipstick clutched in her hand. “Just say what you want, Yuna. I’m sick of this shit,” she snaps, her voice shaking with anger. Yuna laughs, pulling out her phone and showing a screenshot: Starlight’s form with Chaewon’s real name, which she found in a gossip group. “Look, your idol life is in my hands. One click, and Min-jae kicks you out. Another, and Starlight kicks you out. Imagine the producers knowing that the nice intern serves shots in a whore’s skirt.”

Chaewon’s stomach churns, but she tries to keep a brave face. “You’re a bitch, you know that?” She says, but Yuna just smiles, leaning closer until her breath hits her face. “Bitch is in charge of you, honey. And now, new assignment: you’re going to create an account on SimpSpace.” Chaewon blinks, confused. “What?” Yuna explains, her tone amused: SimpSpace is a platform where girls sell intimate content to horny fans—messages, photos, videos, anything that makes guys spend money. “You’re going to join, post some hot stuff, and give me half of the profits. Or I’ll send your story to everyone, including your bosses at Starlight.”

Chaewon wants to punch Yuna in the face, but she’s cornered. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to do that,” she spits, but Yuna leans in, her finger poking her in the chest. “You’re crazy, thinking you have a choice. You start with spicy messages, some light things. But you’re not wrong, Soo-min — I’ll want more. Pictures in your panties, videos of you dancing like those sluts on TikTok, audios of you moaning as if you were getting fucked. And if you complain, your life will turn to ashes.” Yuna laughs, tossing her blonde hair, and leaves, leaving Chaewon trembling, the mirror reflecting a girl who is sinking into a bottomless pit.

Back in the tiny apartment Chaewon shares with an intern, she throws herself on the bed, her bar uniform thrown on the floor, the smell of vodka still clinging to her skin. It's 3 a.m., and Seoul rumbles outside, neon signs shining through the window. She grabs her phone, her heart heavy, and creates an account on SimpSpace with the name “VelvetKitten,” an ironic echo of Black Velvet. The platform is a sea of ​​profiles with panty pics and promises of “exclusive content.” Chaewon swallows her pride and starts with light messages, responding to guys who send her fire emojis and “Hi, kitty.” “I'm in my pajamas, wanna know what it's like?” she writes to one, bile rising in her throat, but money dripping into her account. Each message is a stab at her dream of being an idol, but also a spark of rebellion — if she's being forced to do this, she'll do it her way.

The next night, at Black Velvet, Yuna doesn’t miss a chance to humiliate. As Chaewon serves a table of screaming guys, Yuna walks by and whispers loud enough for some to hear: “Are you sending nudes properly, VelvetKitten? Or do you want me to teach you how to suck on a phone?” The customers laugh, thinking she’s joking, but Chaewon blushes, her tray shaking in her hands. “Fuck you, Yuna,” she mutters, but Yuna just blinks, blowing a sarcastic kiss. Later, at the bar, Yuna checks Chaewon’s phone, laughing. “Texts? That’s it? I’m serious, Soo-min. I want pictures of you in black panties, twerking in a video with that slutty skirt, and some audio clips of you moaning ‘oh, fuck me’. Otherwise, your career is over.” Chaewon stares at the bar, the glass of soju Min-jae pours gleaming like a way out, but she knows she’s trapped. The bar throbs around her, the graffiti on the walls seeming to laugh at her, and Chaewon, for the first time, feels the weight of a double life that could swallow her whole.

As “VelvetKitten” on SimpSpace, Chaewon has sent racy messages like “Wanna see my pajamas, you rascal?” and the money is pouring in—50,000 won here, 100,000 there. But Yuna, the bitch with the lip piercing, wants more. Yesterday, she demanded panty shots, videos of her twerking, and audio of her moaning, and Chaewon, her heart in her throat, was starting to give in. She opens the app, and the notifications explode: “You’re so beautiful, Kitten, I want to see you on your knees,” says one subscriber. “I’m paying you to be my little slut,” writes another. Chaewon feels her face burn with embarrassment, but also a treacherous heat between her legs—the compliments, even dirty ones, ignite something she hates to admit. They want me, she thinks, and for a second, it’s like being on the stage she dreams of as an idol.

But then the shame hits harder. Each message is a reminder of how far she is from the Chaewon who files contracts at Starlight Entertainment, smiling at producers who may never see her sing. She throws her phone on the bed, her heart sinking, and mutters to herself: “Fuck, I’m not that.” But Yuna doesn’t let up.

The next night, Chaewon is serving soju shots in a corner of Black Velvet, her uniform tighter than ever — Yuna “suggested” a top that barely covers her breasts and a vinyl skirt so short that she feels the air on her thighs with every step. The fishnet stockings are ripped on purpose, and the red lipstick, now smudged from biting her lip, completes the “adult movie waitress” look. She tries to ignore the stares of the customers, guys in suits with hands that “accidentally” brush against them and girls laughing loudly, but Yuna is watching, leaning against the counter, fiddling with her phone like a villain in a cheap comedy. “Hey, VelvetKitten!” Yuna screams, loud enough for a few tables to turn their heads. Chaewon blushes, her tray shaking. “Come here, your little digital bitch needs a lesson.”

Chaewon approaches, teeth gritted, and Yuna hands her her phone, open to SimpSpace. “Read this one out loud,” Yuna orders, pointing to a message from a subscriber: “Kitten, I want you on all fours, moaning my name.” Yuna’s voice is pure venom, and a few customers laugh, thinking she’s joking. Chaewon swallows hard, her face burning. “Yuna, stop this shit,” she whispers, but Yuna leans in, her piercing glistening. “Read it, or tomorrow Min-jae and Starlight will know you’re a fraud. And say it nicely, like the little slut they think you are.” Chaewon wants to punch her in the face, but she’s cornered. Her voice trembling, she reads softly: “Kitten… I want you on all fours… moaning my name.” Yuna laughs, clapping her hands together. “Louder, Soo-min, or I’ll turn it on the bar’s stereo!” Chaewon repeats, her voice cracking, and a guy at the next table whistles, shouting, “That’s it, kitten!” The humiliation burns, but Chaewon’s eyes shine with something new—anger mixed with a confused lust, as if the shame is turning into something else.

Later, in the back of the bar, in a small room that serves as a storage room and dressing room, Yuna throws a bag of clothes in Chaewon’s face. “Time to step it up a notch, VelvetKitten,” she says. The bag contains a black lace bodysuit that looks like a spiderweb, a pair of strap-on panties that barely cover anything, and a leather belt with chains that screams porn. “This is for your next video,” Yuna explains, crossing her arms. “I want you to dance, shaking that ass that the guys are paying to see. And record an audio moaning ‘fuck me, daddy’, really naughty. If you don’t, you know what I mean.” Chaewon stares at the clothes, her stomach churning. “You’re turning me into a… a…” She doesn’t finish, and Yuna finishes, laughing: “A digital slut? Congratulations, Soo-min, you already are. Now do it right.”

Back at the apartment, Chaewon puts on the lace bodysuit, the fabric brushing her nipples in a way that makes her gasp. She records the video, dancing to a slow beat by SimpSpace, shaking her hips in front of the mirror, the chain belt jingling. “You’re so hot, Kitten,” one subscriber comments, and others send: “Be my slave, please.” Shame swallows her — she’s the intern who wants to be an idol, not this — but excitement comes along with it, like a betrayal of her body. She records the audio, moaning “Fuck me, daddy,” her voice hoarse, and when she sends it, the money pours in: 200,000 won in one night. Chaewon throws the phone on the bed, her hands shaking, her heart in pieces. At Black Velvet, Yuna checks it all out, laughing as she humiliates: “Look, the little idol is learning how to be a slut properly.”

It’s Saturday night, and Hongdae is a hive of lights and sound, with bars blaring K-pop music, girls in high heels stumbling on the sidewalks, and the smell of soju and fried chicken in the air. Black Velvet is packed. Tattooed owner Min-jae’s counter is covered in sticky glasses, and the electronic beat, like something from Jay Park, makes the tables vibrate. Chaewon darts between customers, her uniform—a black lace bodysuit that looks like a web, strappy panties, and a jingling chain belt—leaving her exposed to hungry eyes. Her red lipstick is smeared from biting her lip, sweat drips down the back of her neck, and every “Hey, kitty!” from a drunk customer is a stab to the soul. But she keeps her smile on, pouring shots of “Hot Sin” while thinking about SimpSpace, where, as “VelvetKitten,” she’s making money from dirty texts, twerking videos, and audios that make her want to vomit with embarrassment.

During her break, Chaewon hides in the back room, a cramped space with boxes of liquor and a cracked mirror. She checks her phone, her heart sinking, and sees a new message on SimpSpace. It’s from a guy with the nickname “GoldKing88,” a VIP subscriber who’s already spent thousands of won in the past few days. The message is straightforward: “Kitten, I’ll pay you 5 million won for a personalized video. I want you on a leash, on all fours, moaning my name and begging to be mine. 10 minutes, no cuts.” Chaewon’s stomach drops—5 million is more than she makes in months at Starlight Entertainment. But the thought of humiliating herself like this, on a leash, begging, is too much. She tosses her phone into her bag, muttering “No way,” but Yuna’s shadow is already looming.

Back at the bar, Chaewon is serving a table of guys in suits when Yuna appears. “Time to check out SimpSpace star VelvetKitten!” Yuna announces, loud enough for a few heads to turn, and Chaewon blushes, her tray shaking. At the counter, Yuna grabs her phone without asking, laughing as she scrolls through her messages. “Wow, look at this! ‘GoldKing88’ wants to leash you? And 5 million won? Damn, Soo-min, you’re hot!” Chaewon tries to grab the phone, her teeth grinding together. “Yuna, stop this shit. I’m not doing this,” she spits, her voice low, but Yuna leans in. “You’re not?”

Chaewon feels the floor disappear, the bar spinning around her. “You’re destroying me, Yuna,” she mutters, her eyes watering, but Yuna laughs, tossing her blonde hair. “Destroying me? I’m making you rich, you ungrateful bitch. Now take the guy’s offer, record this video, and give me half. Or do you want me to send your slutty face to the Starlight gossip group?” Yuna pokes her chest, her finger digging into her lace bodysuit. “And do it well, huh? Collar, on all fours, moaning like the little slut he wants. If not, it’s over.” Yuna throws the phone in her hand and walks off, shouting “Good luck, Kitten!” to the audience of customers, who laugh, thinking she’s joking. Chaewon stands still, her heart racing, the humiliation burning, but a spark of excitement — dirty, wrong — grows at the thought of so much money and attention.

In the apartment, the silence is broken only by the buzz of a neon sign outside, casting pink light on the peeling wall. Chaewon stands in front of the mirror, her body trembling as she puts on what Yuna sent her: black lace panties, a jingling chain belt, and a cheap leather collar she bought at a sex shop in Itaewon, her heart clenching with each click. The lace bodysuit has been replaced by a top that barely covers her nipples, and she feels the fabric brush against her skin, igniting a heat that embarrasses her. She turns on her phone’s camera, SimpSpace opens, and takes a deep breath. I’m not that, she thinks, but Yuna’s threat—Min-jae, Starlight, her career—weighs more than her pride.

Chaewon kneels on the carpet, on all fours, her collar glinting in the lamplight. “Hi, GoldKing,” she begins, her voice husky, forcing a sensual tone. “I’m here for you… your Kitten wants to be yours.” She moans his name, as if he were asking, and grinds slowly, her belt jingling, her panties slipping slightly. “Please… make me yours,” she murmurs, the words cutting like knives, but the money—5 million won—shines in her mind. The embarrassment is suffocating, but the comments that pop up on SimpSpace—“You’re perfect, Kitten, my hot slave”—get to her. The video lasts 10 minutes, every second a test of her limits, and when she turns off the camera, she’s sweating, her face flushed, her body strangely hot. Money drips into her account, and Chaewon throws the collar on the floor, muttering, “Fuck, what have I become?” But deep down, a part of her—rebellious, lively—is starting to enjoy the game, even if it’s dangerous.

The next night, at Black Velvet, Yuna checks the video on Chaewon’s phone, laughing out loud. “Look at that, the little idol with the collar! She’s turning pro, Soo-min!” She squeezes Chaewon’s arm, forcing her to look at the screen while the customers around her jeer. “Don’t forget: half of it is mine, or I’ll fuck you up.”

As time goes by, the messages from subscribers start to explode: “Kitten, you with a collar are my fantasy,” says one. “I want to see you cry from cumming,” writes another. Chaewon feels her face burn with embarrassment—she’s a Starlight Entertainment intern, dreaming of being an idol, not a “VelvetKitten” on all fours. But, damn, there’s something about this that gets to her. Every dirty compliment, every won dripping into her account, is like a drug. She’s scared, of course—scared of Yuna, of being exposed, of becoming this forever. But there’s also a perverse pleasure, an adrenaline rush of being desired, of exposing herself and, in some twisted way, controlling these guys through her cell phone. They want me, she thinks, and the thought makes her pussy throb, even though she hates to admit it.

On another day at work, Yuna drags Chaewon to the back room, a claustrophobic space with boxes of liquor and a cracked mirror. “Time to spice things up, VelvetKitten,” Yuna says, her tone acidic, tossing a black marker into her hand. “The subscribers want more, and you’re going to give it to them. Write what they tell you on your body.” Chaewon blinks, her heart racing. “What?” she blurts, but Yuna shows her phone, open to SimpSpace, with messages from subscribers: “Write ‘whore’ on your boobs, Kitten,” says one. “I want ‘slave’ on my ass,” asks another. Chaewon feels her stomach churn, but Yuna just says, “Do it, Soo-min.” Chaewon grits her teeth, anger mixed with that twisted pleasure she’s starting to enjoy. “You’re trash,” she spits, but takes the marker, trembling.

In the mirror, Chaewon pulls up her top, exposing her breasts, and writes “whore” in large letters, the marker cold on her skin. On her thigh, she scribbles “slave,” and on her stomach, “yours.” Each word is a stab, but also an electric shock—she’s humiliated, but the idea of thousands of guys paying to see this makes her feel powerful, even if it’s dirty. Yuna laughs, clapping her hands together. “Perfect, you little bitch. Now record a video for the subscribers. I want you dancing, rubbing those words, and moaning like they’re fucking you.” Chaewon wants to scream, but Yuna has her phone out, recording the humiliation. In the apartment, Chaewon films, dancing with the words exposed, shaking her hips as she moans, “I’m your whore, daddy,” her voice husky, her body hot. The subscribers go crazy—“You’re my queen, Kitten!”—and the money pours in, but Chaewon is torn, her perverse pleasure fighting with the shame of seeing herself like this.

When she returns to the bar, it ends up more crowded than ever, the air thick with sweat and incense. Chaewon pours shots, her vinyl top gleaming, the words “whore” and “slave” hidden beneath her clothes but burning into her skin. Yuna appears at the counter, her villainous smile shining. “Good news, Soo-min. A top subscriber, ‘DiamondLord,’ wants a private meeting. He’s offering 10 million won to see you in person.” Chaewon freezes, her tray shaking. “In person? Are you crazy?” she spits, but Yuna laughs, crossing her arms. “You’re the crazy one, thinking there’s a way out. He’s powerful, like he owns a club or something. He wants you in a suite downtown, and he said he wants to… satisfy you. You go, you’re going to be his little whore for a night, and you give me half.”

Yuna leans in, her finger poking Chaewon’s chest. “Imagine, Soo-min, a Starlight producer knowing that you write ‘whore’ on your body. Or Min-jae kicking you out for lying. Accept the date, or I’ll fuck you.” Chaewon feels the bar spin, the customers screaming in the background, the electronic beat like a hammer. The imaginary collar tightens — and, fuck, that dirty pleasure is there, whispering that maybe she wants this, just a little. “You’ll pay for this, Yuna,” she murmurs, but Yuna just blinks, blowing a sarcastic kiss. “Good girl, Kitten. If you play nice, who knows you might like it.” Chaewon stares at the bar, her soju glass glistening, and knows she’s sinking into a game where limits no longer exist.

Chaewon leaves Black Velvet after another hellish shift, her body exhausted, her uniform stuck to her sweaty skin. Her red lipstick is smudged, and the words “whore” and “slave,” which she washed off with force, still seem to burn into her skin. In her apartment, Chaewon flops down on her bed, her phone flashing with messages from SimpSpace. “DiamondLord” has confirmed the meeting: a suite at a luxury hotel in downtown Seoul, tomorrow night. “I want my Kitten live, ready to serve me,” he writes, and Chaewon feels her stomach churn. 10 million won is a fortune, but satisfying a stranger? That’s a line she’s never wanted to cross.

But Yuna doesn’t give her a choice. At the bar, before Chaewon could leave, Yuna cornered her in the back room, the cramped space smelling of vodka and dust. “You’re going to do it, Soo-min, and you’re going to make him cum with happiness,” Yuna said with a laugh. “If you try to run away, you know what. Imagine your bosses seeing the little idol moaning ‘fuck me, daddy.’” Yuna threw a bag with a “costume” — a red lace lingerie, a rhinestone collar, and a butt plug with a shiny jewel — that made Chaewon gag. “He asked for it, Kitten. Be a good slut,” Yuna mocked, poking her in the chest.

Chaewon stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her heart racing, the bag of “costume” that Yuna had thrown in her face open on the sink. The red lace lingerie is so thin it shows off her nipples, the rhinestone collar sparkles like a trophy, and the butt plug with a red jewel makes her swallow hard. Chaewon has never worn anything like this—her asshole is virgin, and just thinking about the sensation makes her stomach turn. But Yuna is clear: “DiamondLord wants you in this, Kitten.” Chaewon takes a deep breath, her red lipstick trembling as she applies lip gloss. I choose to do this, she thinks, trying to convince herself, the perverse pleasure she’s been feeling in SimpSpace fighting with her fear.

She slips on the lingerie, the fabric brushing against her skin, and puts on the collar, the rhinestone cold on her neck. Then, hands shaking, she grabs the plug and a tube of lube she bought at a sex shop in Hongdae, her face burning with embarrassment. Chaewon leans over the sink, her lace panties pulled to the side, and spreads the lube, the cold gel making her gasp. When she pushes the plug in, the pain is immediate—a sharp burn that makes her bite her lip, her eyes watering. “Fuck, that hurts,” she murmurs, her body tensing but pushing harder, her virgin asshole resisting before giving in. The plug goes in, the jewel glistening between her buttocks, and each movement sends a wave of pain mixed with a strange pleasure, as if she’s crossing a line she never wanted. Chaewon looks at the mirror, at the collar, at the lingerie, at the plug—she’s no longer the Starlight intern, but “VelvetKitten,” and that, in some twisted way, makes her feel alive. She pulls on a black trench coat over it, grabs her high heels, and heads out for the date, the plug tightening with every step.

The suite at the Lotte Hotel in the heart of Seoul is a dream of wealth: floor-to-ceiling windows with the skyline shining down, a king-size bed with black silk sheets, a bottle of Dom Pérignon champagne sweating on the table, and the smell of leather and jasmine in the air. Chaewon enters, her coat falling to the floor, revealing her red lingerie, her rhinestone collar, and her heels clicking on the marble. The butt plug sends shocks of pain and arousal with every movement, and she tries to maintain her “VelvetKitten” pose, even with her heart in her throat. DiamondLord, or Jin-ho, is waiting: in his 40s, with slicked-back hair, an Armani suit, and a smile that mixes charm with hunger. “Fuck, Kitten, you’re a living sin,” he says, his voice deep, pouring champagne. Chaewon smiles, her lip gloss glistening, and accepts the glass, the cold liquid calming her nerves. “I want to make you happy, Lord,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse, knowing she’s there by choice — Yuna forced her, but she wants the 10 million and, perhaps, this dangerous game.

Jin-ho leans in, his eyes fixed on her, and pulls Chaewon into a deep kiss, his tongue invading, the taste of champagne and whiskey mingling. She responds, her hands on his chest, feeling the heat through his shirt. “On your knees, Kitten,” he orders, his voice firm, and Chaewon obeys, the soft carpet against her knees, the plug tightening as she moves. She unzips his suit, his cock already hard, and licks the glans, slowly, like she learned from the SimpSpace videos. “Fuck, you know how to suck,” Jin-ho groans, his hand on the collar, tugging lightly. Chaewon swallows harder, her throat tight, the wet sound echoing in the suite. She’s nervous, but the wicked pleasure grows, the control she has over him even on her knees. He comes fast, the warm liquid filling her mouth, and Chaewon swallows, cleaning her lips with her tongue, her eyes fixed on his. “Good girl,” he says, laughing, and grabs a bottle of blue pills from the table, swallowing two with champagne. “I’m just getting started, Kitten.”

Jin-ho lifts her up, his hands ripping her red lingerie, the lace falling in shreds, exposing her breasts and strappy panties. “You’re mine today,” he growls, but Chaewon, sensing the power of the moment, whispers, “Then use me right, Lord.” He throws her on the bed, exploring her body with his hands and mouth, sucking on her nipples until she moans, his fingers in her pussy, wet despite her shame. Chaewon arches her body, the butt plug intensifying everything, and comes for the first time, a muffled scream, the pleasure fighting with the guilt of being so exposed. “Fuck, you come good,” Jin-ho says, and flips her onto her stomach, pulling her panties aside. “I’ve never done anal,” she confesses, her voice shaking, but adds, “I want to try… with you.” He lubes the plug, pulling it out slowly, the pain making her bite the sheets, and thrusts his cock in, slowly at first, then harder. Chaewon screams, the burning mixed with pleasure, and obeys when he commands: “Touch your pussy, Kitten.” She masturbates, her fingers quick, and comes again, her body shaking as he fucks her ass, ejaculating with a hoarse groan.

Exhausted, he leads her to the shower, steam filling the marble bathroom, hot water running down her skin. Jin-ho presses her against the wall, penetrating her pussy this time, his wet collar glistening. “You’re my slut, Kitten,” he says, but Chaewon, feeling the pleasure taking over, replies: “I’m yours… but only today.” They fuck until exhaustion, she coming once more, her legs weak. When they’re done, Jin-ho hands her a fat envelope—10 million won—and dresses her in one of his shirts, the fabric smelling of cologne. “It was perfect, Kitten,” he says, his tone hardening. “But if you open your mouth about this, I’ll find you, and you won’t like it.” Chaewon smiles, feigning submission, but inside she is plotting. In the elevator, the envelope in her bag, she feels her body aching, but alive, and one thing is certain: this game is changing her.

At Black Velvet, the next day, Chaewon was still serving shots, her vinyl uniform shining, her short skirt exposing her thighs marked by her encounter with Jin-ho. The rhinestone collar is hidden in her bag, but the weight of it — and the 10 million won — gives Chaewon a new confidence, an anger that is ready to explode. The encounter with DiamondLord was more than sex: Jin-ho let it slip that Yuna had worked with him, selling nudes on SimpSpace and doing “extras” at nightclubs, things that Min-jae, the bar owner, never knew about. Chaewon dug through the app and found old messages from Yuna on a deleted profile, with explicit photos and promises that could screw her over with Min-jae and even with the police, since Black Velvet is illegal.

Chaewon waits for the break, her blood boiling. When Yuna walks past her at the bar, laughing and shouting, “How was your date with that rich guy, VelvetKitten?” Chaewon can’t take it anymore. She grabs Yuna’s arm, her nails digging in, and drags her into the back room, ignoring the stares of the customers. “What the fuck, Soo-min?” Yuna whines, trying to pull away, but Chaewon slams the door shut, the sound muffled by the noise of the bar. Chaewon pushes Yuna against the wall, her vinyl top glistening in the dim light. “Enough of your shit, you bitch,” Chaewon growls, her voice shaking with rage, and slaps Yuna hard across the face, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Yuna stumbles, her piercing shaking, her hand on her face red. “Are you crazy?!” she screams, but Chaewon doesn’t stop, landing another slap, her red lipstick shining as she spits, “You’re the crazy one, thinking you can fuck me forever.”

Chaewon pulls out her phone, showing Yuna’s old messages on SimpSpace. “Look here, you hypocritical bitch. Selling nudes, sucking dick in nightclubs, and Min-jae doesn’t know anything about it. Do you want me to show it to him? Or to the police, who are already looking at this bar?” Yuna goes white, her eyes wide, but tries to defend herself: “You have no balls, Soo-min.” Chaewon laughs, an acidic sound, and grabs Yuna’s blonde hair, pulling hard until she moans in pain. “Balls? I became a bitch in SimpSpace, and now you’re going to be mine.” To humiliate her even more, Chaewon grabs the black marker from the table — the same one Yuna used to force her to write “whore” on her body — and writes “SLUT” on Yuna’s forehead, the thick line shining on her skin. “See how good it feels?” Chaewon scoffs, throwing the marker on the floor. “If you open your mouth, I’ll show your pictures to the whole bar.”

Yuna is shaking, her face red, the word “SLUT” shining like a stamp. “You’ll… regret it,” she mutters, but Chaewon slaps her again, a lighter one, just to make a point. “Regret it? You made me a whore, Yuna. Now shut up and obey, or I’ll make you swallow this piercing.” Chaewon leaves the little room, her heart racing, her anger mixed with a sadistic pleasure she’s never felt before. At the bar, she serves shots with a new smile, her uniform shining, while Yuna, still in the back, wipes the marker off with shaking hands. Chaewon has won this battle, but she knows Yuna won’t stay quiet.

[togament]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM😭😭

Please could you do a fluffy thirst of how the boys (togame, sakura, kaji, ume maybe suo) treat the reader after they’ve gone a round 🥲 like their afterglow ❤️

ANON. You and your brain!!!!!! Yoinking it out of your skull to kiss it. Thank you for the kind words! This got me flying off the hinges I worked on this so fast. Locked in, I fear. I hope you don't mind me adding Endo in. He's like a stray cat atp. Don't mind him.

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

suo. sakura. kaji. ume. kiryu. togame. endo.

"ever wondered how it'd be like to just lay there with him, naked both physically and emotionally. So bare and vulnerable, skin reddened and raw, bodies aching. But with both hearts so full, it's almost bursting at the seams? I got it."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Sakura was written with his character development in the most recent chapter in mind! (SOBBING), some language (I'm not exactly the best person to trust with keeping things clean and straight yk), mentions of sex, mentions of cuuuuum, GN!Reader but let me know if I made any mistakes--I'll rectify dat rq (edited Sakura’s!! Tysvm anon!!! Dw you didn’t come across as rude, promise), FLUFF OOEY GOOEY FLUFF, endo???? BEING A PROPER CITIZEN??? LOVER EVEN??????, kinda NSFW? not too spicy but still--MDNI!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

Your room's dimly lit by candlelight and the moonlight shining through the blinds. Wafts of incense and patchouli caress your senses while your beloved wipes you down with a warm towel. "Good enough for you, my dove?" he pauses as he's looking up at you and you're met with Suo looking at you as though you've hung the moon yourself. Leaning in for a lingering forehead kiss, he mutters into your scalp, "my god you're absolutely ethereal."

✦ your apartment transforms into something damn close to a spa. Suo's big on scents so he has the cool breeze flowing in, incense lit, scented candles gently perfuming the air. It's magical every time. ✦ goes without saying that he loves, loves, LOVES spoiling you. Worshipping you, even. You swear sometimes his lips would never leave your skin with how often he's placing kiss after kiss on your body. ✦ scalp massages! Suo's an absolute beast at it. You always wake up to your hair smelling of some of his essential oils. It's a whole selection and he doesn't like sticking to just one scent. Hell, your body feels so moisturized and plump once you wake up in the morning.

══════════════════ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

"Yer so pretty," Sakura's voice is soft, gentle. A far cry from his harsh and rough tone. God. He's looking at you with such reverence you feel like you're gonna melt. Leaning towards you, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. There it is. He's blushing again. "My baby’s so pretty."

✦ he's not blushing profusely anymore. Or at least, not as red as he normally is when he's around you. he's just laid there beside you, staring into your eyes with the softest expression on his face. Gratitude. Admiration. ✦ often spends most of the time staring at you like that so lovingly. So much so that you gotta remind him to wipe you down because god the cum's starting to make you feel uncomfortable with how cold it feels. ✦ is actually such a great cuddler. Especially after such a rough session. ESPECIALLY. Doesn't want to let you go the entire time.

══════════════════ 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

"Let me clean you up," reaching beside you, your lover says with a slight groan as he grabs the tissues off to your side. Taking a few squares, he wipes you down wordlessly, the cautious speed ever evident. It's silent. Soothing. His other arm's never left your side, you notice. Gripping onto your hip ever so securely.

✦ not a huge talker after the fact. But he's quick to clean you up and attend to your needs. It's mostly just short, meaningful praises and reassurances with the both of you, basking in the afterglow. ✦ what he lacks in words, he makes up for in actions. He loves lavishing your body with kisses, caressing where you’re aching the most. ✦ Likes the silence since it's only with you where he doesn't need his headphones to put the world on mute, doesn't need a lollipop to censor his filthy, ruthless mouth. But of course, if it's assurance and praise you need, it's assurance and praise you'll get. His lips are devoid of sweets after all. Time for you to keep them busy.

══════════════════ 𝐔𝐌𝐄.

"Do you need anything else from me, baby? A massage? Some cuddles?" your lover asks you while he's wiping your inner thighs down clean from his cum that's been dribbling down them, always eager to cater to your needs at all times. Pressing a gentle kiss to the skin, he adds gently, "Whatever you need."

✦ way sweeter than he usually is with you. Which is saying a lot because your man's the absolute sweetest around you all the damn time! Presses kisses everywhere, whispers the most heart melting praise while he's hard at work soothing your body.... BIG SIGH. ✦ likes making you laugh even when your body's aching from him practically going all in on you. Says it's the best way to distract you from the pain. Still, he's massaging you if you'd like him to. Happy to oblige. ✦ ugh the ASSURANCE he gives you every time. The PRAISE?????? ALL GENUINE. ALL FROM THE HEART. It happens every time you're both still awake after the romp. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

══════════════════ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin as he's trailing kisses down your spine, corners of his lips curled up into a gentle smile. You can feel it with each kiss he presses onto your skin. His skillful thumbs pressing soothing circles in your aching muscles, rubbing the soreness away. "How'd I get so lucky?"

✦ PRAISE IS THE ABSOLUTE NAME OF THE GAME.

✦ he's so good at massaging you omg the thought of paying him for it has crossed your mind a couple of times. You feel so guilty for being massaged and pampered this good FOR FREE. ALL THE TIME. ✦ likes talking you through everything, whispering assurances and checking in with you during the act and after. Never fails to make you feel like you're cherished. With Kiryu, you truly are. And more.

══════════════════ 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

"Need a massage?" he says as he's already flexing his hands, reaching over for the massage oil. Eyes so lovestruck as he gazes into your own, he coos at you gently, "Little reward yeah?" Pressing a gentle kiss right behind your ear, he whispers deeply, his voice ends with a slight grumble, "Did so good f'me, doll."

✦ Of course, always attentive to you. Slow with wiping you down but god is it soothing with how he's doing it so gently. Purring praises into it every time. If you're feeling peckish, no matter how tired he is, he's making something for you in the kitchen. ✦ can and would eat you out if you wanted him to help ride out your high again. Gentle with it again too since he knows how sensitive you are. Pretty easy to wrap into another round though. ✦ After all that, you both are out like lights as soon as your heads hit the pillow. He's got you close to him though, arms encasing you, breaths intertwined. Comfortable.

══════════════════ 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎.

"Fuck... ME," he says with a gentle chuckle, voice akin to a purr you can swear it rumbles, tone so honeyed and syrupy. Reaching over to your side of the bed, your lover cups a tattooed hand over your cheek, sliding his thumb over the apex of it ever so slowly. "You're gorgeous."

✦ Always, always at your beck and call. Need something? He's on it. Back aches from the diabolical backshots? He's already prepping your body with massaging oil. Need him to wipe the cum away? Of course he's on that shit ASAP (with his tongue). Would do whatever it is that you want him to do within a heartbeat. ✦ Often tries to get another round out of you. He genuinely, genuinely CANNOT get enough of you. Only if you're cool with him trying though. He's not gonna force things on you if you don't want it. ✦ lavishes you with so much love sometimes it's suffocating. It only ramps up in intensity after fucking. If you like them obsessively clingy, he's your man.

a/n: HOOOOOOO anon I hope this was alright!!!! These were all such fun to do oml. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THROUGH ALL THIS AHSDKHAKJSD more requests like these please!!!! aaaaa

[cafterdark]

I don't think y'all truly grasp what fucking a god would be like.

Not only are they beings who can shape reality like clay, but they have such a massively different conception of time, morality, and existence that they become alien to you

For example, let's say you are a normal guy:

One moment you're looking at yourself in the mirror, the next in a quiet field. Before you even have a chance to react, a voice rips through your tissue paper body. It is multilayered, unable to stick to one voice, but is it smooth and alluring and almost feminine.

"I have chosen thee to be my temple." The voice says.

"W...who are you?" You stutter out.

The voice doesn't answer. For a moment you wonder if you've gone insane, then she begins. A thousand hands of light touch you, some delicate and precise, some wild and rough. They grab and grope and tear and claw and brush and pinch and slap all over, all at once. One hand grabs your short hair and forces you to look up in the air and she says:

"Let me show you your purpose."

You are launched in time to a temple, backwards or forwards, you don't know. It is lit by candles, showing that you're at the feet of a massive marble statue of a nude woman. The hands force you to your knees, all while feeling up your boiling body. You look up and only catch a glimpse of her beautiful thighs before you're unstuck in time again.

You feel yourself dragged back to reality. You're in a woman's body, being fucked by two other women in a dingy hotel. One hold the leash to a collar around your neck, the other holding your legs as she fucks you with her dick. The hands are still there and guide you, teasing each moans from your throat and buck of your hips. You've never felt this good ever as you start ascending the mountain of arousal. The collar chokes you enough for a momentary blackout

You're back in the temple, still looking up. You catch a glimpse of her hips, grabbable, with curves in just the right spots. You blink in awe and find yourself in another woman's body, actually no, a robot woman's body. You're connected to a machine made of tech so powerful you can't comprehend by series of wires and plugs throughout your body. A woman, dressed in lab wear smiles, kisses you, and starts the machine. You feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. The woman's smile widens, then a notification appears on your HUD

Sensitivity increased 150%

A soft glide teaches down your back and you feel your entire body kicks in response. You ascend further up, climbing step after step towards orgasm. Each touch the machine simulates makes you skip ten steps. The woman's laughs at you makes you skip more. The heat is unbearable, your fans spinning at Max speed, their noise filling the background. You get a warning notification about overheating and you're back at the temple.

The hands keep your arousal steady as the hand tilts your head further up still. You're enraptured by the most perfect pair of tits you have ever seen. The last bit of thought you we're holding onto is wiped away by their glory. But before you can properly worship them, you're thrown back in time.

You're in another temple, hazy and thick with the perfume of incense. You're in a priestess' body slick with oil, prepared to worship your goddess with your other priestesses. You look around and see the rest of your order staring at you and approach. After a long moment, you realize that you're the offering. The other women attack you with kisses and teeth and hands and nails in just the right spots. Each blow brings you closer to the peak. They pin you down and begin fucking you with their trained tongues and you blank out. You're so close now you can see the peak. You pray to just be allowed to reach it.

You're set back to the temple again and with one swift yank of your long hair, brings your eyes to the statues face.

It's you.

You don't know how you know. It looks nothing like you, but it's you. And you're gorgeous you can feel the orgasm coming, it's so so so so close now. The world stops, your body freezes.

You find yourself stuck one step before the peak, staring at your beautiful features and unable to do anything about it. You're stuck there for a long time. An hour? A year? A Millennia? A second? You don't know. But by the end, you're asking Her to let you cum. She responds:

"Do you know your purpose?"

"Yes... Goddess," you pant out. "As your temple... Where your followers... Worship you"

"Good Girl" She says.

Those two words bring you over the edge and you find yourself cumming harder than you've ever done before. Each convulsion rips away a part of your past life, what you ate for breakfast, your job, your hobbies, your name. If you could think through the tsunami of pleasure, you wouldn't care. Goddess will provide, she always will. But for now, you are drowning in devotional ecstasy.

After an eternity, you finally feel the afterglow bleed in. The hands let go and you collapse to the floor, letting the darkness consume you.

You wake up on the bathroom floor and groan. Was it really just a dream? You get up and look in the mirror and see you. Not the fake you that you wore before, but the you Goddess crafted, her masterpiece. You smile and dance in your body, that statue turned flesh, and laugh a beautiful laugh to celebrate and thank Her.

"You know your purpose and are trained in it," She says in the back of your mind. "Begin."

"Yes Goddess"

You leave the bathroom and begin your new life. After all, what's a god without her temple?

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate.

Kurkans Prisoner.

Yan! Ishakan x reader.

Part 3.

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Word Count : 3,77 Word

Hello.. Neva again here, I hope you are well and happy and have a nice days, Is beens so longs i dont post any story, anyways, hope you enjoy my story love ♡.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

-Kurkans Mate Pt. 1

-Kurkans Mate Pt. 2

.

.

The sound of snorting and wind can be felt and heard, your body feels like people riding horses in general, it's normal because it's a horse and the warmth of a hand hugging you.

Wait, what? Horse and hand?!.

Your eyes that were closed suddenly opened wide, the night sky full of stars was the first thing you saw.

Then you saw it, the strange man you had helped in the forest and with his ungratefulness made Esmera your savior faint, and here you are now, kidnapped by a strange man named Ishakan!?.

.

Ishakan while holding the horse's reins, he looked at you who looked at him as if Ishakan was a barbarian, where he just chuckled softly.

"Did you sleep well, rabbit?" The deep voice and full of temptation seemed to mock you.

"You?! How dare you kidnap me!? Are you crazy?" Growling and staring fiercely at the man behind your body.

Instead of getting an answer, you got a laugh, a straightforward laugh full of deep voice.

"Calm down, rabbit, why are you so fierce? I told you, you're my mate"

Ishakan looked at you with an amused look, and a grin around his lips?! You wanted to slap him so bad!

Of course, you didn't run out of ideas, moving right and left, screaming at him, which in the end was in vain and ended up with your throat hurting from screaming.

Ishakan saw you trying to get out of his grip, just chuckled in annoyance at your actions.

Ohh, how this rabbit is so small, so fragile, and soft, so in need of protection.

.

.

Along the desert road at night, you spent your time contemplating, your family was all gone, your savior Esmera was knocked unconscious by the person you helped, and now you were being kidnapped by the person you helped ungratefully.

Meanwhile, Ishakan, he just grinned a little looking at you who had surrendered, Ishakan would never give you up to the world, you were the only Antrabeth who survived, his savior, his mate.

Ishakan had thought of many things he would do with you when he arrived at the palace, Bathing you, feeding you food and dates so that your body would be more fertile.

Marrying you and making you his queen, taking you here and there when he worked as a king.

Oh... how there were so many things he wanted to do with you.

.

.

That night, a pair of two people on horses, passing through the desert accompanied by the night wind and the stars shining brightly in the beautiful sky there.

Without realizing it, Ishakan looked down, where he saw you, sleeping soundly, of course, you must be tired of screaming, struggling, even slapping him wanting to be released.

Chuckling a little, how full of energy this rabbit was. Ishakan's hands gently fix your sleeping position, close to the warmth of his body, wrapped in his soft and warm black robe.

.

.

A soft pillow, the scent of roses all over the room, you increasingly bury your face in this soft pillow like a cloud.

Pillow...

Pillow....

Soft like a cloud...

Wait... what?! Pillow?!

Your eyes open wide, your body automatically sits up, your heart beats fast in panic!.

You were kidnapped! By the man you saved!. Looking around the large room, candles on special gold hangers, 2 gold sticks at the top have a shape like a cup that emits smoke, it must be the incense aroma you smell in this room!.

Luxurious carpets embroidered intricately, tall pillars covered in gold and intricate patterns, around the window silk fabrics move gently.

Around the bed you occupy, surrounded by colorful translucent fabrics such as yellow, red and dark colors.

This room is so luxurious, you swear even your family in heaven will not believe what you are experiencing right now!.

This room is even bigger than your family's wooden house in the Antra tribe!.

You accidentally look down at your hand, your previously white clothes that you wore before, have been replaced with intricate embroidery clothes, soft silk fabric, kurkans patterns.

Damn!, who changed your clothes?! You hope it's not the man who kidnapped you.

As fast as lightning, you stand up and run towards the window only to see that below the window is a lotus pond that you are sure is deep or not. It will be very clear if you jump your fate is determined.

Between dying or running out of breath from drowning! You are not even sure if there is a crocodile or a snake in there.

Turning back, only to be silent! There at a door. Standing a woman or... a man? Holding a tray of food?, You are not sure! Big body, face like a man, long and curly hair but wearing a dress?! Look at the biceps! You are sure you will die if you get hit by his/her fist.

You and the person at the door, both stared in silence. Only the sound of burning incense, the sound of the wind and the light blowing of the sound of the gold ornaments hanging on each window.

.

.

The return of Ishakan after disappearing for more than 12 hours made the Kurkans palace experience an uproar because their king returned with a woman in his arms?!.

With blue hair like the sky, it clearly did not look like an illusion or a magic medicine to change hair color. So fragile and small! Very different from the people in the Kurkans tribe!.

Genin, Haban, Mura as Ishakan's close aides, could only stare doubtfully at Ishakan who walked past them casually!.

Mura looked at Haban and Genin, apparently he wasn't the only one who was confused!

"You two... did you know this would happen?"

Both Genin and Haban shook their heads.

"That blue hair as blue as the sky? Isn't the Antra tribe extinct?"

Genin asked Haban and Mura.

"Well they should have been extinct, I mean, 5 months ago their village was looted, mass murdered by the kingdom's knights and wizards"

Haban answered while grinning and getting a love punch by Mura.

"Judging from how His Highness held the woman... could it be that 3 months ago in the forest... was that the woman His Highness was talking about?"

Haban asked Genin, but the woman just stared doubtfully.

.

.

.

That night Ishakan asked Mura and Genin and the Kurkans tribe to prepare for his wedding with his wild rabbit!.

The Kurkans tribe had never seen the woman Ishakan brought, they only thought that maybe it was Princess Leah de Estia. Because there were some of the Kurkans who were saved by Leah from slavery.

Genin was one of the people Ishakan asked to bring you date juice in the morning.

.

.

.

Holding a tray and walking so upright like a skilled warrior, Genin opened the door.

That's where she saw the woman who was kidnapped by Ishakan, with blue hair like the sky, looking at her who was silent.

The woman's eyes ... In Genin's entire life she had never seen someone with eyes or hair like that!

Princess Leah de Estia had snow-white hair and purple eyes but that was not uncommon, there were also some nobles who had hair and eyes like her.

But blue and eyes like the galaxy ... that was another case, a rarity.

Genin swallowed for the first time, the woman in front of her was smaller than herself, she was afraid that if she spoke loudly she might destroy the woman in front of her.

Walking to close the door and turning around, holding the tray slowly and placing it on the table.

Genin stared at the blue-haired woman, Child of nature, Antrabeth tribe, Tribe of 1001 nights, a tribe that goes against the laws of nature.

.

.

Are you looking at a woman or a man ?! in front of you with a pounding heart!, the gender of the person in front of you is hard not to question!.

"Good morning Miss, I am Genin, His Highness Ishakan's aide, according to his orders, I will guard and guard you for 5 days before your wedding and His Highness Ishakan"

A woman's voice! The person in front of you is a woman!?.

Wait... what did she say just now? Married?!

"What?! Married!?!"

You stared at Genin in disbelief!.

"Sorry I refuse to marry!"

With a quick attitude, you refused.

"Unfortunately we Kurkans do not have the words no, refuse, or don't want"

Acting simply, Genin poured date milk juice into a glass and gave it to you.

You stared at the glass that Genin gave you in disbelief.

"This drink is not poisoned, it is made from milk and the taste of dates that His Highness Ishakan picked directly from the tree"

Genin realized your hesitation, said frankly.

You who do not feel good refusing other people's gifts, took the glass.

Genin herself can see, how small you are compared to her, your hands alone seem not half of her hands.

You drink the date juice slowly, the taste is unique, you have never drunk juice or milk like this. It is delicious, soft and sweet, but not too sweet.

"Dates are very good for fertility and sexual arousal, especially young dates, His Highness Ishakan chooses them carefully"

Genin said frankly.

You almost spat out the date milk juice that you drank!.

Fertility and arousal she said?!.

.

.

The afternoon came, Genin, said that, while you were married to Kurkan, according to Kurkan tradition, both you and Ishakan were forbidden to meet each other, for 5 days Ishakan would welcome guests, this was the first day.

As for you, you were forbidden to meet guests, until the 6th day where the wedding ceremony began.

"After the wedding ceremony, Your Highness will spend 5 days and 5 nights with Your Highness, during that time, it coincides with the time of the full moon, the time of Kurkans heat"

You stared Genin in horror! No!! You don't want to marry the person who kidnapped you or even spent 5 days and 5 nights!!.

Feeling that you want to reject the marriage, genin for the second time in her life became melancholic.

Genin told that she had a human husband who she kidnapped, Genin was an aide to the king of the kurkans before Ishakan, the king was so cruel and very tyrannical, both Genin and Haban really didn't like how the king ruled.

Day and night Genin tried to find how to leave but unfortunately when she returned home, she didn't see his husband at home, but in the royal palace, the king tortured her husband, even when she begged the king still punished him.

You looked at Genin sadly. You didn't think that woman could be so strong.

.

.

.

That afternoon you spent going to the garden where Genin had made sure there were no guests or kurkans around.

A soft silk dress with a soft ivory white kurkans pattern. This garden is beautiful, flowers of various patterns there are dahlias, pheonies, roses, and so on.

You don't dare to pick the flowers, you just touch them admiring how soft and beautiful they are, seeing butterflies flying around the flowers, you didn't think that there was a garden as beautiful as this in the heat of this palace ecosystem.

While the genin from her point of view, seeing how you touch the flowers afraid of damaging and hurting them, surrounded by butterflies flying around you, as if they were dancing and protecting you.

This is the first time Genin has seen the Antrabeth tribe. even though I've gotten to know you and talked to you, it still feels unreal, a tribe famous for its myths, suddenly extinct, but look here.

Maybe you are the only one who survived.

Along the garden path, the genin's heart is getting more and more anxious, At the end of the garden, for some reason the genin's feelings are getting more and more anxious.

You walk straight towards a large tree, there you see a man sitting in a wheelchair. With a blanket around his feet, the man looked at Genin and you, then smiled softly as he looked at Genin.

You looked at Genin and the man alternately, confused.

"Lady, this is my husband that I talked about earlier with you"

It turned out that the feeling of anxiety felt by the genin was her husband, she didn't expect her husband to be in the park too.

You looked at the man, smiled softly and greeted him.

"Hello, nice to meet you"

Being formal but friendly, the man just smiled and nodded weakly at you.

A strong wind hit you, well this is the desert, a location where wind and weather cannot be predicted.

The man's blanket fell right in front of your feet, your eyes automatically saw the blanket, bent down and picked up the blanket and looked at Genin's husband, you were stunned.

That man... he has no legs..

You were silent digesting what happened, Genin quickly took the blanket and put it back on her husband, afraid that her husband would feel uncomfortable with your confused gaze.

Silence fell over the three of you.

.

.

Finally you were able to get out of the silence, walking back with Genin to the room you had previously occupied.

You didn't know that around the palace building in the Kurkans kingdom, there were many Kurkans servants and guards who saw you walking.

They had never seen blue hair like that, it was a very, very unusual color.

The antrabeth people who were believed to be a myth but 3 months ago were considered extinct, but there you were, maybe as the only remaining antrabeth tribe.

So beautiful and pretty, so small and fragile, they were sure that if they spoke loudly, you might be destroyed.

.

.

.

Tomorrow has arrived, you only have 3 days left before you are about to become part of the Kurkans, you want to run, go and return to Esmera.

But you don't know where the Esmera forest really is, you might die or end up being kidnapped in that barren desert.

During that day, you kept thinking about her husband Genin, seeing from how he smiled weakly, it was certain that he had no spirit of life.

Losing a leg, is a curse for humans who have previously experienced walking and running.

That night you reflected on yourself, in your hand was a small glass bottle complete with a lid.

You found it right on the dressing table of this bedroom, well even though initially there were contents in it, namely small round diamonds.

You thought back to the words of your father when you were 10 years old.

.

.

• Antra Tribe, Northern Forest.

A dense and fertile shady forest. So warm when the sunlight shyly slipped through the gaps in the leaves and trees.

"But father why do we have to do that? What if the person we help ends up hurting us? instead?"

Your father, sitting in front of you, the two of you sitting on a woven rug made of wool, not much but good enough for a simple decoration.

"Do you know why our tribe is known as the tribe of nature's children?"

"Because we... are close to nature?"

Your young self tilted your head in confusion, your father just chuckled seeing how cute his daughter was.

"Not wrong, but not right either"

"Nature is the source of life for all living things in this world, nature gives rain to the land, the land gives grass to animals, produces delicious and nutritious meat and milk"

You listened to your father speak carefully.

"Forests, trees, leaves provide oxygen for living things, clean air, sunlight provides life resources for plants to grow."

"Nature is good, even though many humans or animals damage them, nature never reprimands them for what they do"

"We are known as nature's children because we are down to earth, we maintain our dignity as nature itself"

Your father saw you trying to understand him, chuckling softly your father continued he spoke.

"We follow nature, they give without receiving anything in return, nature gives to those in need, nature also doesn't care whether they receive it or not"

"Because that's nature, and we as the antra tribe, follow every aspect of nature, we will help those in need, and we don't need to be afraid if they torture or hurt us, nature is fair, they will repay the pain to creatures who love nature"

Chuckling at your confused expression, your father stroked the top of your head gently.

"Listen my sweet Apple bloom, one day you will find a situation where you see living creatures, who have shortcomings, suffering, restlessness, sadness, and loss of zest for life"

"I want, when that time comes, help them, as nature gives and loves, we the antra tribe also give and love"

Speaking softly and lovingly, your father stroked the top of your head.

"Because in truth, the blood that flows inside us, all aspects of our bodies, our tears, our hair are more than what people out there think, we are not a tribe that goes against the laws of nature, but a tribe that is like nature, our blood, hair or tears give and love just like nature, all aspects of ourselves will as we wish, 1 or more drops of our blood or strands of hair or tears, can change destiny, life, the imperfections of people who suffer."

"Understand my applebloom?"

You looked at your father increasingly confused, but could only nod your head.

Your father just laughed seeing you increasingly confused, patting your head affectionately.

Ahh ... how adorable his daughter is.

.

.

1 drop of blood, then that's enough, at least the man's legs are back, but you're not sure, so you prick your index finger with a needle, making one by one the drops of blood fall into a small glass bottle.

3 drops should be enough.

Gently closing the glass bottle with the lid, you gently wiped your fingers so that the blood would not come out again.

You were not sure if this was the right decision, but you felt sad and sorry for Genin's husband, the man must have suffered a lot while he was alive.

Looking out the window, you stared at the beautiful shining stars in the sky.

Waiting for tomorrow, to give the bottle of your blood, to Genin for her husband.

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @thehopingfairy

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[juletheghoul]

educational

a/n: I still have so many asks for this man, and I have not forgotten them! Thank you to everyone who voted, to everyone who takes the time to comment and reblog on my posts. You have no idea how you all have reinvigorated my love for writing, a million hugs and cuddles for all of you. I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! This isn't beta'd, barely proofread. Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

The sun was oppressive. It beat down with a vengeance and the fan in your hand did nothing to alleviate the waves of heat permeating the market. You had half a mind to head right back to the villa, to ask Marcus to bring you on another day when you could focus on anything other than the drops of sweat sliding down your spine, making your new robes stick to your skin. Or the way the stiff leather sandals on your feet rubbed your ankles raw. 

Running back to the villa didn’t seem right however, it tasted too much of defeat, of a refusal to accept your new place in this world and the thought of your General, your husband being disappointed in your inability to shop for yourself put eels into your belly. Gritting your teeth, you continued your hunt for the things you needed. 

“What about this Domina?” Your new attendant, a girl a few years younger than you had been when you’d first joined his house pointed at a blessedly covered stall, golden trinkets glittering where the sun poked through gaps in the covering catching your eye. 

“Let us look.” You smiled, making your way over. There you found a lovely perfumed oil for your skin, at a fairly reasonable price. You also found some of the incense Marcus liked, and a new brush for his hair. You bought them, even though he had sent you with the intent to buy things for yourself. With your purchases made and in the hands of your guards you decided to finally return home, when another stall caught your eye. Gauzy sheer linens covered most of it but when the warm breeze blew them aside, glittering jewels flashed. 

The woman running the stall smiled when you entered, she had streaks of grey in her hair, lovely oiled skin and eyes as dark as night. 

Opals with fire caught inside them hung on golden racks, rubies the size of walnuts, emeralds as green as fresh laurel leaves glittered, all of them entrancing you enough to pull your hands out to touch them. 

“With your skin, those would look lovely.” She walked over, pulling dark blue sapphire earrings from their place on her wall and holding them to your ears. “Beautiful.”

“They are gorgeous, I must admit.” Marcus had told you to buy whatever you wanted, had given you enough coin to splurge but you hesitated. Your eyes fell to a small book on a shelf, a picture of a man and a woman on the cover. 

“That is… very educational. Especially for a married woman.” She pulled the book off the shelf, placing it into your hands for you to peruse. The contents made you gasp. It was a guide book, a guide for the art of love. The art of copulation. There were diagrams, positions to try, all manner of things you’d never even thought of. 

Heat rushed to your face, the thought of showing Marcus, of trying them with him made the heat grow and spread to the place between your thighs. 

“You must have it, I have no doubt your husband will enjoy it, you as well.” She winked and you laughed a nervous little laugh, nodding conspiratorially. 

“You should adorn yourself for him, something glittering, something precious.” She gestured to the jewels once more and you bit your lip, wondering what to choose until you saw what looked to be a belt of different coloured gems. 

“I like this–is it for my waist?” You slid your fingers across it. 

“That would be perfect, not just your waist my lady.” She undid the clasps and arranged it, draping it onto your body. “Usually the ladies wear them over a simple robe to elevate it, but I think it would look just as beautiful against the skin, if you take my meaning.” You could see it, the top part of it like a necklace, with a long line of gems between your breasts leading down to connect with another line of it like a belt. 

With an ache for him, and a considerably lighter purse, you left with your purchases and made your way home once more. 

-

He was occupied, held up in his study with representatives from the Emperor, a senator and a whole host of others taking up his time with important matters. You left him to it, and busied yourself with your own preparations.

The tub was steaming and fragrant when you submerged yourself. Dried flowers and sweet smelling oils swirling with every movement, all manner of different elements coming together to soften your skin and make you shine for him. Thoughts of what he would think of your book fill your mind as you cleanse yourself of the day, musings about what he might choose pull at the corners of your lips as you run the clean washcloth across the expanse of your chest and thighs.

You oil your skin once out of the tub, arrange your hair and adorn yourself with jewels. Golden bracelets and anklets he’d gifted you on your wedding night, an armband shaped like a snake, earrings that dangle and trap the light when you move, the special body chain from the stand. You feel like a goddess, like a priestess readying yourself for worship. 

By the time he comes to bed the need, the arousal is fierce enough to make your hands shake. 

“Apologies my love, I was hoping to have been done sooner but—“ he catches sight of you then, sprawled out on the bed, an airy robe leaving nothing to the imagination, the small book in your hands. His eyes devour you, robbing him of his words, making your heart race.

“I have something for you, something for us.” You rise, exaggerating the swing in your hips with every step you take towards him. Your adornments jingle, a pleasant sound rings with every stride. 

“Do you now?” He licks his lips, and presses his palm to his growing bulge at the sight of you. “I have something for you too, growing stiff and aching.” His hand reaches for you as you get closer, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I do not doubt that.” You laugh, pressing your palms to his chest to keep him from pushing you onto your bed.

“I would very much like to give it to you, nice and deep.” His eyes are so lust blown that the warm brown is now a cold black. A moan escapes at his words, at the feel of his kiss on your throat.

“First, I would like you to look through the book I bought today.” He frowns, confused at the apparent shift. “I believe it could be very educational for us.”

If you weren’t so aroused, so excited to experiment you might have laughed at his expression. Naked shock was all you could see on his face. Never, in all your years within the villa, within his presence had you ever rendered him speechless before. The effect is titillating.

Wordlessly he peruses the pages, cheeks flushing, attention rapt at the diagrams and instructions shown within.

“Gods above.” Your smile deepens at the low whisper of his voice, nerves fraying with anticipation. 

“I am particularly curious about this one.” With trembling hands, you flip the pages to a certain diagram, where the woman is sitting on the man's lap but facing away, her legs closed tightly between his legs underneath her. The thought of Marcus having you that way floods your body with heat. His mouth at your ear, his hands free to slip between your legs or hold onto the weight of your breasts. 

Silently he studies the book, eyes intent. His quiet intensity fills the air between you, it makes you wring your hands with nervous anticipation, almost makes you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Your nerves fray the longer he stares, the old fear of disappointing or upsetting him creeps up your spine, until he smiles and licks his lip. 

“You, my love, continue to surprise me.” He closes the book and sets it aside. 

“Do I?” You take his hand in yours, and press it to your lips, desperate for his approval and for his love.

“Oh yes. Just when I think I cannot be any more fortunate, you spoil me and show me another facet of your love.” He pulls you forward, guiding you to stand between his spread legs at the edge of your bed, pulling the robe off to expose your nakedness.

“Look at you.” His palms slide from the sides of your thighs past your hips where they touch the jewels that adorn your waist. Up, up, up until his thumbs flick at your nipples. 

“You are yourself, my most precious jewel. So beautiful–” He presses his face to your breast, his lips gliding across your skin between words, “-kind, adventurous and brave, sweet as summer fruit,” he skims his nose over the top of your breast before licking at the stiff peak. With a sigh you hold him close, fingernails scratching at his neck, slipping through the fine grey waves, cradling his head close. 

Your heart races as he pours his love onto you, any and all fears are quieted to nothing under the silky slip of his palms against your back. His mouth forms a tight seal around your nipple, enough that it makes you gasp. His smile is predatory, confident and it makes you laugh; half nervous, half exhilarated. 

Your breasts shine with the oil, and his spit when he lets go. You take the opportunity to pull his robes up and off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his manhood, hard and leaking for you. 

“Turn around.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, deep and commanding, irrefutable. His lips press to your shoulder, moving down to your lower back, you squeal in shock and delight to feel his teeth on the meat of your ass. 

“I could devour you whole, do you know that?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

The arousal is enough to choke you, enough to ease the glide of himself against your sex. Butterflies swarm as he pulls you back, guiding his own weeping tip to the tight fist of your cunt until you sink, slowly onto him. You gasp at just how deep, just how full you feel like this. 

“Gods above, woman.” His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, his voice strangled in your ear.

It is so much better than you had imagined.

His thighs bracket yours as you adjust to the fullness, slick dribbles out of you and drenches his lap when his hands do exactly as you hoped they might. With deft fingers he pinches and pulls at your sensitive nipples, teasing the peaks mercilessly as you begin a tentative bounce on his lap.

“Is this how you wanted it?” His breath tickles your neck, painting your skin in gooseflesh. 

“Yes, yes Marcus, just like this-“ your head falls back onto his shoulder, the arousal so fierce it burns through you, sets your heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, trapped in the cage of your ribs. 

“Take it, take your pleasure from me my love, ride this cock—“ he bucks up, pulling a pained moan from somewhere inside you. 

“That’s it, you can do it, milk my fucking cock.” His arm tightens around your middle and you can feel the jewels pinching at your skin, the edge of pain only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins, ripping a swathe through your body in the shape of him, always him. 

Thick fingers force their way between the tight press of your thighs, pinching at your swollen clit and it’s almost too much. Sweat beads in your hairline, slips between your bodies as you roll your hips harder, clenching around him with every tight bounce. 

There are no more words, only the harsh pant of his breath in your ear, the slick, vulgar sound of your wet arousal; the whimpering heralding your climax. 

His fingers leave your clit and you whine, the demand for them to return on the tip of your tongue but he quells it, pressing those same fingers into your mouth. He takes the saliva from your mouth, and returns his fingers to their task. The slip is just right and with a silent scream you freeze, squeezing him tight enough for him to hiss, tight enough to do just as he wanted and milk him for all he’s worth.

His grip around your middle softens, the jewels have left indents in his skin as well as yours, you pull his arm up to press your lips to it. 

Once the blood has settled and you’ve caught your breath, you pull away from him, turning to settle in his lap again only this time facing him. 

His expression is pure bliss, flushed with exertion and smiling with the ghost of his climax still painting his features. 

“I must send you to the market more often, spoil you as you spoil me.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his wrap tightly around your waist.

“So you are pleased with my purchase then?” Your lips press to his mouth, his cheek, the little hairless spot on his chin, your favourite constellation to map out. 

“I am more than pleased with it, but I must study it in depth. So many things to try, so many lessons for us to learn from this book, hmm?” He skims his nose across the column of your throat, smiling into your skin as your heart races for him even with your pleasure still coursing through you. 

“…And you know that I am a quick learner, my love.”

-

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[seafoamaphrodite]

a beginner’s guide to…

✨ altars ✨

here are some materials you can use for an altar, whether it is for your spellwork, a deity, or any other use! altars should reflect your personality, and be a space where you feel happy and safe :D

none of these materials are required, and everything is completely customizable to your beliefs! (just practice respect and safety obviously)

🕯️ basics 🕯️

an altar cloth is a piece of fabric that covers your altar. this could be a bandana, a small blanket, or even a piece of paper!

a glass plate is a mundane but VERY versatile altar piece. it can work as an offering dish, a tray to collect wax drippings, or just a little trinket holder

candles are an easy addition to any altar. you can use any type of candle, but my favorites are taper and prayer candles. scented candles are completely fine to use as well! choose candles based on color and scent

natural materials like crystals, flowers, plants, animal bones (responsibly sourced), etc. are an incredible addition to any altar! if you have a deity altar, learn about their associations and use this to guide your choice

paper and pen/pencil will be your best friend if you write petitions, draw sigils, etc. keep them near your altar for convenience

🌱 cleansing 🌱

many people believe an area should be “cleansed” before it is used as an altar or sacred space

methods of cleansing include incense, water cleansing, sage smudging, and more

incense cleansing is often done by wafting an incense stick or cone through a space and visualizing the smoke clearing out negative energy

sandalwood, lavender, and rosemary are common incense choices for cleansing

water cleansing is something i do a lot, it can be done by sprinkling water in an area or even washing/pouring water. regular tap water is perfectly fine, but you can also incorporate moon water, sun water, rainwater, etc.

smudging with sage involves burning a bundle of sage and, similar to incense cleansing, wafting the smoke through the area. sage smudging is traditional to indigenous tribes like the Lakota and Navajo. as a result, sage smudging (especially the use of white sage) is often considered cultural appropriation when done by non-indigenous people. i am not indigenous nor do i use sage, so i am not incredibly well versed on the subject but i thought i should include it. always do research and practice respect and sensitivity 💌

🌙 takeaways 🌙

finally, your altar is YOUR space. you can include or exclude anything you want; your space doesn’t need to be “aesthetic” or make sense to others

my first altar was a cardboard box with one candle and a handful of crystals. it wasn’t expensive or fancy, but it got me into my practice

through the years, my altar has grown and changed as i have

if you want to make an altar, start with what you have! you would be surprised how powerful your resources are 🩷

[lilea-soniashnyk]

Just 7 low-key basics for any beginning witch:

1) learn how to dress and light a candle without burning your house down. A little oil goes a long way. A lot of oil goes right into a bad situation.

2) learn how to light and position incense so you don’t set off the fire alarms. Fans are an amazing friend. They circulate the smell of the incense to your whole living space, but also diffuses the smoke.

3) do not store your planchette on your ouija board (it’s like leaving your house unlocked).

4) make sure you research oils before you diffuse them if you have animals. I.e citrus straight oils or citrus oil in oil blends make dogs sick and lily oil can kill cats.

And by the gods don’t diffuse banishing oil because you’ll end up with a pepper spray situation.

5) you don’t absolutely need a holder. You just need to soften the bottom of a candle enough (yes with fire) and it will stick to a surface. A flame resistant surface (see rule one about accidentally burning down things).

6) don’t poison the earth with a ring of salt on the grass. Ashes from incense or powdered egg shells works the same. And add nutrients to the soil.

Salt inside, not outside.

And 7) if you live in an apartment or house that will not be friendly to any burning, make your favorite herbs into infusions. You can use them on their own, or mix different ones easily, for any desirable effect. Unlike burning the herbs, smoke detectors shouldn’t go off unless you spray right at them. (Watch for mold in the bottle).

I’m being a touch humerus but I also mean every bit of it.

[lady-griffin]

Powder in Pretend Like It's the First Time

It’s my firm belief that while she may not have figured out everything (because honestly how could she), Powder did know that the Ekko she’s been spending time with wasn’t her Ekko, long before she saw the two different Ekkos.

Personally, I think it’s when Ekko showed her the crystal shards because I think her Ekko knows she still has the gemstones and if he wanted to make something with them... well he would’ve known she had them.

Plus a few other things –

She looked surprised by him lighting the incense for Vi, which I can’t believe is something her Ekko has never done; especially since it looked like she was offering the stick to him so he could light some himself when they first visited the altar.

Her slightly heartbroken face when she leaves the lab to start getting ready for the party.

But also, the way she looked at him when he was carving one of the little monkeys.

It’s a loving look, but also a sad one as well... it feels like she’s starting to develop feelings for this Ekko, while also missing her Ekko.

Because I can't imagine she isn't missing him, he's her best friend and the love of her life - as much as the two Ekkos are alike, it's still not her Ekko.

Finally, there’s her not being confused by Ekko asking if they can pretend like it’s the first time.

She has to know that's not her Ekko and maybe this is just the Timebomb slugs in my head, but when she was hurt and disappointed that he didn’t want to kiss her it felt more like – 'oh I read our friendship wrong and you’re not interested' kind of reaction rather than a 'my boyfriend and I haven’t kissed for days let alone anything else and now he just pulled away from me seriously are we breaking up' kind of reaction.

And honestly, what a weird experience for this girl; I mean it’s million times nicer than anything Jinx has experienced, but still, what a truly bizarre thing for her to go through.

But also talk about true love –

She trusts Ekko because it’s still Ekko, even though she doesn’t know exactly what they’re trying to do with the Z-Drive and also Ekko essentially body snatched her boyfriend.

She doesn’t confront him about any of it – which could just be because it’s one thing to think to yourself “that’s not my boyfriend” versus saying it out loud.

But again, just the way she looks at him. I'm obsessed!!

Seriously, I’m fascinated with all the little micro expressions she has when looking at our Ekko and yeah... I love these two genius idiots so goddamn much, no matter what universe or version of them.

[loveriotss]

DINNER WITH THE TODOROKIS ⸻ shoto todoroki

SYNOPSIS — shoto todoroki invites reader over to a family dinner just to get on endeavor's nerves. REQUEST — "Hi...Could I request a Shoto x reader, where Shoto brings over the reader to family dinner just to piss off Endeavor? <3" INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, 1.2k words WARNINGS — minor spoiler (change in hero rankings), like one swear word

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

“would you like to have dinner with me and my family next saturday?”

you look up from your homework, your eyes meeting his two-colored ones as you freeze for a second at his sudden request. you and shoto were curled up in your dorm. textbooks, notes and stationary sprawled all over the small round table in the middle of your room while you two were completing an assignment given by mr. aizawa.

“dinner? are you sure i won’t be intruding?” you asked him, your fingers fiddling with your pen.

“my sister invited me to a family dinner again. she has been trying her best to make our family..work. my old man will be there too." your eyes widen for a split second before you relax again. oh yeah having dinner at the same table as the number one hero wasn’t a big deal at all! you can handle that..right? you've watched countless journalists having interviews with the fiery man and have read even more comments about him and his cold personality. you didn't know what scared you more — the fact that he was the top hero of Japan or that he was the father of shoto.

“oh..are you sure he won't get mad or anything?" you ask nervously. "if he even tries to be rude to you, we can leave. i don't want you to feel uncomfortable. i'm sorry if this seems like a selfish request of mine..i just wish to see his reaction towards you. i understand if you're busy or don't wish to accompany me-" “NO” you interrupted hurriedly, face turning red as shoto looked at you, slightly startled by the sudden interruption. you cleared your throat before speaking again, “i mean, i’m not busy. i'd love to join you all for dinner.”

shoto’s eyes immediately return to his paper at your words, a hint of red on his cheeks. “okay, I’ll let fuyumi know,” he says with a soft smile on his face.

you stood nervously in front of the gate to the todoroki abode. the exterior of the residence looked like any other traditional japanese house with a stone path leading to the front door. the greenery around the house was neat and well maintained. the house seemed to be emitting a soft glow. you fidgeted with your fingers, wishing you’d had a little more time to practice your “not-freaking-out” face.

you didn't realize how tense your body was until shoto slithered his fingers between yours, interlocking them and giving them a soft squeeze. you relaxed into his touch and gave him a smile before ringing the doorbell.

a pretty young lady with white hair that had hints of red mixed with them emerged from the house and excitedly greeted the two of you, she must be shoto's sister.

"shoto! i'm so glad you're here!" she said before turning towards you and grabbing both your hands, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke, "and you must be y/n! shoto has told me so much about you! it's so nice to meet you!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"hello! nice to meet you too! thank you so much for having me today!" you say, returning her energy.

"thank you for clearing your busy schedules to drop by! and please, call me fuyumi!" she states as she gestures for you two to come in.

you turn your head towards shoto for a moment, mouthing a "she's nice," before following behind fuyumi.

the house wasn't very modern, with tatami mats and sliding doors everywhere. the air was slightly cold but still comfortable enough. there was a delicious aroma in the air; it seemed fuyumi had gone all out. there was the slightest scent of incense sticks wafting down from a hallway but you brushed it off.

fuyumi led you two to a room that consisted of a table surrounded by traditional japanese seats. the dining table was elegantly set, with a feast of rich dishes spread out across the table. however, the air in this room seemed much more tense than it did outside. at the head of the table sat a tall sturdy man who you immediately recognized as endeavor. two seats down to his left sat a young man with white hair.

"hello!" you start, trying to sound as confident as possible, "my name is y/n l/n. thank you for having me!".

"call me natsuo, I am shoto's older brother. it's nice to meet you." says the white-haired man. "it's nice to meet you too natsuo!" you exclaimed happily before turning to endeavor.

"it's nice to meet you, mr. todoroki." you say firmly. endeavor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he managed a curt nod. “likewise. let’s get on with dinner.”

as you took your seat, you noticed endeavor’s gaze occasionally flicking towards shoto, a mixture of curiosity and irritation in his eyes. meanwhile, shoto ignored his father's eyes and carried on eating his cold soba. you could tell that his relaxed demeanor was deliberately designed to get under endeavor’s skin.

as the dinner flowed, you made small conversations with fuyumi and natsuo while shoto piped in once in a while. the room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of utensils, and occasional requests to pass dishes.

“so, l/n,” endeavor started gruffly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him, “how did you and shoto meet?” you took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “we are in the same class. shoto and i were paired for a project and we gradually became closer because of that.”

endeavor’s eyes sharpened. “and what do you think of my son’s… career aspirations?” you hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I think shoto is very dedicated to his work. he’s passionate about what he does.”

a flicker of surprise crossed endeavor’s face, but he quickly masked it with a gruff nod. the conversation continued with a noticeable tension, but you were able to keep the mood from becoming too uncomfortable.

as the meal came to a close and dessert was served, endeavor’s demeanor was a mix of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

“well, y/n,” endeavor said as he stood up, “it’s been… interesting having you here. i hope you enjoyed the meal.” “thank you for having me,” you replied sincerely, giving him a warm smile, “i did enjoy it.”

you bid farewell to natsuo and fuyumi, thanking her for the food as you and shoto made your way out. once you two were a few blocks down, you let out a content sigh, "i'm glad that went well. i almost shit my pants while talking to your dad."

shoto let out a little laugh as he interlocked his fingers with yours. "thank you..for doing this." he says, looking down at his feet as you both stroll down the sidewalk. "of course, shoto. this type of rebel behavior is fun sometimes." you reply while giggling.

shoto smiles down at you as he squeezes your hand, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you in closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

"i love you." he whispers.

you gently tangle your fingers into the back of his hair as you whisper back, "i love you too."

NOTE — first time writing a full length fic lmk how i did 😓🙏 (dont be mean i will cry). i rewatched the scene when shoto brings bakugo and izu to his home for dinner for some inspoo. YK I WAS ORIGINALLY GONNA MAKE THIS ANGSTY but guys i believe in endeavor redemption journey so i just couldn't also i yap so much in these author note things oopsies also i love fuyumi

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[incendiobrock]

you get me so {chris sturniolo}

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

pairing(s): stoner!bff!chris x innocent!bff!reader

warning(s): smoking weed, language, sloppy make out

summary: when you need a break from your college work and request to smoke, chris is happy to help you out.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

textbooks were scattered across the floor, packets of papers and an open laptop not far behind. a wooden pencil fidgeted between your fingers, drumming lightly on one of the books as your eyes skimmed the pages. the room was dimly lit, the only light emitting from some string lights and a small desk lamp. a vinyl spun softly in the background, filling the room with deftones, and that familiar scent that lingered in the air.

dior sauvage, incense sticks, and a slight hint of weed was the best way to describe it. it was a scent you had grown to love, a scent that reminded you of him. a soft groan escaped your lips, your head pounding from the hours spent studying and taking countless (useless) notes. the carpeted floor was no longer offering any comfort as you struggled to lay in a better position.

“why don’t you take a break?” his voice filled the air, breaking the comfortable silence that had last between the two of you for the past hour or so. you looked over your shoulder to see him sitting against his headboard, looking down at you as you laid on the ground at the foot of his bed. with a sigh you shut your laptop, “i can’t… i still have to catch up on my lecture and start my thesis for-“

“-ah, ah, ah.” he tsked, cutting off your sentence. “you told me one more hour like.. two hours ago.” he looked at you pointedly, eyebrows slightly raised as he mentioned the promise you’d made to him to at least take a break. glancing down at your watch, you realized how much time had passed, feeling even more doomed for the amount of work you still had left. quickly, you stacked up all your textbooks, moving the pile out of the middle of the floor before you stood up to stretch.

“okay. i’ll take a break but i can only wait about thirty minutes before i need to get back to my work.” you agreed, crawling to sit at the end of the bed, facing him. he shifted slightly before patting the space besides him, “c’ mere.” his voice muttered softly. as soon as you fell into place beside him, his arm wrapped over your shoulders, tucking you into his side. “you work too hard, y’ know?” he whispered. leaning into his side you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes fluttering shut slightly as your head continued to pound.

his fingers idly traced the skin of your arm, looking down at you, carefully taking in your expression. “just relax ma.. i gotchu, you know that.” his words tickled the top of your head, his lips brushing against your hair. “do you have weed?” you asked suddenly, catching him completely off guard. his fingers still against your arm, his breath hitching slightly in shock. you tilt your head back slightly to look up at him as he shifts his away from you, “what’re you talking about?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

his fingers began to trace your skin once again as he continued to speak, “course i got some weed.” a short silence hung over the both of you again as you nodded your head. chris couldn’t help but smirk softly, his free hand reaching over to lightly poke at your side, “why? you want some?” he asked, almost jokingly, knowing that you had never been one to smoke before. in fact, you were always getting onto him for it, telling him that it was a bad habit, even though he insisted that it wasn’t addictive and you had nothing to worry about.

“yeah,” you replied softly, nodding your head. his eyebrows furrowed, moving his body so he could get a closer look at your face. “wait… you’re serious? are you sure?” he quickly asked, trying to decipher if you were joking. something about his concern for you made your heart flutter, butterflies swirling in your stomach as you looked into his deep blue eyes. chewing on the inside of your cheek, you nodded again, “i’m sure… don’t you always tell me that it will make me feel relaxed?”

his face shifted into a slight smile as you recalled what he had said to you in the past. “depends on the strain but yeah. it can help ya relax.” he nodded, impressed that you had remembered that conversation from however long ago. the vinyl scratched slightly as the record ended, making chris immediately get out of bed. he lifted the record off the turntable, shuffling through his collection in search of something new to put on.

your eyes were glued to his back, taking in the sight of his ruffled waves, lowly hanging black sweats, and his signature dark grey zip up jacket. as he placed a new record onto the turntable you spoke up again, “so you have the relaxing kind?” he chuckled, turning around to walk back over to you. “oh, you really weren’t kidding?” he chuckled, standing at the side of the bed as he pulled open the drawer to his side table. his hands shifted through miscellaneous trinkets and papers before he pulled out a metal zippo lighter and a small rectangular case.

sitting cross legged in front of you on the bed, he placed the materials in between the both of you. a small lump formed in your throat as you looked down at the two objects in front of you, chris hadn’t even opened the case yet and you already felt nervous… he glanced up at you, watching as you looked down at the sheets. “are you sure you want to?” he asked carefully, making your eyes meet his. you swallowed the lump in your throat as you nodded your head slowly, “i-i want to but…”

“don’t worry… i know what i’m doing.” he reassured, shooting you a playful wink as he began to open the case, revealing five perfectly rolled blunts. the scent of weed instantly became stronger, filling your nostrils as you looked down at the blunts. carefully, you picked one of them up, spinning it between your fingers as you examined it. “promise it’ll help ya relax.” he stated, gently placing his hand over yours as he took the blunt from you. carefully, he placed the end of the joint in between his lips before grabbing the lighter. “just gonna get it started for ya,” he informed, his words slightly muffled as he continued to hold the joint in his mouth.

your eyes stayed glued to him as you watched him skillfully cup one hand around the joint, bringing the lighter up with his other hand. the flame flicked on as the bud glowed red for a brief second before he took in a breath, the rolling paper now lit. the small puff of smoke blew past his lips as he took the joint from his mouth, handing it towards you. “don’t breathe too hard,” he warned as you gently took the joint from him.

“all you gotta do is take a small breath, hold it in for a few seconds and then let it back out.” he instructed, giving his head a short nod to encourage you. shakily, you brought the filter up to your mouth, your lips wrapping around it before glancing back up at chris. “y’ got it..” he encouraged, nodding his head again as he looked at you.

slowly, you took a deep inhale of the joint, the smoke immediately burning your throat and lungs. you stifled a cough as you tried to hold the smoke in, your hand quickly passing the joint back to chris. “atta girl. there you go.” he smiled, watching as you slightly choked on the hit. when you finally breathed out the smoke, a fit of coughs filled the air. chris chuckled, placing the joint back in his mouth as he reached over and grabbed a water bottle off his night stand, unscrewing the cap before passing it to you. he lazily took another hit, inhaling and exhaling the smoke like it was as smooth as the water you were now chugging.

“shit burns,” you rasped out, pulling the bottle of water away for a second before continuing to drink. chris couldn’t help but chuckle at you again, his hand reaching out to rub your thigh, “you get used to it.” your hand brushed his as you slowly took the joint again, determined to take a few more puffs despite the burning. as soon as you placed it back in your mouth you could feel his gaze on you, intense and slightly lazy. glancing up at him you noticed the slight squint in his eyes, glossing over his pupils. his hand continued to soothe your thigh as you smoked more of his joint.

by the time the first side of the vinyl played through, the joint had burned all the way down to the filter. chris’ attention immediately shot over to the turn table, sighing as he got off the bed to flip the track. watching him suddenly felt more surreal, like you weren’t sure if it was just a dream or if your mind was really moving that slow. it felt like you were watching a stop motion video, or like someone was reeling through an old timey film roll. blinking suddenly felt long and drawn out, your body almost melting into his mattress.

chris had made it back to the bed, lazily smiling as he looked over you. “feelin’ okay?” he questioned softly, laying down besides you as you still sat cross legged. all you could do was nod your head, an equally lazy smile pulling on your lips. as he studied your face he could tell that the weed had worked, making your movements slightly slower, your eyes glossy and squinted. his hand wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you to lay beside him.

“you know what will make you feel even more relaxed?” he asked softly, allowing you to place your head on his bicep as you scooted close. “hmm?” you lazily hummed, making him smile. he pulled you tighter, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt as he began to rub your back. his lips press a firm kiss to the top of your hair, his eyes closing as he focused on holding you close. your skin prickled with goosebumps as his hand softly rubbed the skin of your back, his scent now fully engulfing you as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck. you took in a big breath, allowing his scent to fill every inch of your nose.

he moved back slightly to look at you, his hand moving from your back to cup your face, his thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbone. “y’ work too hard…” he whispered genuinely, taking in every single feature of your face. “doesn’t it feel nice to just lay here…. relaxed?”

you blinked softly as you looked at him, your words slurring together slightly as you agreed, “feels nice…” a small smile formed on his face as his thumb moved down, idly running over your lips. he couldn’t help but stare as they parted instinctively. “so fuckin’ pretty…” he whispered, making your body tingle, cheeks flushing. you were used to his compliments but this time it felt different. maybe it was because of the weed, or maybe it was the way he was looking at you. you shivered under his touch as his thumb lightly grazed over your lips again, gently pulling at your bottom lip. his gaze was glued to them, almost as if he had forgotten that your eyes even existed. “wanna kiss you so bad…” he mumbled his confession, your heart nearly stopping at his words.

you weren’t sure if he had even meant to say that out loud, or if he had even realized that he had. “so do it.” you whispered back, the weed induced haze clouding your mind. his eyes finally shot back up to meet yours, his expression almost shocked like you somehow reached into his thoughts and read his mind, though he was the one who had slipped up. he searched your face for any signs of hesitation and when he didn’t see any you gave him a subtle nod, letting him know it was okay. that was all he needed to pull you close, his hand resting on your jaw as he carefully, slowly connected your lips.

you hummed softly into his mouth, kissing him back with that same, slow, passion. he took his time, his thumb gently tracing your jaw as his lips melted into yours. you felt his tongue lazily trace your bottom lip, asking for permission that you were happy to give as you carefully parted your lips. his tongue danced with yours, allowing you to taste him, spearmint and the lingering hint of weed. when he finally broke away you were both breathless. his forehead rested against yours, the tips of your noses brushing together. “god, i’ve wanted to do that for such a long time…” he confessed breathlessly. your fingers mindlessly played with the ends of his hair, “you should get me high more often if this is the outcome.” you whispered, boldly. he smiled, moving you carefully to lay on your back as he hovered above.

“deal.” he whispered back, reconnecting your lips as his hand now held your waist.

[sirxaibs]

PUH LEASE write a sal x fem!reader where they all go to the lake, (larry, sal, ash, todd, etc) and sal is ogling the reader. then larry gives one of his motivational speeches where he talks him up to confess to her. and make it SUPES fluffy please 🤑🤑 i’ll give u my kidney

SAL FISHER X READER

🂾𓂉🂾 AHHHHHHHHHHH 🂾𓂉🂾I

I want to point out that I changed it up a bit. Larry is still supportive and learns about it all and encourages it like a guy best friend. (so a little immature but all in good health) and uh i couldn’t think of a title

masterlist

🂾𓂉🂾 The low hum of the Deftones spun through the battered speakers in Larry’s room, the gentle, distorted riffs of “Teenager” lacing the air with a strangely melodic chords. The posters on the wall seemed to flicker with the candlelight, smoke curling from the incense stick Larry had lazily propped in an old soda can. He lay across his bed, head resting on his folded arms, eyes half lidded. Sal sat on the floor with his back against the dresser, mask on, fingers toying with a frayed string from the hem of his hoodie. Larry let out a long sigh, kicking one foot lazily.

“So,” he said, dragging the word out with that signature Larry Young drawl, “you sure you don’t wanna tell them how you feel, dude?”

Sal let out a breath part exasperated, part defeated. “Yeah. I’m sure.” A pause. “It’s not like it matters. She’s just… her. Carefree. Like nothing in the world can ever shake her. And I’m… me.”

Larry raised an eyebrow, a shit eating grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Right, except she’s been into all your weird ghost shit since day one. That doesn’t strike you as a little suspicious?”

Sal rolled his eyes, though behind the mask, Larry only caught the tilt of his head and the sound of sarcasm lining his voice. “Oooookay, bud.” But even as he said it, his mind started drifting unwelcome but persistent, soft as the music playing in the background.

🂾𓂉🂾 It was one of those October evenings where the sky was bruised purple, the kind of night where the Addison Apartments looked especially like they were hiding something. “Let’s break into the basement,” you’d said with a grin, adjusting your flannel around your waist, boots crunching leaves beneath them. You tapped your chin, head tilting mischievously. “You and your little ghost gizmo thingy what’s it called again?”

“The Gear Boy,” Sal said, holding it up.

You snorted. “Right. Very cool very awesome demure or whatever .” Then you nudged him with your elbow. “C’mon, Sally Face. Let’s go find some demons.” You didn’t even flinch at the dark, or the cold, or the smell of mold in the stairwell. He remembered watching you run ahead, flashlight in hand, hair bouncing as you turned back and grinned at him like this was the best place in the world.

🂾𓂉🂾 Back in Larry’s room, Sal’s voice was quieter now. “She could’ve run screaming like most people. But she didn’t. Which I know she was your friend before anything but her crazy matches my crazy.”

Larry stretched, his joints popping. “Well she just likes creepy shit. Doesn’t mean she’s in love with you, dude.” Sal didn’t respond. But the next memory hit him anyway.

🂾𓂉🂾 They were sitting on the rooftop. You had a ripped black hoodie, sleeves cut into jagged edges, and a collection of safety pins holding one shoulder seam together. A cigarette dangled between your fingers, the smoke drifting in the cold air. You were talking about how your mom didn’t trust the apartments. “Says they give her the heebie jeebies,” you’d said, mocking the voice. “Can’t blame her though. The walls here feel like they’re listening.”

Sal chuckled under his breath. Then you turned toward him, all seriousness for a moment. “You ever think you might be too good for this place?”

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged. “You’re, like, stupid kind. you might be into everyones business here, but you’re the gentlest person I know. Sometimes I wonder if you even see yourself clearly.” He looked down at the edge of the roof, heart thumping awkwardly. He thought maybe he misheard. But then you flicked your cigarette, stretched your arms behind your head, and looked back up at the stars like it hadn’t been a big deal at all.

🂾𓂉🂾 Back in the room, Larry sat up slightly, now curious. “You really think she meant something by that?”

Sal scoffed. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. She always say stuff like that. You know how she is.”

Larry gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, and you always brush it off like it doesn’t eat you alive.”

Sal shook his head, reaching for one of Larry’s sketchpads absentmindedly, flipping it open but not really seeing the pages.

“Shes so weird? Like, nothing could tie her down. She’d walk into hell with a smile and offer the devil a light. I’m not sure I’d ever be enough to keep someone like that interested.”

🂾𓂉🂾 It was raining, and you were soaked to the bone, hair sticking to your face as you stood in the apartment hallway, laughing. “Okay,” you said between breaths, “next time you distract the teacher while I pick the lock. My ass is not cut out for this kind of stealth.” Sal had watched you giggle like a maniac, water dripping from your sleeves, eyeliner smudged like a grunge music video, and thought, I’m completely screwed. Then, you looked up at him, eyes bright, lips parted like you were about to say something else but then you stopped. Just smiled. A quiet, knowing kind of smile.

“You’re really fun to get in trouble with, Sally Face.”

🂾𓂉🂾 Larry whistled low. “That’s… okay, yeah, that one’s suspicious.”

Sal grumbled. “You think?”

Larry shrugged, lying back down again. “Sounds like she’s been flirting with you for, like, months.”

Sal leaned his head back against the dresser with a soft thump. “Or she’s just like that with everyone.” The Deftones track shifted, a more intense guitar swell starting as Digital Bath played. The room filled with its pulsing rhythm, washing over the silence between the boys. “I just…” Sal muttered, “I don’t wanna screw it up. If I say something, and I’m wrong, I lose her. And even if I’m right… someone like her, with someone like me?”

Larry stared at the ceiling. “Sal… sometimes you sound like the pieces of fart in romance movies”

Sal laughed under his breath, dry and unamused. “Thanks.”

But still, the memories pressed on him. The way your eyes lingered when you thought he wasn’t looking. The times you leaned against him when you didn’t have to. The way your laughter always came easier around him than anyone else. And the stupid, tiny, impossible hope that maybe just maybe you saw him the way he saw you. He didn’t know what to do with any of it. So instead, he stayed silent. Let the music play a little louder. Let the ghosts wait in the walls of Addison Apartments. Because maybe the scariest thing wasn’t the dead. it was the living. And how deeply they could get under your skin without even trying.

“You gotta do something, man,” Larry said, pointing a lazy finger at him. “Like, soon.”

Sal shot him a sideways glance. “Do what?”

“You know what. Confess. Or flirt. Or, I don’t know, do something with your weird little ghost boy charm. They’re basically throwing hints like they’re in a punk rock rom com, and you’re just sitting here like it’s algebra class.” Sal leaned his head back against the dresser again, letting out a groan. “I can’t, man. That’d be like… opening Pandora’s box with a note that says ‘Hey, I hope this doesn’t ruin everything!’” His voice was muffled but undeniably dry. “Also? What even is ghost boy charm?”

Larry laughed, grabbing a guitar pick from his nightstand and flicking it across the room. “You’ve got that quiet, mysterious thing going on. she eats that shit up.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sal mumbled, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.

Larry smirked. “Your loss, man. I’ll be sure to let you wallow in your tragic love story all by yourself while everyone else is making out by the lake.”

Just as Sal opened his mouth to counter with the fact that basically no one in the group is attracted to each other for a multitude of reasons, a loud slam echoed through the room, the door flinging open as you barreled in with a chaotic whirlwind of energy. “WENDIGO LAKE, BABYYYY!” you shouted, practically bouncing on your heels. You wore a pair of scuffed up combat boots and ripped fishnets under a patched up pair of shorts. Your backpack was a canvas battlefield blazing with sewn on patches, painted slogans, and safety pins holding together loose fabric. The Sex Pistols, Black Flag, a big bold patch reading “Only Anarchists Are Pretty”, and another featuring Vivienne Westwood’s face all clashed together like a punk rock museum on your back.

Larry blinked. “You sew all that yourself?”

You gave a proud little hum. “Hell yeah. Don’t trust machines for the good stuff.”

Sal swore his heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, you plopped down behind Sal, your legs bracketing either side of him. You didn’t say anything at first, just casually reached around to start playing with the collar of his shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. Twisting it between your fingers, tugging slightly, smoothing it out, then ruffling it again.

“Piercing’s new, right?” Larry asked, tilting his head and nodding toward your septum ring. “Should you even be going into the lake?” You gave him a wicked grin and then dragged your palm slowly across his face in a dramatic shhhh, your fingers smudging his cheek with the soft scent of tobacco and clove. “Shhhh,” you whispered, voice dipped low in mock seriousness. “Let me be irresponsible, Lawrence.”

Larry wiped his face off with the back of his hand, laughing. You leaned forward a bit, resting your chin on Sal’s shoulder. “I’m just stoked to have everyone out. Senior year’s been, like, a slow death. No bars around here worth anything, no good gigs nearby. It’s like the universe forgot how to throw a party.”

You pulled back slightly, hand resting on Sal’s shoulder now. “Oh by the way, I brought you some extra snacks. And a book.” You said it casually, but the words hung in the air. “Figured you weren’t going in the water.”

Sal blinked under his mask, throat tight. “You didn’t have to”

“I wanted to.” You smiled, then hopped up again, grabbing your bag. “Alright. Cigarette break. Don’t get all broody without me.” You shot a finger gun toward Sal and winked before disappearing out the back door.

The second the door closed, Larry launched himself from the bed. Sal yelped as Larry practically straddled him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him wildly. “DUDE.”

Sal struggled, awkward and panicked. “What the Larry!”

“I SEE IT. I FREAKING SEE IT!” Larry’s grin was wide enough to split his face. “That was not lowkey! That was highkey! High effort! Extra snacks and a book? Who does that? For you?”

“Why are you sitting on me!?”

“Because this is an emergency! We’re in Defcon 1, Sal! You’ve got a hardcore punk goddess out there who’s literally playing with your clothes and giving you personalized gifts like it’s Valentine’s Day for the emotionally suppressed!”

Sal flushed so deeply even the tips of his ears went pink. “She’s just That’s just how she is!”

Larry leaned in closer, eyes wide. “You are so deep in denial. Ive know her since we were shit stains. If you go one more day without at least flirting back, I swear when I die, I’m going to ghost haunt your dreams until you cry.”

Sal grumbled, face buried in his hands. Then the door creaked open again. You stood there in the doorway, one hand on the frame, a smile tugging at your lips. “Well? You boys gonna keep cuddling, or are we heading to the lake?” Sal froze. Larry grinned. You tilted your head, amusement glittering in your eyes. “C’mon. I wanna see who gets wet the fastest when we get there. I say its between Ash or me”

Larry grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You’re actually the gross ome,” he said, walking past you. You flipped him off with a grin. Sal stood slowly, heart still racing. You looked at him over your shoulder, a little smile playing at your lips again.

“Hey. You coming, Sally Face?”

He nodded, almost dumbly. “Yeah. I’m coming.” You waited as the Deftones shifted into “Change (In the House of Flies)”, the screen door creaked shut behind you all.

🂾𓂉🂾 The lake shimmered beneath a hazy midafternoon sun, the surface rippling gently under the occasional breeze. Trees surrounded Wendigo Lake like tall, crooked teeth perfect for the vibe of this weird little friend group. The air carried the scent of water, pine, and whatever patchouli heavy perfume you’d doused yourself in before leaving. Something about that smell made Sal’s stomach twist not in a bad way. Just in that weird, you’re kinda in love with someone but don’t wanna deal with it yet sort of way. You were crouched down near the shore, a slightly beat up picnic blanket in your arms as Todd helped you flatten it out over the grass. You had insisted on bringing it, even though only you, Larry, and Sal were sharing it. Ash and Todd, for some ungodly reason, had shown up with just towels like this was a beach day. The contrast was already hilarious.

“Really going full domestic over there,” Larry muttered under his breath with a snicker, elbowing Sal, who was standing stiffly to the side, arms crossed. “You seeing this?”

Sal glanced at you and couldn’t help it he smiled. You were teasing Todd about something, fingers poking at the hem of his hoodie. He couldn’t hear you from this distance, but knowing you, it was probably something like “Bro, you hang out with emos all day. Why are you dressed like an NPR intern?” Todd just looked mildly amused, adjusting his glasses, letting you mess with him like a human fashion victim. Sal felt his cheeks heat, even under the mask. He looked away quickly. Ash, sitting cross legged nearby with her towel stretched out like a lazy cat, clocked it immediately.

“Oh my god.” She slapped a hand on Sal’s shoulder, feigning an emotional gasp. “My little boy… my son… he’s growing up so fast. He’s starting to like girls now.”

Sal groaned. “Ash, shut the hell up.”

She cackled, draping herself over his back dramatically. “Just one girl. That girl made my boy a man”

He practically peeled her off him. “Do you want me to throw you into the lake?”

Ash grinned wickedly. “Do you want me to tell her you were staring at her like she was a sexy alien sent to save the world?”

Sal grabbed her towel and yeeted it into the grass. “That’s it. Exorcism time.”

Meanwhile, you and Todd finally made your way over, you bouncing slightly on your heels as you looked at the mess unfolding. “Damn,” you said, “did we miss the hug session or did it turn into a wrestling match?”

“Sal wouldn’t mind another session,” Larry said instantly, not missing a beat, throwing a sly grin in your direction.

Ash volleyed, eyes sparkling with evil glee. “Especially if it’s with you.”

Larry followed up like the demon duo they were. “You know, he’s really into long hugs. Like, full body contact. horizontally. moving back and forth. Really intimate.”

Sal practically lunged at Larry with a “You are so dead!” as the taller boy yelped and tried to scramble out of the way, laughing the whole time.

You laughed so hard your whole body curled forward, grabbing Ash’s hand to steady yourself. “fuck man, I think they were both already stoned when i picked them up” you wheezed. “The party has officially started!” Ash was laughing too, but she still gave Sal a knowing look behind your back, mouthing the words do something already. Sal pretended not to see it.

🂾𓂉🂾 You flopped down on the blanket between Sal and Larry, reaching into your bag and pulling out a crinkled pack of gum and a mini speaker. “Alright, mild sun poisoning anyone? you pasty mofos need it”

Larry grinned. “your ass better be talking about anyone else here because I know you’re not talking to me”

Sal, still flushed under his mask and recovering from that last comment, watched you out of the corner of his eye as you started queuing up music, chatting with Ash and Todd about whether The Damned were better than The Buzzcocks. He didn’t say it out loud, but he could’ve watched you do that forever. he didn’t mind the teasing if it meant being this close to you. Even if he was the only one too chicken to do anything about it.

🂾𓂉🂾 It was a little later in the afternoon now, the heat softening as shadows stretched longer across the ground. The smell of warm grass and lake water mixed with the faint burn of something herbal someone had definitely brought a little something to pass around, and judging by the lazy laughter and general haze of good vibes, it had been shared liberally. You were half leaning on Sal’s shoulder, one leg sprawled over the other, ankle gently nudging his shin as you talked nonsense in that way you always did.

“So, like,” you murmured, voice heavy with drowsy amusement, “if fish could scream, do you think people would still go swimming?”

Sal blinked. “…What?”

You nodded like this was deeply important. “Like, you’re just chilling in the lake and suddenlyAAHHHH ” You mimicked a fish shrieking, limbs flailing, nearly smacking him in the face with your elbow.

“I think that argument gave god the entire reason for fish to not scream,” Sal said, dry but fond.

“Okay, but would you still swim?”

“…Probably not,” he admitted, then turned to glance at you. You were close. Like always. Close enough that your cheek was brushing against the edge of his shoulder. Close enough that your hand was resting by his on the blanket, pinkies nearly touching. It wasn’t unusual. You’d always been like that with him. Ever since you started hanging around, you’d just been comfortable. Always invading his space without a second thought, always bumping shoulders or leaning into him when you laughed. He’d never had the nerve to ask what it meant. Maybe it was just you. But damn it if he didn’t want it to mean something. The world swayed with a low thrum of music from your little speaker something with a steady, almost hypnotic beat. The Deftones, again. They’d been the soundtrack to the day. Dreamy. Fuzzy. A little too perfect.

“I feel like I’m melting,” you mumbled, staring up at the sky. “Let’s go swimming. Let’s go be weird little lake freaks.”

Without waiting for an answer, you kicked up from your spot, stumbling slightly with a laugh, then turned to Ash, grabbing her wrist. “Come on. Water nymph time.”

Ash groaned playfully, letting herself be dragged. “Do I have to be a nymph? Can’t I just be a vaguely damp woman?”

“Nope. Nymph or nothing.” You stuck your tongue out and reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up with an easy flourish.

for Sal, the world just stopped. The chatter, the breeze, the soft laughter from Todd and Larry. Gone. Even the music faded into something distant and orchestral, as if a full string section had taken over his brain. You stood in the golden light of the sun, the curve of your shoulders catching the warmth like a halo, your skin kissed in amber and the softest shadows. Your shirt slipped off, and it was like time dilated just for him.

Your body. Your posture. The way your hair caught the wind. The shimmer of sweat on your collarbone. Everything about you in that moment was art. He stared. He couldn’t not and he wasn’t even being creepy about it he wasn’t ogling for ogling’s sake. He just… forgot how to breathe. He looked at you like you were some ancient deity pulled from a forgotten shrine, like you’d stepped out of some punk rock myth, wild and grinning and just a little dangerous. And maybe, somewhere deep down, he’d always thought you looked like this. Always felt it when you leaned on him or laughed into his ear or stood with your boots planted like you owned every inch of space you took up.

You were beautiful. Sal whispered it without thinking. A breathless, soft little exhale behind his mask. “…You’re beautiful.”

You turned. Caught it. And flashed a grin so wicked and knowing he wanted to melt into the damn earth. “Thanks,” you said, stretching dramatically. “I do it for the girls” you jerked a thumb toward Ash, “and the gays” now to Todd, who gave you a sarcastic bow in return.

Larry’s voice shot out like a gunshot. “What about Sal and me?!”

You gave him a slow once over, clearly unimpressed. “You’re a perv, dickwad,” you said sweetly. “Sal can look I’ll allow it. You, as a man, should start groveling.”

The entire group burst into laughter. Ash doubled over, Todd adjusted his glasses to hide his grin, and Larry threw hand to you. flipping you off with pride. like you’d mortally wounded him. Sal, for his part, sat there utterly flustered. Frozen. A little dazed. You had heard him. And instead of teasing him, instead of making it weird, you just let him look. it was maybe even… wanted?

You turned, already skipping toward the lake with Ash in tow, your punk patched shorts low on your hips when you all first got there, you ripped your tights so they were ling gone now. a new glint catching the light from your eyes.

“Don’t take too long, losers!” you called. “Water’s waiting!”

And just like that, you were gone sprinting into the shallows, laughing as you splashed Ash and dared her to dunk you. Sal was left sitting on the blanket, staring after you, heart pounding, mind full of sun and music and your laugh. “…Holy shit,” he muttered.

Sal was still watching the lake. The way the water shimmered around you as you threw yourself backward into it, the arc of your arms as you splashed Ash there was something dizzying about the whole thing. Something surreal. Maybe it was the buzz from earlier or just the heat of the day, but it felt like the world had shifted, just a little, like the axis tilted and gravity decided to be kinder.

You looked over your shoulder once mid laugh, you knew exactly where Sal would be, you were making sure he saw you. The grin on your face could’ve been carved from rebellion and starlight. He felt like he was dying. In the good way. Larry had been quiet beside him for a few seconds too long. That should’ve been Sal’s first warning.

Then he felt it. That slow, creeping grin. He turned his head and yep. Larry was looking at him like the cat who got the cream, the rat, the last donut, and possibly a Grammy.

Larry leaned in, eyebrows raised, his voice low and drawling. “Dude,” he said with a smile far too smug for one face. “She basically just asked you to fuck.”

Sal’s brain short circuited. “What?!”

“I mean,” Larry shrugged, tossing a pebble toward the lake, “she said you could look. That’s, like, stage one. Next thing she’ll be asking you to carry her to bed like a Victorian ghost bride.”

“You are so gross,” came Todd’s voice from behind them, utterly unimpressed. He adjusted his glasses with a sigh, setting down a bottle of sunscreen. “That kind of take is exactly why she called you a perv. She knew.”

Larry threw up his hands, grinning wider. “Hey, I am a perv! I embrace the perv. But I’m also right.”

Sal pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will his soul back into his body. “Yeah, nothing says romance like ‘she’ll haunt you if you don’t rail her.’ Totally the dream.” Todd let out a snort, and Larry cackled, falling back onto the blanket. “Y’all are dumb,” Sal muttered, but he was smiling behind the mask. He couldn’t help it. The warm buzz of your laugh in the distance, the afterglow of your flirtation (which was totally flirtation, right?), and his friends acting like idiots it all wrapped around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer.

🂾𓂉🂾 Golden hour washed the world in amber. Everything looked softer, warmer, even the worn edges of the ghost gang out in the water. Their laughter echoed across Wendigo Lake, distant and muffled like a memory being recalled in real time. Sal sat on the blanket you and Todd had set up, the spine of the book you’d brought him resting comfortably in his palms. He’d tried to focus. Really, he had. He even read the same paragraph four times.

But every few seconds, his eyes would wander first toward the water, then toward you. You were laughing as Ash tried to climb onto Todd’s shoulders for some impromptu chicken fight. Larry was egging both of you on from the sidelines, flinging water like an excited Labrador. It was stupid. Wild. Loud. But Sal could only sit there, book in hand, and watch. Not because he didn’t want to join. because he couldn’t. Even with all of you people who had seen the real him, scarred and broken and still trying he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take off the mask. Couldn’t risk the way you’d all look at him one day if something in your brains shifted and the wrong thought took hold. He could still hear echoes of old kids, of freak and monster. He kept the mask on. Always. Even when he wanted to be a part of things. Even when you looked back at him with a smile that seemed to say, Come on, blue boy. The world’s warmer over here. He looked down at the page again. A line about borrowed time. About choices made in secret.

Then a splash, a laugh, water footsteps on grass. He looked up, the air left his lungs. You were walking toward him, golden hour catching every drop of water clinging to your skin, each one like a star strung along your body. You were soaked and radiant and barefoot in the dirt, and you were wearing a two piece that could’ve been forged by some divine hand to ruin his entire week. Sal felt like a little boy discovering women for the first time. Like, oh. Oh, that’s what this feeling is. Your hair stuck to your cheeks, your septum ring catching the light just so. A punk Venus. A grungy dream. You were all sunburnt mischief and unapologetic beauty. He didn’t even realize he was staring until you plopped down beside him with a hum, rubbing water from your eyes.

“Hey,” you said, grinning. “How’s it goin’?”

Sal shifted slightly, trying not to sound too affected. “Oh, y’know. Just enjoying my career as the local cryptid.”

You snorted and fished out a towel from nearby, shaking it before folding it and draping it over his lap. Then, without warning, you laid down right across the towel, your damp hair spilling slightly onto his hoodie sleeve. Sal looked down at you, eyes wide, book hovering midair.

“Do I even get a warning before you invade my lap?” he deadpanned.

You smirked up at him, cheek pressed to the towel. “Nope. Felt like it. Problem?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Just trying not to die of cardiac arrest. Thanks.”

You poked his side gently. “That’s what the mask is for, right? To keep all your panic internal?”

“Exactly. It’s the emotional equivalent of a paper bag.”

You smiled, head tilted up so you could meet his eyes. “You start the book yet?”

He glanced at the open pages in his lap. “I’ve been trying.”

“‘Trying,’ huh?” You gave him a knowing look. “What’s the verdict? Worth my very cool, carefully curated recommendation?”

Sal paused for a moment. Then nodded, honest. “It’s good. Actually. Weird good. You’ve got disturbingly good taste.” You lit up at the compliment

“Okay, okay,” you said, turning slightly more onto your back, your arm flopping lazily over his legs. “Read it out loud. I wanna hear you read it.”

Sal blinked. “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “You’ve got a nice voice. It’s like… if sarcasm were smooth jazz.”

He stared down at you, heart hammering in his chest. “You’re lucky I can’t blush through this mask.”

“You’re lucky I don’t make you take it off and prove it.”

Sal scoffed lightly, looked down at the book again, then cleared his throat. You looked up at him like he hung the damn stars. so, under the waning gold light of the evening, with your head against his legs and your hand absentmindedly brushing his knee, Sal began to read. His voice steadying, even if the words on the page danced between lines of wonder and disbelief.

He couldn’t focus on the text. Not really. But it didn’t matter. Because in that moment with you next to him, comfortable and unafraid Sal felt a little more seen.

🂾𓂉🂾 On the other side of the lake, the water rippled gently around Ash, Todd, and Larry as they floated or waded just deep enough to stay cool. They were watching from a safe, absolutely not suspicious distance though their not so subtle gawking was giving the game away hard.

Ash narrowed her eyes like a sniper sighting her target. “She’s laying on his lap. She’s laying on his lap, you guys.”

“No, no,” Larry whispered like he was in church. “We all know she kinda flirty with everyone thats her personality but who flirts in such a casual way like her?.”

Todd adjusted his glasses, blinking once. “They’re always physically close. But this is different.”

Ash looked at him. “Right?! This is intentional closeness. This is I could’ve sat anywhere but I chose the throne.”

Larry, in the middle of floating on his back, suddenly stood straight up in the water like he’d been struck by lightning. “Wait. WAIT. Is she touching his leg right now?”

“Yes,” Todd and Ash said in perfect sync.

Larry, unable to cope, flung himself backward dramatically into the lake. Water splashed everywhere as he sank into the shallows like a fallen hero.

“I can’t they’re gonna fall in love and get married and we’re going to have to wear matching suits for the wedding,” he cried from below the surface before sitting back up with a sputter.

Ash was cackling, half drowning in laughter. “Do you think he’s sweating under that mask? Like. Frying.”

Todd, always a little more composed, was still clutching his towel like a war fan. “It’s the quiet ones that fall the hardest. You see that stare? That man’s reading a book and still found time to look at her like she’s the damn sun.”

All three of them turned into rubbernecking witnesses as Sal, still on the blanket, did the unthinkable. He moved his hand. Delicately. Softly. brushed a piece of hair out of your face.

“OH MY GOD!” Ash shrieked.

“IT’S HAPPENING!” Todd gasped, dropping his towel like it betrayed him.

Larry slapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide. “I knew he liked her, but this this is outta a movie, bro.”

Ash practically threw herself at the water’s surface, splashing Larry in the process. “I mean, I know he’s got the mask on, but that boy’s soul just ascended.”

Todd was now pacing in knee deep water like a dad preparing a PowerPoint. “That gesture was too tender.”

“I’m gonna cry,” Ash said, wiping fake tears from her face. “Look at her. She’s probably asleep and doesn’t even know she’s got Sal acting like the love interest in a coming of age drama.”

Larry leaned into the dramatic energy immediately, tossing his arms out wide. “HE MOVED HER HAIR, GUYS. THE HAIR. The hair”

Todd nodded solemnly. “The ancient texts foretold this moment.”

Ash, not to be outdone, fell to her knees in the shallows and lifted her hands to the sky. “Sal Fisher is in LOVE and it’s SOFT and GENTLE and she’s probably gonna wake up and say something weird and philosophical and I just I love this stupid, freakish group of friends.”

Larry wiped an invisible tear from his cheek, then suddenly smirked. “You think if we all walk over there right now, he’d panic and fling the book across the lake?”

Ash chuckled, climbing to her feet. “Let them have their moment. Sal’s being brave in his own way.”

Todd added, “It’s kind of beautiful. He’s letting himself feel something.”

“God,” Larry muttered. “If she kisses him later, I might just explode.”

Ash nodded gravely. “Then we explode together.”

Todd sighed with a small smile. “They don’t even know we’re over here narrating their love story like omniscient gods.”

“And we will not tell them either,” Larry said. “This is sacred. This is ours.”

And so the trio stood (or waded), eyes fixed on the quiet scene playing out across the shoreline Sal carefully reading with you resting on his lap, the lake breeze brushing through your hair, a piece of peace they all felt lucky to witness. No one spoke for a minute. Then Ash whispered, “She better ask him out before graduation or I’m staging an intervention.”

🂾𓂉🂾 The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting golden hour across Wendigo Lake like it was something out of a dream everything warm and slow and humming. The world had turned syrup thick, still and heavy with late summer heat and the haze of the day. On the picnic blanket, Sal sat nearly frozen in place, a book long forgotten in his lap, cradled now beneath the soft rise and fall of your sleeping frame. The towel you’d laid down between your soaked body and his jeans was doing exactly jack shit to keep the water from seeping through. He’d given up on caring about the damp chill a while ago sometime after you’d curled up on top of his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your arms tucked beneath your chin, your breathing slow and even. His own hoodie now rested over your back, cocooning you with a softness he hoped might make up for how still he was forcing himself to be. He didn’t dare move. Not yet. God, you were beautiful.

Sal’s breath caught when he looked down at you. The way your septum ring caught the light. The wet strands of hair pressed against your cheek. The slope of your nose. Your eyelashes looked longer like this, somehow. Relaxed. Innocent. Peaceful.

And all he could think all he could think was I have to tell you. I have to. If I don’t do it now, I never will.

His heart pounded so hard he was sure Todd could probably feel it from the other side of the lake. Every nerve in his body buzzed with static. His stomach churned in knots, and the voice in his head that mean little bastard voice kept whispering, You’re gonna ruin everything.

But then he looked at you again. Still sleeping. Still peaceful. Still here. On his lap. He reached out, moving a lock of hair from your face again slow, careful, like if he went too fast, you’d vanish into mist. His pinky brushed against your cheekbone as he did, light as air.

You stirred gently, eyelids fluttering open. The slow, lazy blink of someone waking from a warm nap, like a cat. You didn’t move from your spot. Your face turned slightly up toward him, hair fanned out under his hoodie. Sal felt his throat go dry. But it was now or never.

“Pspspsps,” he whispered playfully, soft and dumb and completely him.

You blinked again, brows slightly furrowing as you woke more fully. “Hmm?”

He smiled nervously. “Hey… do you think you’d be willing to give me a chance?”

You stared at him for a second. The sleep still lingering in your expression gave way to a flicker of surprise. Eyes widening just slightly. Your lips parted in a little “oh,” before curling up into a lazy grin. Your tone was smooth, but playful light teasing laced with real meaning. “Alright, pretty boy…” you hummed, voice still sticky with sleep, “…I will.”

Sal’s heart skipped at least two full beats.

“But,” you added, one eye narrowing mischievously, “if you mess with me, I’ll make sure you never hear the end of it.” A beat of silence passed. then Sal laughed soft and low and real. It wasn’t sarcastic or bitter or guarded. It was warm. Nervous. Happy.

He nodded, breathless. “Fair enough.”

You yawned, stretching slightly but didn’t move off his lap. Your hand reached up and lazily tugged the edge of his hoodie closer around your shoulder. “Good. Now shut up and keep reading. Your voice is nice.”

Sal swallowed. “Right. Okay. Reading.”

But his hands shook a little as he picked up the book again, smile hidden behind his mask, heart screaming from inside his chest. even though the towel underneath was still soaked through, and his jeans were a wet mess, and the rest of the group was definitely watching from the lake with wide eyes and zero chill. Sal felt like he’d just won something huge. He had you. Or at least, now… he had a chance.