#‘curse of hatred’ you’re the one full of hatred

[dadsbongos]

then, and again, and once more

6.9k words

Summary - Yuuji tries to impress you and win your heart, with the help of Sukuna… who seems weirdly knowledgeable about and interested in you.

Warnings - p in v sex, FULL NELSON BABY!!!, yuuji eats pussy :), oh yeah fem reader btw, sukuna is here too (and his cannibalism is mentioned), idiot friends pining for each other, very vague timeline idk but yuuji is aged up

sukuna-centric part 2

There it is again.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

That unbearable thick bass in his chest, banging so tirelessly against his ribs that it threatens to make him nauseous. A quick inhale and yep - scratch that - he’s definitely already nauseous.

Yuuji sinks his sweaty palms deeper into his pants pockets, eyes darting sharply down to his beaten sneakers. The once vibrant ruby shade is now marred by dirt and aging threads - and if he turns his right foot just so, then he can see an old, blackened stain from pizza sauce he spilled while eating out with you. The memory, or more specifically how you’re giggling in his memory, makes him smile.

And in the real world, Megumi is watching his friend grin ear to ear while looking at a black, crusty splotch on the inside curve of his right shoe. After having just wide-eyed stared at you from across the room while you and Nobara heatedly debate where to go for dinner.

He glares at Yuuji, lashes narrowing, “You look insane. Knock it off.”

That snaps the boy from his reminiscing, and it takes him three long seconds before he registers the insult, “I was thinking!”

“Obviously,” Megumi scratches the side of his nose, more to just have something to do with his hands than anything else, “What were you thinking about?”

Humming quietly to himself, Yuuji shrugs, “Oh, the usual.”

“You’re hopeless,” Megumi maintains his efforts to keep his hands busy by scratching the back of his head, “Just tell her already. What’s the worst that happens?”

“She rejects me and avoids me,” Yuuji pouts, “Honestly, ‘gumi, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic - being a standoffish and awkward guy yourself.”

Swatting at his friend’s shoulder, Megumi shakes his head, “The hell is wrong with you? Was that just sitting in your mind?” he shakes his head again, glare growing stronger, “And don’t call me that.”

“I thought you had anxiety or something,” Yuuji shrugs, “Why else would you be so weird in public?”

Any previous concern regarding Yuuji’s well-being immediately flies from Megumi at that. He folds his arms across his chest with murmurs of hatred floating out from his lips. All as he waltzes over to where you and Nobara are seated around your laptop at the chipping hardwood table.

Yuuji has no problem shrugging off Megumi's irritation, but when it comes to the mere idea of your face stretching in disgust at him - God, isn’t that the worst?

“You’re the worst, brat,” comes that rumbling, terrible voice in the back of his head. The nagging used to sound more like him - and when he’s really stressed, it still sometimes does - but now his own voice has faded into the King of Curses’. Now his own voice is sweeter, more prone to praise and positives - in a weird way, Sukuna has made Yuuji better.

But in a lot more ways -

“Oi, don’t ignore me.”

He’s made Yuuji’s life so much worse.

“You like that one, right? I can help.”

You’re sitting back, allowing Megumi to take the reins on shooting down Nobara’s suggestion for sushi. Normally, that demand isn’t a problem, but this would be the fifth night in a row she’s tried roping you all into ordering sushi for her. You lean into Megumi a little, and Yuuji hates the way his chest tightens at the display.

It isn’t even affection. It’s just…

“You want to be the one she’s on, right?”

Yuuji sighs to himself and sneaks out of the kitchen, though it’s hardly a challenge when Nobara raises her voice to defend her long-lasting cravings.

With tense shoulders and a red face, Yuuji glances down each side of the hall to ensure nobody is nearby, “How could you help with this?”

Sukuna’s eye on Yuuji’s cheek has flitted up to stare into Yuuji’s, and that sickly crawl of his skin stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s wide grin makes his stomach turn, “You’re just a child, you don’t know anything about women.”

Yuuji could double over, hands on his knees and breathless in sputters of laughter, but he refrains - unwilling to let anyone hear his schizophrenic ramblings, “And you do?”

Sukuna’s eye rolls and Yuuji hates the way it feels under his cheekbone, nearly retching in response, “Of course.”

And that strings up some different terrible question in Yuuji, “But why would you help me?”

Sukuna has been so unwilling to do anything useful for Yuuji despite the fact he’s allowed to reside in this body - so what could possibly possess him to do this now?

“Do you want my help or not, worm?”

Yuuji sighs through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, thinking hard about the offer. He’d come to the conclusion not too long after swallowing his first finger to simply not question many of Sukuna’s motives, mostly since his goals are: chaos, women, and chaos.

“This better not be some gross pass at my friend,” Yuuji sneers, body electrified on the ready to smack down his own cheek should he hear an answer he doesn’t like.

Sukuna is too quiet for too long, and Yuuji is fully prepared to swipe at the parasite on his face when finally, that deep voice rattles again. It buzzes in his flesh, uncomfortable and itchy and so quiet he barely hears what the curse mumbles into him.

The boy pauses and lets the words melt on his tongue, he turns them between his molars and laves the roof of his mouth with the remaining implications. He wasn’t expecting Sukuna to be honest, not to that degree at least.

And Yuuji smacks Sukuna’s bulbous eye down anyway.

“Fine then,” Yuuji pulls his hand down and curls his fingers into a fist, another great big awful ragged sigh roughing over his tongue like barbed wire, “I’ll listen to you, but if you ruin this for me- “

“Calm down, brat,” the mouth pops back up stubbornly, bitterly spitting out his version of a promise, “I don’t plan on failing.”

Yuuji pushes himself off the wall and spins back into the kitchen unnoticed, hands locking behind his head as he saddles up beside you at the table, “So, what’s for dinner?”

He snorts at how you groan, looking up at him from your seat with tired, low-lidded eyes and gesturing across the table to where Megumi and Nobara are still arguing, “You tell me.”

“Why don’t we just go out?” Yuuji shrugs, grinning broadly despite the way his two friends both twitch their necks over to glare at him, “Come on, it’s not even dark! We can walk around and do a little looking; get some air!”

Nobara’s pitched shoulders drop, pinched expression falling into her usual lax, she looks over at Megumi again with a raised brow. Megumi shrugs, his own eyebrows still scrunched together, “If it’s fine with you two, I don’t care.”

You snicker, standing up against the stiff wood supports of the chair legs, one elbow digging into the table to further help hold you up while your spare fingers dance up to smooth out the crinkled space, “I think it’ll be fun.”

Megumi snatches you by the wrist and tosses your hand to the side while Nobara hops down from her own chair, stretching out her back until it pops obnoxiously. She’s already bouncing out of the kitchen to snag her shoes before shouting back, “Well, come on! We’re on a timer now, people!”

“Jeez,” you slip off the chair pegs, bumping slightly into Yuuji’s side - entirely oblivious to the sparkly fireworks you sweep across your poor friend’s body at the contact, “Should’ve just suggested that from the start, huh?”

Shrugging, Yuuji waits for you to begin walking out of the kitchen before following, “Sometimes you just need fresh eyes on a situation, you know?”

“I guess,” you fold your arms, evidently frustrated, “Just feel like that was something I should’ve seen.”

Yuuji feels that disgusting, familiar thumping in his chest just by looking at you now. Heat radiating from his cheeks to the expanse of his chest, throat swelling with the uncomfortable need to spill his guts - dump every little thought and feeling he’s ever had for you into your ears until you force him to shut up. Like how he can’t even look at Jennifer Lawrence the way he used to simply because she isn’t you.

Maybe then he’d tell you that this hasn’t happened in the six years since he first saw Silver Linings Playbook. Maybe you’d tell him to stop talking, and that you two would never happen.

Maybe then he can move on, when you crush his hope. But he doesn’t really want that.

And he doesn’t really know why he agreed to let Sukuna lend him any advice.

Oh well.

It’s when you’re rushing out the door to keep up with Megumi and Nobara that Sukuna opens his mouth for the first time.

His voice stabs into Yuuji’s ears, but it isn’t exceptionally as cruel as he usually finds it, this, instead, is purely instructional, “When you two are out tonight, tell her about that cat you saw around the garden today.”

Yuuji scratches through his messily filed memories, “I saw a cat?”

“Yes, twit, a black one. Tell her about how its fur changed color in the sun.”

“Okay…?” Yuuji huffs in his daze, finally putting effort into walking alongside you and the others, “Hey! So, I just remembered something.”

“Oh yeah?” you smile at Yuuji, purely encouraging, and he’s disgusted at the way he almost trips over his own feet.

Nobara and Megumi pay the both of you little mind, instead pointing out different potential favorite hotspots they could creep into for the night. Well, Nobara points out, they could even stop at two places if they’re feeling adventurous. And Megumi says they can do whatever the rest of you think is best.

But Yuuji isn’t listening, and you’re hardly lending an ear, he swallows down the rock in his throat and nods, “I saw a cat this morning - a black one! - and it made me think of you,” the gentle warmth spreading through him could either be the way you’re lighting up at him, or Sukuna silently congratulating his good line, “Its fur was all brownish red in the sun, it was…” your eyes are so starry and sweet, solely on him - it makes his tongue tie up in knots, “It was beautiful.”

“Bummer I wasn’t there, then,” you pout a little, “You need to get me for things like that!” he laughs at the way your face has morphed, all stern and strict business, “Seriously!”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, both hands up in playful defense, “I promise to call you if I see another cat.”

“Could’ve at least taken a picture for me,” you histrionically sigh, “And I thought we were friends.”

A sudden thought invades the back of Yuuji’s mind. Some hidden, more primal part of his mind that he doesn’t usually listen to flashes back to a time he doesn’t remember.

We used to be more.

You and him are sitting out in the sun with a fluffy little Bombay cat tucked into your lap. It paws at the buttery dandelions that bloom between you both, his own legs are sprawled out impolitely and your own are crossed to wall around the feline in your hold. His knee knocks against yours whenever he shifts his leg. You lean in, shoulder digging into the meat of his muscled arm and temple resting on his shoulder.

Your body is entirely at ease. His is, too.

Yuuji knows exactly where the thought comes from. And if that dark, creepy place weren’t so infested by evil then maybe he’d feel a little pity for it. But you’re in front of him now, and you’re excited to be here, and your pinky keeps knocking into his as you two walk side-by-side - so there’s no room for pity in his heart.

Your quartet winds up squished into a teal leather booth towards a back corner of Nobara’s selected diner. You and Nobara sit on the interior seats, pressed into the windows, with Yuuji and Megumi caging the both of you in. Megumi having shoved Yuuji down next to you before the boy could even see who was where.

“What were you thinking?” Nobara sits up, jabbing your arm with a manicured finger just to annoy you.

Flicking at her hand, you shrug, focusing on the boards plastered behind the front bar counter for any eye-catching special offers.

Yuuji can feel the tightening of his cheek skin as the eyeball threatens to pop out, it stings when his cheek is forced to split for Sukuna’s eye. His cheek below that parts as well for his lips.

And Sukuna is kind enough this once to be quiet, “Tell her to get the wildfowl bowl,” as if sensing his arising questions, Sukuna continues, “And tell the kitchen worms to make sure the vegetables are soft. Not well, not sturdy,” he sounds disgusted as he says it, “Soft.”

“Hey,” and against everything he’s been told by Gojo, Yuuji puts his entire trust into the curse inside him, “that wildfowl bowl looks good, right?”

You lean closer to Yuuji, arm brushing his as you try to see where he spotted that, “What’s in it? Duck?”

He gives a conformational hum even though he has no idea, “Probably good with soft vegetables.”

Megumi shakes his head, “What does that even mean?”

“When they steam the veggies for longer than usual,” you pat Yuuji’s shoulder while defending him, “I get what you mean, Itadori. Sorry Fushiguro is so judgemental.”

“I was just saying…” Megumi’s voice flutters out of Yuuji’s focus.

Instead, another memory he never made begins to flourish from that black, mushy, rotted back of his brain.

You’re sat in his lap, large thighs perfectly bracketing around your own. A neglected bowl of slim slivers of perfectly browned duck meat sits atop cooling rice, carrots, and green beans. No doubt soft and easy to chew. In your hands is a steaming bowl, larger than the one in your lap, weighed down by thick cuts of juicy meat slabs. Almost like steak, but there’s no outer hide tanned by flame. It’s red, almost raw, and even after trimming the fat - it’s still bathed in pink, fleshy trails.

Grinning so lovingly, you pinch the slabs with your bare fingers and merely giggle when Sukuna’s sharp teeth prick at your skin. His long tongue works to clean your fingers of the excess meat juices as he eats. Two of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady, a third is steadied beside him against the cold bone of his throne, and a fourth resides at the back of your head. Almost big enough to palm the whole of your skull like a children’s ball - he pats and pets and smooths his fingers over the slope of the back of your neck.

Preening under gentle attention, you’re sure to empty Sukuna’s bowl before picking your own back up.

People watch with blood at their feet, none dare to move. Fearful to become the next hot meal in your hand should they disobey Sukuna’s silent command.

As your hands wrap around your cold bowl, a deep grunt reverberates behind you in Sukuna’s broad chest. He tugs the dish from your grasp; plucks the duck meat between his forefinger and thumb and holds it above your nose, forcing you to look up.

He waves it in front of your face, “Open,” and you follow his order, lips parting yet still pitched up in the impression of a pleased smile. And when he flattens the meat to your tongue and you begin chewing - you’re still smiling. That earns another fond stroke down the back of your head, pausing at your shoulder and digging his thumb into the muscle just to hear you sigh, “Good girl.”

Yuuji doesn’t see all of that. He can grasp some vague sense that you two have shared meals he’ll never get to taste, but he never sees the gristle left behind on your fingers or the saliva webbed between your fingers after feeding Sukuna.

That - Sukuna ‘hmph's proudly as he watches you beam at Yuuji over your modern interpretation of your favorite meal - the King of Curses keeps to himself. Selfishly, just as he always has.

That next morning, you sheepishly prattle into the dusty, creaky classroom with only four rusty, barely used desks and slip into the one by Yuuji. You’re toying with the tips of your hair, eyes bouncing from where Yuuji sits on the desktop beside you and the classroom door.

Nobara sits backward at the desk directly in front of you, arms coiled around the back support of her chair as she speaks and Megumi sits normally beside her - attention solely on his book. Yuuji watches you fiddle with the ends of your hair while pretending to listen to Nobara.

And then he sees it. The new cherry shade decorating your lips, and before Sukuna can sprout and tell him to - Yuuji’s leaning down with his best smile, “New lipstick?”

Jumping at the sudden voice, your rigid posture melts under the boy’s gaze, “Yes, actually. You like?”

It could be puke green and Yuuji would still want it smeared across his face from your kisses.

But despite housing Sukuna Ryomen and battling dreadful curses, Yuuji fails to muster the courage to say that to your face, “Yeah! It’s really pretty.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

There goes your annoying heart, hammering just from the sound of Yuuji’s overtly positive lilt. It makes your cheeks burn and fingers skittishly tip-tap against the pencil-scratched desk, “You think so?”

But he’d never lie, you know that.

So even though it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doubles down, your annoying heart won’t stop dramatically tossing itself around when Yuuji nods with a determined, boyish grin, “Definitely.”

It’s all so saccharine and perfect, it makes Sukuna nauseous. Which, in turn, makes Yuuji nauseous.

Face paling, Yuuji jumps onto his feet and excuses himself, rushing out of the room (with no Gojo even in sight, by the way) towards the bathroom.

“Is he okay?” Nobara murmurs, stretching her neck to see outside the door frame, “What a weirdo.”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “He is sometimes, huh?”

Megumi gags at your tone, “Seriously…?”

“What was that?” Yuuji’s question is spikey and venomous while he stares into the cracked, water-spotted mirror - straight at the little eyeball on his cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Sukuna stares back into the glass, low-lidded and unimpressed, “Get this over with and ask her out, brat.”

“But what if she says no?” Yuuji reaches up and toys with the little pink hairs at the back of his head, eyes suddenly unable to meet Sukuna at all, “It’ll totally ruin everything.”

“Enough whining. She won’t say no.”

He doesn’t know how it took so long to recognize, or maybe he just needed an excuse to display his old, unbroken knowledge of you before your fleshly little weakling friends even knew it. But he’s seen the little bursts of color and stars and sparkles and all that cute mess before.

He’s seen it many times. It was the only way you used to look at Sukuna.

That puppyish, lovesick wonder as you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at him.

Even when he would return to you in blood and sweat and muck and smelling of the death and despair he expertly wrought.

You were always at least five paces ahead of Uraume, hands bunching up in the pretty flowing silks that decorated your body. Excitedly, you’d pounce and he would hold you. Sapping up your energy and feeding off the way you’d press cherry-tasting kisses all along his hardened face. You served yourself up to him on a silver platter, all your heart and soul and mind devoted entirely and without ulterior motives. That’s why you were always his favorite.

Nothing before or after you was ever up to par. And he felt disgruntled at every turn into different worshippers and concubines and lovers - somehow wronged simply by the fact they were not as you were. It was all so disappointing.

And every now and again he’d flash back to you while with others. He imagines it’s how children feel when they remember a lost or broken or tossed-out favorite toy. That ache of times lost and never feeling quite fulfilled again.

Which is why when he saw you again through this brat’s eyes, he could instantly remember those nights with you. Full-bellied and raw-lipped and your pulse between his teeth.

But Yuuji knows nothing of that, and so when he returns to the classroom - neither of you says anything.

It’s only the two of you. Everyone else was cast out in the violent, unwilling acceptance that they had done all they could. With no open wound, there was a horrific list rattled off in Sukuna’s ears. Illnesses and infections that attacked the lungs and nervous system and skin and heart - things that would eat you alive from the inside. And when all could be done about that, you remained in bed.

In and out of consciousness and delusional, proclaiming twisted lights and shadowy creatures trying to rip you from yourself.

Perhaps, one of the women called to care for you shyly spoke up, perhaps she’s just too old.

And that was something he avoided admitting to himself.

But it was time now.

With dew still moist on the blades of grass and morning sunlight streaming through the window beside your bed - the bell tolls. Your fingers are stiff in the sheets, limbs cold and stiff when you’re found. Wide, puppylike eyes gaze up at the ceiling and Sukuna has you buried beneath the tallest, most twisted tree he could find in the surrounding forest. And when Sukuna returns from your grave that night - alone - he crosses into a dark tunnel.

It’s cold and solid beneath his feet, paces echoing back for his ears. He keeps his eyes down to avoid maddening himself over the plainness - the displeasure of even glimpsing this tunnel’s repetitive nature.

Until there’s light, golden, with the shrouded, clumsy shape of twisted branches and lanky trunks coming into view at the far open end.

And faintly, like the sweet singing of a beloved music box, he hears the tune of your voice. A high scoop towards the end.

“Itadori, right?”

Sukuna’s feet move faster before he even fully knows he’s moving.

On the other side is you, a hand jammed out in front of you in a polite wave - as if the both of you are strangers. Then that name creeps back up his spine.

Well, it’s not truly his spine, is it? It’s this new brat’s.

But then there’s your honeyed voice again, “Huh, third eye.”

Right. You wouldn’t remember it, would you?

You wouldn’t remember any of it.

Yuuji shoots up, dark sheets tangled around his ankles and cold sweat beading down his forehead - strings of pink hair matted down to his skin uncomfortably. His wide eyes scramble across the shadows of his room, slowly refamiliarizing himself with the expanse and soothing his pounding heart.

He smoothes back his hair, running through the small kinks and knots, “What the hell was that?”

That slicing pain along his cheek shocks him awake further, but no sore, deep voice follows. The eye sits there, downcast. Sitting inside this body is one of the last things he saw for himself, but to exist beside you again is liquid gold just flowing in a river. A river his new body refuses to swim in.

“She’s still awake.”

Yuuji looks over to the red numbers lighting up from his bedside alarm clock, “It’s midnight.”

Sukuna inhales sharply, irritation scorching a hole in his tongue, but he withholds the many sudden hateful thoughts he has towards Yuuji and simply repeats himself, “She’s still awake.”

“It’s weird how obsessed you are with this,” Yuuji swings his legs over the edge of his bed and slips his feet into the slippers you’d gifted him. They’re cheesy and themed after fire engines and just barely fit, but he wears them at any given opportunity.

The eye sinks back into his skin, lips sealing shut, and a thick sludge boils in Yuuji’s stomach. Quiet King of Curses is an unsettling King of Curses, and Yuuji barely finds himself able to tune out the exhaustive wave of Sukuna’s criticisms. That is much preferred to this buzzing silence.

Creeping down the moaning wooden panels to your room, Yuuji raps his knuckles against your door before immediately shuffling his fists into his gray sweatpants.

Something clatters against hardwood, sheets ruffle, and your footsteps thump, thump, thump up to your bedroom door. Your face peeks out from the sliver of cracked doorway, and there’s no hint of sleep in your gaze. You seem alert, if a little lazily slouched against your doorframe.

“Itadori?”

Oh, right. He was here to say something, wasn’t he?

But he can’t possibly find the strength in his tongue, not when you look at him like that.

With some impossible adoration, like you simply can’t wait to hear whatever stupid bullshit he’s about to spout. He feels so unworthy of it all, and he can’t wait to find out more about you and mold himself to it. To become someone you can’t imagine waking up without. To study and be studied, he’s ready to throw himself into the horrors of being known - if it’s you he’s known by.

The air is punched out of him as he speaks, “Can…” you nod him along, opening your door wider, “Can I kiss you?”

Now that he’s so close to the sugary river, he can’t wait to dive in.

“Seriously?” you laugh in shock at the outburst, but when his face persists, you fling the door open entirely, “Seriously?”

Yuuji winds his hands tighter, to stop himself from desperately clawing his way down your throat, “I like you. I’ve liked you…” he’s unnatural like this, red in the face and dodging your stare, “I don’t even know.”

But you do, you felt it when you first saw him. However, you’re not plagued by the chains of past lives, so the implications are lost. Winding your arms behind your back and grinning at Yuuji with toothy glee, “Me too.”

His eyes nail you with that doughy, desperate plea for attention - the need to be seen as himself. And you’ve always been glad to lend it over in plentiful bounties.

That buzz of silence stabs the both of you.

Until Yuuji can no longer tether himself to his pockets, his big hands gentle as he cups both your cheeks. He molds himself to you, hoping that those troublesome flashes of times he never lived will at least serve his muscle memory now.

Your hands twist into the front of Yuuji’s shirt, nails biting into the black, soft, loose fabric and tugging him closer. Yuuji’s lips are slightly chapped, and you can feel the imprints from where he’s bitten them raw. He hisses when you peek your tongue at the smooth spots.

Wrenching your hands back, you quickly run them under and up his sleep shirt - his skin is warm and he gasps against your lips when your fingertips skim along his sides.

Yuuji pulls back, cheeks flaming, and shoulders his way past your bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him and placing his hands over his shirt - finding yours through the material. He grins, chuckling at how you grope his muscle, squeezing around your hands, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Whatever,” you huff, embarrassed, then ripping your hands out from under his shirt and twisting your fingers between his before - just to prove a point - planting his palms below your own shirt, “You try being normal like this.”

Yuuji’s broad palms are still only burning into the soft flesh of your stomach, but his heart is terribly out of whack.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“You can go higher,” your voice lilts higher, a mere soft whisper as if anything louder could entirely break the poor boy’s brain, “If you want…”

Of course, he does. He’d trade a thousand years with that Sisyphus guy Megumi mentioned to him just for twelve seconds of his hands sizzling up your body. Maybe even just for the chance.

His hands scope higher, palms glued to the planes of your body like he’s trying to scar himself along your skin. The sudden need to leave some lasting impression that he was there - here with you.

Yuuji does his best not to jump when Sukuna’s voice slithers into his ear, polite enough to whisper so he doesn’t alarm you, “Get her on her back. Tongue her cunt.”

You look at him all sweet and concerned when Yuuji’s nose scrunches, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

But he has no idea how to tell you that Sukuna’s words make his stomach churn, and by the time he even tries to form the words he’s thinking about it. Imagining himself on his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair, and eagerly trying to annoy your friends as much as possible with how loud he can make you. And he feels so, so lightheaded at that.

Yuuji’s eyes are wide, staring into yours with such fire that it almost makes you shy away, “Can I eat you out?”

But you brave his dissecting gaze, heart pounding in your ears.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

And, oh, Yuuji could just about die happy right now.

On his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands screwed into the twirls of his tousled hair and (hopefully) annoying at least a nosy Nobara should she be listening to your soft moans next door.

Yuuji wiggles his tongue into your weeping hole, nestling his nose against your clit with a wheezy little whine. His eyes flutter up at you through the gaps between your shaking arms.

“Get your hands in there,” Sukuna’s voice is muffled against the thickness of your thigh, “Thumb her clit, don’t rely on your nose.”

Crinkling his brows, Yuuji has to bite back his remarks about how Sukuna could’ve told him that sooner. Snaking his right hand over your leg, Yuuji flattens his large hand against your lower stomach and pins your bucking hips. His thumb taking residence on your swollen clit, the bridge of his nose still saddled beneath it.

Your back arches, hips grinding down into Yuuji’s thumb and tongue. He’s messy with it - head shaking just to tease and feel the wetness of your pussy slip and slather across his chin. He tongue-fucks you in earnest, practically moaning into you as he grinds against the mattress. Swishing his thumb against your clit faster when he can feel you tighten around him, chasing the feeling of you cumming all over his face.

He can hear it despite his desperation - the way your breath hitches and throat cinches out a squeal. Your thighs squish around his head and Yuuji has to force his hips still lest he be submitted to the horrors of cumming in his pants.

And it isn’t even the fear of your reaction - no, he knows better than to think you’re capable of making him feel shame. It’s just-

“Yes,” Sukuna’s voice is husky, tongue lolling out along Yuuji’s cheek to lather up your juice, “Yes!”

Yuuji knows exactly who will be making fun of him instead. He smacks at the unwanted presence and takes it as pure luck when Sukuna actually stays down.

He works his tongue out of you slowly, letting you whine and huff the way off your high naturally before peeking up at you. He’s grinning, eyes wide and hands retreating to dig hungrily into the meat of your thighs.

“Hey, I wanna try something,” Yuuji’s shamelessness in licking at his soaked lips makes heat flush all the way to your forehead, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

You nod sheepishly, body jittery with the little bugs crawling beneath your sweltering skin. Yuuji bends to the sudden thought he’s sure has something to do with the curse inside him with a mysterious catalog on all things you.

Yuuji slips onto his back beside you, curled against the cold wall corning your bed with his feet flat against the mattress and legs bent. He uses the unnatural well of strength he’s harbored since birth to squeeze at the fat of your sides and lift you atop of him. He can feel the warmth of your cunt on his pelvis and it wracks him with a shiver, you whine helplessly when his right hand immediately welds to your slit. His index and ring fingers part your lips so his middle can swipe coyly over your clit.

“Hah,” you watch his ring finger abandon its post to join the rude teasing, “Yuuji��”

“I know,” Yuuji sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to where your wetness drips onto his skin, his hard cock peeking up between your legs, “I know, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry. Especially when he’s continuing to tease you while pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, serious now,” but he dips his fingers lower and prods at your hole, “Serious.”

You giggle, hot-faced, at his focused gaze, “Yuuji!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he spreads your lips again just to stare from over your shoulder, voice hoars when he finally speaks up, “Alright. Serious now.”

Reaching between your legs, Yuuji grabs hold of his cock - hissing at the contact - and is internally grateful when you raise your hips to meet his head. He presses his forehead against your shoulder when his tip pushes inside you. You feel the hot puffs of air he sends against your back as you continue lowering yourself. He whimpers, the hand at his base flying across your abdomen and gripping your breast. He squeezes and pinches and tries suffocating the embarrassing little noises escaping his lips when you rock your hips down on his pelvis.

“Okay down there?” you twist your head to look back at Yuuji and you’re so glad you did.

He’s flushed down to his chest and his lashes are kissing his cheeks to keep himself together, when he finally opens his eyes fully and looks up at you. His bottom lip is red and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it, “Now I’m gonna do something new.”

This wasn’t new?

Yuuji’s arms stretch under the backs of your knees and come over your shoulders before winding behind your neck, pressing his palms flat against the back of your head. Your arms dangle uselessly at your sides, hands stretching out to graze his ribs and legs bouncing limply as he manhandles you.

His cock bullies itself in your cunt, hips jerking up into the fat of your ass.

Yuuji tries to suffocate down his groans in favor of your sweet moans being punched up from your gut every time he sweeps deep inside you. His lips press tightly just as your own pop open for adorable “ah, ah ah!”s - fighting to maintain his pace despite how badly he wants to pin you to his body and wallow through the wetness sucking him back in for every thrust. Feel your sweaty skin slide and stick against his and whine at the pulling sensation when you peel apart.

Another sudden idea pops into his brain and it’s almost instinctual how he follows it. Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to complain about being brain-blasted with memories that aren’t his if it means not having to hear Sukuna’s voice while fucking you.

Hips never falter in their snaps up into you, Yuuji cranes his neck to teeth at the meat of your nape. He bites possessively and grunts in response to your immediate pitchy moan. Then licking over the marks apologetically.

You try to smother down your breathless moans as Yuuji bullies his cock repeatedly into that spongy spot shooting stars behind your eyes. With an angle and drive and care you’re sure would be lost on any man other than Yuuji - and you’re dumbly struck by the hope that maybe this hard work is only because he’s here with you. And that coherent thought is fucked out of you with Yuuji’s next whimpered request.

“Don’t do that,” he gasps when you tighten around him after a particularly rough thrust, “Please don’t keep it down- wanna…” he moans and the sound flutters straight to your tightening gut, “Wanna hear you so bad, pretty girl.”

Unlatching your teeth from the plush of your bottom lip, flames lap through the wiry twists of your veins - burning through the stretch of your skin and scarring Yuuji. And he eats it up and greedily begs at your feet for more. It shames Sukuna just as much as it excites him to taste the salt on your skin through his vessel’s tongue and watch the way your legs shake and bounce under his vessel’s iron hold. His favorite way to have you and your favorite way to take him.

Yuuji unwinds one of his arms from behind your neck, lowering half your body slightly to swipe his fingers between the junction of your thighs. Right over the slippery spot where you’re creaming on his cock and taking the soaked fingers to your clit. His canines and soft lips battle for a monopoly of your neck and shoulder, swiftly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers as his hips continue fucking you stubbornly.

“Hng, Yuu…!” you gasp, head throwing back and narrowly missing his - the coil winding tighter and tighter and your walls milking Yuuji tighter and tighter, “Yuuji!”

“I know, baby,” he kisses up your bent neck and presses his flaming cheek against yours, “God, please, cum for me. Cum for me,” his hips stutter, and his breath hitches and oh, he’s so close, “I wanna feel you cum on me, baby- I need it. Need it so bad.”

“Oh, Yuuji,” you dig your face closer to his as if trying to meld yourselves into one body, “‘m cumming,” you clench and he’s damn near wheezing, the knot in his lower belly popping as he feels you cum and drips down his balls, “‘m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

And just to avoid embarrassing himself from admitting he’s in love with you while spitting his own cum in your warm, wet walls, Yuuji strangles down his own final cries with a coppery, abusive bite to his bottom lip.

It starts to hurt, how he overstimulates himself through his slowing thrusts - letting you slip down onto his thrumming, sticky chest. Your legs sprawled across his sides, Yuuji slipping his softening cock from your hole.

You lazily roll off of Yuuji, landing face-first into your sheets at his side.

Yuuji can hear it again, that terrible, grating voice telling him, “Clean her, brat.”

And what’s the most terrible is he knows Sukuna’s command is entirely warranted. Flopping a hand onto your back, Yuuji traces heart shapes into the skin as he talks, “I’ll be right back.”

And when Yuuji’s wetting a soft, clean cloth he braved the hallway (nude) to retrieve from his room, he hears that voice again. It echoes in your bathroom.

“I want a turn when she’s awake,” a pause, “Fully awake.”

“Aren’t you charitable?” Yuuji rolls his eyes.

And that same utterance from hours before rings through Yuuji’s ears once again. Why Sukuna cared so much about petty crushes. Why Sukuna bothered himself by actually giving genuine, helpful points. Why Sukuna was fascinated by you.

“She was my most devoted and favorite lover in her past life.”

The way he says it inspires no respect for Yuuji - underlined in his thriving desire to be worshiped, as he imagines he deserves. Yuuji wouldn’t dare uphold you to that.

When he tenderly presses his thumbs into stiff muscles with a red flush and warm smile, Yuuji knows that for sure.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispers, folding his discarded towels and lazily tucking them by your bedpost on the floor. He feels that same hurried ache in his chest, awaiting for your impatience.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You hum, lifting your head off the pillow and snickering, your drowsy face pinched to look at him like he’s stupid, “Duh.”

Giddy, Yuuji slips under the blankets he’d slid over you after cleaning the mess from between your thighs, and slots himself right next to you.

Rolling again, you twist into an open space against Yuuji’s chest and under his thick arm. Warmth drapes across your shoulders when he rests that arm over you. He circles his other arm around you and squeezes, grinning so hard he can feel it burning in the balls of his cheeks. Your ear rests against Yuuji’s chest, and you soothe yourself to slumber on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that when your bones are rotten and six feet deep, two more people will be curled into each other’s arms. With your same starry eyes that some pink-haired kid falls in love with every time they’re on him.

[solbaby7]

Make You Mine

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, sexual tension, toxic relationships, possessive themes, violence, ( just a fuck ton of bad decisions babe, i can’t help it, live for a feral Az )

summary:

[ part one ]

—

Sometime after dinner, once the adrenaline and underlying excitement had quelled; you’d decided to keep Damien around. While proving to be generally horrible, he also perfectly filled the place of a pawn.

A pawn in a game that only you knew you were playing.

One that pushed the line of entirely too far when you showed up at training the following day with hickeys lining the length of your neck—the same place Azriel’s lips had pressed their kisses into at dinner. The same lips you’d pictured when Damien was putting them there, hands groping at your ass as he eased the hem of your black dress over your hips.

Azriel notices you the same time you spot Nesta, striding past the shadowsinger without a hint of acknowledgement but you could feel his eyes glued to the fit of your leathers. “I thought it wasn’t your place to be out here playing with swords?” Nesta drawls out, almost bored as her opponent shuffled out of the ring nursing a bruised jaw.

“If that’s the case, then show me where I belong, Lady Death.” You peer up at her and the five finger grip on her hip, practice sword held loose in her free hand.“Unless, you can’t?”

“I’m surprised you still have enough energy to bother,” Nesta gestures to her own neck and you subconsciously tug your shirt higher. “Long night?”

A slow grin grows at the corner of your mouth, hands bracing your weight to hoist yourself into the ring and briefly you all but preen when you feel the shadowsingers rage permeating the air. Toying with Azriel’s poor restraint never ended well but surely he wouldn’t actually kill anyone. Pride overwhelms common sense and you can feel the chill of his shadows slinking around the edges of the ring as if summoned; watching, listening. “Early morning.” Nesta’s grip tightens on the hilt of her practice sword with full intent of taking you up on your offer but when her lips part no words form.

Instead, she makes a noise, not quite a scoff but not exactly a hum either. “So, there is something decent about the company you keep after all.” You don’t take it offensively and you’re certain Nesta’s readying herself for more but it never comes. A brow raises, head tilting to the side but the silence makes sense when the towering figure behind you blocks the warm sun from bare shoulders.

“Actually,” The husky tone tickles the shell of your ear. “—you’ll be sparring with me today.”

“I’d rather not.”

Azriel’s hand curls around your arm, holding firm but not hard enough that you can’t break free if you tried—if you wanted to. You refuse his gaze, focusing on anything but him and his centuries of trained muscles stuffed beneath the fabric of his fighting leathers. He’d ditched the jacket, tunic too, both tossed in a heap near Cassian. Left in nothing but the sleeveless undershirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination; broadcasting the sharp lines of his neck and the soft curls of inky tattoos that resided there. “You don’t get to make the decisions here anymore,” His free hand raises to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side and he can’t fight his body’s natural reaction to snarl at the very thought of another man’s mouth on your skin. “Not when you keep proving that you make such poor choices.”

You jerk away from his grasp, twisting out of the grip on your arm and a foot smacks at the back of his knees. Finally looking at him—looking down at him, Azriel sees the fire in your eye; the hatred and anger. The betrayal at his hands and the person you had to become because of it. “You have no right to judge my choices.” It’s barely a whisper, concealing as much as you could with so many eyes watching—so many ears listening. “You mean nothing to me.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Curse your body for reacting to his touch; warm hands sliding up to cup at your waist. The smell of him sinking into your nostrils and seducing every nerve like a walking aphrodisiac.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

The reminder snaps you back to reality, hand reaching out to smack him clear across his face. His eyes lower to slits, right cheek going red but you’re too pissed to even register the stinging pain in your palm. “Fine,” Azriel says too casually, jaw ticking with barely there restraint. “We can play this your way.”

It’s gone quiet save for the two of you, the others pausing their fighting to see the scene unfold, waiting to witness the spymaster make an example of you. Certainly, they must’ve forgotten that you’d been doing this since you were old enough to wield a sword; fighting males bigger than Azriel.

Fuck feelings when you had a point to prove.

“I’m not here to play with you, Az. I just want to fight.” It was a cheap shot; using the stupid little nickname to your advantage but his body always reacted so obediently to his name on your tongue. He’d just barely gotten back to his feet before you strike at him, throwing a quick succession of jabs his way in a style that he didn’t teach you.

Maybe all of those weeks away traveling the other courts after his confession had left marks that he hadn’t learned yet.

Something about you that Azriel didn’t know.

The very thought leaves him distracted a second longer than he’d have ever allowed if it was anyone else. He’s quick to recover, blocking and dodging, throwing hits of his own but eventually you grow tired of the refrained punches—the obviously subdued responses to your rage and it only adds more fuel to the fire. “If you aren’t even going to try and be a challenge then just yield so I can spar with Nesta like I planned.”

He hadn’t reached for his sword once, not a single finger twitched to grip at the daggers holstered at his hips and sure, hand-to-hand was fine but with Azriel it felt too close; too intimate. “Is that what you want?” He takes a step closer and immediately your face turns away from him, refusing to acknowledge him or that low tone he took with you and only you. “A challenge?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Except to have been the first choice. One that he was sure in. Not second guessing if every special moment had only felt like that for you. “Not anymore.” The thought alone has your skin flushing with embarrassment, completely turning around to hide but Azriel just shifts to accommodate.

“You don’t mean that.” There’s worry etched in his brow, skewing the whole canvas of his face and it was like your soul wanted nothing more than to appease him. Battering and clawing at your bones, scrambling for the freedom soothe every line and give him everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.

“I want to.” Azriel watches the stone wall you put up, rounding up all that love and adoration, cradling at the sobbing affection that no longer had a place to call home. It takes everything in you to leave it all, to ignore the desire to toss aside better judgement and fall into the need. The softness in your eyes dies with the squaring of your shoulders as you retake your stance, regarding him as nothing more than one of the recruits. “Fight me or leave the ring—I don’t exactly have all day.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to leave. Forfeit and grant you a worthy opportunity but that is not the case.

You should’ve known better.

Azriel’s determination was a force to be reckoned with, skilled swipes of his sword followed by combat moves he only saved for the battlefield. A particularly rough strike is blocked but it still makes you stumble. “Is this challenge enough for you?” Azriel demands, swords interlocked, faces so close you could smell the minty scent of toothpaste on his breath. Golden eyes are piercing under the suns rays, barely concealing how impressed he truly was with the way you’d kept up. Swift and limber, light on your feet and efficient in every step taken but there’s a certain chaos to your moves—something fresh and unpredictable. “This right here,” The fight, the passion, the frantic thrum of your blood rushing in your ears from the pure adrenaline that erupted at the sight of him. “—is why we will never be over.” He’s not even breaking a sweat, syllables breaching perfectly kissable lips while looking like he belonged on a throne in the deepest chasms of Hel. “I know he doesn’t make you feel like this—not like I do.”

“Stop.” It takes more effort now; balancing keeping up that stone wall and maintaining your composure under his attacks. A deep breath to settle your thoughts and you completely drop your sword, effortlessly switching to something more hands on.

“Don’t you see that I can’t?” The restraint in his voice slips, a vein bulging in his neck and your fingers scream for you to reach out and trace it. “Not until you see that he will never be able to do for you what I can.” Azriel’s shadows swirl around your arms, clamping them close to your body as he pulls you into him—his chest on your back and those hands attempting to disarm you. Your breath hitches when you feel the trace of warm skin down the length of your holsters and the weapons fastened to them. A barely there that sends your body in a pure frenzy; one that demands all things Azriel until the end of time. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it felt like—you and me.” The stiff length of his cock pressed into the curve of your spine and it takes everything in you not to actually moan. “Just say the words and I’ll remind you. Right here in front of everyone if that’s what you wish.”

Do it. Your thoughts shout. Do it. You know you want to.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

Sharp jabs of your elbow to his abdomen. A hand that clamps down around the thick bulk of his arm and all that manly strength is used against him when he’s flipped right over your shoulder. Legs straddle at his waist, one blade shoved at his throat while the other pressed gently at his chest. “No, he doesn’t make me feel how you do.” You confess, breathless and your shoulders slump ever so slightly. “But, at least with him, I know I was his first choice. At least with him,” Your words shake and Azriel can’t handle the way you have to force the composure. “—I never have to worry about being second best.” The swords clatter to the ground, not bothering to retrieve them as you get back to your feet.

You’re nearly at the edge of the ring when he calls out, still on the ground and propped up on his elbows. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Neither do you, Az.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

BUTIMGONNAGETYOUBACK

bakugou katsuki x reader

you remember all the times he tried to mend your broken heart

part 2!

a/n: ty i didn’t expect all the love on the first one 🤍

5) acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing just how badly he fucked up.

he hated you, albeit only a little. hated you for making his heart ache the way it did. when you’re young and you feel love you never know how it will end. he thought that you either love someone to marry them, or to break their heart- and when he shut the door on you, he just figured you were the latter.

oh, how wrong he was.

if it was so easy, why did he have to physically restrain himself from calling you that night? why was his mind plagued with thoughts of you hurting? hurting because of him? you gave your heart to him and he tore it to pieces. and it made him want to vomit.

some nights he missed you, and wanted you back. other times he hated you, because he hated himself, and still wanted you back.

so bakugou did what he does best. he blew the 5 stages of grief to kingdom come, and started a new list.

1) accept you fucked up

katsuki bakugou, being katsuki bakugou (aka a stubborn piece of a shit) wanted to believe that he made the right choice. that he once again came out on top, that he was doing the best because he is the best- accept in this case, being the best caused him to lose you.

you were maybe the only person who didn’t just tolerate his stubbornness, his snark or his ego, but loved him more for it. you took every horrible thing about him and decided to love him anyway. what a soul to do that.

and he tried to rationalize that you maybe wouldn’t be the only person he’d meet that accept him for all his flaws and shortcomings, but he didn’t want to risk that. he knew what he wanted and he had it. and bakugou katsuki was not going to let it go so easily.

2) accept you might not be good enough

“might” is a nice word. no. even though he was the greatest, an amazing hero, a stop student and a phenomenal hero, katsuki bakugou didn’t deserve you. someone who wiped the sweat off his forehead after a workout, who reminded him to eat in the morning and drink his water because he can’t train on an empty stomach, who reminds him that its okay to make mistakes because you didn’t fall in love with a perfect hero, you fell in love with him.

and if he’s real, he thinks he deserves less. because someone as good as you shouldn’t be with an asshole like him. but he doesn’t care, and he hopes you don’t really either. he loves you more than he hates himself.

3) know the price going in

your friends called him a dick. your brothers offered to slash his tires or even key his car. your blocked him on everything, threw everything he ever bought for you in the back of your closet, cut up all the photos and cursed out his very existence. heartbreak is only a precursor to anger, and he knew you were probably full of it by know. you learned from the best- you learned from him, after all.

so he knew he had a lot coming his way. reminders of his fuck ups, of his shortcomings. of all the times he made your pretty face cry. so he took all of that hatred and ate it, because he knew most of it (maybe all of it, but he thinks his car is innocent) was deserved. hell, he was angry too. but anger and love aren’t enemies, but rather sisters. some people are worth screaming and fighting with at 2 in the morning. you only cursed his name because you remembered every syllable of it etched into your heart.

4) know when someone still wants you

maybe he was delusional. maybe in his brokenhearted haze his brain simply made it all up in an attempt to heal what was hurting. but he could have sworn he heard you ask about him when talking with your old friends. maybe you wanted to hear about his misery and bask in it. fair. but maybe, just maybe, you actually cared about how he was doing.

and he knows you still have his hoodies, even if they’re curled up underneath your bed. he knows your still wearing his cologne because he recognizes a smell he loves whenever he’s lucky enough for you to walk by him. he knows you still reread your texts, because he’s told you things he would never even dare to utter to anyone else- words just for you. and he knows you still go to all your old date spots, because you forgot to turn off your location. you only shared it with him, anyway.

he knows your missing him, or at least thinking about him. and its maybe the only thing keeping him functioning.

5) fix your face

bakugou, a pillar of self care and health, doesn’t remember the last time he’s showered. he hasn’t eaten a full meal in a couple of days because you haven’t reminded him to. he hasn’t slept since sunday because he hasn’t called you goodnight, and you don’t know that he can’t sleep without it. he looks like shit.

so one day, a day he knows theres a small chance he might see you with your friends during training, he forces his ass out of bed and washes his face. he pats his face dry with a towel instead of rubbing, because you taught him that it lessens his acne. he uses the $21 moisturizer you left in his washroom cabinet simply because its yours, and it makes his skin soft. he wears the perfume you left behind too, because you still have his cologne and this shitty bottle or strawberry pound cake is all he has.

he looks okay. he thinks. but he’s unaware that you still think he’s as gorgeous as the first day you met him.

6) pray that you don’t care what he’s done

he’s an asshole. he has an explosive temper and most people are scared of him. he’s insensitive, he’s a jerk who doesn’t give a single damn about who’s feelings he hurts. he’s gonna be the best, and any extra’s who get in the way are nothing but dead weight. thats what he thought for the longest time, until meeting you.

so he’ll hope that you don’t care how much of a dick he really is. he knows that you love him anyway, but he has to keep praying that that’ll stay the same, even after breaking your heart. he hopes that you’ll forgive him, even if he gets on his knees to do if. you rob him of his pride, of his ego, and he loves you for it. you’re the only person that can make him weak.

and if you’re any real, understandable person who doesn’t forgive him, thats only an excuse to keep getting better. because if theres one thing katsuki bakugou is good at, its proving that he’s the best (even when he’s not.) and he swears to himself that he’ll keep making himself better until he can say that he deserves you.

7) love you till the end

he wants more than just late night phone calls and sharing playlists. he wants to succeed alongside you, share all his greatest accomplishments with you and know that you’re the greatest of them all. he wants to teach you how forever feels, to love you for as long as his lungs breath and his heart beats. being the number one hero was 2nd to being with you- and katsuki bakugou never takes 2nd places. never.

he accepts that his heart is fully, utterly, embarrassingly yours. he knows you have every right to wanna smash it up, eat it and spit it out for all he’s done to you. but he’d rather his heart and love he in your hands than anyone elses. you’re the best thing that was ever his. and even when he broke things off, when he told you he had to choose his career, he knew deep down that he was never not yours.

8) push the rest button, become something new

he was determined to stay this time, even if it meant being handcuffed to you.

1 in the morning. your place. why did you let him in? you weren’t sure. but the banging on the door suggested he wasn’t going away any time soon. you two sat on your bedroom floor, both enjoying and hating each others presence. it was the first time you had seen him in months. and of course he still looked gorgeous. you smelled your perfume as soon as he walked in through the front door.

“…you gonna tell me why you’re here, kats?” you finally broke the silence. your voice cut through the weight on the room like a knife. you did your best to hide the hurt in your voice just from seeing him. your heart ached.

“its stupid.” he mutters, shoving his hands into his sweater. he deliberately faced away front you, because he wasn’t sure if the vulnerability in his eyes would make you hate him more or love him less. maybe both.

“everything you say is stupid.” you half-heartedly chuckle, and he has it in him to scoff quietly, not disagreeing with you. the sound of pouring rain outside growing quieter as you finally got to talk to him. his voice was still your favourite melody, even when it said stupid, stubborn things.

“..just needed to see you.” he finally dares to utter, crimson red eyes looking at you with his brows furrowed. when it came to you, nothing was ever a ‘want.’ no, when it was you, it was all essential to him.

you silently cursed yourself, before getting up and softly crawling towards him next to your bed. your body finds its rightful place next to his, leaning up against him. it had been so long since you felt that warmth. he looks down at you first, not in reluctance but in genuine surprise, before finding his bearings and wrapping his arm around you tight. he was scared that if we were to fully hug you he’d end up never letting you- not that you minded, though.

“asshole.” you quo, wanting to humble him. you were still angry, despite desperately needing to cuddle with him. he simply nods, knowing you’re right. “i missed you.”

both of those statements are true.

“…i’m sorry.” his gruff voice softens, holding you tight. he finally gets to hold you again. if this is his time to say his piece, than he’ll say it with his whole chest. he never half-asses things. “i’m sorry for ever thinking it was okay to let you go.”

his voice cracked at the end there. you couldn’t see him, nor did you want to because you knew it would break your heart, but he was crying.

“…you’re such an idiot kats.” your voice cracks too, pulling him to you even tighter. “i thought you regretted it. r-regretted me or some shit.”

he shakes his head, stroking your hair. “no, i didn’t. idiot, i could never regret you.” he grits his teeth as he does nothing to stop the flow of tears. he deserves to feel the way they sting against his cheeks.

“i’m sorry, [y/n] i’m so fucking sorry. i wanted to have you back but i know how stupid that is now. maybe i’ll just grab my hoodies. or keep them, burn them up for all i care-‘’

he says before finally making eye contact with you. you’re crying and so is he. but god, looking into your eyes felt like he had his own personal universe right in front of him.

“…i wouldn’t burn your sweaters. cut them up, maybe.” you giggle, using your sleeve to wipe away the pain on your face. “but they’re mostly just all on my bed.”

his red eyes flicker up, realizing that you are indeed right. the fabrics he’s so familiar with, you’ve been spending every night with. that makes him more happy than he wants to admit.

theres a beat of silence between the two of you. katsuki feels his heart breaking in the tension. he’s mentally preparing himself to walk out your front door once again, but this time unwillingly.

“…i’m still mad at you.” you whisper shakily. he just nods, almost standing up in defeat.

“but i still want you to stay, asshole.” you utter.

the both of you sigh in relief.

he silently picks you up and pulls you into bed, not caring if all his hoodies fell to the floor, because now you had the real thing. he was so warm, like the sun shining through the clouds just after a hailstorm. he holds onto you like you’d suddenly be ripped away from him, smelling his cologne on your hair. he lets you trace tiny hearts onto his chest, that you maybe haven’t forgiven him, but still need him around. maybe thats enough for him.

and so katsuki bakugou was proved right once again. that he got you back- and he was never gonna let you go again.

tags!

@eyesforbkg @m-0ona @aise-30 @whenanafallsinlove @rnyadlcn @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @vikizzy @im-in-too-much-fandom-help @gina239 @randomrosie01 @heartsform33 @yourmajestyqueena @getou0309 @urlocalgayblueberry @brbwritingfanfic @sky2lar @alligator-person @bkgtskisblog @juststayyoasshome @leonesimp @tanjirofan63 @gabby-ha

some of @s weren’t working im so sorry 😭 i’ll just dm you!

[eubybubble]

arguing with slytherin boys / pt.2

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

warnings: curse words, mentions of abuse, addictions

Theodore Nott

You wanted to help Theo, really. His smoking wouldn't have angered you if he wasn't going through two packs in a day. It was genuinely hard to express your concerns without sounding like a parent or authority figure. But as you attempted to have yet another “serious conversation” with him, you initially thought it was heading toward success. Turns out you just misunderstood his mocking tone as softness and surrender.

“Ah, so you care about me? Answer me, amore, are you my mother? Then tell me, why do my habits piss you off that much?” he advanced towards you, slowly cornering you until your back met the cold wall. You closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to pretend it's a nightmare, hoped for it to end sooner and start again. But it was real, and Theo barely controlled himself “Am I not good enough for Ms. Perfect? My “addictions” shouldn’t worry you, can’t you understand?” His fist landed just an inch away from your face.

Tom Riddle

You decided to drop in and check on Tom since he hadn’t been talking to you for a few weeks now. He was busy working on some project. You made a cute lunch and even drew his portrait with watercolor. You couldn’t contain your excitement as you hurried to his room. What will be his reaction? Did he miss you too? Reality hit harder than you could’ve ever imagined. He eyed you and things in your hand with a little to no interest.

“Just how many times did I tell you not to disturb me? Not to meddle in my business? I don’t need it," he stated firmly. His words rang in your ears, and you didn’t listen much as he continued, “I was right, in the end relationships proved to be troublesome trivia. It was nice to know you. But now, leave.”

Mattheo Riddle

You’ve been avoiding him for the last few weeks after hearing rumors about his ties to dark organizations and massacre in the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Now, he was confronting you. Can’t really escape when he’s towering right above you in the middle of a dorm room.

“Are we even dating at this point? ‘Cuz i feel like I’m a fucking joke to you, not a boyfriend” Mattheo calmly stood in front of you, staring at you with eyes full of hatred “Little bird told me you’re afraid of me. Why, is it because my surname is Riddle? I thought you weren’t that dumb like others to judge me on my family relations which I don’t give a fuck about” he spat out the last words. His lips curled in disgust as he shoved a box full of your gifts and memories into your hands, leaving you dumbfounded in the solitude of your room.

Lorenzo Berkshire

The last few weeks have been tough for every seventh-year at Hogwarts. Tables were cluttered with heaps of homework and essays, and an unhealthy number of coffee mugs in common rooms weren’t surprising anymore. Amidst this academic crisis, your boyfriend was the most affected one. He had to maintain his top spot, not for himself but for his parents.

You were genuinely worried about him and tried to help him unwind a bit, but he consistently refused and distanced himself even more. When you suggested going to Hogsmeade, he suddenly snapped, growling in frustration

“Just fuck off. I have a lot to manage, and you're being a burden right now. Can’t you spend a minute without me?” He kept ruffling his hair and rubbing his temples in annoyance. “I need a break” He didn’t care to explain what break he needed and didn’t even look at you as he left the common room in a hurry.

a/n: yes, i like making people suffer and yes there’ll be part 2 with Draco, Blaise and Regulus

[inuyashaluver]

hello! can i request an enemies to lovers fic for misa?!?! i absolutely love your fics and theres barely any fics about her so i thought why not

change of heart - misa rodriguez

misa rodriguez x reader

description: in which your relationship with your ultimate enemy takes a turn when she helps you through a tough time

warnings: it’s a long one buckle in, swearing, fighting, suggestive, spanish in bold italics

a/n: finally misa!!! thank you for the love and support, babe, please enjoy!! ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

maría isabel rodriguez rivero, or misa if you will, was the bane of your existence. she was ill-tempered, absolutely insufferable when you couldn’t get a ball past her, arrogant and more. she was also gorgeous but you’d never say it out loud.

you couldn’t understand misa and she couldn’t understand you, the two of you just didn’t get along.

you were on the same team always, but it always felt like a competition between the two of you. sure you were a midfielder and she was a goalkeeper but that didn’t mean the hate didn’t stem.

it’s always been like that, especially in the spanish youth teams, you had the ability to push misa’s buttons in a way she couldn’t explain and vice versa. there was never a pivotal moment where the hatred began but you both knew it steadily developed as you got older.

—

“misa, we’re just training, calm down!” a 16 year old you screamed when she dove for your strike, a harsh smack sounding as she caught it.

“we may be training but that doesn’t mean we get lazy, chiquitín (small one)” misa smirked, kicking a long ball way past you. you send her a glare, cursing her under your breath as you went to retrieve the ball.

by the time you got back, she was doing her keeper duties, but with much less intensity, clearly only going full out when you were the one kicking the ball.

“i thought we shouldn’t get lazy, misa?” you teased, cocking your head to the side and offering her a cheeky grin that made her blood boil.

“fuck off, lay it on me then” she challenged angrily, everyone could feel the tension between the two of you but chose to watch in amusement. this happened every two minutes on the daily and everyone was so used to it.

“i fucking will” you bite back, striking the ball before she had time to think and sending it dangerously close to her face, sailing past her into the back of the net. “no, you’re a cheater, i wasn’t ready,” misa barked, you shrug at her

“you don’t get time to prepare for your little tea party in a match, rodriguez” you taunt, that’s when misa lost it. she walked over to you, standing chest to chest as she glared down at you, you could feel her anger bubbling in your entire body as your eyes challenged hers.

“listen here, princesa (princess), this little attitude of yours is a bad look” she said lowly with mock sympathy. she was clearly trying to rile you up, and sure, maybe you should ignore it but you couldn’t with this girl, no matter how hard you tried.

“my attitude? your fucking ego is the only thing that enjoys a solo performance more than you do” you scoff, she smirks amusingly, moving her face dangerously close to yours as you swallowed hard.

her scent was enveloping you, it was crazy how good she smelled after a training session but you squashed that thought down quickly.

she chose to just keep her face close to yours, her eyes boring into yours while that fucking smirk was plastered on her face.

she looked down at your lips, chuckled and moved past you, letting you stand there with slightly pink cheeks. must be from the heat.

—

for years the snarky remarks continued, tension rose and stemmed the basis of you and misa’s weird relationship. in reality, something else was growing under the surface. attraction.

you both played together in the under 19 spain team and your fellow teammates could all agree that both of you managed to hate each other even more, believing it was physically impossible but you and misa were always overachievers.

“move” misa grumbles as you were talking with ona, shoving you towards the girl, making you stumble before you snap your head towards misa. “you’re such a treat” you glare at her, ona makes quick work of helping you stand after she giggled at the two of you.

misa watches as you stand, making her grin and blow you an exaggerated air kiss. “always such a pleasure to see you” she mocks, you roll your eyes at her and she smiles satisfied, moving to change into her kit in her cubby.

you hate to admit that your eyes lingered on the girl as she changed, the muscles in her back rippling against her skin when she tugged on her keeper kit.

you were distracted, not even processing that aitana had joined your conversation, coming back to life when she sends you a sharp smack on the back of your head.

“ow! what the fuck?” you yelp, turning to a grinning aitana and ona, misa’s head followed the sound of your voice, her eyebrows furrowed thinking you were in pain.

“welcome to earth” aitana smirks, you huff out in frustration and urge her to continue the conversation, your eyes flickering over to see that misa was already watching you.

“can i help you, rodriguez?” you call out, she shakes her head, “nope”, flipping you off before walking out of the room. your eyes followed her as she walked out, feeling a little disappointed when she was gone.

well, you were disappointed until training started. “come on, is that all you’ve got?” misa taunted, her signature smirk that pissed you off like no tomorrow evident on her face as she caught the fifth ball you’d sent her way.

“you never change, we’re practising!” you huff, hands stationary on your hips as you glared at her, “you never change, you’re lazy” misa teases, you close your eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath as she laughed at you.

“you’re so fucking annoying, misa!” you groan, “don’t be mad, princesa (princess), you’ll get one past me eventually” she throws you a thumbs up with her gloves, you send her a charming smile, kicking the ball hard way over the goal, making her send you a glare when she had to go and get it.

“you give into her every time” ona chuckles, her arm thrown over your shoulder. when misa came back and saw ona holding you close, a funny feeling brewed in her stomach, she wanted to be like that with you, but you hated her. and she hated you.

—

you and misa got signed to real madrid at the same time and it was purely unintentional. when you both came to training for the first time, you swore you had a heart attack seeing her in the kit.

“you just cannot get enough of me” misa says in mock disbelief, trying really hard not to laugh at your face right now, you were shocked.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you exhale, watching as misa chuckled at you. “i play for madrid now” she starts, “you look nice,” smiling before tugging the bottom of your training top quickly before moving past you.

your cheeks instantly turned pink, mouth a little agape as she smiled at you over her shoulder, making sure you had to open the door yourself.

the first game you and misa played for madrid changed something slightly between the two of you. the tension between you two finally acknowledged a little when you got a hatrick.

at the end of the game, you felt a hand on your shoulder spinning you around as you did your appreciation lap, “always so greedy, you just had to get three goals?” misa teased, you roll your eyes amusingly, her hand still on your shoulder.

“i was imagining you as the keeper” you smirk, she laughs at that, “you wish” you laugh along with her, both of you with gentle smiles on your faces before you realised what was happening.

you were bantering without any malice, that was a first.

—

the months went by and slowly you and misa got closer? that’s not the right term but it kinda was. the two of you were more or less a little more friendly, mainly through moments that people on the outside viewed as normal but very different for you and misa.

for instance, misa would make an effort to help you out occasionally. helping you out on your tracker as you pathetically tried to yourself.

“you’re embarrassing yourself” misa laughs, grabbing your hips to hold you still, your breath hitched as you felt her fingers on your skin, you were burning.

she takes the tracker from your hands and slips it in the back of your training top, lightly tapping it with her hand before pulling your top down for you.

“i had it” you breathe out, “mhm, sure you did” she winks, placing a hand on your waist before moving past you. you stood there a little dumbfounded, that was nice, and why did you like the feeling of her hands on your skin?

during that training session, she analysed your every move, misa came to terms with having different feelings about you. they were always there of course, but it was different now when she finally accepted them.

you as well couldn’t keep your eyes off misa, often making eye contact with each other before you ripped your gaze away, afraid she’d see how red your face got when she caught you staring. but she did see it, and she loved it.

during shooting practice, misa let you get three goals past her and it pissed you off. “why are you going easy on me?” you exclaim, misa holds her hands up in front of her with a little laugh, “i’d never take it easy on you,” you narrow your eyes at her unconvinced, kicking the ball softly and watching as it rolled in the net, slowly, misa just watched as it moved past her.

“rodriguez, what the fuck!” you throw your arms up, misa laughs brightly, “you’re too good for me now, miss madrid!” she teased, you run your hands over your face, shaking your head.

you walk off to grab some water and misa came up shortly behind you, you wordlessly passed her water bottle to her and her eyes widen a little at the gesture, “thanks” she smiles quickly, her hands brushing yours as she took it, feeling a little jolt of electricity between both of you.

—

everything changed rapidly when you and misa played in the senior team for spain. as soon as the two of you didn’t come in like a thunder strike of an argument, the team was genuinely surprised.

they noticed the complete shift when both of you were starting and unfortunately, your team lost 3-2 in a final. you hadn’t managed to get a goal and you blamed yourself for the whole thing.

you fell to the ground when the final whistle blew, lying on your back with your arm over your eyes as tears rolled down your cheeks.

you weren’t there for long, you felt your body being pulled to an upright position and you let whoever it was do it. you sniffled and looked down at your legs before a gentle hand hooked under your chin and gently directed it upwards.

your eyes met with misa and it made you cry a little more, her heart broke at the sight of you, she’d never seen you cry before. she places a hand on the back of your head and pulled you close to her, tucking your face into her shoulder as you cried.

both of you said nothing, letting yourself melt into misa’s body as everything else tuned out. her other hand rubbed up and down your back, your arms eventually wound around her neck, pulling her closer as she rested her head against yours.

“you played so well,” misa cooed, dismissing all the questioning looks sent by your own teammates, misa only cared about one person and that was you.

“i wasn’t good enough” you mumble against her shirt, misa shook her head, “you’re always good enough, hermosa (beautiful), always” misa said in your ear, her hand on your back now moving in gentle circles as she drew you impossibly closer.

“we lost” you whined, misa tutted at that, “it doesn’t matter, we’ll get them next time” you pull away from her slightly, at arms length.

she smiles at you softly, her hand leaving your head to push a stray hair from your eyes before gently wiping the tears falling on your cheeks. the gesture was so intimate, your stomach was fluttering.

“who are you and what have you done with my misa?” you let out a wet laugh, she laughs along with you, pinching your cheek gently as you both sat on the ground.

“your misa?” she teases, you freeze up a little at that, attempting to pull yourself away from her embrace but she kept you close, pulling you into another hug.

“you’re okay” she breathes out, comforting you as you both conversed quietly back and forth, misa helping you calm down completely before helping you to the change room.

she holds out both of her hands with a friendly smile, you blink up at her and take them both, allowing her to lift you from the ground.

that’s when alexia and jenni came over and began to comfort you, your hands dropping from misa’s and instantly missing the contact.

she went around talking to your teammates as you all slowly filtered into the change room, celebrations still occurring in the change room despite the loss.

you sat quietly in your cubby, misa watched you concerned when you just sat there but she didn’t want to push you anymore.

you all made it back to your hotel, separate rooms for the first time in a while. you collapsed on the bed with an exhausted sigh, starting up at the ceiling while the tv gently filled the atmosphere.

at this point, all you could think about was misa, she was completely clouding up every thought in your head.

your body moving on its own, you walked to the door, swinging it open and letting out a little noise of surprise seeing misa on the other side already. you both clutched your chests in fear, breathing heavily at the fright you gave each other.

“sorry, were you going somewhere?” misa utters, you shook your head, “i was going to your room” you say a little sheepishly, misa’s never heard your voice so soft, especially directed to her.

“oh” she breathes out, you shift your weight between your feet, “do you want to come in?” you swallow, misa nods slowly, moving inside the room and closing the door behind her.

“i just wanted to check up on you” misa admitted, scratching the back of her neck bashfully.

your heart was beating so fast, you nervously glance up at misa before looking back down, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. you could feel her eyes burning into your side profile, trying to see what your next move would be.

you clear your throat before sitting on the bed, your legs swinging over the edge, misa smiled at the sight, you looked adorable, she felt like she could see your younger self that she admired so much shining through.

she moved to sit next to you, her thigh slightly brushing yours as she sat down. “i feel bad, but i’ll be okay” you sigh, looking over to see her smiling sympathetically, she places a gentle hand on your knee.

“hermosa (beautiful), you played amazing, i really mean that,” she says earnestly, her hand gently squeezing your knee as she maintains eye contact with you.

you smile sadly at her, “so did you” she grins, “i let three go past me” you shake your head, “it doesn’t matter, misa, you played amazing as usual” her cheeks go a little pink at your compliment, “what have you done with my (y/n)” she mocks, bumping your shoulder with hers.

you laugh brightly, “your (y/n)?” you tease, but she just nods, “mhm, my (y/n)” her eyes flicker between your own, slightly dropping to your lips before catching herself and looking at her hand still resting on your knee, ready to move it away before you placed your hand over hers.

“misa” you breathe out, almost sounding like a plea as you looked at her, her heart caught in her throat, her eyes searching yours. she moved her hand to rest on your cheek, her thumb rubbing the skin there.

your eyes dropped to her lips and she took it as confirmation, closing the gap and placing her lips on yours. you gasp against her, your mouths moving together tenderly before she slipped her tongue in your mouth.

you weren’t sure how it happened but you ended up straddling her lap, both of you breathing heavily as the kiss grew a little hotter. she gently tugged at your bottom lip between her teeth and you whined into her, making her smirk lazily against your lips, squeezing the flesh of your waist as your hands carded through her hair.

you pull away in need of air, you and misa just looking at each other with pink cheeks and blown out pupils.

you pant as you look at her, smoothing down her hair with a giggle. “sorry” you smile, she smiles up at you adoringly, shaking her head lightly, “it’s okay” you keep your hands on her shoulders, your finger lightly grazing the exposed skin near her collar.

“you okay?” she whispers, the words hitting your lips, you nod, leaning forward to peck her lips sweetly, she smiles at you so brightly. “you okay?” you whisper back, she nods, bumping your nose with hers softly.

“if i told 16 year old (y/n) how good of a kisser you were, maybe she wouldn’t hate you as much” you tease, misa chuckles, pulling you in for another kiss, her hand cupping your jaw.

“if i told 16 year old misa all she had to do was kiss you to get you all sweet, i think she’d pass out” she teases back, you giggle, rolling your eyes fondly.

you tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “you’re so beautiful” you say softly, “you’re more beautiful” she matches your energy, you both smile at each other sweetly.

“i like you, (y/n)” she looks right into your eyes as she says it, you offer her a cheesy grin, “i like you too” she mirrors your expression before pulling you into another kiss, becoming heated relatively quickly.

you pull away breathlessly making her huff in annoyance, “does this mean you’ll let me score against you?” you tease, she rolls her eyes with a laugh, “hm, maybe, bebé (baby)” she mumbles against your lips, pulling you back into the kiss.

—

when you both went to breakfast the next day and sat next to each other closely, you were offered wild looks of amusement.

“isn’t this a surprise” jenni laughed as her and alexia sat across the both of you. “what?” misa shrugged, “well you’re not fighting” alexia smiled, you rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest when you sat straight in your chair.

misa placed a hand on your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “we don’t fight all the time” misa defended, alexia laughed at that, yelling at ona and aitana for backup that they promptly gave.

“we made up ages ago” you narrow your eyes at alexia, she crinkled her nose at you teasingly, making you bite back a smile.

“oh don’t worry, we know you made up” jenni laughed, looking down at her plate with a smirk as she ate, “and what do you mean by that, jennifer?” you bite back, misa smiled amusingly, loving your feisty side.

“well the hickey on your neck says everything to me” she said simply, your eyes widen and your hand flung to your neck quickly, jenni laughs heartily, making alexia giggle too.

misa puts her head in her hands out of embarrassment now that the whole team was looking at you with teasing grins.

“i thought i heard something interesting last night, misa definitely got (y/n)’s forgiveness with what i heard” jenni teases, you glare at her, misa was bright red, “stop it, jenni” misa grits out,

“okay, i will” jenni smirks, continuing to eat her food before mocking your voice, “oh, misa, don’t stop” you gasp at that, ready to leap over the table to tackle the girl to the floor before you were held back by misa, the girl holding you firmly on her lap.

“misa” you whine, “no,” she reprimands, making you slouch into her, “i’ve never seen her so obedient” alexia smirks, you turn bright red, misa matches her smirk, running her hands up and down the side of your waist, promptly calming you down.

you both sat there like that for a bit until you had to get on the bus back to the airport. you and misa sit together and you both can’t help but relish in the affection and domesticity of being together.

you were cuddling into misa as you both chatted, laughing brightly with each other that had the whole team grinning.

it was extremely different from watching the two of you at each other's throats to seeing you all loved up but it was a happy change for everyone. especially you and misa.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you!!

liked by ona.batlle and 44,232 others

marisabel_rguez: who knew she was such a softie?

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yourname: fuck off

↳ marisabel_rguez: there she is!!

jennihermoso: i’ve learnt a lot of things about this one😉

↳ alexiaputellas: so have i

↳ marisabel_rguez: oh god, so have i

↳ yourname: stop it.

[annievrse]

skirt

satoru x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: reader wears a skirt, best friend gojo, everybody's in their early twenties (pretending nobody died or went astray, so suguru + haibara are here!!))

"When are the boys getting here?" Utahime asks, smoothing out one of the picnic blankets on the sand.

Shoko throws you a look, one you hate, and you check your phone. Your messages with Satoru are a mix of flirting and faux hatred shared between best friends. "5 minutes."

"Okay," Utahime mumbles, standing on the blanket. "I'll go get the extra snacks from the car."

And then she's gone, walking up the sand. The night is quiet, the only sound being the crackling of the bonfire a few feet down the beach.

"You know he's gonna freak out, right?"

You jump at the deadpan words of Shoko, and you turn toward her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolls her eyes and gestures to your outfit. "You know exactly what I'm saying. Gojo's gonna lose it."

With hot cheeks, you look down at your mini skirt. I mean, yeah, it's rare for you to wear such an item of clothing in the Jujutsu world, but you didn't think of it as such a big deal (you did).

Shrugging smugly, you place your drink in the cupholder of the camp chair. "Not like I planned to wear this since we made these plans."

But Shoko catches the smirk on your face and laughs. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey!" Haibara yells from the carpark. You and Shoko turn to see the boys making their way down the sand, Utamine in between Suguru and Nanami with bags of chips in her arms.

"Hide me," You giggle, grabbing Shoko by the shoulders to force her in front of you.

"You're joking," She whispers, rolling her eyes.

"Can you believe the nerve of these guys?" Utahime grumbles. "They had the great idea to get fast food instead of eating our prepared food!"

Shoko moves to lecture Suguru, who's holding a large paper cup in his hand, and soon rips into the other two. Satoru, however, pays no mind to her ranting.

As soon as his eyes land on you, he's looking at the sky and cursing under his breath. The glow of the bonfire on his face makes his hair orange, which makes you smile while you give him a twirl.

His strides are long as he stalks toward you, hands full of takeout. Your palms rest on his cheeks, and he refuses to look down, his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and gaze on your lips pulled into a smile.

“Can I just kiss you right here?”

You throw your head back in laughter. "No!"

Satoru groans and looks down at your legs where the skirt ends. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Good. Might save Shoko from a heart attack.”

“When you two are done, we'd love to start eating,” Nanami calls, eyes narrowed at you.

"Hold on, Negative Nancy," Satoru chirped. "I'm admiring the love of my life."

Shoko scoffs and groans. "Make her your girlfriend before you start yapping."

Satoru shrugs one shoulder, hands hovering at your sides. You roll your lips between your teeth, legs shaky and heart pounding.

"Okay! I'm hungry, I'm eating," Suguru says, the rustling of paper bags following his sentence.

At the sound, the rest of the group start unpacking their dinner, choosing to ignore you.

Satoru sighs, moving his takeout bag to a spare finger on the hand holding his cup.

"Come on," He whispers, his hand low on your back. "Sit with me. I wanna get a better look at you."

[lqveharrington]

Feelings Mutual | C.G.

summary: Your forced to hangout with Cardan at the High King’s birthday celebration. Turns out, you both make stupid decisions when drunk. And what’s the fine line between hatred and love between two being who can’t lie anyway?

pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x half fae!fem!reader

includes: drunk Cardan, drunk reader, cursing, making out, suggestiveness, no use of Y/N, barely proofread (i think that’s it)

a/n: i’m on a reading spree, and working on my projects, so this should help get me out of a huge writing slump.

In Faerie, it was uncommon for a half fae, half human being to be a princess in the court. Your father — the King of one of the many lands — wed a human woman, causing you to become the land’s princess. Of course many of the court thought that you were lesser than them; For such a creation should never hold that high of a status.

Ever since you were younger, you often attended lessons with the High King’s youngest child. At first, you sought out to befriend him and his group of friends. But you soon found out that they loathed you. Because how could a halfling ever be a worthy princess?

So you gave up trying to befriend them. You let the group taunt you for not being full fae, but what was the worst thing they could do? You still were a daughter of a very powerful king. The very king that was the closest with the High King himself.

You and your family were constantly invited to all their gatherings, and this one wasn’t an exception. It was the High King’s birthday, which meant all of Faerie was invited to Elfhame palace to celebrate such a day. The only issue with that meant your father and mother urged you to talk to Cardan and his group.

“Mother, they don’t like me.” You wring your hands together, fidgeting with your silver jewelry.

She clicked her tongue, “Nonsense. Prince Balekin spoke of how much Cardan talks about you when he comes home from your lessons.”

“Wait what?” Your eyes widen at her in disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure they’re words of hate.”

“Is it because you don’t like your dress? Are you afraid they’ll hate it?” She tugged you to stand in front of herself. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

You purse your lips at her compliment. You truly loved the dress. It was a beautiful sage color that complimented your skin tone completely, and the corset really did wonders. There were gorgeous lace details of butterflies that were a shade darker, with a slit running down one side of the dress. It was beautiful, but you feared that it was much too modern for Faerie, causing your thoughts to wander to how Cardan’s friends would insult it.

“No, I love the dress, mother.” You give her a tight lipped smile, squeeze her hands. “If you truly wish for me to find Cardan, I’ll go and be friendly so you and father can enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and a real smile etched its way onto your face.

“Be safe, alright?” Your father squeezed your shoulder before leaning down to whisper words your mother couldn’t hear. “If trouble comes, you know what I’ve taught you. You have your dagger?”

Your lips twitch in excitement, “Of course.”

“Then you’re all set then, kiddo.” He gave you one last look before resting an arm around your mother’s waist. “I’ll come find you when it’s time for us to depart.”

You nod before taking a small bow. You watched them leave and make their way to the throne, immediately engaging with the High King and Queen. They seemed happy, which made you glad that they accepted your mother as their own. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and blew out the air in one go. Carefully, you made your way over to Cardan. Luckily, he was on his own for once.

“Cardan.” You nod in his direction, watching his dark eyes with flecks of gold suddenly gazing into yours. Without fail, his eyes roam over your body, tail whipping behind himself after gaining someone’s attention.

“Princess! Don’t you look absolutely captivating tonight.” He slurred, red wine dripping out of his glass. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You raised a brow at the prince. From what you could recall, he didn’t live inside the palace walls. And there wasn’t a chance he could lie either. “You don’t live here.”

“I used to.” He tipped his glass up to his wine stained lips, taking in the drink whilst taking in the sight of you.

“Where are your—“ You use your hand to gesture in the air as you grab your own glass of wine from a server passing buy. Unsure of how to word your question, you sip on the wine, immediately hit by its strength. “Where are your friends, I should say.”

“Off to bother some mortal or do something stupid.” He smiles in your direction as you down your drink and reach for another. “What’s upsetting you, princess?”

“Nothing.” You tilt your head toward him, eyes flicking down from his strange stare to his stained lips. “Just want time to move faster.”

“How drunk do you want to get?” He leans closer to you, fingers itching to pull you into him.

You place a hand to his mouth and push him further away from yourself. He hums as he traces his finger over his empty wine glass.

“How many glasses have you had, Cardan?” You tip back your third drink, missing his smirk while he watches.

“Enough.”

“Enough to forget?” You turn toward the table and grab the strongest drink, carefully downing the drink.

His shadow towers over you as his breath tickles your neck, “Forget what exactly, love?”

“I hate you.” You say against Cardan’s lips, arms loosely hanging around his neck. “I hate you so much.”

He continues to push you backwards as he slams the door behind him, hands finding their place around your waist. “Feelings mutual, princess.”

Letting your hand thread through his hair, you pull him in for a more heated kiss, tugging ever so slightly at his roots. Cardan groans against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

“This is such a stupid idea.” You unwillingly part as he drops you down on a bed — hopefully one that used to be his. You let out a small gasp as he litters soft kisses on your throat and down to your exposed collar bone. Your hands find his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Cardan—“

“Yes, love?” He slowly makes his way back up to your lips, pressing short kisses as you try to make sense of the situation. He stops attacking you with his lips, staring and waiting for you to continue.

You shake your head, eyes glassy with drunkenness as you meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“You’re too perfect for me.” He groans again, tasting the red wine from your lips as he kisses you harder. “God, I hate you.” Cardan mumbles as he lets his hands wander over your body, refraining from the more private areas at the moment.

Cardan allows you to wander over his own body, feeling you fidget with the hem of his shirt. Letting your hands slip underneath his shirt, you let out a small sigh before flipping the both of you over. You quickly toss your dagger onto the floor before meeting his lips again, the kiss heightening all your profound feelings.

As minutes turned into an hour more, you both fell into a pit of no return. The shared kisses were intensified, and without either party having a clear mind or being sober, neither could stop the motions that lulled them both to sleep very late into night.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that the pair awoke to the sounds of pounding at the door and a splitting headache.

“Your highness, your father is looking for you.” The voice called from outside the wooden doors, causing you to groan and bury your head into the warmth emitting from your bed.

A beat passed before the pounding occurred once more.

“Your highness—!”

“In a minute!” Cardan shouted, eyes shut from the dizziness and hangover. “For fucks sake…”

Your eyes widen at the voice, head rushing up before falling back down at the impact of a jaw. “Shit, that hurt.” You mutter, wincing when you felt the hangover hit you. Slowly, you remove yourself from Cardan’s arm, slightly frowning when you saw him rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you…”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns.” He grumbled, glaring at the door again.

He pushed himself up from the bed, eyes raking over your appearance. He smirked over at you before leaning against the headboard. You crease your brows before looking down and realizing whose clothes you were in — crossing your arms over the loose shirt.

“Princess, I think your father will be a little disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?” You roll your eyes at him, keeping one arm over Cardan’s shirt while running your free hand through your hair.

Your bored gaze meet his amused one, watching him tilt his head. You look away as you weren’t necessarily hiding the fact that you were eyeing his bare chest either.

He pulled you into his chest, despite your halfhearted protests. “Because you have hickeys all over your skin.” Cardan presses a kiss to your cheek, causing your breath to hitch.

All the memories from last name came rushing in, warmth filling your body at the thoughts. Your eyes flit to your dress and dagger scattered across his floor, still thinking of the punishment to come.

However, you did not regret him.

“I don’t think we drank enough last night.” You twist in his arms, lips barely touching his.

“I don’t think so.” He lands a soft kiss to your lips. “I still hate you, love.”

“Feelings mutual.” You straddle over his hips and rest your forehead on his, both your heads still pounding from last night’s activities.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[tteokdoroki]

Aali!!!! I was gonna put this in the tags of your training scenario but got shy :(

but i immediately thought of Gojo!! And like he's not surprised you flipped him over due to you're strength, he has no doubts about how strong you are but it's the fact that he trusts you so much he unconsciously turned off his infinity for you <3 so now he's like !!!!!! because what!!!! but also you're on top of him and you look so pretty so now he's short circuiting double the amount!!!!

Like !!!!!!!! my brain is going crazy thinking about it - 🍓

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. neither strong, nor weak - just in love.

about. combat training with gojo makes him realise just how strong you really are. inspired by this silly post i made yesterday, it wasn’t meant to become a whole thing but it did and now it’s…sad. im sorry. also pls don’t be shy ily :(

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, mutual pining, slightly unrequited romance, mentions of violence (they’re combat training), death mention, canon!verse, gn!reader.

you’re pissed. 

over the years satoru’s seen a colourful array of emotions splayed against your features. he’s seen joy, laughter, happiness — all of which are his favourites. he wishes he could have seen them more. but also sadness, anguish and a pain so deep he felt like he was dying right alongside you. 

he’s died once before, nearly, but it never could have compared to the feeling he got when you looked at him with pure hatred. because gojo had been the one to hurt you, then. 

you’ve never been one to hold grudges, you’re too good of a person for the world to hold anyone in such a negative light for way too long — but when you do experience these emotions, you feel them all too much and all too hard and everyone can see it too. maybe that’s why gojo picks up on your spike of anger so easily during training today, it could be the sick reason behind how much he’s enjoying you being pissed off too.  

because you wear your heart on your sleeve and your emotions on your face, so gojo knows exactly how he makes you feel — all of the time. “c’mon sweetheart, don’t lose focus. don’t you wanna beat me?” he taunts you, a cocky smile stretched over his lips as he dodges each of your blows, though the shades over his eyes hide the admiration he has for you.  

“fuck you.” you spit back harshly, as if the words scald your tongue. shifting your weight onto your back foot, you take a chance and swing your leg up high, just narrowly missing the silvery mop of satoru’s hair where his infinity goes up to protect him. 

for gojo, it’s easy for things to lose their meaning, slipping away from him like fine grains of sand through his fingers. at times when he should, he finds himself without a care — it’s easier to walk through life not giving a shit than to tie emotions to actions, people and places. if the strongest cares too much then people have to die. that’s why the wielder of the six eyes holds you to such high regards. you’re strong because you’re able to care — no matter what’s in your path or who might stand in your way, and what they might make you feel, you are able to be strong for those in need. 

you feel what satoru can’t. 

“i’ve been waiting all day for that, honey.” he quips back, lifting his shades just a little to bare the full brunt of your aura through his technique. “c’mon, let’s put in a little more effort, shall we? if i were a curse, you’d be dead by now.” 

everything gojo sees is magnified by one hundred, he could detect the smallest of changes no matter how close or far he was from you — and being able to witness frustration build up in your core along with stacks of your cursed energy elicits a pleasant reaction out of him. his head flops to the side, almost bored, despite how the corner of his lips quirk up into a lopsided grin. satoru loves how you’re just teeming with anger, from the top of your head right down to your toes — spreading into your fingertips as your cursed energy balls powerfully around your fist. 

and even though he catches it between his larger hands, the thin invisible veil of his infinity quite literally stopping you from killing gojo — he can still feel that you’re pouring your all into this, into him. even though you’re tired and dripping with sweat while your muscles burn so hot you fear they might melt away, you’re still trying. you still won’t give up. you’re still stronger than he ever could be. 

and he’s practically a god. 

“you would be the dead one if you didn’t have the cheat code to life.” rolling your shoulders, you step back with a menacing snarl and start again — fists flying in the direction of the six eyes as you’re  fuelled by the passion of taking him down. making him hurt. people like gojo piss you off, their existence serving as a reminder that your life is not promised and every step you take is a sacrifice to help them live on. though deep down, you know that you don’t hate him for it. it’s nothing that he could have helped. 

once again, satoru snags your fist before it can even leave a mark on him and draws you in by his infinity. for a moment, you’re scared that he might use it to repel you, harm you  — he catches the flicker of fear in your eyes before you steel your nerves and keep on fighting even as he grabs at your wrists, sweeps your feet out from underneath you and pins you to the hard ground below. 

leaning over your frame as you squirm beneath him, gojo tuts down at you in faux disappointment. “so sad, and here i was, thinking that you were strong enough to beat me.” he says, cruelly. “give up already, princess.” 

in response, you bare your fangs and dig your nails into his wrists — not letting up. “i’ll give up when you’ve killed me.” 

that makes satoru falter. 

it’s only training, really, it shouldn’t even be that serious. but his mind can’t shake the idea of one day sacrificing you for the good of others. for everyone satoru gojo has ever cared about, there has been a day where he has to choose between letting them meet their end and protecting the jujutsu world. that’s the way it’s always been and always will be. it’s not that he thinks you’re weak, that you can’t handle yourself — you’ve proven yourself capable of that time and time again. you’re strong, physically and resilient in your emotions, mentally but you’re only human.

and humans don’t last as long as gods do. 

seizing the opportunity at hand, you squeeze your thighs around satoru’s slender waist to switch your situation and rip your wrists free from his steady iron grip. so now, your positions are reversed, and he’s the one with his arms above his head — exposing all of his vulnerable vital organs. he could have easily kept himself in control and have you squirming below him for hours, but he lets you. he trusts you enough to let you prove yourself to him — just so he can have that moment, that lets you know that the great satoru gojo is not immune to the likes of you. 

he is weak for you. 

his infinity slips away unconsciously just as his back his the the floor with a dull thud — wisps of his snow white hair flying about the place with the motion. satoru lays still beneath you, unmoving like a tree rooted to its spot, and peers up at you through the thickness of his lashes. he watches how you try to control your surprise and how shocked you are at yourself for pinning him down — truth being told that if he didn’t have infinity to hide behind, if he was human, you probably would have been able to from the start. 

“think again,” you breathe, the dip in your voice doing nothing to help satoru’s crazed mind and how insane he is for you. “princess.”

you’re so pretty like this. your eyes are frenzied and and astonished, your chest heaves with every breath you take in desperation to fill your lungs with air and your skin shines with light perspiration from your training. and even then, to satoru, you’re the most precious form of life he’s ever seen. a rarity amongst unpolished gems. every emotion you have right now is laid bare against your features, coursing through your veins and it’s because of him. 

it’s nice like this, to feel weak in the knees and in the heart for someone. to be able to feel your pulse rather than see it as nothing but a flicker of a blue flame with blue eyes. 

he wants to touch you, subconsciously reaching out to brush a thumb over your cheek. “you’re so beautiful.” satoru whispers, his voice low and uneven — causing goosebumps to rise over the expanse of your skin and a soft gasp to lay wet on your lips. 

exasperated tears begin to well up in your eyes, sitting pretty in your lower lash line. you’re so angry at gojo and how you think he sees you but you don’t dare to push his hand away, instead turning your head to look elsewhere. you don’t want him to see you cry. 

“turn your infinity back on. i could kill you.” 

“you’re beautiful,” satoru repeats adamantly, not caring if he sounds like a broken record. “you’re strong. stronger than me.” you’re pissed at him too , for looking down at you. for all the things he’s said that hurt you without meaning to. your grip on his wrists loosen along with your hold on your emotions. “i wish i could be weak enough to love you.”

“i said turn it back on, gojo.” 

“look at me, please.” 

“gojo.” 

“please.” 

your shoulders sag with a shaky exhale, all of the fight you had leaving you as you sit on top of him — looking down at him. “what?” comes your quiet mumble, not daring to flinch away as his thumb traces over your bottom lip without the gentle hum of his infinity.

“i love you.” 

if you were at any other point in time, satoru’s words would have had you melting over him like butter in a pan. you would have been weak enough to say it back and let him overwhelm you with longing. because if this were any other point in time, you would have needed satoru gojo like you needed air to breathe. like you needed him to live. 

but things are different now, there’s a concrete wall built around your heart to fortify it and you’ve grown to become immune to him. like gojo says, you are strong and while you know that you always have been — hearing him admit that makes you realise you don’t want to prove your worth to him anymore. 

you would much rather have him kill you instead. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cozage]

Hi it's me again 👀 I absolutely love your writing of my request last time ❤❤❤❤❤ I'd like to send another request to you !!! You can continue writing my last request with other OP characters that you like or you can take this angst request: OP characters react to being forgotten (permanently or not) by their s/o after a brutal battle with the enemies?

A/N: You have once again cursed my ability to sleep. Oh, the ANGST!!! I LIVEEEEEE for it. I only did three characters,but I will DEFINITELY do this again with other characters, so if there was someone in particular you want to see, let me know friend (or anyone else!) :) 

Characters: GN! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Law

Cw: angst, blood, fighting, memory loss

Total word count: 2.5k

Forgotten

Zoro

You grip your weapon as he approaches, cautious of the stranger approaching you. You’re in a vulnerable position, sitting back against the rocks you just crashed into, and your ears are ringing.

“You okay?” he calls out, looking at you in a concerned manner. You pull your weapon out and take as much of a defensive stance as you can. 

“Stay back!” You scream at him. He looks strong, but with some luck you’ll be able to overpower him. 

Zoro pauses for a moment, full of confusion at your sudden hostility. At first he thinks you see something he’s missing, and he scans the vicinity for any kind of trap. He draws his weapon as he approaches you, and you stand to your feet to try and get a better attack point. 

“Hey, what are you-Sit down woman!” The moss-haired man screams at you, voice full of irritation.

You stand, leaning against the rocks for support. “What? So it’s easier for you to kill me? Like hell!”

“Why the hell would I kill you?!? Sit DOWN!” He’s closed the distance between you two, and you stab at him. You almost catch him off guard, but he dodges and easily disarms you. “Would you cut it out?! I know you don’t like help, but you need it right now!”

“Get off of me, you brute!” You’re kicking and punching him, but he just throws you over his shoulder and starts carrying you away, ignoring your punches, desperate to find Chopper. 

--

Chopper delivers the news. Memory loss. It’s not complete, you remember the Strawhats, the Sunny, a few crew members. But you’ve forgotten Zoro. Not just the two of you being together, but you’ve forgotten him completely. 

Zoro handles suffering silently. He locks himself in the crows nest, training all day. If he had been stronger, faster, this wouldn’t have happened. He blames himself a lot.

He tells everyone not to mention your all's history to you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he doesn’t expect you to feel that way about him again. He knew it was a miracle for you to fall in love with him once, he knows he won’t be so lucky a second time. 

It's painful for him to even look at you. Everyone has explained to you that he’s a member of the Sunny, so you trust him now. But everytime he sees you, all he can see is the hatred in your eyes on that day in the battlefield. Even when he gets past that, your eyes look at him with no emotion, vacant where they used to be full of love. 

You thought he hated you based on his behavior. When you asked Nami about it, she finally caved and told you about your past with Zoro. Everyone hates to see the two of you so distant, and Nami knows he won’t ever make the first move. 

You take him up some tangerine water one day while he's working out. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

His mouth drops open when he sees your delivery, and he runs to you and grabs you without thinking. “You remember?”

You don’t, and your face tells him. He lets go of you immediately, and his cheeks turn pink. He mutters an apology, turning away from you quickly. 

“I’ll remember one day,” you tell him quietly as you exit. “Or we’ll just have to make new memories.”

Luffy

The rescue mission to retrieve you had been a little too easy. Everyone was skeptical, but Luffy was over the moon with joy. The universe just wanted the two of you together. That's why you were here now, back with your family. You were unconscious, but Chopper reported that you should wake up soon.

Nami, Ussop, and Franky had wanted to strap you down as you woke up, just to make sure everyone remained safe, but Luffy refused. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Monkey D. Luffy’s stupid grin. Your arm pulled back and sprang forward to punch him, but steel swords blocked your path before you could connect with the pirate’s face. 

Luffy pushed Zoro out of the way, not realizing what you had attempted to do. “Hey, Zoro! Don’t hurt her!” You took the opportunity to swing again, this time making contact with the captain’s face. 

Ussop and Franky were on you in an instant, vines and cords wrapping around your body to restrain you. “You scum pirate!” You shrieked, eyes wide with rage. “Let me go!”

Chopper sedated you, and ran tests to see what was happening. You were perfectly healthy, besides obvious memory loss/alteration. The crew was happy you were physically okay, at least.

Luffy sat by your side while you slept, combing your hair with his fingers. He whispered all the adventures you went on, hoping they would jog your memory unconsciously. But when you woke up, you tried to attack him again, and this time the crew had to put restraints on you to keep you tied to the bed. Luffy just stood back in horror, watching everyone else take action. He was frozen in disbelief, and he wanted to desperately wake up from this nightmare scenario. 

You had to be heavily sedated for several days before you finally stayed calm enough for a conversation. You would talk to anyone but Luffy, who stood in the corner of the room, just staring at the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, but it hurt his heart so much to stay. It was one of the longest times the crew went without seeing him smile. 

The Strawhat crew deduced that the Marines had used some kind of devil fruit power to alter your memory. It seemed love was replaced with hate; the more you loved a person, the more you hated them now. All of your adventures were replaced with Marine ideology. You didn’t want to believe them, but there was a small portion of your mind that could see they were telling the truth. 

--

Luffy is a man of action, and he immediately wants to solve this problem. He’s already trying to get Nami to reroute to the Navy headquarters, ready to smash any person who gets in the way. 

The crew talks some sense into him, at least a little bit. They don’t know who did this to you or where that person is now. Time for smashing can come later, but they need information before they go on a blind rampage and someone else ends up getting hurt. 

After everyone leaves the room, he’s the only one that remains in the room. His face is darkened, full of pain. 

“You really don’t remember us?” He refuses to look at you while he asks the question. His hands are balled into fists, and his body is rigid and tight. “You don’t remember me?”

Oh I know you. I despise you. But you can't bring yourself to tell him what you’re thinking. He looks so broken over your reactions to him, and you know in your gut that he’s important to you. “Tell me the stories.”

And he does. He sits by your bedside and he tells you every story he can think of. He starts with the first time you two met, and he talks for hours. You’re not entirely sure you believe all his stories, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would lie for no reason. 

He tells you stories of the Sunny, and the stories of your alls relationship. He talks about the first time he held your hand, when he kissed you, when he realized he loved you. Your cheeks burned whenever those stories came up, refusing to believe you could love a pirate like him. But he talked about it all without shame, he either didn’t notice your embarrassment or didn’t care.

Halfway through his stories, he realized you’re still restrained. He bends over to take them off, continuing his stories as he works. You’re baffled by this decision, especially since he’s in here alone with you, but you hold back your urge to attack him for now.

When he’s done, you rub your wrists and flex them. They’re sore from being strapped down so long. He sees you doing that and takes one of your wrists in his hands to massage it as if it’s second nature. 

You pull away from him, and you can see the hurt in his eyes as he mutters an apology and continues his story of your alls adventures. There’s significantly less pep in his voice after you reject him, but he still keeps the story going.

Dinner is called during his story, so he pauses and he invites you to come with him. His stomach growls as you all walk to dinner, and he realizes this has probably been the longest time he’s gone between meals. He was so caught up in talking to you, he forgot to eat. 

You go with him to dinner, and the strawhats all eye you, but nobody says anything. They talk over plans and ideas on how to get your memory back. You say nothing, you just listen to them try to plan something. 

After dinner he continues telling you their story, finishing at the point where they lost you to the navy. 

He keeps finding things to talk about though, his nervous energy spilling out into the room. He doesn’t want you to kick him out, and he doesn’t want to leave you to another Strawhat to watch over. He knows they’ll restrain you, and that’s the last thing he wants for you to go through.

He finally falls asleep in the chair, his head resting on your bed beside you. You know your orders are to execute the Strawhats, and this is the best moment you’ll ever get to take out the captain. But you can’t bring yourself to harm him, and you know deep down, there’s at least some truth in the stories he told you. 

Law

Law hated these moments. These moments when he was reminded just how fragile a human body was. How fragile you were. 

An explosion had caught you off guard and sent you flying, and you were just outside of his Room perimeter. He had tried to expand it to catch you, but he hadn’t made it in time. And now you were paying for it. He had rushed you back to the ship, and performed a full scan to find a major head injury and internal trauma. The internal trauma was easy enough to fix, but brains were such fickle things. 

He hoped -prayed even- that you would wake up. After three days, he sat by your side, waiting for your eyes to open. He longed for that sweet smile to grace your lips again, to see that look in your eyes that always made his stomach knot into a ball of butterflies. 

On the fourth day, your eyes flicked open, and he rushed over to meet you. He wanted to be the first thing you saw. 

Fear. That's what he saw in your eyes. “Y/N-ya,” he whispered, moving towards you. “You’re safe.”

You scrambled away from him, almost falling off the bed in the process. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“It’s okay.” Law’s voice was steady, but he stopped moving towards you. Amnesia was common amongst patients when they came out of a coma. He had prepared for this possibility, and he knew it was better to stick to the basic facts. “You’re on a ship, you’ve been traveling with us for a while. I’m Trafalgar Law, the ship’s doctor. You had an accident, but you’re safe now.”

“No, no.” You shake your head, confused. “I was just at home, in the North Blue. I don’t know you. I don’t know where I am.”

His heart constricts, and he tries not to let his disappointment and fear show. Over two years of your memory was just…gone? Slight amnesia before an accident was common, but long term like this was not a good sign.

--

First he asks you to recall what you remember. He lets you ask questions, and he fills you in on how you got to join the Heart Pirates. 

You were super opposed to pirates when you first met Law, and that personality has returned. He tries not to be too upset over it, but it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. 

He doesn’t tell you about your relationship, and he forbids his crew to tell you about it as well. He knows how confusing everything is for you right now, and he knows it would be selfish to add a relationship to the mix. 

You request to depart the crew at the next island. You don’t want to be a pirate, and honestly you’re not even sure how you became one in the first place. You can see the pain on his face, and he starts to argue with you, but he stops himself. “Leave if you want to. I’m not going to hold you against your will.” He can’t look you in the eye after that, though.

He still brings you your favorite food, gives you your favorite books to reread while you’re sailing. He doesn’t speak to you much, or even stick around in your space for long, but he brings you something at least once a day. You can't help but note how well the captain knows you. 

You mention this to a few crewmates, and note how nice it must be to have a captain who’s so attentive to everyone’s likes and dislikes. They all exchange glances, trying to weigh if they should say something or not. 

Finally Penguin speaks up. “Well, he’s not quite as attentive to us as he is to you.” You give him a nervous laugh and ask him to explain. Nobody really speaks up, and you get irritated with all the secrecy.

You storm into Law’s office. “Why do you know so much about me?” Your question takes him by surprise, and you can see he's taken aback by your question.

“I’m a good captain,” he finally stutters out. “Bullshit,” you shoot back. But he insists that's all there is to it, and you know the conversation is over. 

You seek out Penguin again, and corner him into telling you what everyone else already knows. You and the captain have a history. And a long, complicated one at that. 

You return to your captain’s office, but stop yourself before you barge in. You stand outside his door for a long time, debating on what to do with this new information from Penguin. 

You’re about to leave when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man that you apparently love. Both of you stare at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing. You realize it’s the first time you’ve looked him in his eyes since that first day you woke up on the ship. His eyes are a soft amber color, and the light dances across them, making his pupils seem alive, flowing with movement. 

Law finally breaks the silence. “Is there something you need?” He hasn’t said your name since that first day, and you miss hearing it for some reason. 

“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay. On the crew, I mean.” You didn’t know those words were going to come out of your mouth, but you’re happy they do. Though he tries to hide it, Law’s eyes light up, and you catch a brief smile on his lips. 

Internally, Law’s heart soars. He spent so many days sick with worry thinking he was going to lose you, but you’re still the same person you were deep down. He’s holding back tears of relief knowing you aren’t going to leave him. “Of course, Y/N-ya. You are always welcome here.”

You don’t know if your memory will ever come back, but you find yourself hoping it does.

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.  What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.

[nofingjustaninchident]

hi, I’m not great at requesting things but if this makes sense could you write a high school au where Jason is a football player. I think it would be cute cause he’s definitely tall enough and strong enough but then add in him being kind and wow he would make the BEST high school football player boyfriend. Thank you

⛧° Jason Grace x Nerdy! Reader hcs °⛧

content: jason grace x reader, college au!

warnings: cursing, allusions to sexual stuff (not much tho), stupidtly fluffy and corny.

a/n: bby if i tell you i dreamt about this, would you believe me? like, i swear to all the gods, i dreamt with this and woke up thinking about writing it… well, here ya go. oh, and i also made her a brazilian, i hope you don’t mind? if you do, just ignore it, please 🫡

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

Of course, he’s a great football player.

Like, i know no shit about football, i’m a soccer girly, but he’s the best quarterback in the city. like, he’s really really good.

And obviously everyone believes he’s such an asshole and a womanizer.

But in reality he’s so so nice

Sure, he sleeps with some girls and all, but not as much as his teammates.

He’s also the only jock that sticks with a girlfriend. Not for long, but still more than the other guys ig

So when he was having trouble with maths, he needed a tutor, cause he had to have a back up plan of he didn’t went for the pros

Such a nice boy, fr.

And he went talk with the teacher to ask who could teach him.

And that’s when he found you.

You weren’t exactly a super nerd. You just liked to study.

But you had a lot of friends, since being the only exchange student did bring this sort of popularity around the university.

And when he first came to you, you were kinda bitchy.

You know, you had a bit of hatred towards football players. No idea why, it was just there.

Even with that, you were too kind-hearted to don’t tutor him.

And when you got to know each other… you kinda started liking him.

On your first study session, the library was too full, so you went to the outside

Which was really working out, till Jason found a little bird that probably fell from his nest

The guy was so worried that he almost took the bird home

He would’ve done it if you didn’t stop him

But he found the nest and put the little bird back there

And you just stood there, like “what the fuck? isn’t he supposed to be a douche?”

It happens that he’s not.

And you became pretty good friends with the frequent study sessions and all.

Not to mention he was pretty offended when you told him you didn’t like football.

And you were very offended when he asked if the spoke Spanish in Brazil.

He knew it didn’t, he just did it to piss you off.

He really wanted you to go to one of his games, but you never said you were really going.

So, one day, when his team was having a match against Harvard University, he was more than surprised to see you at the stands, right in the front.

With his jersey. With his number and name on your back.

He honestly felt he was gonna cry right then and there.

He got so happy he made a touchdown. They won.

And you were there, cheering for him and pretending like you understand anything that was going on there.

When the game ended, he came rushing towards you.

“Congrats, Gra-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed you.

Oh, and it was heaven.

After this, you started dating and it was the best thing you ever experienced.

He was such a gentleman.

Doors? Don’t even touch that. Dates? He’s paying, duh. You’re tired? He’ll carry you, bridal style.

You get the point.

You started liking football because of him. And he started liking soccer because of you.

a/n: i don’t know what to feel about this lol. idk what you’ll think of the brazilian thing, but if you don’t like it, i’ll remake it, promise!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 6

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Kate and co.’s lively voices could be heard throughout Crown’s castle’s garden.

There, two figures slink about unnoticed.

Nica: Oh, sounds like they’re having fun. Crown’s closer than I thought. They’re like a “family”.

Ring: …

Nica: What’s wrong, Ring? Do you want to be their friend?

Ring: Ah, well…

Nica: You can’t. You know we’re not here to make friends.

Ring: I know that. I’ll only follow what you and Dari tell me to do.

Nica: I don’t want to control you like a puppet, Ring. But if that’s what you want, then I will.

Eyes peek through a blue-grey gap before landing on Roger.

Nica: Roger Barel. Apparently he’s conducting research on Cursed Ones.

Ring: Research on Cursed Ones? That guy…what does he want to do?

Nica: Who knows. Maybe it’s research that’ll interfere with our ambitions. The kind that will shake the meaning of our existence.

Ring: …Should we eliminate him? No one will notice if I take care of it.

Nica: What are you talking about, Ring? We’re here as goodwill ambassadors. We have to stay white and clean for now. Besides, that guy can be both poison and medicine for Vogel, so let’s let him go for now.

Ring: But— 

Suddenly, his lips curled into a ferocious smile.

Nica: The nail that sticks out gets the hammer* and beautiful flowers get plucked. Let’s just hope no one else notices him and makes him disappear.

--

—Meanwhile.

Within the palace, “Her Majesty the Queen’s Privy Council” is full of frustration.

Privy Council Lord: A few days ago, “Vogel”, an organization under German rule, arrived as goodwill ambassadors. Why don’t the chief of Vogel and his subordinates show any interest in us? Instead, they’re only interested in “Crown”...

One member spat out words full of hatred, and the others joined in on cursing Crown.

Privy Council Lord: With strange powers called curses, they do whatever they want under Her Majesty the Queen. This stain on our country must be erased!

Privy Council member: Her Majesty must be out of her mind, keeping these cursed monsters as pets.

Privy Council Lord: As the Privy Council, we must protect Her Majesty before Crown’s existence becomes known to the public.

Privy Council member: Crown must be dissolved then.

This was what “Her Majesty the Queen’s Privy Council” wanted.

Privy Council member: …But to object to an organization directly under Her Majesty’s control, you must know a weakness.  

Privy Council Lord: Let’s look for a weakness immediately. The best kind to take Crown down.

Little did they know that darkness was about to creep back into “Crown”...

--

Kate: *sigh*...I’m finally done.

Finally free from my self-defense class, I trudged up the stairs with wounds all over.

(I need to work my legs out more…)

Exhausted, I rubbed my weary legs that wouldn’t even let me climb up the stairs.

Concealed under my skirt was a garter belt holding a gun wrapped around a leg.

The gun was a gift from Roger.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Kate, I got something for you. The best from Victor’s armory.

Kate: A…gun?

Roger: Give it here. I’ll teach you how to shoot.

When I handed the gun back to Roger, he immediately fired at a distant target.

(Amazing…)

Roger: The height you hold the barrel depends on the opponent’s feet. In close range, point it down. Long range, horizontal. If you’re in a room, on a train, or some place with obstacles, you can point it up. But keeping it steady takes practice. If the muzzle’s shaking, you have a higher chance of hitting a comrade so the basic rule is to aim down.

Roger explains while demonstrating with the gun.

Roger: That’s about it. Now we just have to practice.

Kate: I’ll give it a shot…

The gun was placed back into my hand and I held it up like I was instructed.

Roger: Grip it like this. Yeah, good. Keep your finger on the trigger…no, don’t squeeze it. Loosen up.

Kate: Okay.

Roger: Relax. Just pull it back.

Roger’s hand slowly moves away from the gun and I pull the trigger.

—There was a dry sound and a bullet grazed the target.

Roger: A little more to the left. Fire them all.

Kate: …

I repositioned my arm and fired in rapid succession.

Roger: Out of 6 rounds, 1 was a hit. 2 grazed the target. Not bad for a first time. I’ll add this to your training so you better start doing push-ups every day. Also— Kate, use this as a last resort. Got it?

~~ Flashback end ~~

(At the time, Roger looked a little scared…no, he looked serious)

My breath shuddered at the memory and I heard the sound of a piano coming from somewhere…

(It sounds beautiful. Who’s…?)

I followed the sound and opened the door.

William: …

There sat William playing the piano.

He glanced at me, raised his fingers high and then continued playing dramatically.

The song eventually comes to an end with a decrescendo and as the final note fades, I give a generous round of applause.

Kate: So it was William playing the piano so beautifully.

William: Thank you for the praise, Kate.

In response to my applause, William gracefully placed his hand on his chest and then suddenly lowered his gaze.

William: Ah…He gave you a gun. Robin with a gun is quite the image.

Kate: H-how did you know? It’s concealed under my skirt.

William: I could tell from the way you walked. When going undercover, be careful not to let others notice.

Kate: The way I walked…I hadn’t considered that.

William: However, it looks like you’re growing well. The “robin growth map” was it?

(Ugh…it’s embarrassing hearing it said to you)

William’s smiling, blood-red eyes held a subdued power that seemed to see through everything.

(William’s a curious person)

(It’s like he knows everything, but I’m not uncomfortable)

William: Kate, do you know why Roger uses a hunting rifle?

Kate: No…Now that I think about it, Roger’s the only one that uses one.

(Everyone else uses either swords or pistols…)

Roger’s hunting rifle stood out and as an amateur, I thought it looked difficult to use.

Kate: I was under the impression that hunting rifles were used by people with good eyesight. So initially I wondered why.

William: One reason is that he used to go hunting with his father, so he’s familiar with it. The other is because of his “abnormal hearing”.

My eyes widened at the unexpected answer.

Kate: Ah, Roger can tell where a target is by listening out for them!

William: That’s right. Rather than risk injuries at close range, he can shoot from a distance. It’s very like Roger to value efficiency. However, those are the reasons he gives. I’m sure there are others.

Kate: Other reasons…?

William: Did you know, Robin.

William spoke softly.

It was like he was telling a fairy tale.

William: In war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

Kate: …I didn’t know that.

The percentage is a lot higher than I expected.

Kate: Even when faced with the enemy, it might be too much pressure to shoot another person…

William: What if it’s a hunting rifle? A hunting rifle’s original purpose is to hunt beasts, not people. It would be an undeniable evil for a former doctor to kill someone, even if it’s to condemn them.

At that moment, I remembered—Roger’s serious expression when he was teaching me how to use a gun.

William: I heard from Victor that when Roger joined Crown, he chose the hunting rifle.

Kate: He chose the hunting rifle on purpose…?

William’s smile was an affirmation.

Roger willingly chose the hunting rifle to kill people and condemn them of their evil, while also having the skills to save lives.

Roger had more knowledge about medicine than anyone else, yet called himself a former doctor and lived in darkness.

(...The more I learn about Roger, the more questions I have)

Why did Roger decide to live on with Crown?

It wasn’t just out of curiosity—that is obvious…

(Would I be able to ask him why?)

(And William…)

Kate: Um, why did you give me this information about Roger? 

William: Hm?

Kate: You don’t seem like the kind of person that says things without a reason.

William: I see…

William frowned in thought.

William: Perhaps it’s because humans are creatures who meet people and gain wisdom at the right time.

Like the scriptures in the Bible, his words weren’t immediately understood.

But it felt like I received some sort of “guidance”. 

Kate: I don’t really understand, but..thank you.

William: You’re welcome.

Kate: Ah, that’s right. William!

(There was something I wanted to ask him)

Kate: I was told that the palace library has books on medicine.

William: Books on medicine?

Kate: Um…Since I’m going to be around Roger, I thought it’d be good to gain some knowledge.

William: Wouldn’t it be easier to ask Roger?

Kate: I can’t.

William: Why?

I want to make him happy with my growth

I want to beat him

It’s a secret surprise +4 +4

Kate: I want to keep it a secret and surprise Roger later.

William: So it’s a special surprise.

William chuckled when he heard about my plan.

William: In that case, I’ll show you the way. Of course, I’ll keep it a secret from Roger.

--

—That night, Roger and I were summoned to Victor’s office at the palace.

Victor: Her Majesty has entrusted Roger and his exclusive Fairytale Keeper with a mission.

(Our next mission…)

Since Roger started teaching me a lot of things, I’ve felt myself grow every day.

Realizing that it was time to put my abilities to the test, I straightened up.

Victor: There's a village out in the countryside. It may be small, but it’s a special place where the people live by their own rules.

Roger: Hmm, is that what they call village customs? What’s wrong with it?

Victor: The other day, skeletons were found in the mountain by the village. There were a lot of them.

I came to the realization that the previous mission to infiltrate the “death party” was a lot simpler than the usual missions.

I quietly swallowed down the fear rising from my chest and mentally organized the mission.

Kate: But burials are normal in this country, and if it’s the village’s custom, then— 

Victor: I had thought so too. So I did some research. Police sent to investigate the village never returned.

(Even the police…that can only mean something’s happened in the village)

Victor: And I found something else. There is a village chief who they call the spirit god. Supposedly this man can ward off illness.

(Spirit god…? The heck…)

Roger and Kate: That’s really suspicious!

Grimacing, we both said it at the same time.

Roger: I see. If illnesses are involved, then I’m the right guy. It’s possible this man’s a new Cursed One…

Kate: New Cursed One?

Roger: It’s nothing.

(What are you talking about?)

While I tilted my head in confusion, Roger spoke enthusiastically.

Roger: Alright. Kate and I will go undercover at the village. And we’ll expose the evil spread in the sandbox. Right, Kate?

(This time I’ll help out with the mission and not be a burden as Fairytale Keeper!)

Kate: Right, leave it to us.

Victor: Thank you. Liam, with his power to disappear, will sneak into the village first and gather intelligence. Once you’re in the village, make contact with him without getting noticed.

Victor turned toward us— 

Victor: Roger, Kate. Don’t get hurt. Now, let’s pledge allegiance to evil.

He sent us off with a few words that were very “Crown-like”.

-

*Idiom meaning those that stand out are forced to conform

[psuedosugu]

thinking about premature death! suguru with a reader who’s constantly worked to the point of exhaustion with all of the missions they’re sent on….

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

୨୧・you don’t say it out loud but suguru can tell you’re exhausted

୨୧・the higher ups have been working you to the bone, sending you on mission after mission, back to back, each one increasingly harder than the last.

୨୧・he can see how the lights in your eyes, which used to be so full of hope, are slowly starting to diminish, how you respond slower, how you’re less energetic, how you’re like a shell of who you once were.

୨୧・and he witnessed, on the nights you arrive late and slip into his dorm, the tears that you shed in his arms.

୨୧・all he wanted was to take you away from all of this, to shield you from anything that could possibly hurt you.

୨୧・over time, suguru started to grow spiteful.

୨୧・”you didn’t deserve this,” he thought to himself. you were the purest, kindest soul he had ever met, so selfless, and that’s what scared him.

୨୧・haibaras death really sunk it in for him, how many others of them would die unnecessarily young to protect people who didn’t even appreciate it?

୨୧・his mind started to run. shoko, satoru, you. you. he couldn’t lose you. he knew you, knew you would give up your life for those…..monkeys in a heart beat. they didn’t deserve it, he thought.

୨୧・he would often find himself lost in these thoughts, so full of hate, until you were able to bring him back down to earth with that tooth-rottingly sweet smile of yours, and the way you whispered his name, “suguru?”

୨୧・his hatred for non-sorcerers didn’t waver though, and theres no way you could’ve predicted or stopped what he did next.

୨୧・”He killed a whole village of people. We’re pretty sure no one was left alive and that he killed his parents too,” is what gojo told you.

୨୧・at first, you denied it. no. no, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, but when you started to piece it all together, the weird questions about cursed energy and the origins of curses, the strange ‘jokes’ he would make about non-sorcerers being a burden to society, you understood now.

୨୧・you were laying on the floor of your dorm room, tears streaking your face, when you heard a bang come from your window, and in came suguru, with the slight scent of iron.

୨୧・you didn’t know what to say, you could really only stare. “….suguru?” you said, waiting for him to say something to make this all make sense, that he was framed or something.

୨୧・instead, he told you about his ideas, about how non-sorcerers were the cause of society’s suffering and how they needed to be eradicated, and about his ideas of a new world.

୨୧・his ideas sounded so far fetched that you could only stare at him with…..confusion? anger? sadness? you weren’t sure.

୨୧・you knew for sure that you weren’t going to turn him in,and definitely that you wouldn’t kill him. you couldn’t. you loved him.

୨୧・and then he proposed something.

୨୧・”come with me,” he said. “and you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.”

୨୧・you found yourself facing the hardest decision you had ever had to make, life as your knew it, or the man you love and the chance to be free?

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

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[spiriteddreams]

satisfied to run

Pairing: Dan Heng x Reader Warnings: angst, no comfort, hurtful words -> realizing you love someone when they leave trope Word Count: ~1.5k A/N: shoutout to @chickynuggy115 for beta reading and getting me to post lol

He will never be satisfied, and you think that this is the hardest part about loving someone who will always yearn for more. It is like chasing after the stars, only for them to blink out of existence before you can cup it in your hands and bring it close to your heart. He flees from your touch like it is a game, but a game he is completely unaware of, which makes it all the harder to come to terms with.

Dan Heng runs from a past that clings to him in the form of your physical presence and the memories that linger in his mind. There are things he has done that he is un-proud of, a history that will haunt and hunt him down for as long as he lives. Then there’s you. He stays close but keeps his distance, never once indulging anyone about his past and should you make an off handed joke, you’ll risk another day of cold shoulders and brushed aside concerns. 

He finds himself caught in a dilemma of wanting to push you away but still keeping you within an arm’s reach. All he has ever wanted was to run from “home.” He doesn't think he’ll ever forget the sight of eyes filled with hatred that bore into his back as he turned away and boarded ship after ship. You were there. You always have been. You clung to his side, pretending to not care about the whispers that floated behind his back, gracing him with smiles and hugs that he never returned. 

“Are you okay? Was it another nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?” You find him awake and still slightly disheveled, standing in the lobby of the Astral Express as he stares out blankly at the stars. You’re not a stranger to his nightmares, having slept in the same room and nearby as you’ve journeyed along with him. You’ve seen the way sweat builds on his forehead as he twists beneath bed sheets as he mumbles numbers and someone paying the price.

Dan Heng sighs and casts you a dry look over his shoulder. “You don’t need to check up on me, I’m fine,” his words are blunt but they still dig into your skin and you can’t tell what hurts more: his blatant disregard of your words once more, or the way your nails sink into your skin.

“You always say you’re fine. You’re not fooling anyone,” You shake your head. You’re taking a risk by speaking up again but after years of travelling with him, it gets harder and harder to ignore the clear pain and struggle that plagues your dearest companion. “Can you talk to me, for once, please? What do you mean, ‘one of them?” Dan Heng stiffens but you wait.

It feels like deja vu, with the way he scoffs and turns himself to fully face you. You know the words that will come next and yet no matter how much you brace yourself for them, they still plunge beneath the skin and sink deeper and deeper. You wonder how much more you can take.

“It’s none of your business! You’re always worrying,” he snaps. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I'm fine. You ask me this every time and when have I answered differently? Just… just leave. I don't need you right now.” The pent up frustration and shaking fear has bubbled up in his throat and spilled out in cruel words, throwing all gratitude back in your face. Your teeth sink into your tongue as you take the full force of his words. This time, his words are laced with more anger and frustration, clearly the same ones that have built up over time. 

In a second, his expression changes, shifting from anger in response to your question, to surprise at the sudden snapping of words, then remorse as he realizes how they sounded. But he can’t say anything. Dan Heng has never been one for words and he curses himself when he can’t bring the right ones to his lips. He watches your eyes shift from that same caring compassion he had taken for granted to blank hurt. Your lip trembles and yet you hold your composure, as if you’d practiced this over and over before because of him. He feels a lump in his throat grow, choking him into silence as you purse your lips and nod, mumbling something under your breath. He doesn’t even reach out or open his mouth when you turn away. He just stands still and does nothing. He’s not sure if that hurts him or you more.

He begins to notice too late that you’ve begun to flee from his presence. No longer are you a comfort at his side to fill his silence with commentary, or to poke him in the shoulder when he says something rather blunt. Instead, he’s met with silence and a dull ache that makes him wonder where you’ve run off to. Finding you throughout the week turns out to be a much more difficult task than he could ever have anticipated. One day you’re next to him, a constant presence at his side to fill his silence with commentary and offer a subtle sort of warmth that he’s gotten used to over time. He sees you in glimpses: rushing down the hall to your room, hugging Himeko tightly, popping into the archive at unusual times before leaving in a hurry. The only time where you really spend time with him is during meals. But even then, you seem far too happy to be caught up in conversation with the others. When you do talk to him, it’s almost clipped. There’s still warmth in your eyes, but it's laced with a hesitance that Dan Heng realizes that he’s starting to dislike more and more. It reminds him of the sight of your expression the night he snapped at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks those three words as if they hold no weight. You sit on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of something warm held between your hands. He won’t admit that he had been searching for you throughout the day and yet you’d seemed to evade him at every turn. You look more tired than usual, head resting on the cushions as you stare up at the sky. There is longing in your eyes and Dan Heng wonders if he’s the cause of it.

You don’t look at him even as he steps closer. He’s hesitant to come closer, afraid that if he does reach out, you’ll try to run. He’s been running all his life, desperately trying to bury the past and distance himself as much as possible and yet you’re the one constant that continues to linger from “home.” He thinks that he should be thankful that you’re putting yourself at a distance, because that would mean it will be easier for him to let go and finally try to forget all that he had done. But the more and more you pull away, the harder he wants to tug you back.

“You don’t need to check up on me, I’m fine,” your words are so soft and tired that he almost misses them. But they strike deep, a clear reminder of his own careless words. And here you are, throwing them back at him with no fight in your tone, just exhaustion. He wants you to look at him so he can read your expression the same way he’s learned to read your every emotion over the years. He opens his mouth to respond, to push back against your stubbornness but you are faster to speak up.

“Look, I just wanted to admire the view before I go to the Xianzhou Luofu,” you glance over at him with a gentle smile. Your eyes are slightly puffy but you act like nothing’s wrong. He stares at you, unsure of what to say as he’s reminded that you’re leaving the next day. You’re not banned from the Xianzhou, only he is, and for the first time, you’re going somewhere he can’t follow.

Dan Heng takes a deep breath, “I was wondering if we could talk?” You barely react to his words and sigh.

“How about when I return?” you turn away from him. “I don’t really feel like talking to you right now.” The words sting more than Dan Heng will ever let you know. He has nothing to say, can’t say anything, because if he did, it might very well make the situation worse. 

“Return safely to me then, please?” You seem surprised at his words and look at him fully for the first time. Your brows are raised, mouth parted slightly as you’re taken off guard. And then you smile and that dull throb in his chest returns. You haven’t smiled like that towards him in awhile and you’re about to leave.“Of course,” you chuckle and turn back towards the sky. You turn away from him on the couch just as you turn away from him the next day, leaving him with empty promises and words caught on his tongue. All he’s known is running from his life, never satisfied with his life on the run and yet when someone else, when you, run, Dan Heng doesn’t know what to do.

Bonus: And when Dan Heng hears of Blade’s presence on the Luofu and he can think of is you. There is a certain franticness and waver in his voice when he says your name aloud. For the first time, you are just out of his grasp and the fears buried in the depths of his mind begin to surface as he throws out all rationality out the door to get you back.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: ya'll see those leaks of 5 star dan heng cause like.... haha.... fics with lore....

[one-idea]

Shanks raise ASL part 9

First - Previous

Luffy made his way to Makino’s bar. It’s was late enough in the morning that the villagers were milling around. When Luffy made it to Party Bar he was almost surprised to not see any members of the Red Hair Pirates in there drinking yet.

“Luffy! What are you doing here so early?” Makino greeted the little boy when she saw him walk in. She was surprised to see Luffy but it wasn’t a bad thing. She was more surprised that he was here without either of his brothers or Shanks with him.

“Morning Makino! Me, Ace, and Sabo went hunting this morning! We wanted to catch something for Shanks and the crew. Did you know we’re going with him!” Luffy told her all about his morning and his plan, full of excitement for the future. He did so without any thought to how Makino would react to him leaving with a group of violent pirates.

Makino to her credit wasn’t to surprised or concerned. While she wished Luffy would wait until he was older to leave, she always knew he and his brothers were too big for their sleepy island. And she knew Shanks would protect the boys with his life, no questions asked, the boys would be as safe on the sea as they could be. Garp won’t agree but he had lost this argument long ago, these three boys were made to be pirates, not marines.

Just then the door to the bar was violently thrown open. A group of rough men walking into the bar. Makino recognized their leader almost immediately.

It was Higuma. He led a rival mountain bandit crew to Dadan’s and he was not fond of Curly Dadan or her family. He also had a hatred for Shanks after the last time the red haired pirate was in town and drank the Party Bar dry. He hadn’t been back since and Makino had hopped it would stay that way.

“I heard those weak pirates are back in town.” Higuma stated as soon as he walked into the bar his men spreading out. “I thought we’d pay them a visit but it seems the weaklings aren’t here yet. All the better I’d hate to kill the red head in here and dirty your floors when he’s not alive to clean them up.”

Makino had moved to try and put herself between the man and Luffy as soon as he entered but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Shanks isn’t weak!” The little seven year old bellowed, drawling the bandit’s eyes right to him. “Don’t you dare mock him and his crew. He could kill you without even trying”

“Oh I remember you, you’re the little brat who hangs around with the pirates.” Higuma stated as he moved closer to the little boy.

“Hey boss, I think I’ve seen him running around with Dadan’s brat as well.” Called out one of the bandits. Makino cursed the man in her mind.

“Curly Dadan huh, well looks like we’ll kill two birds with one stone.” The man said before he back handed Luffy across the face.

“Luffy.” Makino cried out running to the little boy.

“Trash the place boys!” Higuma called out to his men. They cheered and started flipping the tables and breaking the stools.

Makino looked at the destruction occurring and quickly grabbed Luffy. “Luffy lets go.” There was no way they could stop these men.

“No Makino! They can’t do this!” Luffy struggled against her as she tried to get him out of the bar. Higuma saw them trying to escape and blocked their path.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” He asked as he reached for Makino. With a scream Luffy launched himself at the bandit.

“Go get help Makino.” He called as he knocked the bandit over. Makino hated this. Hated the idea of leaving Luffy with these men, but she couldn’t fight them. If she stayed then no one would come to help them. So she ran. Ran as fast as she could to Woop Slap.

Higuma quickly threw Luffy off of him. The little boy landed roughly, groaning as he bounced off the ground. Luffy started to push himself up but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the kick Higuma aimed at his stomach. Yet to Higuma and the bandits’ shock instead of the boy being sent flying by the kick, his body streched with the impact.

“What the?” Higuma cried as Luffy’s body snapped back to normal. He reached down and grabbed Luffy’s cheek stretching it out and letting it snap back into place. “Devil fruit.” He whispered in awe.

“Hey boss we could get a lot of money from selling this kid.” Called out one of the bandits.

“Ya I heard some Celestial Dragons were going to be visiting the island soon. Maybe they’d buy him. I heard they love exotic things.” Another tacked on.

Higuma smirked as he bent down and grabbed Luffy by the neck, picking the struggling boy up. “That’s not a bad idea.” He said as he started to lead the bandits out of the bar.

Luffy tried to struggle out of his grip but nothing was working, so he did the only thing he could think of. He spat at Higuma. The man paused wiping the spit from his face, huffing out a breath of a chuckle. Before he slammed Luffy into the ground. The little boy cried out at the impact. He started to push himself up when Higuma stepped in the boy’s head.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Luffy shouted at the bandit.

“You need to watch yourself kid, no one who’s made me mad has lived to tell the horrifying tale.” Higuma said as he reached for his sword.

“Wait stop!” Woop Slap yelled as he and Makino arrived on the scene. “I don’t know what he’s done and I don’t intended to fight you over it. If you accept I’ll even pay you for it but please just spare the poor boy’s life.”

“Mayor!” Luffy called out intent on telling the old man to stop.

“Sorry but this rotten boy’s already made me angry.” Higuma said as he drew his sword.

“You’re the rotten one!” Luffy yell back. Never standing down from a fight.

“And your a lost cause which you can regret in the next life.” Higuma said placing his sword at Luffy’s neck. Both Makino and Woop Slap begged him to stop. But everything stopped when they heard a voice behind them.

“I was wondering why the bar was empty on such a fine day.” While his tone was light and jovial his eyes were hard, trained on Higuma and Luffy. He learned a long time ago to act as though nothing bothered him so that his enemies couldn’t see his weak points, but with a sword at Luffy’s throat it was hard to remember that. “So it’s the mountain bandits again.”

Shanks had been tracking the boy’s haki all morning. He’d noticed when Luffy separated from his brothers, when he crossed paths with Mihawk, and when he ran into the bar. He had also noticed when the multiple dull presences entered the bar after his son had. He didn’t hesitate to get the crew together and head over there. Something was wrong. He knew it. If he was right, hopefully they would get to Luffy in time, and if he was wrong well, drinks on him.

But he wasn’t wrong. This lowlife was back, but this time he had attacked Luffy. He and his men wouldn’t live to see the sunset.

“Shanks.” He heard Luffy gasp out from around the man’s shoe. His fist tightened at the sound wanting to remove this man from his son as quickly as possible. But this was delicate as Luffy was too close to the man. They would have to be careful.

“Pirates, just now showing your heads? Have you spent all this time scrubbing the village?” Higuma taunted but Shanks ignored him. He wasn’t going to rise to a weak man’s bait, especially when said man had a sword tip so close to his son’s neck.

Instead he focused on Luffy. “Luffy didn’t you say earlier that your punches were stronger than pistols?” He made the question light. Luffy’s response would allow him to gauge how hurt his boy was. If Luffy didn’t respond or only grunted then his boy was desperately injured and they’d have to act fast.

“Shut your mouth.” Luffy responded with his regular fire. Good he wasn’t hurt to badly then. Shanks was still going to kill all of these bandits for even trying to hurt him.

Shanks start to calmly walk towards Higuma and Luffy. “Listen I don’t know what you’re doing here but you might want to leave.” Higuma obviously didn’t know who Luffy was to Shanks. Good that would make this far easier if he thought this was a stupid pirate butting in and not a father protecting his son. “You wouldn’t want something bad to happen.” The threat was empty. Shanks could tell, as Higuma’s sword hadn’t moved any closer to Luffy. “And I I have just the man to deliver the message.” Higuma finished his threat as one of his men swung his pistol to be level with Shanks’s head.

Oh. He was trying to threaten Shanks. He was dumber than he looked. But Shanks stopped moving forward with the gun pointed at his head. He wasn’t worried. He was making a point.

“I’ll blow your head off if I have to, but that’s up to you my friend.” The bandit taunted and the men around them laughed. Just as Shanks excepted, all talk. He wondered how many weaker souls had fallen for this bluff. He could see the confident smirk on Higuma’s face and the fear in Luffy’s. This was Luffy’s first time seeing Shanks and his crew in a fight. He understood the boy’s worry, but it was misplaced. After today Luffy would know not to worry in situations like this, would understand men like this were not a threat. Yet a part of Shanks mourned the innocence Luffy was about to lose.

“Would you risk your life?” Shanks asked not looking at the man, but hearing his noise of disbelief. “Now that you’ve drawn your pistol are you willing to use it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man asked in shock. Shanks finally turned to look at the man, his face would be the last this man ever saw. He could see Lucky Roux starting to move.

“I’m saying guns aren’t for threats they’re for actions.” And with that statement, Lucky’s gun went off. The bandit dropping dead.

Shanks kept his head down, silently hoping Luffy could forgive him one day for introducing this violence to him. He knew Luffy had fought before, had rescued him and his brothers from the Bluejam pirates, but killing someone so coldly was different. It was a violence that would have touched his son eventually as they traveled out to sea, but to have it happen in Luffy’s home village felt wrong.

He could hear Makino and Woop Slap’s horrified gasps and Luffy’s shocked breath, but he couldn’t focus on them now.

“You! You’re a dead man!” Cried one of the bandits.

“These guys fight dirty.” Called another.

Shanks could feel his crew moving closer around him, offering strength, if you fought one Red Haired Pirate you fought them all.

“Dirty?” Yasopp asked almost sounding confused and affronted by the word.

“Who did you think you were dealing with?” Benn asked, picking up were Yasopp left off. “We didn’t claim to be saints or anything.” His statement meant for the shocked towns people as much as it was for the bandits.

“You fellows are staring down a crew of pirates.” Shanks said taking in the fear from the men in front of him.

“Shut up!” One called. “We just want the boy not you.” That was the stupidest thing he could have said to Shanks. As if Shanks would ever let them hurt his boy.

“Listen up bandits.” He somehow managed to keep his rage out of his voice, keeping it calm and collected the whole time. “Whether I’m sprayed with alcohol, doused with booze, hell even if I’m spit on, most of the time I’ll just laugh it off and forget about it.” His head snapped up to look Higuma dead in the eye. His voice finally darkening. “But if you hurt a friend of mine, you’ll pay for it regardless of your reason.” It was a true statement, Shanks would set an island a blaze for any of his friends, but for his sons, he’d burn the world.

And this man was still. Touching. His. Kid.

Higuma just laughed. “So we’re going to pay? Lousy pirates kill them all men!” He ordered as all the bandits screamed and rushed forward.

Shanks didn’t move as Benn step forward on his right, his hand already on his gun. “I’ll take care of this. Shouldn’t be a big deal.” Benn didn’t want his captain wasting his time on these lowlifes. Plus they had hurt his nephew, he wasn’t letting them leave here breathing. He drew his gun, his movements were faster than these men could track, lining up his shot and firing. The bandits hadn’t realized one of their own had dropped before his next shot was fired. He decimated the whole gang in under a minute, lining his gun up with Higuma’s head. “You shouldn’t get to cocky. If you really wanted to fight us, looks like a battleship or something bigger would have been more useful.”

The man stood there in fear and shock but Shanks ignored him, his eyes tracking to his son’s slack faces. He was ready for there to be fear in his son’s eyes but instead Luffy was looking at Benn in awe. A quiet “Wow.” Leaving his lips.

Higuma panicked, finally removing his foot from Luffy’s face. “Hold on it was the kid who attacked us.” He cried out.

Shanks wasn’t about to let an adult blame a child for their actions. “I thought you were a wanted man.” This man was dying today.

Higuma, realizing there was nothing he could say to save himself, let out a cry and threw something on the ground. The thing exploded and for a heart stopping second Shanks worried the man decided to blow himself and Luffy up rather than fight them. But then the smoke started billowing out at them at a rapid rate.

“A smoke screen.” He growled. What a coward. When then the smoke cleared Higuma was there, but that was expected. What wasn’t expected was that Luffy was gone to. “Luffy?” Skanks called shocked that his son wasn’t where he last saw him. For a second he hoped the boy would pop out, maybe he ran away from the smoke.

But when that didn’t happen ice filled Shanks veins again. His hand flew to the sides of this head as he yelled out, “Oh no I let that guy take him!” He quickly turned around to face his crew in his panic. One of them had to know what to do. “What are we going to do?!” He screamed looking at Lucky Roux.

“Boss calm down! Stop freaking out we’ll find him in no time.” Lucky Roux tried to reassure him. They all knew just how important Luffy was to Shanks. They also adored the little anchor themselves. They’d spread out and search the whole island for the boy if they had to. Higuma wasn’t getting away from them, and he certainly wasn’t going to take Luffy from them.

The Red Hair Pirates took off to search the town. All eager to be the one to find Higuma and put an end to the man who thought he could take Luffy from them.

Shanks was about to run off as well when Benn grabbed his arm. “Captain I know your worried but,”

“No Benn! I can’t wait I need to find Luffy now!” Shanks head was consumed by worry for his son. He couldn’t believe his first mate would be the one to slow him down.

“And is there anything you can do that might help you find him faster?” Benn said giving his captain a pointed look. It took Shanks a second to understand what his first mate was getting at. Oh, his observation Haki. In his panic he almost forgot. He sent out a wave looking for his boy.

There. He could feel Luffy being taken away from the village, but he wasn’t heading in land. No he was heading out to sea.

“I found them. Come on Benn.” Shanks called as he took off running.

“Right behind you Captain.” Been called as he chased after the younger man.