#›› Universes. ❝Every world is different.❞

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[connorsui]

A Thousand Years of Silence|| R. Sukuna

♡ After years of separation, Sukuna is stunned by the reincarnation of his lost love, grappling with overwhelming emotions as he watches her, unaware of their shared past.

♡ short shot

♡ Reincarnation, Emotional Turmoil, Longing, Past Lives

♡ Genre/warnings: Angst, Emotional Distress, Themes of Loss, Unresolved Feelings, unrequited love, sukuna stuck inside of yuujis mind, our love can't do anything (saddd)

♡ Note: he considered you his wife in the past …but now there's nothing there

w.c: 1.1K

VIP: @moonchhu

It had been a millennium—an eternity stretched far beyond the reach of mortal minds—since Ryomen Sukuna last laid eyes upon you. A thousand years since your heart ceased its steady rhythm in his presence since your breath no longer lingered in the air between you. And yet, in all those years, not a single moment passed where he hadn’t felt the weight of your absence. Time had become a cruel mockery, an endless river he could not escape, and with each passing century, he had drifted further from anything remotely human. Now, confined within the vessel of a boy, Sukuna had become little more than a ghost in a cage—a god reduced to a whisper, suffocating in a body that wasn’t his own.

And then, you appeared once more.

The moment he saw you, the world collapsed. Time, which had weighed like chains upon him for centuries, halted. Each second stretched into eternity as though the gods themselves had chosen this precise moment to mock him. You stood before him, the same yet entirely different, the very air around you pulsing with a vitality he had forgotten. For a fleeting instant, Sukuna forgot to breathe. His breath froze, stolen in reverence, as if the universe had finally granted him a mercy he neither deserved nor expected.

But it wasn't mercy.

It was tormenting.

You were beautiful—more beautiful than memory allowed. Your hair had changed, shorter and unfamiliar, and the hue of your eyes had deepened, something unknown to him in past lifetimes. The curve of your lips, the way you stood—these details were altered, but they were insignificant. It was you. The essence of your being, the soul he had once intertwined with, was unchanged. Everything else was inconsequential. Every lifetime, every version of you was etched into him, stitched into the fabric of his being, as eternal as he was.

He stood still, as though rooted in place, the chaotic landscape of Yuuji Itadori’s mind fading into nothingness around him. This was a moment he had craved, longed for, even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself. He had waited, suffered through lifetimes of bloodshed and isolation, through endless carnage that offered no solace. And now you were here again, alive, breathing, exuding a warmth that struck him like a blow.

It was unbearable.

The rising tide of emotions threatened to drown him, an onslaught so unfamiliar that for a moment, he questioned whether he was still the Ryomen Sukuna he had known. The god reduced to mortal weakness, overcome by the sight of someone who had undone him centuries ago. It was you. Only you could render him powerless in ways no mortal could dream of. Not with weapons or curses—but with a simple glance.

You turned, and your gaze locked onto his. For an instant, Sukuna swore the veil of centuries lifted, and it was as if you remembered. His heart quaked in his chest, a sensation so foreign that he nearly lost his composure. He hadn’t realized it, hadn’t thought that in the deepest recesses of his twisted soul, he had wanted this—needed it. The fire that flickered in your eyes burned into him, rekindling the embers of a connection that should have been long extinguished.

Your smile, tender and soft, was like the caress of a breeze on a spring day, brushing against him with a warmth he had forgotten. And yet, here you stood, untainted by the ravages of time. Sukuna, the King of Curses, felt his chest constrict in a way that made him despise the vulnerability you brought out in him. He had razed kingdoms, struck fear into the hearts of gods and men alike, but here he stood—undone by a memory. A memory made flesh once again.

"Hello, Yuuji," you said, your voice lilting and sweet—so achingly familiar.

It shattered the fragile walls he had built to contain the torrent of memories. The sound of it, that melody, filled him with memories of a time long past. How could something so simple bring him to his knees?

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity, the cruel joke of the gods. How Ryomen Sukuna, who had ravaged nations and reduced men to ash, could be undone by something as simple as a smile. He felt his hand move before he realized it, wiping away a tear he hadn’t known was there.

When was the last time he cried? Has he ever?

The realization struck him hard, like a blade lodged deep in his chest.

You noticed, of course. Your brow furrowed in concern, a mirror of a look you had once given him on a mountaintop long ago. The concern that had soothed his battle-weary soul centuries before. "Are you alright?" you asked, and those words—spoken with such genuine care—hit him like sunlight breaking through the endless storm of his existence. The cold, relentless winter that had gnawed at his immortal soul thawed, just for a moment.

The irony of it all stung more than he could bear. Sukuna, the god of curses, reduced to something human. Mortal.

"I’m fine," he murmured, though the words felt inadequate, as though he was saying them more to himself than to you. Fine was a lie, but it was all he could offer in this cursed vessel, trapped in the body of the boy who carried him. His lips curled into a smile—not the mocking, vicious grin that was his signature, but something real, something so rarely seen that it surprised even him.

It was you.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter the distance or the lifetimes, it had always been you. You were his beginning and his end, the one constant in a world that had long since fallen to ruin. Even now, even without your memories, you were the same soul that had captured him once, the only being who had made him feel something beyond rage and bloodlust.

Sukuna’s heart—immortal, untouchable—beat again, fiercely, with a strength that shook him to his core. He was not accustomed to this vulnerability, this raw ache that clawed at him from the inside out. The feeling was dangerous, a double-edged blade held to his throat, threatening to cut deeper than any wound he had endured in his many battles. But for you, he would bear it. For you, he would endure a thousand more years of silence, a thousand more years of waiting if that was what it took.

Because it was you. It had always been you.

Bby just wants you to remember him :( ...give him what he wants

[miiyas]

UNIVERSE

in every universe, you’re always his

fluff, wc: 462, gn reader, talks of marriage and weddings, not proof read

“do you think in another universe we live in a different scenario ..?” your voice whispers into the darkness of the bedroom, body pressed against chuuyas warm one with your head resting gently on his extended arm, using his muscles as a pillow. you rest on your side while he lays on his back and you draw small shapes with your fingertips on the scars that bump on his collarbone, closed lashes fluttering gently at the butterfly touch.

“it’s too late to be talkin’ ‘bout this shit.” you hear him grumble out, shifting his position to his side so he can lay face to face with you. his eyes are still closed and his brows are furrowed. bringing up the hand that caressed his collarbone, you massage the brows by lifting them up, smiling gently.

“i mean, do you think that in another universe, we would live in a small apartment with that dog you want so much and a good paying nine to five ..” your question didn’t seem like a question anymore, more of a dreamy world where things aligned perfectly and your boyfriend didn’t come home at the late hour of two in the morning, only to leave four hours later.

“we wouldn’t be living in a small apartment, i’d make sure.” chuuyas voice gruffs out, kissing your wrist gently with a lazy hum, your hand traveling up to the roots of his hair, combing through it with your fingers. you grow quiet, hiding your growing smile by smudging it on chuuyas arm. the two of you are closer than ever and you can hear the soft breathing that exhales out in familiar rhythm.

“in every universe,” he starts, his voice low and not quiet reaching whisper level, which only makes you scoot your body closer to hear. “you’d already be a ‘nakahara.’”

your heart stops and skips a few beats for a moment. all breathing in your lungs is paused as you feel the growing heat in your cheeks spread, a light chuckle escaping your boyfriends lips.

“‘n i’d get you the prettiest ring the world has to offer, and it’d be the wedding if everyone’s dreams,” you watch his eyes crack open gently and feel a tired hand tuck in your hair, remaining on top of your shoulders with rough fingertips brushing against the back of your neck. “and you would look absolutely drop dead in white.”

you’re quite unsure of how to respond, eyes wide and cheeks ever so flustered. the blanket creeps up to your shoulders as chuuya kisses your forehead gently before mumbling of how stupid this whole conversation was and how he still needs his sleep.

even if things are better in another universe, you can’t help but be content with this one.

[renthony]

I check the news. I see warnings about covid spreading, accompanied by health organizations begging people to start masking again if they stopped.

I sign petitions and send letters demanding the government to reinstate free vaccines and universal healthcare masking. I receive a vague, form letter response for one out of every ten or so. I keep an eye on the news, hoping it's helping make a difference. It's hard to feel like it is.

I check my social media feeds. I see friends at concerts, fairs, conventions, bars, and parties with no masks. I see friends posting about their third, fourth, fifth covid infection. They do not stop going to bars.

It has been nearly four years since I received an invitation to a virtual social event. I think perhaps I could host my own, but decide it's not worth it, because who would come? How many "don't you want to come out with us?" responses would I receive? Is it worth the reminders that I'm seen as unreasonable and paranoid and overly-severe? Is it worth being reminded yet again that I'm the wet blanket who sucks the fun out of everything for everyone with my caution?

My labor union only keeps hosting virtual meetings because my household insists on it. I lost my temper over it. I raised my voice, I called people ableist, I screamed at them that they were enabling eugenics. My union keeps hosting virtual meetings, but I am left feeling like my rage is the only thing protecting my family, even as it costs me friendships and leaves me feeling isolated from outside peers. I feel shame for the way I railed against my fellow workers, but are they really my fellows if they're so willing to let me and my family die?

I wonder if any of my pre-covid friends miss me at all. I wonder if they only ever spent time with me because it was convenient. I wonder if they ever actually liked me, or if I was simply tolerated.

I turn off my computer and look around at the crumbling walls of my slum apartment.

I wonder if I'll ever get out of here and participate in the outside world again.

[shellswritesstuff]

Titus without a doubt gives the best (and slowest) head

𓊆ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴛʀɪᴀɴ ᴛɪᴛᴜs X ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪsᴍ.𓊇 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚(⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

rating: explicit. (explicit sex, oral.) cw. size difference, afab!reader, g. neutral pronouns. 

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ. ᴏᴍɢ, ɪ ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇnʟɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ. ᴍᴏsᴛ ʜᴏɴᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴ. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴀᴡᴅ. ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

In this grim universe, little to no solace existed. Death was more of a paradise than anyone could imagine... yet many choose to fight on. Every damn day was a struggle for a cause much bigger than you know. Nothing was, or ever will be in your complete control. That includes your fate. It was a damn depressing fact.

Though, having a handsome space marine between your thighs does help ease the mind.

"Mmph.." Honorable Lieutenant Titus was making a mess of himself between your thighs. The sight was downright pornographic; your much smaller frame spreading wide to welcome his needy mouth. One leg was slung over his broad shoulder, while the other was gently held in place by your lover. "Dear one, I can't help but get lost in your.."

You rise your hips off of the bed, silencing Titus. Your aching slit closing the dreaded distance. Sweet nothings would have to wait. Thankfully, the space marine got the message. His heavy tongue gave languid strokes across your clit, pleasure with every movement. He ate your pussy slow, intently, and skillfully. Where he'd picked up such talents, unknown to you both. To quote your lover; he just followed his instincts. Fucking hell.

You writhed under the act, staying anchored in place only by Titus' will alone. The heavy muscle bullied your swollen bud, the exerted pressure only heightening the coming orgasm. You wanted to cry out his name. Not the one his superiors wore out, but his first name. A deeply personal gesture, now turned corrupt by lust. Damn his quarters being so close to others. It was a battle to keep quiet, Titus makes it so fucking hard not to scream. Deep down, you knew that fact got him off. Pervert.

He made eye contact with you, not ceasing his actions for moment. Your climax had been steadily building, it's peak dangerously close. You wanted to cum so bad, beg Titus to speed up and give you more, but you weren't the one in control here. His subtle dominance made you drip. Titus took a moment to breathe, looking at his work. A plead was about to escape your mouth, but got quickly forgotten as your lover pressed two large fingers into your entrance. Your hands shot up to your mouth, muffling the squeal. It was a sinful stretch. Not one your body hasn't experienced before, but a welcome challenge nonetheless.

Like it always happened, Titus's fingers and tongue guided you to climax. You'd cover his face in your juices, marking him with the love you two created. The feeling was unlike any other, your body convulsing to a beat that was never there, hushed cries of your lover's name... Titus committed the sight to memory. His and his actions alone wrecked you. It was one of the selfish comforts he took in this dire world.

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe did not win his place at Shen Yuan's side easily. It took countless tries - countless attempts at entering an iteration of Shen Yuan's world only to find that the 'Shen Yuan' there was destined to transmigrate into a world with a different 'Luo Binghe.' This is fine, though, because Luo Binghe has finally managed to find a Shen Yuan of his own. He's managed to get close to him, even, to form a relationship so sticky sweet that it makes Luo Binghe want to carefully cut open his chest and place Shen Yuan inside so that they might press themselves so close to each other. What Luo Binghe witnessed in the past - the death and transmigration of so many 'Shen Yuans' - is fine. And then his Shen Yuan catches a cold.

💚 binggeyuan 💚 hurt/comfort, short+sweet, post ge vs mei extra 💚 bingge faces just a wee bit of anxiety about losing sy 💚 4k, 1/1 chapters, complete!

happy birth/death day sqq i am gifting you a binghe in every universe imaginable. unfortunately THIS binghe has anxiety

[letsgetrowdy43]

Midnight magic—

Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Request: 🐞 with Jack and "i couldn't kiss you all day! let me make up for it now." please <333

Warnings/notes: I'm back to slowly working through the remaining requests!! Also no warnings other than making out!

[Closed] End of summer celebration!!

Midnight at the lake house had become a sacred time between Jack and Luke's best friend. The latest hours of the night were dedicated to quiet confessions of feelings and lust fuelled secret kisses, a stark contrast to the days when they pretended to be nothing more than acquaintances.

Jack had never expected to fall for her. She was Luke's best friend from university, someone he’d known for a few years but never truly seen the way he did now.

At first, she was just the girl who tagged along with Luke, who cracked jokes, who beat him at cup pong a few times every summer.

But then something shifted.

The summer nights grew longer, the air warmer, and suddenly, Jack found himself stealing glances at her whenever she laughed, lingering in the kitchen just to talk to her a little longer. It was almost pathetic how he switched up, going from not caring to feeling the urge to know every little detail about her.

Now, these midnight rendezvous had become their little secret.

When the others were asleep or too deep into late-night card games to notice, they’d slip away. Out into the stillness of the night, the lake reflecting the soft glow of the moon, the world quiet save for the gentle rustle of trees in the summer breeze. It was as if they were out of sight and out of mind to the others, and they loved just how easily it was to sneak away to back in the glory of the other even if it was just for a few moments.

Tonight was no different, Jack had waited all day, watching her from across the table at breakfast, from the dock while they swam, and even at dinner when she sat beside Luke, laughing at his jokes. It had been torture not being able to touch her, not being able to kiss her. But the risk of anyone finding out, especially Luke, was too high. So, they kept their distance, only to find each other again under the cover of night hidden away from the rest of the sleeping housemates.

Jack leaned against the back of the house, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, waiting for her to join him outside, where they could talk as loudly as they felt and be as intimate as possible without fearing any unwanted eyes.

She appeared quietly, like always, slipping out the back door, the silhouette of her figure illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. Her steps were light and careful as she walked towards him, and his heart began to race like it always did whenever she came near, her smile small as his hoodie hung loosely on her frame.

As she approached, she smiled—one that made his chest tighten in a way that only she could. Without a word, Jack pulled her into his arms, pressing her back against the wall of the house, their bodies close, but still careful. He studied her face, a slow grin spreading across his lips.

"I couldn’t kiss you all day," Jack whispered, his voice low, teasing. He gently brushed his thumb against her cheek, the touch sending shivers down her spine, "let me make up for it now." Her eyes flickered up to his, playful and full of the same longing that had been simmering all day, "you think that’s gonna cut it?" she teased back, her voice soft but daring, "you’ve got a lot to make up for, Hughes."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he closed the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that had been waiting for hours to happen. It was slow at first, soft as if he was savouring the moment. But it quickly deepened, his hands tightening on her waist as she curled her fingers into the soft material of his hoodie, pulling him closer like she couldn’t get enough of him.

That is the thing about the little arrangement between them, it was everything. It was silent and hidden, but it held the weight of the world. All the secret touches, the unspoken glances, and everything that remained between them was like ignition that lit this intense sense of romance of fire.

Jack broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, "Missed you all day." Her breath was ragged as she smiled into the next kiss, "you saw me all day," she said smugly, fully understanding the feeling of needing the other in ways that they couldn't be open about, but she also liked to hear him say it aloud. "Doesn’t count," he whispered back, gently pouting while shaking his head before pressing his forehead to hers, their breath, "not like this."

The world as Jack kissed her again, more slowly this time, savoring every second of it. Each kiss felt like it was full of the things they couldn’t say in front of everyone else, the feelings they had to hide.

His hands slid up her sides, brushing the hem of her sweater as he pulled her closer, kissing her as though he was making up for every hour they’d spent apart. She melted into him, her body pressing against his as hsi fingers found the freshly showered curls at the name of his neck, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

They pulled away after what felt like forever but was likely only a minute, their foreheads still pressed together, their breathing ragged before she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his jaw and then one to his cheekbone.

"We’re gonna get caught one of these days," she said in between kisses as his arms wrapped around her torso, a teasing lilt to her voice as he tried to bite back a grin. Jack smirked, brushing his lips against her once more before replying, "not tonight, but eventually, most definatley."

She laughed softly, her hands still holding him close as they stood there, the world quiet around them. "I think I'd be okay with that," she mumbled as she weighed out the theoretical pros and cons. "I'd most definitely be okay with it," he shrugged as she grinned at his nonchalantness, loving the idea of being openly able to show his growing feelings for her.

Midnight at the lake house had become their time, a place where they didn’t have to hide, where they could just be. But for how long, they didn’t know.

-

-

-

This was really quickly made so if it's bad don't tell me, I'll cry.

[wheelie-sick]

going to just... dissect the whole "glasses make me disabled" thing as someone who is moderately disabled and mildly visually impaired because it annoys me to death. I know this is going to be controversial but if you have vision that is fully corrected by glasses then you are not disabled by your vision nor are you visually impaired.

Visual impairment

let's begin with the definition of visual impairment according to several universities

"Vision impairment means that a person’s eyesight cannot be corrected to a “normal” level." - University of Pittsburgh Department of Opthamology

"‘Visual impairment’ (VI) is a term used to describe a loss of sight that cannot be corrected using lenses." - University of Oxford

the US EEOC also answers the question of whether all people who wear glasses are disabled:

"No, not everyone who wears glasses is an individual with a disability under the ADA. When deciding if an individual with a vision impairment who uses (or used, in the case of a past impairment) “ordinary eyeglasses or contact lenses” is an individual with an “actual” or “record of” a disability, the ADA directs that their impairment should be assessed as it is corrected by the lenses." - US Equal Employment Opportunity Commission

visual impairment exists as a category for people with uncorrectable vision loss or other vision related conditions. most definitions of visual impairment also include eye movement disorders (e.g nystagmus) and other eye conditions that are not correctable but do not necessarily cause traditional vision loss. these are exceptions, but again, are not correctable with glasses.

if your vision is correctable with glasses it is not visual impairment. period. full stop.

Disability

there are two different ways you can look at disability and fully corrected vision fits neither:

the social model

the social model of disability looks at disability as it is caused by society's lack of access. let's start with a fact: 81% of adults wear some sort of corrective eyewear! that is the vast majority of people. people who wear glasses are just simply not facing structural barriers in the world because the world is built for people who wear glasses by people who wear glasses.

and, no, being bullied in the playground is not a form of structural disadvantage. children bully each other for any and every reason.

"but I can't drive without my glasses!"

I can't walk in hot concrete without shoes. that doesn't make shoes a disability aid nor does it make needing shoes a disability. plenty of things require something else to allow you to do something, that doesn't make needing those things a disability. not all forms of support for an action are disability aids.

the medical model

the medical model looks at disability through the lens of impairment. wearing glasses with fully corrected vision is not an impairment.

people often point to hearing aids and say "well deaf/hard of hearing people are disabled despite hearing aids!" and it makes it clear you have never worn hearing aids. disability aids do not correct they accommodate. glasses mean you get to see at 20/20 vision. hearing aids are imperfect accommodations. wheelchairs are imperfect accommodations. feeding tubes are imperfect accommodations. the list goes on.

glasses mean you get to live your life exactly how someone who doesn't wear glasses would. someone wearing hearing aids does not get that. a wheelchair user does not get that. etc. because those disability aids are something you have to live your life around. they define your day to day routine. the day to day routine with glasses is 1. wake up in the morning 2. put them on 3. take them off at night 4. possibly clean them somewhere in there. you get to forget about glasses. I do not get to forget about my hearing aids or FM system or crutches or wheelchair because they are ever present in my life.

* just a note: this post is not referring to people who wear glasses and don't have fully correctable vision

** OP wears glasses with a high prescription, his vision is just not fully correctable

[shalomniscient]

[recommended song: albireo by rokudenashi.]

you love her.

it’s something you’ve always known, really. you’ve loved her since you were kids, sitting on her roof and looking at the stars. you loved her and she loved the stars. they flickered in her eyes every time she would point them out—cassiopeia, orion, pegasus, leo, among many others. she spoke of them like they’re old friends, sharing their stories with you, but most of the time you would get too lost in the sound of her voice to pay attention. you would wish she’d speak your name in that tone.

it’s on a clear night, both of you still in your school uniforms, when she tells you about binary stars. “they’re caught in each others’ gravity,” she explains, grinning, golden eyes as bright as the fiery red of her hair, and you remember thinking it feels familiar. you remember relating. you’ve let yourself get pulled along by her orbit for years now—so much so you think that maybe, without her gravity, you might just fall apart. thne she tells you about albireo; a binary star. points it out to you amongst all the other little lights that hang from the heavens. the glint of albireo’s component stars overlap with each other just like how her fingertips brush yours, and the heat expansion of the universe pulses forward with each beat of your heart. your world gets bigger for every second you spend by her side.

but you learn she’s more like a comet than a star. upon the scale of a human eye, a star is stationary. unmoving. permanent. and she is anything but. there’s a restlessness in her, a longing, but it’s different from yours. the gravity she moves along is not from another—not from you—but from the stars beyond even what is known. she wants to dance from system to system, to know the warmth of a star as she passes by but never to stay. and so you find that part of you isn’t surprised when she says she’s leaving, to venture forth onto the starry rail and the path of a god long gone. “i’ll miss you,” she says, her golden eyes warm with sincerity as she takes her hands in yours, and you want to tell her you will too, but the words lodge in your throat stubbornly. you can only manage them after she’s gone, nothing but a shining light in the sky, but the words burn up in the stratosphere before they reach her.

you still love her.

a year after she departs, a discovery is made. albireo is a false binary—its component stars are light years apart, made to seem close by the illusion of spacetime. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry at the irony. a binary star that never was, and a love that never was. close enough to taste, far enough to miss. you want to ask her for your heart back, but you don’t even know where you’d put it. she’s had it for so long, even if she doesn’t know. it’s always been hers. so you swallow down the ache in your throat like a burning star, and pick up the phone with a smile when she calls.

(in the distance, albireo shines down on you, alone.)

[lunastrophe]

Do you have a favourite bit of drow lore?❤️

Oh, this is a hard question 😄

I suppose that my favourite bits of drow lore - or elven lore in general, in various fictional universes - are those subtle, often easy to overlook details that show how "other" drow are.

For example, in Drow of the Underdark (2e) it is mentioned that drow typically have long, slender and very sensitive fingers, and a highly developed tactile sense - which is probably an adaptation to living in dark, underground environment. It is also said that drow sometimes use subtle, braille-like tactile writing to communicate - for example, to leave messages on rock walls or stones that can be read only by other drow.

Drow also tend to have inhumanly nimble fingers - that is why non-drow are often unable to learn drow sign language (at least not to a degree of being perfectly fluent at it).

Also, drow hearing. Yes, it is also highly developed (elves, duh), but living in the Underdark heavily influenced how drow use their sense of hearing and how they perceive various sounds.

Underground soundscapes are very different from surface ones - typically, many creatures avoid attracting unwanted attention by staying silent, and practically every sound creates an echo. I imagine that for an average Underdark drow, surface would be a very noisy place and for some time, they would be confused by all these various new sounds, not knowing whether they mean "danger" or not.

Also, according to lore, drow tend to feel uneasy under open sky and feel much more comfortable when they have a roof (or something similar) over their heads.

Maybe that is one of the reasons why they often cover their heads with cowls when they visit surface - not only to shield themselves from sunlight and curious glances, but also from that vast void of the sky that makes them feel exposed and unsafe.

I really like how it was accentuated in Baldur's Gate where Viconia - as a companion - comments occasionally: There is no roof to this world. I feel as if I shall fall into this sky of yours sometimes.

I am not a fan of portraying elves as pretty humans with long ears and even longer lifespans - and in case of drow, there is also the matter of their unique environment. I really like stumbling across pieces of lore that show how different they are and how alien the surface world is to them (or at least to vast majority of them).

[starreyblueberry]

Timmy Turners fate in the new series is one of the most anticipated/theorized aspects of the new show right now. We have multiple easter eggs towards him being a possible character in the new show, and due to the creator saying that Timmys kids could possibly be Cosmo and Wandas next godkids, I don't think Timmy has kids yet (aka the channel chaser ending might be on its way, but not happened just yet.) He is arguably going to either be a huge hit or miss, everyone has different ideas, fates, what he should be, what would be the best conclusion to his character. The lines between real genuine trauma and gags in the old show are blurry, as well as core aspects of his personality. It’s so hard to actually write him as an adult for the new show purely cause what exactly are you going to take from the show that MATTERS. Will you take the lovingness of his parents from season one? or the neglectful spiteful parents they become from season 4. Will you take the horrible grades as him actuallly being bad at school, or crocker failing him on purpose. Will chole even be his best friend? Or is it back to AJ and Chester? Or will his only friends be cosmo and wanda?

We’re Cosmo and Wanda parents to Timmy, or just godparents.

Its already proven that timmys magic somewhat stayed (aka Peris existence, Dale being a millionare, hell even dimsdale/fairy world being intact) If they will acklowdge that? The school mascot being Timmy turner adjacent, past fairy’s seeming to have remembered Timmy (The tooth fairy having a little card of Timmy, Jorgen hanging out w cosmo and Wanda more CAUSE of Timmy’s adventures etc). He’s somehow a crutal part of almost every piece of the show and he’s not even there. I fully believe they’re gonna explain why a lot of Timmy’s wishes have stayed (in my opinion so many of his changes have made the world in general a better place, and he has saved the universe so often undoing his shit would kinda change the whole fabric of space and time, thus making his magic stay, memories are more… iffy.)

I know a huge thing is also the family dynamic, the fact Timmy is their favourite, hell the HALL OF TIMMY!!! The fact they keep a picture of his room in their house, the fact that they reference him sometimes within conversations with hazel. Never actually spoken his name but implied that’s their Timmy (aside from one time) That the reason the world is right now the reason this problem or circumstance or blessing is happening is because of Timmy Turner.

The amount of pure power Timmy has over the show is something crazy, and I do trust the new writers to give us an ending that will satisfy us. He’s been so connected to many people’s childhoods, showing found family at its core. He’s snarky, loud, smart, kind, and more. People want to see him happy, people want to see him with his family. Who you count as his family is up to you. It’s already been semi-confirmed it’s gonna be connected to the channel chasers ending since most of the general audience has said they wished the show ended during that time ( I have my own opions about it but I digress.) It would be super cool if they did their own take, aka any unconventional Timmy future that we haven’t seen as a concept in the OG show. I know many people are rooting for too remember, for them to be united, and I really wish it happens. We also have to remember this is hazels story too, and we’ll be seeing the end of Timmy’s story rather then the middle of it. A special about him would be amazing though, especially if he’s either the hero, or the villain. Idk!!One day I’ll make a full post about every possible future Timmy and my preferences towards which ones, but for now I’ll stick with my analysis of the OG show.

All I know is that Timmy changed Cosmo, Wandas, and Peris life almost more then any other Godkid, and I like to think the show respects the impact he had. Not only as their godkid, but as their first kid to consider true family.

[justmeinadaze]

Nothing's Gonna Change My World (Steddie X You)(90s Universe)

A/N: I hope you like this. It's a new style for me and I have all the ideas for this. Each chapter will be a different universe. <3

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Y/N, The universe they view the first time is a 90s esc style one with Punk Boy in a Band Steve/ Entrepreneur Eddie and Regular 90's girl Y/N. SMUT, light spanking, daddy kink with Eddie (because Im me), and everything in between

ANGST (again because I'm me)

Y/N's kinda blah about the experiment mentioning she's only doing it for the money, mentions of cheating (her ex cheats on her), mentions of alcoholism (briefly touched on)(reader almost breaks her sobriety until Steve appears), mentions of loss of sibling (brief), these three get feisty with each other near the end. Slight cliffhanger ending I guess? There's some things we're going to learn about these three as the chapters go along.

Word Count: 6282

Donate/Tip Me

2075

“Ok, thank you all for coming and being apart of our experiment. I’m just going to go over some rules, guidelines and answer any questions you may have.”

You sigh and fold your arms as you drown out the sound of the doctor in front of you. Could you really call him a doctor? When you signed up to do this, he introduced himself as an inventor and scientist. You genuinely didn’t care either way. All that mattered to you was the ten grand payout you were expected to receive when this stupid thing was over. 

“As stated previously, you will be here for about 3 weeks. You will be provided meals and beds free of charge but any additives like cigarettes or candy do cost extra.”

A boy snorted as he laughed under his breath drawing your attention. There was a total of about 15 people in the room but this boy stood out a bit more. It could be because you saw him outside of the building smoking when you were leaving your first initial interview but he seemed a lot less “put together” than the people around you.

Every participant was given a white shirt with white sweatpants to wear and just like everyone else in the city most of the people were fairly clean cut with their hair pulled or slicked back, little to no makeup, and their face clean shaven. This boy had long, wavy hair that hung around to his shoulders and it seemed like he hadn’t brushed it in months. He dawned tattoos on his arms that had some of the people around him flashing him dirty looks like he was unkempt. 

You had a tattoo but it was hidden under your shirt by your heart where only you would see it. 

When his chocolate-colored eyes briefly locked with yours, you shifted your gaze back to the man who was speaking. 

“Every other day, you will be in the vessel for 4 hours and we do administer a calming agent to make sure you’re relaxed through the experiment.”

“Why? I thought you said this wasn’t dangerous.”, a woman interrupts beside you.

“It’s not, Mrs. Lynette, but it can be slightly…jarring… to see yourself in a different environment. We want you as relaxed as possible.”

“Excuse me. Can you explain that a bit more, please? Different environment.”, a boy asks as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. 

You ran into this boy as well after your interview. He bumped into you as you were opening the door to leave, mumbling an apology before holding it open wider for you to step through. His smell always lingered with you even when you went back home, trying to identify where you knew it from. It was definitely cologne but it felt so familiar. 

He seemed like everyone else around him with all of his hair pushed back and his face clean of any stubble but his body language screamed that he was different. Up until this point, will everyone was sitting up straight and listening, he was leaning back with his large palms rubbing his knees as his long legs rested out in front of him. 

After asking his question, he glanced towards you before you both looked towards the doctor.

“It’s hard to explain but the best way I can is you will getting glimpses into different universes and realties. They are you just in a different plain so to speak.”

“Will we be hurt or anything?”, someone else asked.

“No, not in this universe anyway. You are only an observer. You won’t be able to interact or change anything.”

“So what’s the point of this experiment exactly?”, you ask more so out of curiosity than anything. 

The doctor smiles as he presses his clipboard to his chest. 

“To learn. Learn about other worlds, other universes, other ways we can make this universe better.” Your eyebrows raise sarcastically as you huff and gross your legs. “You guys will be the first people to test this system out so we’re hoping for a fun and unique month.”

“Will we be running into each other? What do we do if that happens?”, a man inquired. 

“We chose participants at random from different backgrounds with different circumstances and add in that there are so many factors that branch out universes or timelines. The chances of you running into someone in this room are one in a trillion. Less than even…”

You began to tune him out again until the feeling of hand touching your arm got your attention as you and the other participants were led to a large white room with 15 different pods or “vessels” as he called them. The nurse who guided you, held your hand as you stepped in and laid down in the somewhat comfy Styrofoam bed underneath you.

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, you’re going to feel a slight pinch…” You hissed as the needle pierced your arm but the effects were instant as you laid your head back and felt your body calm. “Good. Now I’m just going to put these goggles over your eyes. This is what will allow you to see the universe. Remember, you’re just watching not interacting.”

“Okay.”, you murmured as you allowed her to place the bulky equipment over your head.

The sound of the pod closing had your fingers twitching as sounds around you became muffled. 

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, dropping down in 3, 2, 1—”

##################

You sat in your car staring at the stupid club sign debating if you should go in or drive away. You had been sober for the past 3 years but your ex-boyfriend (as of today) decided to cheat on you with a friend from his office and all you wanted to do was drown your sorrows in booze. 

“Kallie, I’m sorry.”, you whisper as you open your car door and are promptly hit with freezing cold winds. After running to the front door, you show the man your id and he allows you entry. 

Smoothing down your hair, you quickly remove your jacket and hand it to the person behind the counter and thank her as you take the ticket you’re handed. The beeper clasped to your hip beeped but you continued to ignore it knowing who it was. 

As you take a seat at the bar, you glance around at the people dancing under the ambient red light while the band continues to play a slow but rhythmic song that even has you sway. 

“What would you like to drink, Miss?”, the bartender asks and you order the first thing that comes to mind. 

Feeling eyes on you, your gaze shifts towards the stage to see the bands guitarist eyeing you before giving you a soft wink and a smile. At the action, you suddenly feel under dressed in your overalls and long sleeve turtleneck that hugs your figure. 

The man focused on his music again and you couldn’t but watch how his fingers moved across the strings of his instrument. He reminded you of a lead singer from any 90s punk band with his hair slightly spiked up but haphazardly flowing every which way and his black polo clinging to his upper torso to show off every muscle and tattoo he had. His jeans left little to the imagination but you loved the black and white converse that he showed off when jumping into the air as he played out the final song. 

When he laughed and high fived his friend, he scrunched his nose and showed off his teeth making you smile as jealously panged your heart. You wished you were as happy as he seemed. 

Your drink was placed in front of you and you stared at the contents as your fingers played with the rim of the bottle. 

“Are you hoping to drink it with osmosis or?” You had been focusing so hard on your brain you didn’t even notice the guitarist had come up beside you causing you to jump when he spoke. “Whoa! I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”

God, he smells amazing.

“I’m ok. I was just…lost in my head.”

“I can understand that. I’m, uh, Steve, Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you.”, you smile as you shake his extended hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…that’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” Clearing your throat, you try to regain control as you gesture towards the stage. “You guys sounded amazing up there.”

“Thank you, thank you so much. My friend taught me how to play and I’ve been doing it ever sense. I love the rush I get you know?”

“Yeah, I have some idea.”

His amber eyes scan you over as he takes in your soft smile and jittery hands.

“Hey. I have an idea. We’re going to an after party down the street at my friend’s house. His uncle makes a ton of money so he has like this huge mansion we all hang out in after a gig. Would you like to come? He’s a cool dude.”

You weren’t sure what it was about this boy but you felt safe with him. You felt like you had known him for years but you couldn’t figure out how or why. Following your gut, you threw money on the table and started to head towards the front to get your coat. 

“You didn’t finish your drink!”

“I don’t need to, Steve Harrington.”

“Would you mind if I ride with you? We all take a van here.”, the man asks as he slings on his jacket and he grins when your fingers graze his patches. 

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Y/N! I have been looking everywhere for you! Why the fuck are you at a bar?!”, your ex shouts as he meets you halfway up the parking lot. 

“That’s none of your fucking business! Get out of my way!”

“You know you shouldn’t be drinking!”

“And you know you shouldn’t be fucking other women yet here we are.”, you growl as you dig for your keys. 

A hand reaches out to touch you but it’s swiftly pulled back when Steve grabs his wrist. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

“Who the fuck is this?!”

As your ex pushes his hand away and steps towards you, the other man steps between you and shoves him back. 

“I’m not going to tell you again. Don’t touch her. It sounds like she’s done with you. Now get the fuck out of here.”

“Or what?”

Again, he steps forward but this time Steve’s fist flies hitting your ex hard in the face. 

“I warned you, asshole.”

As the bouncer comes out to see what’s going on, you hastily grab his arm and run to your car.

***

“Wow. Your friend lives here?”, you ask as you pull up to a two-story large house that took up most of the square footage of the area. “How did you two meet?”

“Um, high school?”, he answers before shutting his door and running around to open yours. “His uncle owns the factory up north and makes a ton of cash. He’s a cool dude and people love working with him.”

“Is that what your friend does?”

“Uh no. Eddie is kind of a freelancer, I guess you would say? He designs websites for people trying to utilize the world wide web. With this whole dot.com thing, he makes good money to. Designed our bands website.”

Steve didn’t even knock before entering the home but the party was in full swing as people around you were cozying up on couches and music blared. There was a pool out back where you could see people diving in and splashing around while couples clung to each other in their swimsuits. The man beside you high-fived people as he passed them, banging his head to the bass as it blared. 

Guiding you around a corner, there were a bunch of boys in front of a big screen tv, screaming towards it as they button mashed the Nintendo 64 controller. 

“Ah come on, man! Fuck you! You can’t use swords when I only have this knife!”

“Pick a better character than, Henderson! Boom!”, a long-haired boy shouted playfully as the character on the screen died. “And that is how you win, baby.”

Grinning wide, he ruffled the boy’s curls before standing and stepping over the back of his sofa.

“Harrington! Hey, man. How was the show?”

“Phenomenal as always.”, Steve beamed as he hugged his friend. “Hey, I want you to meet Y/N. Y/N, this is my friend Eddie Munson.”

As you reached out to shake his hand, he took hold of your own and kissed the back of it as he bowed in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Can I offer you anything to drink? A beer maybe?”

“Oh, um, no thank you. I don’t…I don’t drink.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you over but he chose not to press you on the issue. 

“Not a problem. Let’s head upstairs so we can talk somewhere quieter.”

Still clinging to your palm, Eddie guided as the other boy followed and you took this time to visually take in the boy in front of you. His long hair was pulled back so you could see the beautiful features in his face and the stubble that dusted his upper lip. While everyone else seemed more casual, he was dressed in a button up shirt with black slacks as if he had just got off from some corporate job. 

Like with the other man, something about this boy told you that you could trust him. You had spent your whole life struggling especially within the last 6 years and besides Kallie never felt safe around anyone or anywhere. Even with your boyfriend, you were always afraid something bad was about to happen and oddly enough when it did you weren’t surprised. 

“Welcome to my cozy nook away from the craziness.”, Eddie beams as he falls theatrically into a bean bag on the floor. “Y/N, I know you don’t drink but may I offer you some weed?”

Reaching behind him, he produces a little black box and pulls out some bud that he begins to roll. 

***

You cackle as you laugh at a story Eddie had just told that had both boys beaming your way. 

“Oh my god, it’s 3am. We’ve been up here for almost 4hrs. Do you need to get back to your guests?”

“My moochers? No, sweetheart, I don’t.”, the man answers in a husky drawl that makes you feel warm. “Honestly, Steve here is the only person who doesn’t use me for my cash or free shit so that’s why as soon as he arrives at my place, we come up here.”

“Hm…must be kind of lonely. Not knowing who you can trust.”, you reply absently causing their heads to tilt. “I can understand that.”

“Yeah, poor girl’s going through a breakup.”, Steve relays causing you to sit up and cross your legs. “Something about him cheating?”

“Yeah, um, I came home from work early and they were… fucking asshole. I’m not sure how he knew what bar I was at but—”

“Especially since he seemed to think you shouldn’t be there.” At his comment, you and Eddie shift your gaze his way before your head hangs. “Something about how you shouldn’t be drinking. It’s weird when I met you, you were sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand but you weren’t drinking it.”

When you didn’t respond, Eddie clapped his hands and tossed a smile your way. 

“I have an idea. Let’s play truth or dare. It will help us get to know each other better and you can find out how much of a whiney bitch Steven is.”

The man narrows his eyes jokingly at his friend as you laugh. 

“Harrington, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true… that every time your dad pisses you off you get a new tattoo?”

“Oh yeah. That’s why I have so many.”, he sasses, playfully widening his eyes as he removes his shirt to show them off. “I got this one on my stomach when my dad told me I was a waste of space for running off to join a band.”

“Steve…I’m so sorry.”, you try to comfort, reaching out to run your palm along his warm skin.

“Ed, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true…is it true you don’t smoke?”

Eddie flashes his friend a disgusted face before showing of the joint in his fingers. 

“I only smoke the green stuff, my friend. I used to smoke cigarettes but after a doctor told me I was at risk because my mom died of cancer I quit the stuff.”

“That’s really good. I’m proud of you.”, you grin.

“Thank you, princess. Maybe you can help me talk Tom Delonge over here into stopping.”, he chuckles as Steve lightly kicks his friend’s knee with his bare feet. “Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Um, truth.”

“Is it true what your boyfriend said? That you shouldn’t be drinking.”

You blink, taken off guard by his question as both men’s eyes bore into your frame. 

“It’s not that I shouldn’t be. I choose not to.”

“Why?”

“I, um, I used to be an alcoholic. When I drank…I got stupid…and people got hurt.” You glance their way expecting judgement like everyone else in your life but when you’re met with their soft eyes, you smile towards Steve. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true you think less of me because I almost broke my sobriety tonight?”

As your head slightly hangs, he reaches out with his fingers to lift your chin. 

“No, it’s not true. I get it, honey. Fucking asshole broke your heart and you just wanted the pain to stop. He had no right coming at you the way he did like he’s your fucking dad or something.” You can’t help but exhale as his thumb caresses your cheek before dropping his hand back around his legs and focusing on Eddie. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true you think less of Y/N?”

“God no. I think she’s strong, funny, and extremely beautiful.” You blush at his compliment, reaching out to lightly swat his arm before he swiftly grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to his lap. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

The long-haired boy smiles mischievously at your answer.

“I dare you…to kiss Steve.”

“You don’t want to kiss me?”, you ask incredulously as his grin widens.

“I do but I don’t want Harrington to think I’m trying to steal you away.”

Releasing you from his grasp, you lean back and scoot closer to his friend, closing your eyes as you inhale the smell of weed and nicotine on his breath. 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”, Steve whispers and that comfort is all you need as you tilt forward so your mouth can crash to his. 

The best way to describe what you were feeling was safe and you reveled in it, falling deeper and deeper in with every movement of his lips. His palm tenderly cupped your face to bring you closer as his tongue invaded and danced with yours. 

“Hey, hey, hey. We aren’t done playing!”, Eddie chuckled as he swatted your two apart but Steve was unwilling as he lifted you off the floor and placed you in his lap with your back to his chest. His strong, tattooed arms wrapped around you and you melted into his embrace. “You’re turn, princess.”

“T-Truth or dare, Steve.”

“Dare, baby.”

“I dare you to take off your pants and underwear.” With one arm still wrapped around your stomach, he unbuckled his belt and awkwardly shoved down everything he was wearing below his waist. “F-Fuck.”, you moaned when his large cock sprung free and hit his stomach. 

“Harrington, she’s not going anywhere. You can let her go.”

“I like feeling her against me. Truth or dare, Munson?”

“Dare, dude.”

“I dare you to help Y/N out of her clothes so we can get a good look at this beautiful woman.”

Eddie crawls towards you on his hands and knees, playfully grabbing your ankle and sliding his palm up your calf. 

“Is that ok, sweetheart? Can we see your body?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah of course. Um!” They pause at your exclamation as both sets of eyes look down at you with concern. “I just feel like I should tell you…this isn’t normal for me…like I don’t go around jumping into bed with every guy…I meet at a bar.”

As you struggle through your words, Steve kisses your temple while Eddie unhooks your overalls. 

“No judgments if you did, babe. We’re not like that either. I’m assuming Harrington here really likes you. He’s never brought a girl to the after party before.”

Lifting your hips, you allow him to slide off your pants while you help by removing your turtleneck and tossing it to the side. 

“Is that true?”

“I’m, um, a little shy believe it or not.”, the man giggles as his lips lean down to kiss your neck.”

“Truth or dare, Y/N?”

“Truth.”, you pant as their hands caress your skin. 

“Is it true you’ve never been with two men before?”

“Yes, it’s true but…”

“But what?”, Eddie coos his lips attach to the other side of your throat. 

“I trust you. I can’t explain it but I do.” Neither man said a word as they continued to suck on your skin before you aggressively grabbed the long-haired boy’s collar and forced him to face you. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you both to fuck me.”

Lurching forward, his mouth needily kissed yours and you moaned at the taste of the joint on his lips. After hastily ripping off his shirt and pants with his own boxers, he pumped his cock in your direction and you didn’t even hesitate as your palm took hold of his girth and your tongue ran along the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Spit on it. Get it nice and wet.” Eddie bites his bottom lip when your eyes flick up to meet his as you spit on his mushroom head and stroke it along his shaft. 

A loud moan ripples through from your throat when you feel Steve adjust you slightly before sliding his fingers under the waist band of your panties and run his fingers through your folds. 

“Shit, honey. Already so wet. Is this because of us?” When you nod, he mewls as he kisses your cheek. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Suck my friend’s dick. I got you.”

You did as he suggested and Eddie’s fingers tangled in your hair as he lightly thrust his hips, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could go. Your own whimper vibrated against him as Steve breached your entrance and slid one of his own digits into your cunt. 

“Goddamn it, Ed. She’s so fucking tight. I wonder how she tastes.”

His friend pants out a laugh as he bends down and lifts you off Steve’s lap to place you directly onto the floor.

“If you wanted to eat her out all you had to do was ask. Is this ok, Y/N? The floor isn’t cold or anything?” Shaking your head, you reach for his lips and he smiles at your eagerness as his hands roam your skin. “You really are beautiful, baby. What’s this?”, he asks as he lifts off your bra and his fingers trace the ink on your chest. “Who’s Kallie?”

“My sister. She died three years ago.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned yours before leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Feathery light kisses grabbed your attention as Steve traced your thigh with his lips before deeply inhaling you through his nose between your legs. 

“You smell good, honey. Can I make you feel good?”

“Please.”, you beg and he obliges as his tongue runs up your slit to your clit. 

Your fingers played with his hair and with every light pull, he would moan making your eyes roll back as Eddie’s palm massaged your stomach and up between the valley of your breasts. 

“Does his tongue feel good?”

“Yes. C-Can I…Can I taste you again?”

As he pushed up onto his knees, you stuck your tongue out and he licked his lips as he tapped his cock against the muscle. 

“Now keep your tongue flat, baby, and I’m gonna fuck your throat while Stevie here makes you cum.”

At the sound of his name, the boy tilted back and spit directly into your hole, eliciting a filthy moan from you as he slid two of his fingers inside of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you allowed Eddie to use you as he pumped his length hard and you gagged around him. 

The sound drove Steve crazy and he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves as the obscene sound of slurping filled the room. 

“Good girl. Fuck, baby. Cum on his fingers and keep that throat open for me. That’s it.”

Your pussy clung to Steve’s digits as the ball dropped and you came aggressively as he helped you through it. Kissing his way up your stomach, his lips lingered along your tattoo before you felt his tongue lick your skin to your neck. 

“You taste so fucking good, honey. Taste yourself.”, he commanded in a breathy whimper as he offered you his fingers that you eagerly sucked on. “Atta girl. Sweet like you.”, he cooed with a smile as he kissed your cheek.

They exchange a glance and switch places, Steve on his knees by your head while Eddie opens your legs wider and tosses one of them over his shoulder. You mewl as he glides his cock through your folds, collecting your slick as he pumps his hips. 

As he begins to push inside of you, you wince slightly at his size while he carefully inches forward.

“I know, baby. You’re ok. Everything’s ok.”, the other man tries to sooth as he pets your head and places tender kisses along your face. “You’re doing good.”

A jolt of electricity shoots through your body and your gaze shifts towards Eddie who was rubbing your clit with his thumb as he continued to watch himself disappear inside you.

“F-Fuck, it’s so big.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m—fuck, you’re so tight—I’m almost all the way in.”

Searching blindly behind you, it takes Steve a moment before he realizes what you’re looking for. 

“You want to suck my cock, Y/N? Can you handle us both right now?”

“Yes…please…”, you whine making him groan with need as he scoots closer to your side. 

When his friend bottoms out, he freezes allowing you to get used to his size as he tenderly kisses and rubs your calf against his shoulder. 

“Fuck me.”

Finding a steady rhythm, Eddie obliges and so does Steve as he guides his length into your awaiting mouth. 

“Shit, baby. Your mouth is amazing. Taking—mmph—taking us both so well.  Y-Your pussy’s so good you shut Munson up.”, he chuckles as his friend’s head hangs absorbing the pleasure while he clings to your thigh for leverage. 

Biting his bottom lip, calloused fingers play with your nipples as the other boy tilts down a bit more to do the same. 

“Oh, Eddie!” As he leaned over, he brought your leg with him, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt and slamming into buttons you had no idea even existed. “Right—Right there.”

“Right there, princess? Ok…ok, I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you. Fuck.” The title threw you off guard as your pussy gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, Y/N. You like that, don’t you? Like knowing Daddy’s taking care of you?”

“Jesus.”, Steve murmured as you bobbed your head faster around him. 

Placing his palms flat on the floor to balance himself, the boy above you rolled his hips practically punching the air from your lungs as you choked and spit spilled from your lips. 

Steve hastily backed away, allowing you catch your breath as your eyes locked with Eddie’s. 

“Say it, sweetheart. Beg Daddy to make you cum.”

“P-Please, Daddy. Make me—ahhh—make me cum. Oh f-fuck.”

Skin slapping into skin echoed through the room till your back arched and your nails dragged down his bare chest as you came. 

“Jesus H. fucking Christ. W-Where can I cum, Y/N?”

“Inside…Inside please.”

Dropping your leg to the side, Eddie collapsed on top of you with his hands on either side of your head as he grunted in your ear. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Mmph—take my cum, baby. For pussy this good, it’s yours.”

His entire body trembled as his release spilled inside of you, a little chuckle leaving his lips at the feeling of your cunt milking him till he was empty. 

As soon as he rolled away, Steve was at your side softly kissing your sweaty face. 

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” When you nod, he swiftly wraps his arms around you and spins you around until your giggling on top of him. “You really are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Very. Your ex is a fucking moron.”, Eddie smirked as he lazily reached out to run his fingers along your leg. 

Your own palms run along the guitarist’s chest as you take in all of his unseen tattoos that were slightly obscured by the hair on his chest. 

“I like this one. ‘Jai guru deva, om’.”, you smile as you point to the words. “I wouldn’t expect a man like you to like the Beatles.”

Steve’s own grin grows as he pushes up onto his elbows. 

“You really are something, aren’t you? Definitely more than what’s on the surface.”

Your lips kiss his and he cups your face bringing you with him as he lies down flat on his back once more. Feeling movement below you, you both moan as his grinds his hard, leaking cock between your legs. 

As you reach between your bodies, the two of you watch as you hold onto him and gradually sink down onto his length. 

“Oh my God, Steve.”

“Fuck, honey. T-Take your time. We have all night.”

As you slowly roll your hips, his large, gorgeous hands run along your thighs, up your sides, and to your breasts, kneading them in his palms as your own balance against him.

“There you go, baby. Am I—mmph—am I deep? Can you feel me right here?”

When his hand pressed on your lower tummy, your head fell back as you whimpered his name and covered it with your own. You found a rhythm as you bounced on top of him, his moans mixing with yours as he watched your body move.

“God, Y/N, you’re so fucking sexy riding my dick. That’s it, baby. Harder.”, he commanded as he spanked your behind causing you to fall forward and hold yourself up with your palms. Tilting towards you, his mouth wrapped around your nipple as his tongue flicked against the bud and he hit your ass again.

“Fuck, Steve.”

“That’s right, pretty girl. Mmm—say my name like that again.”

“S-Steve…please…I’m…”

Wrapping his arms around your back, he yanked you flat against his chest and planted his feet into the carpet as he thrust up into you roughly. Fingers threaded through your hair and pressed you to his neck as your lips clung to his skin as he grunted into your ear. 

Your screams were muffled but he could hear you chanting his name as you came, driving him over the edge as his rhythm faltered and you felt his release coat your quivering walls. 

You both continued to pant as he rolled you onto your side and a second set of lips tenderly kissed your shoulder. 

“Are you alright? Do you need anything? Water?”, Eddie asked with a kindness behind his tone that made you smile. 

“No, thank you. I’m alright.”

Nodding, he absently reached behind him and produced a blanket to cover your bodies with while Steve continued to pet your head. 

“Hey, um, I have a gig on Friday in Indianapolis. Would you want to come?”

You giggle at his shyness as his friend grins wide behind you. 

“I think it’s cute after what we just did, you’re still nervous to talk to me.”

“I’m not nervous to talk to you. I’m nervous…we won’t hear from you again and I don’t know about Ed but I’d like to get to know you more.”

“I definitely would. I’m going with him on Friday for a meeting and I’d love to experience one of his concerts with you. We can all get dinner afterwards…talk.”

“Truth or dare?”, you ask Eddie as you both softly smile at each other. 

“Truth.”

“Is it true that I have some demons in my past that may frighten you away from me?”

The man blinks as he takes in your question before leaning down to lightly kiss your lips. 

“It’s true but it takes a lot to scare me away, sweetheart. Trust me. We’ve got some demons to but we’re learning to deal with them just like you seem to be. Maybe we can even help you.”

“Truth or dare?”, you ask Steve as your turn your attention to him. 

“Truth, honey.”

“Is it true that this isn’t a one-time thing for you both? That you genuinely like me.”

Smiling, his tattooed hand cups your cheek as he gives you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh. 

“It’s true. I fell for you the moment you walked into the bar. As soon as I spoke with you I knew Munson would like you to. We don’t have to move fast or anything. We can take this as slow as you need to.”

Eddie’s fingers tilt your head his way.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?”

“Dare.”, you answer as you bite your bottom lip coyly. 

“I dare you to stay and give us a chance because we promise you won’t regret it.”

########################

“Whoa, Whoa, Miss Y/L/N! Everything’s ok!”, the nurse tries to comfort as you jerk up and remove the goggles from your eyes. 

Glancing around you, you hear the sounds of the other participants crying and talking over one another as they describe what they saw. 

“Ok, let me just check your vitals really quickly and then we can give you another relaxer to calm you—”

“Mr. Harrington, WAIT!”, another nurse shouts across the way as the man heatedly stomps away from her to grab Eddie’s sleeve and tug him out of the room. 

“Mr. Harrington! Mr. Munson! Hang on now!”

“Miss Y/L/N, please come back!”

You ignored her as you jumped out of your pod to follow where they were going. 

“You said it shouldn’t be a fucking problem!”, Steve hissed.

“I didn’t think it would but I’m not a fucking scientist. I haven’t physically spoken to you or seen you two years and it’s not like we were the best of friends before that! I figured ‘other realities’ of me would also know what a fucking asshole you are!”, Eddie growled back as he pushed the man away. “I didn’t expect it to be like that…”

“You two know each other?!”, you angerly whisper causing their heads to jerk your way. “So much for fucking random. Look, just keep your fucking mouths shut! I’m not getting kicked out of this thing because you two screwed everything up.”

“Excuse the hell out of me, Miss high and mighty but how is what happened our fault?!”, the pretty boy scolded as he crossed his arms. “How do you know us?”

“WHAT?!”

His palm promptly slams over your mouth as he pulls you around the corner and shoves you against the wall. 

“Shhhh! You’re not the only one who needs to be here. Now, Eddie probably appeared because we’ve met each other so how do we know you?”

“I’ve never seen either of you in my life.”, you answer when he removes his hand. “And how do I know you don’t know me?” As his eyes scan you from head to toe your own roll. “Really? You are a fucking asshole.”

“I’m not trying to be. I just…My class of people don’t usually run into yours.”

“How do you even know what my class is?”

“I mean…”, he responds, gesturing absently up and down towards you.

“Wow. You were such a better person in the other universe. If I’m so beneath you, how do you know him?”

“Look, it’s none of your fucking business alright? Let’s just chalk that up to being a fluke or something and move on with your lives, hm?”, Eddie intervenes as you and Steve sigh and relent. 

“Miss Y/L/N! You three need to get back inside so we can take your vitals and prepare for the interview.”, a nurse commands as she points into the room. 

“Y/L/N. As in Michael Y/L/N?”

Without answering, you hurry back inside and fold your arms as you sit back near your pod.

“So you do know her?”, Eddie whispers as they both slowly enter the room. 

“Uh…no. No, I know her last name. You do to…Our private school was named after him.”

The long-haired boy blinks as he tries to comprehend the information in front of him. 

“Wait a minute. Why DON’T we know her then? Shouldn’t she be like a billionaire or something?”

“I don’t fucking know. Just drop it, ok. Like you said, it’s a fluke or something. Let’s just avoid her and avoid each other so we can do this and get outta here.”

#################

@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart

[floweycidal]

Is it just me or does flowey get humbled in both genocide and pacifist routes?

Genocide because he felt the pain and fear he caused others

Pacifist is pretty self explanatory

to say flowey was humbled would be an understatement. bro really did all this just to lose LMFAO

on a serious note, you're right. flowey does get humbled. in every route, actually. that is because he is destined to lose. to me, the world seemed like it just never accounted for his revival, nor did it consider anything that might spring from his existence.

flowey's entire life was built around frustration, a world that spun on without him, leaving him behind like an afterthought. no matter how many resets he triggered, how many paths he took, he never found meaning. nothing he did felt real, nothing produced anything that lasted. he was drowning in the monotony, in the overwhelming sense that the universe was dull and utterly uncaring about whether he was there or not.

this is where his delirium n obsession begins. if the world wouldn’t offer him anything worthwhile, he’d take it. if the universe ignored him, he would force it to notice. he became consumed with the need for control, desperate to pull the strings, to carve out something, anything meaningful in a life that had none.

but regardless of what he did, it was never enough. he saw every outcome, lived every route, read every book, burned every book. he spared everyone, he killed everyone. none of it ever amounted to anything.

the same faces, the same hollow conversations, the same endless loop. every time, it brought him right back to where he started, as if he hadn’t done a thing.

that was the real cruelty. whatever he tried, the outcomes were always the same, predictable and unfulfilling, none of them going in a way that truly satisfied him. they bored him, wore him down, as though the universe was mocking his every effort. every route he took, every decision he made led to nothing substantial. he was losing interest. his reasons for living were dwindling, fast.

the world went on, indifferent to his suffering, and that very apathy ate away at him. it drove him crazy out of his mind.

then you came along. suddenly, there was hope. a perverted kind of hope that maybe this time would be different. you could finally bring about something authentic into his life, your unpredictability a breath of fresh air. it was a flutter of change in a universe that had otherwise forsaken him.

in geno, flowey is almost thrilled by the chaos you cause. he praises you, revels in your violence, as if your cruelty is proof that his worldview was right all along. you become the demon he always believed you could be. and for a brief instant, he feels justified, even vindicated. but even that falls flat bc in the end, you take things further than he ever could. you tear through the world with a coldness that makes even him tremble. he’s staring down the barrel of his own logic, realizing that in a world where you’ve killed everyone, you’re going to kill him too. the power he used to reset everything, to cheat death, means nothing now. he’s left with nothing but terror. whoever convinced him he was in control? #humbled

in neutral, flowey tries one more time. he taunts you, eggs you on, hoping that at least in death, he can prove that the world is as cruel and merciless as he always believed.

but when you spare him, when you refuse to give him that twisted validation, it’s the ultimate rejection of everything he stands for. mercy is the one thing he can’t handle because it'll just mean he was wrong. you don’t have to be violent to win. you don’t have to be cruel to survive. so... he flees. #humbled

in pacifist, flowey is convinced this is it. he is god. he finally wields the power to keep you here with him. you'll play his game over and over again, and this time, he’s sure it will work. but as fate would have it, you break through his defenses, restoring the lost souls and calling out to him with a warmth that disarms him completely.

he’s left flabbergasted as his power falters against your unwavering spirit. for all his might, he realizes he’s lost control (again). all his efforts to grasp at godhood collapse, leaving him to reckon with the reality that his power meant nothing in the presence of true compassion. #HUMBLEDD

all flowey ever wanted was a single victory. just One. in a life stripped of everything dear, where he was left with only emptiness, he yearned to believe that if he held on tightly enough, if he played his cards just right, he could finally win. but that outcome was always just out of reach.

it slipped away like everything else. it simply was not meant to be.

flowey's most formidable foe was ultimately himself. as it turns out, his refusal to let go is what truly condemned him.

for letting go meant accepting chara was gone, and nothing could ever return to how it was.

for letting go meant remaining a soulless flower, trapped in a dismal existence, endlessly tormented by his loss and incapacity to love as he once did.

for letting go meant confronting the unsettling possibility that he might never find joy again.

for letting go meant accepting that perhaps, after everything, there genuinely was nothing left for him.

...is it really any wonder, then, that he sought out control with such pitiful desperation?

siiiiiigh

i'm not sure how we ended up here, but.... thanks for the ask, anon!

[kissmypoets-hp]

Fanfic Classics Series ⏳🪐🌌 This batch of fanfiction deals with the multiverse!!! Time travel!!! Imminent thoughts about life and death!! Past lives and dreams of a future together — get ready to witness a love for the ages.

the earth from a distance by spqr

A Beginner’s Guide to the Afterlife by mcsyndrome

Us, infinite (unfortunately) by @thecouchsofa

"An Emerald In The Sky" by @corvuscrowned

In Every Universe by @skeptique

Our Little Life by @tackytigerfic

Dwelling by aideomai

there will be time, there will be time by @amywaterwings

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks. by orphan_account

Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet

The Star Splitter by @oflights

art credits + some cover commentary under the cut :)

I had a lot of fun finding/using artworks with circles, lines, and shapes to symbolize different worlds/universes and/or the passage of time...

Artworks used, in order:

"Several Circles" by Wassily Kandinsky (1926)

"To all appearances, it was a hand of flesh and blood just like my own" by Odilon Redon (1896) — A ghostly hand that fits the plot. The artwork's title goes with the fic so well too...

"(#2) (from series, Quantum)" by Garo Antreasian (1966)

"The story of the sun, moon, and stars (1898)" by Agnes Giberne — inspired by the summary "Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles." The original artwork comes with a caption 'Stars whose distances are well-known'... I really feel that it fits since Draco was named after a constellation... Also, the star-circles have numbers on them, which could be interpreted as H/D through different ages...

Max Brückner’s Collection of Polyhedral Models (1900) — Exploring different parallel universe versions of yourself... the more things change, the more they stay the same.

"Construction (SM lg71)" by László Moholy-Nagy (1924) — some mild spoilers for the fic! inspired by the phrases "...plot a path through the many universes such that he would never die." / "flickering through timelines? Just getting glimpses, really" .

"Fish Magic" by Paul Klee (1925)

"The Terrace at Saint-Germain, Spring" by Alfred Sisley (1875)

"Arrival of the Normandy Train, Gare Saint-Lazare" by Claude Monet (1877)

"Charing Cross Bridge: Fog on the Thames" by Claude Monet (1903) — referenced in the fic. i try to pay attention!

"Boy with Kite" by Candido Portinari (1947) — Harry is a precious little lamb. more elaboration here

i’ve been making penguin classics-style covers for fics i have saved on my kindle, as inspired by zeziliazink and bubu0h’s works!

[just-a-itty-bitty-kitty]

Thinking about how the Narrator doesn't really know if the world stays saved when we die, and yet in some cases He tries to reassure/console us during our 'last moments'.

"You've paid a terrible price, but you've saved us all." He doesn't know that. Maybe He's just trying to describe it into existence, hoping that if you die with the thought, it'll become true? But in other times, He's sure that our death means doom for whatever world we've left behind. "The world doesn't stay saved if you die." Then why tell us that we've saved it?

I also think it's interesting how emotional Narrator gets by the end of each chapter 1. He treats us differently based on our actions and how we approach the situation.

If we try and save the Princess, he purposely makes our death as long and painful as he possibly can, presumably, out of pure spite. "It is agony. But you aren't dead yet." "She sinks the blade into your chest again, and again, and again... and you feel every inch of burning pain that slices itself into your body."

If we resist his instructions at first, but give in later, he seems genuinely apologetic. "This can't actually be how everything ends..!" "I'm sorry, but it is." or "As much as I'd preferred for things to have gone differently, I can't deny the reality of what has happened." He wants this to work, and he wants us to come out happy and content by the end of it.

He seems caught off guard in the Spectre route if we try to kill her while she's in our body. "Slay her would slay you. Are you sure you're willing to do that?" One would expect Him to immedietly be on board with whatever plan gets rid of Her, but the "heroic"(in His eyes) gesture immedietly makes Narrator develop a soft spot and start to worry for our well being. He doesn't like the idea of the hero being denied their happy ending.

He genuinely believes the Princess to be a manifestation of everything evil in the world and constantly denies her any personhood. It's not an active choice either, as Narrator is an Echo with a set amount of beliefs that cannot be changed. He never changes His mind about anything and one of His core beliefs is that He is right. He has to be, otherwise everything he'd done, everything he went through, it would all be for nothing.

That which was once a defensive thought, shaped by his own hurt and unwillingness to see another perspective, becomes a universal truth.