#I can't remember the last time someone said anything kind to me at all and that's not an exaggeration

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

.

[lovetei]

Obey me demon brothers reacting to mc being hit with a "special" potion by someone and them having to deal with mc being extremely horny and dominant plus having their back absolutely blown? (Btw I love your writing🫶🏼)

It's like 1 in the morning and my phone is at 8 percent, the best time to write.

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MC was affected by this mysterious potion that makes them crave for some back-breaking fuck

Warnings: No proofreading, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, smut, no censoring, reader is Implied to be wearing strap or having cock (a big one), fingering them, wrong use of car hood, choking, air deprivation, wrong use of ties, ovestimulation

Parts: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

Are you being serious?

You mean to tell him that the reason why you came home looking like that

Why you came home and immediately went inside his room

Is because you were affected by this strange potion?

That makes you feel like you're in heat?

It doesn't matter, he needs to check up on you and see if it's harmful or not

Or to see if he can do anything to help you, at least.

"A-AUGH!" Moans and screams that sounds too whiny to be his escaped his mouth as your fingers moved wilder. "Wait a second!" He screamed the second time before you added another finger.

He was drooling like a dog on top of his desk as his cock spurt out strings of cum, staining the dark wood of his desk. "You better keep your back like this or I'll have to force it then." You ordered after you grabbed his shoulder and made him arch his back.

"G-Give me a break atleast..!" Is the last thing he screamed after he felt something hard against his used ass.

MAMMON

He was panicking

He knew that this ingredient had an aphrodisiac like effect on humans

But he didn't know it would be this much.

Plus he meant no harm!

He simply fed you this bread during your night out to make things a little exciting!

"Stop fucking moving." You cursed out as you slammed in his ass harder making him moan even more "I-I'm trying..!" He sobbed out as you bent him over the hood of his car, one of his legs raised on it while his dick continued to leak pre.

"P-Please don't be mad! O-One more! I promise I'll do better!" He begged like a whore as he pushed himself closer to you, trying to push your length deeper.

And the last thing he remembered is how he passed out and woke up again with his legs up your shoulder as you relentlessly pound into him.

LEVIATHAN

He kind of knew that it has strong aphrodisiac in it

It was said in the warning after all

But he's a high ranking demon so of course it has no effect on him

And he forgot that you're still human despite having that enormous amount of magic

"Shhh... Breath in." You chuckled at him as he shakily inhaled, sweat coating his forehead as you pushed your fingers inside of him once again "A-Agh~ I think I really can't do it anymore..!" Panic settled in when he felt himself on the edge with just your fingers.

His breathing got more ragged and panicked as you moved your fingers "Don't say that! I know you can take it..." You tried to cover your annoyed mood by sweetening your words.

"N-No... I-I think I'll die..!" His cock leaked pre but your patience is just starting to run thin "Levi how about we shut up?" You pushed your fingers down his throat "You made me like this so take responsibility." You threatened.

SATAN

He saw this unique spell in one of his books.

It applies aphrodisiac on foods without needing an actual potion

And so he though, why not try it on you?

You have gained a pretty amount of mana since time time you first came here

You can handle this much right?

Satan held on the bookshelf for his dear life as he bit on the tie harder to surpress his moans "You might break the shelf at this rate..." You panted out as you pushed yourself deeper inside of him.

A groan escaped his throat as tears does from his eyes "No mwore!" He managed to say through the gag as he caressed his ass, red from all the spanking he received earlier.

You just held his hands and slammed all the way in, his knees completely giving up and your hands holding his up is the only thing preventing him from falling "There, there... I'll start moving now..." You sweetly said, ignoring his please.

ASMODEUS

He didn't mean to!

You just looked so hot earlier that he forgot he had this ability!

Accidentally putting aphrodisiac on your food... How horrible!

Don't worry, he'll take responsibility!

Rhythmic moan is the only thing that can be hear inside the dimly lit room of Asmodeus, oh, the slapping sound of his ass whenever it hits your waist too.

"Augh!~ I-I'm getting a little tired honey~" He moaned as he continued to bounce himself on top of you as you lazily sat on his sofa "Maybe a little help..?" He guided your hands to his waist, implying that he wants you to move him yourself.

When you didn't react, he looked back at you over his shoulders and saw how you look completely out of it, dilated pupils and red cheeks "You know... If I started moving you yourself I might break your fragile little waist." You whined out as he felt you grip him harder.

BEELZEBUB

He's really sorry!

He forgot about this aphrodisiac and how it's harmful for humans...

What do you mean he can help cure the pain?

Sure, he'll help!

You played with Beelzebub's vibrant hair as his mouth worked wonders for you "Just like that~" You moaned as you looked down at him.

"Am I helping you relive the pain..?" He pulled away for a minute, a string of saliva and cum connecting his lips from your thighs "Yes, Beel. You're doing so good~" You leaned down to give him a little kiss

"I'm pretty sure this is hurting too~" You moved your feet closer to his clothed cock, visibly hard and straining against his pants "Then... Can MC help me relive it later too..?" He asked which made you smirk.

BELPHEGOR

It started off as a harmless prank

It was supposed to be a harmless prank

He didn't know it would reach this far

And he never thought that you'll let it reach this far!

"F-Fucking hell! MC!" He managed to say between the small intervals where you raised his head and let him breath, it's sad that this is what he decided to say.

You slammed his head back down on the pillow and moved your hip back and forth, enough to push him forward and have him holding the bed frame.

And then he tapped your thigh signaling that he's about to cum, and being a nice human, you let him, but this time, you didn't raise his head to let him breath and now you can see the panic.

How he was struggling to push himself up as cum leak out of his cock continuously, you harshly pulled his hair to let him breath "A-Ah~ I-I can't breath please!" He was holding your hands as he begged, tears and sweat messing up his face.

It was a sight to behold before you push him back down.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorsky @fan-goddess

[hyunniesgirl]

Hot n Cold

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: enemies(ish) to fwb to ?, smut, angst(a bit?)

Summary: after going from annoying each other to fuck buddies, Minho took your situationship from granted, always having you on his beck and call. So imagine how surprised he is to hear you have a date with someone else?

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact.

Warnings: Minho is possessive, a bit manipulative, kind of a jerk too(he's a walking red flag let's be for real), hair pulling, rough sex(?), unprotected piv(this is fiction please always use protection irl), creampie, bites/hickeys, I think that's all let me know if I missed something.

I had to write this plot because it has given me brain rot since I first thought about it so I just really wanted to take it out of my head ☠️ as always let me say that I'm not very good with smut but I keep trying so I can get better at it, so I hope you guys like it.

You didn't like him, not at all. Minho is a known fuckboy, the guy you shouldn't get involved in anyway. You were always surprised with how many girls fell for his tricks, until you did too.

You didn't mean to fall in love, it actually was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You and Minho were always fighting, bickering, provoking each other, it was natural. You were not friends, more like you were part of the same group, so you were always together and that ended in arguing every time.

You can't remember why you thought it was a good idea to fuck, maybe it was all the pressure and snarky comments your friends kept making, saying there was too much sexual tension between you two.

You didn't hate each other, you just didn't agree with everything. It always started with you saying something, anything, and Minho making some stupid comment with that damn smirk on his face.

Your first reaction was to feel embarrassed, blush rushing to your cheeks as you think of a good answer to give him. After that, you would pick on anything he said, making him roll his eyes every time you opened your mouth.

That was your thing, annoying each other.

One night, after everyone drank themselves to unconsciousness on the floor of your apartment, you decided to take a shower to sober up and go to sleep too.

You thought everyone was sleeping, clearly you were wrong because you bumped into Minho as soon as you opened the bathroom’s door. He was waiting outside, turning around to look at you the moment he heard the door.

He checked you out, staring at you up and down, biting his bottom lip before showing you that pretentious smile of his. That made you hold onto the towel tightly around you, afraid that he could undress you with only his eyes.

“Looking good”, he says, leaning against the wall. His comment makes your whole face hot and you just pray you were not as red as a tomato.

“You are drunk”, you scoff, trying to recompose yourself, walking past him.

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to turn around to bump right into his chest. He's looking down on you and you can't muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, just staring at his chest.

“I'm very much sober”, he tells you, mockery in his tone.

“Okay”, you mumble. Even though you're avoiding his gaze you can feel the intensity of his stare without having to look at him, “can you let go? I want to go to bed”

“Maybe I could keep you company”, he whispers, bending down to reach your height, making you look into his eyes now.

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes.

“Are you sure? I'm very good company”, he whispers in your ear, he has gotten even more close now.

You gulp, feeling the warmth spreading through your whole body, making the tingling sensation grow in your stomach and that's the moment you knew there was no turning back.

You woke up alone in your bed, so exhausted and sore you couldn't lift an arm. Flashbacks from the prior night came rushing in, making you want to scream. What the hell did you do? How would you look at his face now?

You look around to find a tray with orange juice and pancakes on top of your bedside table. You snatch the note that's glued to the tray so fast it's embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“Enjoy the food. I had fun last night, let's do it again. - Minho”

An involuntary smile creeps in while you read his simple and nothing romantic sentence, you don't know why you felt so flustered and excited, was it because he was handsome? Was it the remaining feeling of a great night? You just thought it would be okay to have this kind of relationship with Minho, just pure carnal desire.

Minho was always very good at setting his boundaries and crossing them too, so good it often made you confused.

Minho would call you at midnight and talk to you till 4 in the morning, fuck classes the other day.

Minho wouldn't spare you a glance for an entire week until you received a text from him, telling you to meet at janitor's closet nearby so you could fuck before class.

Minho would buy you flowers, take you on a date and hold your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear after spending another night together.

Minho wouldn't want to go out with you on valentine's day, saying he was busy.

Minho would introduce you to his mom, he would take you to have dinner with his family and his cats.

Minho wouldn't ask you to be his girlfriend even after months, actually, he would often tell you how good it was that you were friends.

You were already tired of this situation, he would give you so many mixed signals, messing with your head. The last straw was when you were at his house and his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom, you mistook it for yours and grabbed it instinctively to look at the screen, seeing texts from a girl.

You shouldn't feel jealous, you're nothing more than fuck buddies and you're not exclusive, you know you're not. Then why did that feel like a punch on your stomach?

You wanted to fight with him, yell, make a scene, but you had no right doing that. So you just collected your things and left without saying goodbye.

You spend a week avoiding him, every time he wants to come to you, you tell him you are out. Every time he asks you to go to him, you tell him you are busy. You finally decided to let him go and you are just mustering up the courage to tell him that.

You even downloaded a dating app, thinking that you could maybe distract yourself, maybe you could think about anything other than Lee Minho. But every man reminded you of him, how they were not him, how they didn't stand a chance against him.

After talking for a few days with someone new, you agree to go on a date. While you're getting ready, your phone buzzes, taking your attention out of your reflection on the mirror.

Minho: come over

Minho: I miss your face

You: Can't

Minho: what's your excuse today?

Minho: I can go to yours if that's the problem

You: I'm going out soon

You: I have a date tonight

You throw your phone on the bed, not in the mood to engage in conversation with him. You're actually afraid that he'll tell you to go on, because even though you know he doesn't care, it's different to have him sending you off to a date with someone else. You finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and purse, giving yourself a last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in place.

The date goes well, the guy is so fun and respectful. You go to a beautiful restaurant, he opens the car door for you, pulls the chair for you to sit before dinner and pays the bill. He smiles the entire night and compliments you, asking questions about everything: school, family, friends, he just seems very interested in anything related to you.

You enjoy his company, he makes you believe that you will be able to get over Minho, that maybe he can help you with that.

It's after midnight when he leaves you in your apartment, watching as you get inside the building safely. The night was perfect, you just didn't expect to find Minho at your doorstep.

He turns around quickly when he hears your footsteps, looking you up and down and scowling, noticing your blurred lipstick.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, scoffing.

“Yes, I did”, you say, walking to your door to open it so you can go in.

“Did you fuck?” He asks, shamelessly, making your head snap to look at him.

“That's none of your concern”, you whisper yell, trying not to wake up the neighbors but shocked by his bluntness.

“It is, I don't like people touching what's mine”, he says, through gritted teeth.

He's so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin, making you nervous, trying to find your keys inside your purse.

“I'm not fucking yours, we are nothing”, you glare at him when you have the keys in your hands.

“You should tell yourself that while I fuck you stupid, I'm sure the only person on your mind at that moment is me”, he spits, his anger growing.

“Well, I'll not be doing that anymore”, you inform him. Unlocking your door and walking inside.

“What? Why are you acting like this, Y/N?” He says, walking behind you. “Things were going great until now”

“It was great for you”, you say, throwing your purse on the couch, turning around to look at him and crossing your arms. “Being just your booty call is not enough for me anymore, I want more”

Your voice sounds more weak than you meant to in your last sentence, you want to cry. You didn't plan to end things like this, not right now.

You can almost see the gears turning on Minho's head, he's trying to find a way out.

“You told me you didn't want to date”, he accuses you.

“I really didn't want to”, you sigh, “but we've been doing this for months, Minho. It's impossible for me to not feel anything other than just horny”

“Well, I do like you”, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but your face, “I just don't want to date anyone right now”, he completes.

“Then we are done”, you tell him, shrugging and smiling bitterly.

“No, no”, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing them. “Don't say that”

He places your hands around his neck, sliding his behind your back, wrapping your waist with his arms. You want to tell him off, want to tell him to go away, that you two are really over, but his scent is just so intoxicating, you can't help but take a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” You manage to say, feeling his lips brushing against yours.

“I'm showing you my affection”, he whispers.

You almost melt into his arms, feeling his lips press against yours. He kisses you deeply, his arms holding you tightly.

Minho starts walking, making you take steps back. He leads you to your room, slowly helping you lie down on your bed.

Minho takes his shirt off, looking down on you and leaning to kiss you again, soft lips pressing lightly on yours, his hands traveling through your body, making you shiver to his touch.

He pulls your dress off of you, looking at your chest.

“Didn't wear a bra?” He smirks, “did you want him to touch your tits? Hm?”, he asks condescendingly, leaning closer to your breasts, licking your hard nipples, making goosebumps rise all over your body. One of his hands slide down on your stomach, reaching your covered pussy.

“Oh?” Minho disconnects his mouth from your chest. “Are you sure you two didn't fuck? Why are you so wet? Did you let him play with you?” He's smiling playfully, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's staring deeply at you, daring you to tell him you wanted your date to fuck you.

“Maybe I should have”, you challenge, he has no right to inquire what you did or didn't do on your date.

“Really?” He scoffs, standing up and you just watch, afraid he'll leave. However, he starts unbuckling his pants. “I guess I've been too nice to you this whole time, y/n. Since you apparently don't know who fucking owns you”

You feel your whole body shudder, you should be mad, not excited about what he said. Then why is there a pool forming on your already wet panties? You never really noticed that Minho was the possessive type, but thinking about it, it was quite strange how he always had his hands on you whenever you were out. Other than holding hands, he often would just wrap his hand around the back of your neck while you walked together, like he wanted to claim you, let people know you were not available.

Minho leans over you again, pulling the soaked piece of fabric down your legs. He grabs your waist, flipping you around effortlessly and positions himself in between your legs, caressing your ass as you get on all fours.

He's not really worried with foreplay since you're plenty wet, he's more preoccupied with putting you in your place. So he drags the head of his cock through your folds, soaking his cock on your arousal before pushing it in.

“Min-Minho”, you gasp at his fast thrust. “Slow down”

“I don't think so”, he bends down a bit, sliding his hand through your back until he reaches your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it all together. “The way you're squeezing my cock, tells me you like it when I treat you like the toy you are”, he tells you, smacking your ass in an unexpected slap.

You shake your head, unable to talk. His cock is reaching everywhere, like he always do. That's the worst part, he always fucks you so well and you always want more.

“Fuck”, you groan when your knees give in but Minho doesn't stop. He forces your legs open, leaning on top of you to keep fucking you from the back. His mouth is so close from your neck now, he starts biting your skin, sucking so hard you're sure you won't be able to cover the hickeys with makeup later. “I'm close”, you cry out when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

“Tell me you're mine if you want to finish”, he tells you, slowing down his movements. But you shake your head, not giving in that easily. Minho sinks his teeth on your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive skin, he knows how much that turns you on even more.

“Come on, babe. I know you want to”, he says one more time but you hold it in, making him huff angrily, changing the pace of his thrusts again to deep strong movements that rip the air out of your lungs, “fucking say it”

You feel the tears brimming and running through your cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of the pending orgasm making your mind hazy.

“I'm yours, I am-”, you struggle to spit the words.

You can feel his smile on your skin while he disconnects his teeth, leaving a kiss on the reddened area.

“Was it that hard?”, he says, sliding his hands to your folds, sinking his fingers on your already full pussy to wet them. Minho brings said fingers to your clit, making circling movements accompanied by your moans, choking on the pleasure.

“Please, please, don't stop”, you cry out feeling the tightening on your lower stomach, the heat spreading to all your body, making you moan loudly when you finally reach your orgasm.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that.”, Minho groans, thrusts getting sloppy. He puts his hand behind your neck, pressing the side of your face to the pillow. “I love seeing your fucked out face while I cum, kitten”

Minho moans, releasing his load inside of you, making you squirm beneath him, feeling his warm shot. With no energy, you just feel him pulling out of you and throwing himself by your side.

When your high starts subsiding it hits you that you're still at the same place as before, so even though you just want to cuddle with him at that moment, you turn your face to look at him and ask.

“What are we now?”

------

A/N: as always, feedback is VERY important to writers, so please leave a comment, reblog or stop by my DM, I love to hear your thoughts on my stories!

[literaila]

worth

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: the past comes back to haunt you, as it usually does.

warnings: angst, allusions to disassociation, hurt/comfort, mama is sad

last part | next part

*

year five.

"wait for me," satoru tells megumi, as soon as he starts walking away. 

you're watching as megumi hangs his head, looking like he'd failed at his one objective--escaping--and turns around, glaring at satoru. 

you've all been out shopping for the past two hours. getting the kids new clothes, shoes, whatever else satoru swears they need... 

honestly, he's kind of cute running around like a maniac from store to store. showing tsumiki a cute dress she could wear, or teasing megumi into trying on a sweatshirt that matches his. 

it's quite possibly the only reason you haven't complained. 

or pointed out that both of the kids are on the verge of whining all the way home. or that he doesn't need to spend 100,000 yen to make them happy. 

"hurry up," megumi tells the man, basically growling at him. 

satoru grins and ruffles his hair, resting a hand on his back as the two of them begin to navigate through the crowd. mostly likely, neither of them knows where they're going. 

you're not even sure where a bathroom is in this district. 

"we'll wait here," you call out, nudging tsumiki. satoru turns briefly to give you a little peace sign, a little grin, and then he murmurs something to megumi you can't hear and they're both gone. 

you're a little worried about them being alone together in this state but you ignore it.

"guess it's just you and me, miki," you say to the little girl at your side. she beams up at you, nodding. "do you want to sit down? how do the shoes feel?" 

"mmm," she looks down, blinking at the sparkly shoes satoru insisted were perfect for her. "they're rubbing at my ankles a little." 

"we can get some new socks, too. that should help. c'mon, i think there's a bench over there." 

she grabs your hand as you begin towards the bench, humming something under her breath. 

you look down to smile at her and don't notice the person walking by, accidentally bumping into them. "oh, i'm sorry, excuse us--" you turn and your entire body lurches away from you. 

for a brief moment, you're not yourself. your conscious moves in an instant, ready to defend itself from everything, anything. you're not yourself, but someone else. someone you used to know very well. 

"i--" you breathe, freezing at the person in front of you. 

tsumiki pulls on your hand a little, confused when you stop suddenly. she looks to the woman standing in front of you, with a bizarre look on her face, and then tsumiki's brown eyes go back to you, her face riddled with curiosity. 

"y/n?"

i don't remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name-- 

you want to forget it all. 

it's clear now, several years later, that you would rather forget everything about her--about this woman standing in front of you, basically a reflection of yourself--than have to do this all over again. then have to face the memories of what she did to you. then put that child through any of it. 

"hi--hey," you say because you have to. 

here's the thing about seeing your mom for the first time in a decade: you can't just pretend you didn't. 

you'd like to turn right around and walk away. you'd like to pretend that you've grown sometime in the past nine years, that you've turned into someone who doesn't need to stay and talk to her. you'd like to think that you're someone who can cut her right out of your life and feel all of the better for it. 

but you're not. 

you can't run away from your mother. you can't apologize for bumping into her and turn around with tsumiki's hand in yours and forget about it. actually, you can't even move right now. 

because there's still this girl inside of you.

there's still this child, a teenager who tried so desperately to earn the approval of this woman and never got it. who tried so hard to be everything that this woman wanted, but could never try enough. 

and she's clinging to your chest right now, breathing into your skin like a toxin, digging her nails into your heart and begging you to try again. telling you that you've got another shot, a chance she couldn't have--

so you can't leave now. not when you owe it to her, to yourself to try, to trick yourself into believing that it was just a fault of your own, that your childhood memories are only the result of some flaws you've already fixed. 

you can't walk away when your mind is stuck on her, her, and--tsumiki. 

your broken eyes turn to her.

your little girl who is standing right beside you, waiting for your next move. if you told her to run, she would. if you told her to stay by your side and say nothing, to hide behind you, she would. she wouldn't even ask you what was going on. 

but for no reason at all, you can't tell tsumiki anything. you can't whisper to her that it's fine, that everything is fine. you can't introduce her or drag her away. 

you can't do anything and it's never felt worse. 

"i thought that was you," your mother says, tilting her head at you. she's staring like this is just a casual bump in. like you're colleagues who haven't seen each other since she went on vacation. "you look... grown." 

you feel naive. there's nothing you can say to this woman to prove to her that you're better than you were. that you're far too good for her.

"thanks," you whisper, even though you know it's not a compliment. it's an instinct to appeal to her. to be polite and perfect.

your mom clasps her hands together. if you were looking at her--which you're not, you wouldn't dare--you might be able to tell that she's uncomfortable with you being there. almost surprised. 

maybe she just assumed that you'd die as soon as you left the comfort of your childhood home. maybe she thought that they would've kicked you out of jujutsu high a day after you arrived, leaving you to starve on the street just like she did. 

"well, how are you?" 

you swallow. "i'm good." 

she nods, and then she looks to your side and finally notices tsumiki there. 

tsumiki, with her precious face, her beautiful brown eyes, and carefully organized hair. 

you're not sure what your mother sees when she looks at her.

you wish more than anything that you could hide her. you don't want your mom's--you don't want this woman's eyes on her. you don't want her to say a single word to your daughter. 

"and who's this?" 

but you can't just send her away. you have no idea where satoru went, and tsumiki can't walk around on her own. not right now, not when you're so preoccupied. 

you just can't walk away. 

tsumiki holds her hand out, just like you taught her. "i'm tsumiki fushiguro." 

"it's nice to meet you," your mother answers, shaking her hand warily like she's certain that she might get an infection from tsumiki's skin. and then she looks at you, not daring to ask what she wants to.

you clench your jaw, wanting to slap her hand away from tsumiki. 

you should've put up a barrier a minute ago. the only possible block between you and a woman who doesn't deserve the pleasure of meeting tsumiki. who deserves no explanations from you. 

but your cursed energy is frozen in place, and you know that if you shut yourself in, you'll never get back out. 

"my daughter," you add, a bit louder now. 

your mom's eyebrows raise immediately and she pauses, looking between the two of you, searching for some useless resemblance. like it isn't obvious that you share a bond, just from the way your hands are intertwined. like it's not obvious that you braided tsumiki's hair, or helped her pick out the shoes she's wearing. 

like it might not be true. 

still, she asks tsumiki, "how old are you?" 

"twelve." 

and you know where her mind goes immediately. thinking that it can't be possible. she knew you when you were twelve, and you certainly weren't pregnant with the little girl standing beside you. you certainly weren't developing any maternal skills locked away in your room, with only the curse that liked to hide in the walls to teach you.

it brings that resentment to the surface of your core, threatening to burst through your skin. you feel suddenly so angry you can't bear it. 

and you're not that girl anymore, you realize. you haven't been since you met nanami and haibara and satoru. 

since you learned that you were only a child and not a trophy that needed to live up to its name. 

"well," your mom sighs, shaking her head. "i can't say this is what i expected." 

"excuse me?" 

"really, what do you know about children, y/n? don't you think you're a little young?" 

tsumiki looks up at you with a frown, about to ask what she means when you stop her. 

you squeeze her hand and look away, into the eyes of the woman who created you--who has that string of biology she just judged you and tsumiki for lacking--and still didn't care. 

she is nothing if not the proof that dna means absolutely nothing. 

"what do you know about children, mom?" you repeat, rhetorically. "at least i know that a ten-year-old shouldn't spend every hour of the day locked in their room, waiting for someone to come let them out." 

"i'm shocked that you--" 

"at least i know that a child is a gift and not a toy to hide away when you get bored of it." 

your mom scoffs. "i can't believe this--"

"neither can i," you say and look to your daughter, who's got wide brown eyes and a confused sort of fear on her face. she doesn't need to hear anything else you have to say to this woman. you smile at her, soft as ever. "go look for dad, okay? he shouldn't be far." 

it's been five minutes, and satoru's probably right around the corner, you rationalize. he's going to come pick up tsumiki and rescue you any second now. 

tsumiki nods immediately, letting go of your hand. she turns to go do what you said, but before she can there's a strong hand on your shoulder, a body right beside yours, and you almost gasp in relief. 

"found him," tsumiki tells you, softly. 

you turn to satoru, wanting to beg him to carry you away from her, to get you away from her--but the words won't come. you're too struck by the view of his face, and the knowledge that when you finally escape from this, he's going to be right there. 

satoru was there the first time, and he'll linger for the second. 

his shaded eyes look back at you, observing for a second, reading your mind, and then he turns. 

megumi is trailing at his side, holding a shopping bag. he looks between this stranger and you, a cautious look on his face. 

tsumiki is telling him something without any words. 

"hello," satoru says, smoothly, breaking the silence. "i don't believe we've met. do you know y/n?" 

your mother frowns, scoffing. "i'm her mother." 

you can see it when satoru reels back, looking between the two of you for a moment, an intense realization on his face. 

maybe he can see the resemblance. the face that might be your own in just a few years. 

or maybe, finally, he can feel the horrors of being raised by her. all of the things you've never dared to tell him. 

you're pleading satoru for something with your eyes but you're not even sure what.

"there's another one?" your mom asks, almost disgusted, as satoru processes. "how old are you?" 

megumi frowns. he walks over to tsumiki, who's already picked up your hand, and asks you: "this is your mom?" 

you nod at him, relieved more than anything that he's there, with the rest of you. and that if you can't explain, satoru will handle it. 

megumi considers it for a second. "are you sure?" 

and you want to laugh so abruptly that it shocks you. you want to grab him by the face and kiss all across his cheeks. 

tsumiki is already smiling at you like she knows this. her grip is strong against yours.

satoru smiles at your mom, a vicious ugly thing. "did you need something from her?" 

"i--no, we just ran into each other," she tells him, seemingly confused by his entire presence. she looks at you. "who is he? another child of yours?" 

satoru licks his lips. "not quite." 

you're about to answer when he grabs your empty hand, shaking his head. "i don't think there's anything y/n needs to say to you," he tells her, coldly. then he looks at you. "is there?" 

"no," you whisper, coveting the feeling of his hand in yours. the two children at your side, who know what it's like to be loved. megumi and tsumiki, who will never feel unwanted, as long as you have a say in it. 

satoru nods, guffly, and turns. "it was a pleasure to meet you," he says, and he moves all of you away. you can almost feel it when he shields the three of you from the rest of the world.

with his hand in yours, the other in tsumiki's, and megumi on the other side of her, satoru leads you all away from her. 

and you let him. because the three of them are more of a family--a better, safer one--than that woman ever was. 

you can't thank them all for being there, being yours, in this moment, but you will. 

at least you know that. 

*

satoru has been watching you for hours. 

since you all got home and the kids' questions began. 

that was your mom? 

yes. 

why haven't we met her before? 

i haven't seen her in a long time. 

was she upset? 

yes. 

why? 

because i'm happier than she thought i'd be, you said, i have a better family. 

are we going to see her again? 

absolutely not. 

after that, the two of them quieted. satoru could tell that they had more questions, that megumi was curious and tsumiki was worried--but neither of them continued. 

it was almost unspoken that you couldn't take much more. that you needed a break from it, even if you wouldn't say. so they both moved on, resuming their usual antics and talking about the clothes they got, when and where they'd wear them. 

well, mostly tsumiki. but megumi entertained her thoughts for a while at least. 

satoru just watched you. the tiny break within your eyes, the gap between you and the rest of the world. you've remained all the same since you got home. cursed energy small, unchanging. your face in one position like it'll kill you to move it. 

satoru can't stand it, but he doesn't want to intrude. he doesn't want you to push him away too. 

so he only sat there, trying to fill your role (which was impossible) at the dinner table. 

and several hours later, after dinner, after space, satoru still hasn't brought it up. 

but he doesn't get the chance to. because as soon as you've put both of them to bed--insisting on tucking them in and talking to them both separately tonight, like you're making up for something--you're sneaking into satoru's room. 

and he's waiting like he always is. his arms are wide open when you walk into the room, and there's not a moment of hesitation before you fall into them. you don't blink or breathe before you're right against him, keeping yourself up with nothing more than blood and bone. 

satoru hugs you close to him, trying to let everything he feels go, just for you. 

(because he's just angry. 

he's angry that she showed up and ruined your day. he's angry that he wasn't there to keep it from happening. he's angry that when he walked over he could tell there was something wrong because you were frozen--because you were almost barren. no cursed energy, no expression. nothing to draw him to you like usual. 

and he's so angry that he can't do anything to fix it. 

so angry that being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age means nothing when he really needs it to. 

satoru isn't a person who hates. he never hated the people who attempted to tie him down as a kid so he couldn't escape observation. he didn't hate toji when he cut him through the throat. he didn't hate suguru for leaving, or yaga for asking why he didn't stop him. 

he doesn't hate. 

but he hates her.

for taking your face and twisting it around. for stealing your childhood and pretending like she didn't. for holding your precious heart in her hands and acting like it was nothing of value.

he hates her.) 

you both sit there, rocking back and forth, sinking together for a moment. 

and then you sniff, and satoru closes his eyes against your head, not sure what to say to make it all better. 

what he can do to erase this feeling from your body. what he can do to prove to you that you're worth so much more. 

"do you think i'm a good mom?" you whisper to him, as he moves back and forth. 

his heart pauses, needing a moment to consider this. to not feel a fire in his soul at the very suggestion. 

satoru pulls back, frowning. and he makes sure that your eyes are on his when he says, "there's not a person in the world who could take better care of them than you do," he swears, feeling like it's the most honest thing he's ever said. 

he wants to brand the words into your skin just so you never ask such a ridiculous question again. 

"thank you," you say, voice breaking, and satoru wipes the tears falling down your cheeks away. each one a different memory, a terrible moment where someone showed you that you didn't matter. 

and when they continue to fall, satoru continues to wipe them away. 

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, almost hesitating. he's not sure that he can handle hearing about it--but he would if you needed him to. 

"not tonight," you whisper and fall against him again. 

satoru holds you close. 

and he swears, to whoever is listening, that he'll love you enough to make up for that woman. he'll love you enough to make up for everything.

he loves you enough to be sure of it. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[itsmearia01]

Past Love || Chapter 1

Various! Yandere! Jujutsu kaisen x Sukuna's past wife! Yuji's best friend! F! Reader

A/N : English is not my first language, sorry if there are some wrong words. This is the chapter 1, you can read the prologue and Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Prolog | Chapter 2

Series summary : You always get the same nightmare over and over every night. You feel annoyed but can't do anything about it. On the other hand, your best friend who suddenly becomes the vessel of a cursed king brings your nightmares to reality. I don't know what happened but the people around you started acting strangely.

Series warnings : Non-con, dub-con, yandere, stalking, kinks, gaslighting, blackmail, overtism, smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, all character 18+ (but first years still first year, try to make sense), sex, rough sex, oral sex, dom/sub dynamics, blood, manipulation, corruption, mind break, forced relationship, yandere character being their own warning, mind control, possessive, kidnapping. ⚠️Jujutsu kaisen character was not my original, credit to Gege Akutami as original author! There's a few OC as my originally made character. If you don't like/ you hate this kind of story, please go.

You are grateful because last night you prepared bento and breakfast you made by yourself for your father and your brothers. And even though you're in a rush, you don't forget to bring your lunch.

And you brought 2 bento. One for you and one for your best friend, Yuji Itadori. Yes, you are itadori's best friend or what you usually call Yuu. How are you not attracted to him? He's totally your type. He is gentle, kind, compassionate, and patient.

During lunch time, you visit his class. But did not find him. Someone from his class said he was on the field with the sports club members.

"Yuu!" You scream his name and he looks up.

He smiled and ran towards you. "(Y/N) Sorry I didn't tell you I was here."

Yuuji approached you. he explains his paranormal club is about to be disbanded and he needs to win the bet so that doesn't happen. "Really? You ask, with a worried face. "yeah, but don't worry bun. I win it!" He said with big smile on his face. You both sigh together and you both chuckling and laughing together.

It doesn't feel like you have arrived at the paranormal club room. There are also your two senpais. You all eat your bento together and you fall asleep.

"HAH-HAH-HAH- That dream again! W-wait where is Yuu and everyone else?" You woke realizing you're the only person there. And it's late, the sun replaced by the moon. You quickly grabbed your bag and rushed out. You searched the corridor hoping to find Yuuji. You think, why didn't Yuu wake you up and instead leave you? It's already night and the atmosphere is very quiet...

You can't help but get goosebumps.

BRAK!

You suddenly hear a loud sound. What's that? It comes from above. You see someone you don't know black hair boy. Suddenly something hit that person...

YUJI!

"YUU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING." you run towards your boyfriend but soon stopped when he looked at you. “T-that mark!”

That's Sukuna's mark! The one who's always on your dream.

"(Y/N)? You-Y-you (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

"S-sukuna..."

He approached you and you slowly back off to the edge of the building, you looked down and just swallowed done. "DON'T HURT HER!" say a boy behind Sukuna. Sukuna heeded the remark and Pressed your cheek with his hand. "Do you remember me, my dear (Y/N)?"

BRAK!

Suddenly someone kicks Sukuna from the side and pulls you in his arms when you almost fell off building. "Didn't I say to protect civilians, Megumi?” said that person. It turns out a black hair boy named Megumi.

You continue to see the person who is still hug you. Tight. White hair...

"Y-you're a member of the Gojo clan?" that person looking back at you. "How do you know, Princess?"

"We don't have much white hair in this country." You say. And he hummed. I don't know why you feel nervous to see, his smile more feels like a smirk.

"Hmm, interesting... What's your name beautiful princess?" he asked.

"(Y/N), my name is (Y/N) (L/N)"

When you say that he's a little surprised… Then his grin grew wider, wider than before as if he had just heard the most heartbreaking news his life.

"(L/N) huh? Is this fate? The Gojo family and (L/N) are business partners and establish close relationship." You freak out a little as he grabs your chin and gets closer to your face.

"So (Y/N), my name is Gojo Satoru. I was a jujutsu high tokyo teacher. Nice to meet you, Princess."

His face is getting closer and your lips almost touching, but prevented by black-haired boy around your age that you know his name is Megumi. "S-sensei..." he said while walking away balance towards you. he held stomach and as if awakening from hypnosis, You remember Yuji.

"YUU!" You screamed approaching Yuji releasing yourself from the young Gojo's arms. You approached Yuji's body that was lying down unaware. You see the wounds all over his body.

You took your hands out and placed them on Yuji's stomach. Light goes out from your hand and slowly closes and heal the wounds on his body. Megumi and Gojo looked at that with impressed. well, there are who have similar power, but nothing that really looks like a naked eye light produce.

——————————————————————

You keep pacing back and forth in front of the room... You've already healed Megumi and are now waiting for Gojo and Yuji who are in the room.

"why are you so worried?" You were awakened by Megumi's voice. "I don't know... I'm just worried about Yujl..." You saw his expression soften and he smiled. Somehow you feel that's not a face he usually shows to other people.

"As long as there is Gojo Sensei, we will be safe... After all, we haven't met yet. My name is Megumi Fushiguro, what's your name?"

You're reminded of something... "Fushiguro-san? Have we met before?"

"Hmm? I do not think so? Why do you think so?"

"The only Megumi I've ever known in my life was from the Zenin clan..."

He flinched at your words and seemed to be trying to remember something.

"Could it be you... (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

You look at him confused when he suddenly looks at you with surprise. "Um... Yeah? Do you remember anything?"

"That's right, it's me! Megumi Zenin... I left Zenin and became Fushiguro... Do you remember when the Zenin family and (L/N) had a meeting? We always played together."

You look surprised, a happy childhood memory... "You're a Gumi?!"

"Shhh... Slow down, that call is a little embarrassing..." He said while his hand covered your mouth. He let go of his gag. He looks so cute with his blushing face, you think he's so embarrassed by that nickname.

"I think we meet again, (N/N)..." Megumi said. When you heard the call you chuckled. It was a call from megumi for you first.

"Hmm? What do we have here? You guys knew each other before?" The young Gojo comes out of the room where you guys are waiting, along with Yuji of course. You with teary eyes lunged at Yuu, hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Yuu! You don't know how worried I was!" You started crying while hugging Yuu. He hugs you back. Megumi and Gojo find the two of you a little displeased.

You two... are too close to be called friends. "I'm fine (Y/N)! Did the creature hurt you?" He kissed your cheek back making the two people watching you bend their faces even more.

"You mean Sukuna? No! He didn't hurt me. But..." You remember when Sukuna held your face. It feels weird, like deja vu.

"Megumi, did you tell Sukuna's name to (Y/N)-chan?" Gojo asked, caught your attention and Yuji. "No... I didn't tell her." After Megumi said that, Gojo who had been sullen smirk widely. "Then I think, not only Yuji who will move to high jujutsu."

After that you and Yuji visited your senpais to say goodbye. gojo-sensei already spoke with your Papa that you're moving to jujutsu high.

Your papa is worried about you because all this time he has been trying to hide you from becoming a jujutsu wizard which is a dangerous job. But yeah, maybe it's about time.

At the end of the day you and Yuji visit Yuji's grandfather's grave to ask for blessings. Next will be fun right?

Right?

To be continued

Tags : @loaves4me @carminhadaavenidabrasil

A/N : hello everyone! thank you for all your excitement for my series! i'm working on the third chapter rn and i expecting this series would be 15 chapter? im still not sure, it can be change. but since i have other things to do in my life i would post the next chapter if i finish all of it till epilog. So, while you all waiting. Since i also read manhwa, playing hoyoverse games, and watching other anime, i'm gonna post short scenarios of those (mostly yandere tho hahahaha)

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[phoenixyfriend]

AU where Xanatos is "redeemed by the power of cute," but it's actually a psychological whammy caused by Obi-Wan being supernaturally adorable as a species-specific juvenile defense mechanism, and is functionally immediate brainwashing by the 13yo who doesn't know that's what he's doing.

Tbh this is mostly just Defense Mechanism that makes Xanatos harmless, but in a way everyone finds very concerning and uncomfortable because it's kind of mind control.

Someone (@dracothulhu) asked if it was related to Mimic Spider AU, and it is not! Mimic spider AU is just "ohhhh you wanna fuck me so b--PSYCH! EATING YOU."

This is more "I'm a little baby, I'm SUCH a little baby, you don't want to hurt me, you could never hurt me, I'm so adorable I'm so cute doesn't it just kill you to think about hurting me?"

Mimic spider AU is just Hot and Confident. This is straight up Mind Whammie.

@threebea also thought brood parasitism, and offered:

I'm trying to figure out a reason for the Stewjoni to have like brood parasitism where they will stick their young with other families for awhile before picking them up Used to do it to Mandoalorians all the time, and it's part of the reason the Mandalorian adopt anything stereotype got so strong. Stewjoni looking at Jedi: those seem parent shaped here you go

Which is great, except I actually started with the idea of it being kind of the inverse!

(That said, I won't actually say no to the brood parasitism option.)

Xanatos: had been about to kidnap and put him on a deep sea mine now is feeding him pudding Is it he's acting normal but doing weird things or is he suddenly talking to Obi-Wan like he's an adorable puppy

He's kind of zoned out.

Xanatos: look at him so cute Omg Obi-Wan: standing there Xanatos: kriff I don't have a camera - also from threebea

Also cuddles! Which Obi-Wan actually Does Not Want. But if he's Very Very Still then maybe Qui-Gon will find him and fix this.

Like if a tiger held and groomed you and you just were waiting Very Still for the zookeeper to distract it and/or load up the tranq.

After the days he's had he'd perhaps like a cuddle but not from this guy Lol Xanatos: so soft The effect only works on humans and near humans so it didn't work on the hutt and (can't remember the other species) on the ship

We can say it works through the Force and that's why the Hutt is immune.

"Stewjoni are targets of slavers" but specifically for illegal adoptions. It's lucrative, because most bounty hunters last about twenty seconds before they give the crying baby back where it wants to go.

And most of the immune ones get caught by planetary defense forces.

So if you CAN steal a baby, the profit margin is insane, since it's so damn hard to do, but the baby up for illegal adoption is sooooo cute.

(…this concept would be hilarious with one of those "Tor adopts baby Ben Kenobi to turn into a weapon" AUs. Still a shitty childhood bc Death Watch can justify a lot under the umbrella of Teaching Self-Defense. But interesting.)

IF YOU HAVE READ TWILIGHT: do you remember the bit about vampire babies being so cute that people would let them slaughter entire villages without a qualm?

It's like that, except Obi-Wan doesn't have dreams of mass slaughter and it only really activates as a Threat Response.

I guess the evolutionary trigger is it's kind of a paralytic You can't move far from where you stole the kid

Which is exactly right!

[bouncybongfairy]

Hiii, could you please do a live action jet x reader smut? Where the reader is a water bender and he meets her when he meets sokka and Katara, she knows hes kind of a bad person but she can't help being into him. You don't have to do exactly that, just a idea!

Rude Boy

Jett x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Needing to take a break from travel, your group stops to rest in the Earth Kingdom village of Gaipan. After meeting Jett and the Freedom Fighters, you can't help but be charmed by his bad boy persona. He invites you out to the city for a wild night.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You guys had been flying for hours and the sun was starting to go down. Anng decided that they would find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Appa was getting tired so they needed somewhere soon and Gaipan was the nearest village. Nothing seemed off at first, Katara and Sokka were arguing about the most efficient way to set up their tent. Anng made sure Appa was comfortable when Jett and the Freedom Fighters made their appearance. After they explained their disposition, they joined you around the fire. Jett was sitting right next to you, telling these lavish stories of glory and riches. Katara wasn’t impressed by his show boating and was disappointed you weren’t seeing it. After he was out of ear shot, all she could talk about was how he was a bad guy and not to be trusted. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t see the signs that he was up to no good. You just didn’t give a fuck. His dominant personality was quite charming. How he didn’t tolerate anything he was unhappy with. You loved everyone in the group and have grown to be like family. However, being happy-go lucky and optimistic all the time was emotionally taxing. As Katara used her water bending to put out the fire, Jett pulled you aside. 

“Hey I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come into town with me later tonight?” He asked. 

“Oh uh- yeah I think I would be able to sneak away,” you said, looking over to see if anyone was watching. 

“Great, I'll meet you here, in an hour or two,” he says while catching up with his group. 

You were practically snaking with excitement. For so long, you’d been surrounded with morality and sunshine. You were excited to break away from that, do something that made you feel alive. Laying on your back in the tent, waiting until you felt everyone was actually asleep. Your heart was racing, trying to avoid anything on the ground that could make noise. Jett was waiting for you where he said, resting his hands on the handles of his hook swords. He smiled once he saw you, joking about how he was starting to think you bailed. 

“No, not at all! I’m really looking forward to seeing the night life in the city,” you explained. 

“Well, I’m excited to show you.” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the night market he was intent on visiting. It was really nice, several food stands that were making your mouth water. He pulled out a large bag of coins, and made your eyes widen a little. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw that much money in one place. Never giving you a straight answer when you asked how he acquired the money. The mysteriousness was only adding to his bravado. After walking the full length of the market, he took you to a really scenic spot. At the top of a hill, overlooking all the lights in the city. Laying on a bed of soft grass while enjoying the view. 

“So how did you really get all that money?” you asked, laying your head against his shoulder; admiring his side profile. 

“The less you know the better,” he chuckled. 

“It’s okay if it’s bad. I know the group I'm with isn’t the most open minded but the Fire Nation made the world like this. Impossible to survive so why can’t we break a few rules to withstand their wrath you know?” you explained. 

“Finally, someone that gets it,” he said, turning to face you.

Your lips were only a couple inches from his. Smelling the alcohol on his breath from a drink he’d gotten earlier that night. Everything about him was just so unacceptable, his attitude, outlook on life and his moral compass was so wrong. You were tired of trying to figure out why that was so intriguing. Shamelessly giving in to your temptations. Wanting to test the waters slowly, you brush your bottom lip against his. In return he melts his mouth into yours. Running his tongue over your lip, grabbing your face with his hands. Breathing hard out your nose, trying to get air in when you could. He rolled on top of you, pressing his pelvis into yours. Starting to kiss and nip at your neck as the two of you rock your hips together. He sits up abruptly, your lips separating with a wet pop sound. Now on his knees, he pulls out his hook swords and tosses them to the side. 

For the few seconds he was hovering over you with the blades, your skin prickles with goosebumps. He looked so powerful and menacing, it made you feel hazy. Dropping back down, his hands coming down hard on either side of your head. You flinched a little, which made him chuckle before pulling your top off. Of course, you eagerly help him remove it. Your back arched off the ground as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling and flicking his tongue while pinching and pulling at the other. Your head falling back against the grass, both mind and body fully engulfed with pleasure. Your clit was aching and feeling yourself getting wetter wasn’t helping. 

“Can I ride you?” you asked. 

“No, I wanna fuck you until you’re braindead,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. 

Pushing your ass up and grinding against his leaking member. Spreading his pre-cum all over your skin before focusing his tip on your entrance. Teasing for a few moments before burying himself inside your heat. He started rocking his hips slowly, pulling out fully before sliding back in. Biting and sucking hickies on your shoulder. Trying his best not to animalistically pound you into the ground. Moaning every time he fully pressed his cock inside you; his head kissing your cervix every time he snapped his hips. Your head was turned to the side, perfect angle for him to shove two fingers into your mouth. Massaging your tongue and prodding down your throat. Letting out a moaning as you gagged and drooled. Wet slapping sounds came from how hard he was thrusting. Taking his hand out of your mouth and brushing the hair out of your face so he could see your expressions. Spreading your drool all over your face in the process, while making patronizing cooing noises at you. Your body went limp, barely audible uh-uh-uh’s coming out of your mouth. Seeing you turned into a fucked out pile of need was steering him closer to climax. Having no remorse and using your body for pleasure was his only goal. Pounding away at you with such force, your skin was becoming sore and reddened. Pressing his full body weight into you, pulling your hair to expose your neck and biting down as he came. Snapping his hips into you every time he shoots thick ropes of cum into your belly. Grunting and growling into your neck as he rode out his high. He got the two of you semi dressed before passing out where you two laid in the grass. Too fucked out to care about the repercussions and responsibilities that tomorrow holds.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 15 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hihi, just wanted to thank you all for the love for the 2 most recent chapters <33 I’m loving all messages and comments!! 💖 please enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the last chapter tomorrow (around 20:30 CEST)🥹🤍

W/C: 3.385

part fourteen

"You know that you're allowed to be upset, right, Jude?" She asks, looking down at the tired-looking boy.

"I know, but it's disappointing.." Jude murmurs back, moving his head to look up at her. His head on her lap, as her hands delicately play with the soft, just-washed curls on his head.

It's a soothing and intimate touch, something they'd both discovered to create a calm and relaxing atmosphere.

"You can be disappointed. It's difficult feeling like you’re on top of the world one day, and the next you feel like shit."

y/n puffs out a breath, trying to reassure his thoughts and feelings with logical and rational reasoning.

Real Madrid had won the Super Cup final against their derby rivals Atletico Madrid only a week ago in Riyadh. Though, last night's loss against the exact same opponents for the Copa del Rey hadn't exactly gone the same way.

With the extra time and many yellow cards later, they eventually lost with two goals made by Atletico, throwing Real Madrid out of reach of the win in a very dramatic fashion.

It was a whirlwind of a week for Jude, and to him- all he needed was someone to help him sort his thoughts out.

"You can't change anything about the past, not even when you fret and ponder about it for years. You can only look forward and change what you think you can, think winning the league or even the Champions League, Jude…” She says, leaning back against the couch, warm fingertips hovering above his hairline.

"You sound like a motivational speaker.." He voices, chuckling while watching her recline on the couch.

"Well, what I'm saying is true. Like- when I thought you moving in would be the end of my life- it turned into- this.."

She points at him and back to herself, making a dramatic gesture.

"End of your life? That's harsh." He frowns, grasping her hand to prevent her from poking his eyes out.

"Well, then let's not remind you of the times I've wanted to punch you right across the face, wanting to wipe that smirk off your lips and-"

Her voice is cut off by his hand, it clamped over her mouth as only muffled noises escape from her lips.

"Should I feel threatened?" He questions, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, only to groan as she pokes her tongue through her lips. He removes his hand, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he sits up from his position.

"No, I'm sure you also had hateful thoughts about me. I definitely cannot blame you.." She trails off, trying to recall anything pertaining to the topic.

"You were pretty annoying." He states, clicking his tongue. Jude fixes his position, making sure he's sitting comfortably.

"Annoying?"

She had expected the description and would definitely understand why, but why did it hurt a little bit?

Noticing the change of expression on her face, Jude grabs onto her hand, pressing a soft, tender kiss on her knuckles.

"-but in a good way!" He adds quickly, eyes raised in panic.

Of course, the words she'd just uttered were way harsher in comparison to his, though it being said explicitly and clearly for the first time since they'd met, it stung like a bitch- to y/n, at least.

"You would always say or do something that riled me up so badly. I remember when you first started interviewing me- and you'd switch from snarky comments off camera to acting like the sweetest, most kind person to me. I thought; 'Oh? So, this is how two-faced she can be?'."

"But, you'd also have moments where you'd confuse me so much." Jude looks up, leaning in to press multiple, back-to-back kisses on her temple.

"When?" She asks, eyes fluttering as she soaks up the loving, sweet gesture.

"Remember that night in- Naples? When you panicked about someone breaking into your hotel room?" Jude recalls, absentmindedly pulling her closer into his side, on the couch.

"Mhm, I remember- I was so embarrassed about it.. I thought I'd have to book it out of your room immediately before you'd start making fun of me.."

"I was not going to make fun of you. That's what you thought of me?"

"I didn't know! We were bickering like- every damn second up until that point."

"No, I was genuinely surprised at first, but when you left, I couldn't even sleep properly, and I didn’t even know why..”

"Well, what's the annoying part?"

She asks, watching Jude's fingers get entangled with hers, making her grin a little.

"You were annoying in a way- which I couldn't shake my thoughts away from you if something had happened that specific day back then. I couldn't put it into words, tried to rack my brain so many times, over and over.."

"You had this long-lasting presence, and the way you spoke and acted practically got ingrained into my memory for me to repeat every night. This definitely got worse when I moved in here.."

Making eye contact again, she nods in understanding, grasping the hem of his shirt to play with.

"You thought of me, every night?" She grins, smug look replacing her once confused and sad expression.

"I knew this would enlarge your ego.." Jude chuckles, placing another kiss on her cheekbone, before he's interrupted by a text message popping up on his phone.

"Who is it?" y/n asks, glancing up when Jude shows her the screen.

"It's my mum.." He simply says, eyes skimming over the lengthy message. After a minute of silence, he looks back at his curious girlfriend.

"She's just trying to comfort me like you have been. Asks if she can come over for tea.." He informs, hand reaching to wipe away a single fallen lash stuck on her cheek.

"Oh, that's sweet. Of course she can-.." y/n trails off, eyes darting away from the iPhone and onto her lap. Fingers starting to fidget with the loose threads on her used sweatpants.

Getting a comforting, reassuring text message from your own mother..

Something the young girl could not even dream of. Let alone speak to her own mother ever again, at least in this lifetime.

The thought makes her smile uncomfortably, though there's absolutely no positive emotion behind it, skin around her eyes crinkling in fake happiness.

"y/n?" Jude whispers, noticing the change in her demeanor and the tensing of her shoulders.

"Hm?" She hums back, her eyes darting up and locking with his brown ones.

"You okay?"

Jude is in love, not stupid.

Seeing his girlfriend's entire mood change, just at the mention of his mother isn't something he wants to just skim over.

There was absolutely nothing going on between her and his mother. In fact, after his parents had been informed of their oldest son's affection for her, they welcomed her into the family within a heartbeat.

It wasn't either of the two who told them, instead- y/n's understandably protective father had told them. This came after he'd talked to Jude privately, grilling him with questions only a father would make up- and of course the intentions question was asked, like they weren't just young people trying to figure out their lives.

In reality, her father had long approved of the idea of the two young adults having a relationship. The times he was home and present with them, he'd slowly noticed the way they had warmed up to each other.

Not to forget, months ago, his daughter had burst into his office- asking for him to handle something for her. Puzzled at his own daughter needing legal help for 'online defamation, because they think I’m dating that douche', he'd dropped everything to listen to her- only to end up laughing at the end of her dramatic and insulting (towards Jude, of course) speech.

It wasn't difficult, as an experienced adult, to guess where the young adults' relationship would go from there.

"y/n.." Jude calls out again, placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking slightly to snap her out of her thoughts when she doesn't reply.

"I'm just thinking.." She finally says, wanting to lie- but realizing that he is, in fact, her boyfriend now- it might be better in the long run, to be honest.

"About what?" His eyes flicker up, a warm hand pulling her in closer. Realizing the comfort or warmth she might need to open up and speak.

"I just feel sad.." The confession is quiet, looking down, she grasps onto the hem of her sweater. Trying to keep her emotions at bay, because this conversation was about comforting him, and not about trauma dumping on the already upset boy, she thought.

Jude blinks, looking over his girlfriend's defeated figure. The gears in his head twist and turn, trying to decipher what she meant with her words.

"Do you want to tell me why?" He asks, trailing a hand up, pinching her chin with his pointer finger and thumb, raising her head to make eye contact.

Her eyes glimmer with emotion when they lock with his chocolate brown ones, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tries to contain the tremble of her lips.

Though, it's insanely difficult, especially when multiple emotions are swirling around her mind, and the suppressing of the tears causes a sharp pain to pass through her temples.

She grunts softly, not being able to hold back anymore, the pressure in her head worsening.

Tears pool against her waterline, and she closes her eyes. Allowing a soft whimper to escape her lips, tension dropping from her shoulders, as y/n stops suppressing her emotions.

Jude's eyes widen, his breath hitching in surprise as he watches his new love practically crumble in front of him.

"Oh, baby.." Jude coos breathily, the soft, foreign term of endearment falling from his plump lips.

He moves his hands immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her onto his lap.

y/n instantly presses her face against his shoulder, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt. Her tears darken the blue shirt, as Jude's hand rubs against her back in a tender manner.

"You're okay, honey.." He whispers, pressing multiple kisses along her temple and cheek, rubbing soft, soothing circles on her back.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong, hm?" He soothes, his voice deeper than usual, offering sweet and reassuring words to the crying girl.

"I- don't even remember how her voice sounded or what her personality was like.." I whisper, raising my palms to harshly wipe my annoying tears away. They just kept pouring out of my eyes like the damn Niagara Falls..

"Look at me, love.." Jude whispers tenderly, grabbing my wrist to remove my hands from my face. I can't help but feel tingles down my spine at the word he refers to me with.

The Brum accent combined with his deep, raspy evening voice- melting my heart instantly. It distracts me from my breakdown for a single moment, and I shift my eyes back to his, just like he asks me to.

"Take a deep breath for me, yeah?" He says, pressing a kiss on the back of my hand.

I nod at his words, taking a single, deep breath, before releasing when he tells me to..

"Good- you're so good for me, baby.." He gives me a small, satisfied smile, kissing my cheek again. He moves his hands, pulling my head back onto his chest, running his hand down my back.

"This okay?" He asks, making me nod. I sigh again, nuzzling my face against his hard chest.

I had just spilled my entire heart out to the boy whom I had sworn to hate for the rest of my life, only a few weeks ago.

The topic wasn't something I had openly talked about since I was a teenager in my psychologist's office back in London. It hurt way too much to talk about with friends, and it felt like opening up a bigger wound when speaking to my own family about it.

I mean, it couldn't ever get easy- talking about losing your blood and flesh, let alone your own mother. In my case, the person who had gone through hours of labor and delivery- creating me from her own nutrients and energy.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever comfortably tell someone that my mother had passed away in a violent car crash.

An accident that had occurred only because little five-year-old me wanted my mom at my graduation to primary school.

I had gone through years and years of therapy, though, of course, to me nothing could actually take away the wound and grief it had caused a young me.

I couldn't sleep some nights, mind trying to remember anything about my mom. Since I had lost her so young, I could only recall her face from old photographs and home videos taken by my dad.

"Yeah.." I mutter, eyes closing as I try to ground myself. Taking in the beating of Jude's heart against my ear and his musky cologne.

"Need anything?"

"No, just you.."

I feel his chest vibrating as he chuckles, the sound reaching my ears and filling me with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

"I'm here, love. Take your time, and we'll wash up before my mum comes over.." I feel his hand against my back, caressing from my nape all the way to the small of my back.

I hum in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as I try to calm down, taking my surroundings in.

"Okay.."

'Meet me in the lobby'

'Security won't stop you'

'We have free time for a couple hours'

I stare at the incoming text messages, my eyes darting to the sender. Only to read Jude's contact name.

I sit up from my bed, slipping on the hotel slippers immediately, and walk over to the bathroom. Trying to fix my appearance before I realize I don't know what I'm getting ready for.

I snatch my phone from the bathroom sink, sending a quick message back to Jude. I wait for a couple seconds, busy with applying mascara, until I hear a notification sound.

'For some dessert, love'

'Dress casual, I'm in sweats and a jacket'

'I don't want to look like a fool next to you'

I chuckle at the reply, nodding as if he can see me before sending a quick message back.

I eventually make my way down to the lobby, looking around and trying to be as discreet as possible. Hoping other staff members and players didn't think of going down as well.

So far, the only people who had figured us out were Luis and Lina. I mean, I couldn't exactly keep it that much of a secret after they'd sneaked a glance at my home screen when I had left to print something.

They had been nosy after seeing someone text me, and when they read that it was Jude- I could've sworn they died and came back to life in a span of two minutes.

I look around quickly when I step out of the elevator, finally catching a familiar black puffer jacket. I grin to myself, making a beeline towards him, and whispering a small 'boo!' when I touch his shoulder from behind.

"Hey! Shhh.." His eyes enlarge comically, and I feel him grab onto my hands almost instantly.

"I'm quiet.." I whisper, giving him a toothy smile as he drags me out of the hotel lobby, out onto the streets of Valencia.

I allow Jude to walk in front of me, our hands intertwined, as he suddenly stops in a less busy area of the street.

I raise my brows as he turns around, watching a smile form on his handsome face.

"Hi?" I begin, pulling a confused face.

"Hi.." He replies, chuckling softly, before he pulls me into a warm embrace. His breath hitting my neck as he plants a kiss on my lips and cheek.

"I missed you." Jude says, pulling back to look at me, while his arms encircle my waist, keeping me warm.

"Well, you could have seen me a couple hours ago, after the match- but you stormed into the changing room after you got that red card.."

I sigh, recalling the absolute shitshow of a match against Valencia a couple hours ago. The referee couldn't do his fucking job, there were multiple VAR checks, and the blowing of the final whistle- resulted in the disallowance of the winning goal, scored by Jude. Eventually, he got red-carded for dissent.

Nothing surprising, actually..

I watch a guilty expression form on his face, forehead wrinkles showing as he frowns at me.

"Well, I'm sorry about that- did I scare you?"

"No? Why would it scare me? I wanted to punch that referee too.." I make multiple punching movements, hitting Jude on his chest once.

"Hey, hey- don't get violent, little Miss, you can't use physical violence here.."

I chuckle at his change of voice, dropping my hands to my sides, and grabbing his hand.

"Sorry, sir. Any reason you've called me down here?" I tease, watching him smile at me, before he squeezes my hand affectionately.

"Let's get some ice cream. I saw a decent looking place on Google Maps.."

"Oh, what flavors do they have?" I ask, mouth watering at the thought of having good-quality ice cream.

For me, it didn't matter the weather. Ice cream could be consumed any time of year, as long as I craved it.

Jude tugs at my hand, indicating he wants us to start walking to the ice parlor he'd seen. I follow him mindlessly, paying more attention to his words than to where we're going.

"Umh, they have 'chocolate' and 'fresa' and, of course, 'vainilla'.."

I laugh at his sudden use of Spanish, quirking my brow up as he starts naming the basic ice cream flavors one by one.

"Are you just trying to show off how much you've improved your Spanish skills?" A huge smile tugs at my lips, my eyes roaming over his proud, cocky expression.

"No, just slipped out of my mouth. I must be getting the hang of it.."

"Sure, Mister. Now give me the directions in Spanish.."

I tease, trying to challenge him, but chuckle when he shakes his head violently.

"It's just straight this way.."

I scoff, rolling my eyes at his bad excuse.

Watching a small smile form on his lips.

"Sure, let's just go straight ahead then.."

The couple’s very spontaneous ice cream date is ended by the both of them chugging a bottle of water. The once very craved cold and creamy dessert now regretted by how big and sweet their portions were.

"That's a cute bicycle.." y/n mutters, not paying attention to where she's walking. Instead, Jude is holding her hand and looking out while they walk back to their hotel.

"Do you know how to ride a bicycle?" She asks Jude, looking up at the focused boy, busy navigating their way back.

"Of course I can. My dad taught me before I showed interest in football.."

"Mhm, that must've been fun.." She mumbles, fixing her jacket.

While the couple is intrigued by the small, new facts they were learning about each other, they don't notice the very few people walking past them in the streets.

Most of the pedestrians walk in a hurry, minding their own business, on their phone, or listening to music- trying to get home before it gets too dark outside.

Though, sadly, what they also don't notice is, the flash of a camera- directed right at them. Not knowing the predicament that would follow if they were sold off and posted on the internet.

The couple is happy in their own bubble, their hands warm from holding hands, unlike their noses, which froze up in the cold wind.

Just like other pedestrians trying to get back to their hotel, wanting to go unnoticed and undisturbed.

[kaleldobrev]

Hauled Up

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam recruits you to try and convince Dean to stop hauling up in his room

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Mutual pining & Fluff

Authors Note: Takes place in season 14 | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were watching some Netflix, there was a hefty knock on your bedroom door. You had hoped that it was Dean who was knocking as you hadn't seen him in pretty much a few weeks since he had gotten back, but you knew that was a long shot. "Come in!" You called out, pausing the program that you were watching.

About two seconds later, Sam appeared, and he looked insanely drained and tired; something that's been pretty much normal for him over the last few weeks. Between helping the hunters who had come from the Apocalypse World and trying to find any information on where Dean/Michael could have been. Thankfully with Dean back, the only thing really draining him now was making sure the "newbies" knew how to handle certain cases on their own or through team-ups.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a little hesitant.

"Sure, what is it?" You asked. It could be a numerous amount of things as while Dean was gone, you had became Sam's right hand, assisting him with the other hunters. You were either helping to find cases, going on team-ups, cooking giant meals for everyone that could last days, or bandaging people up when they came back from a hunt.

"I need you to try and get Dean out from his room. He's been hauled up there for weeks. It's not good for him," Sam said, sighing a little.

"I think he just wants to be alone Sam. I mean, I don't really blame him. He was gone for weeks, and then when he came back, he came back to a place full of people that he doesn't know, not just us," you stated. You couldn't imagine what Dean went through while Michael was possessing him doing God Know's What. As much as you didn't mind having the other hunter's here, you knew that with these other hunters here, Dean couldn't really be himself even if he wanted to be. "Why can't you try and get him out?"

"I think you're the only person that might be able to," Sam stated.

"And why do you think I'd be able to convince him?" You questioned, raising a brow.

Sam looked at you, giving you one of those 'you know exactly why' look. It wasn't a secret that you and Dean had feelings for each other, and have had these feelings for each other for the past couple of years. It was one of those things that even though neither one of you had directly said to each other that you have these feelings; it was kind of a known fact how the two of you felt about each other.

You sighed. "I can try."

Walking into the kitchen, you had decided that one of the things that you were going to do in order to try and convince Dean to come out of his room was bring apple pie as a kind of offering to him.

As you gathered the ingredients, one of the hunters from the Apocalypse World walked into the kitchen with a big smile on their face. "You making apple pie Y/N?" He asked, rubbing his hands together.

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm making a pie for Dean," you said, starting to chop up the apples.

The man sat down at the counter, and even though you didn't directly look up at him, you could have sworn that he rolled his eyes at your response. As much as you had wanted to comment, you decided to ignore it. "Anything that I can help you with?" You asked.

"Hoping you can make this pie for me instead of Dean," he stated. Instead of the eyeroll like he had done before it was a wink; and it took all you could not to roll your own eyes.

"I remember you saying how much you hated apple pie," you stated, putting the apples into a bowl of cinnamon sugar.

"But I've never had your apple pie Sweetheart," he said, winking again.

This time, you had decided to say something, as you did not like when someone other than Dean had called you Sweetheart. "It's Y/N, not Sweetheart."

"It's just a nickname Y/N," he said. "Lighten up."

Before you could comment any further, you heard someone clear their throat in the doorway; and when the two of you looked up, looking into that direction, it was Sam with a clipboard in his hand. "Jones, shouldn't you be getting ready for your wendigo hunt with Xander?"

Jones looked at Sam for a moment, before looking at you. "Can't wait to eat this when I get back," he winked, getting up from his spot at the counter and making his way out of the kitchen.

As soon as Jones was out of the earshot, Sam sat down on the same stool that Jones was sitting at a few seconds before. "I could have handled that myself you know," you stated, giving the piecrust a gentle coating of butter to make sure that it didn't completely burn in the oven.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said, slightly sighing. "Gonna try bribery?" He asked, pointing to the pie.

"I call it motivation," you shrugged.

With the pie finally done, you placed it onto a tray along with two forks and a pint of vanilla ice cream. You doubted you'd be able to convince Dean to come out of his room, but maybe you can convince him to at least share some of the apple pie that you had made for him with you so he could at least have some kind of social interaction.

Lifting up the tray, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the kitchen, heading to Dean's room.

Upon coming up to his door, it was shut like it has been the last several weeks, the sounds of his television blasting as he watched a horror movie (which sounded remotely like the All Saint's Day series to you, as you thought you could vaguely hear Hatchet Man's voice).

Knocking on the door, you heard Dean sigh loudly and pause the television. "Fuck off," he said, his voice annoyed.

"I don't really want to eat this apple pie by myself," you said, your voice a little low.

You heard Dean get up from his bed, slightly sighing. A few seconds later, his door opened and he looked down at you as you held the tray in your hands. "Sam put you up to this?" He asked.

"He asked me to try and convince you to come out of your room. But, I know I wouldn't be able to convince you, so, I decided to make some apple pie for us to share together instead," you smiled.

Dean eyed you and the pie for a moment before stepping to the side. "I'm watching All Saint's Day two," he said.

"Perfect," you said, stepping inside his room.

"Thanks for trying not to convince me," Dean said, between bites. "You're the only one I feel like gets it." He knew that you were the only person to get it, as you and him always seemed to be on similar wavelengths.

"I might not necessarily know what you went through but...I just know for me, if I came back to a Bunker full of strangers, I'd want to haul up in my room too," you said, wiping your mouth.

"You outdid yourself this time with the pie," he commented.

"It's how I always make it," you said.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know tastes...better than usual."

"Probably because you haven't had it in a while," you stated.

"Probably," he agreed.

"I hope you enjoyed your pie," you smiled, grabbing the tray; no more pie or ice cream in sight.

"I did, thanks," Dean said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you make your way to his bedroom door. "You didn't have to make it for me by the way. I know you've been busy with all the other hunters."

"Dean, I wanted to," you began, walking back to the bed where he was and placed the tray of empty dishes next to him. "Besides, I'll never be too busy for you," you stated, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You mean a lot to me Dean, you know that," you added.

The feeling of your hand in his was one that he longed for these past couple of weeks, but he didn't necessarily know how to ask for it. "You mean a lot to me too," he stated. More than you'll ever realize, he wanted to add. He took your other hand in his as he stood up from his spot on the bed gently looking down at you.

"Want to help me with the dishes and then we can come back in here and do something?" You asked him. "We can either watch something or just go to sleep; up to you," you softly smiled.

"I'd like for us to take a drive together. Feel like Baby's been neglected these past few months I've been away," he grinned; a brief chuckle leaving his lips.

"I'd like that," you smiled.

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[apomaro-mellow]

This was such a cute mermay idea I had to do it

Nancy watched as they took the first mer out of the tank, nicknamed 'Billy'. His tail was a deep blue but she knew better than to attach too much connection between the coloration of the tail and their personality. He was anything but calm and soothing. If anything, she would call him a brute, but it was hard to even say that regarding an animal.

Sometimes fish could be aggressive. And clearly putting two males in one tank had amped up that aggression. Poor Steve had yet to leave his cave after Billy's last attack. They'd need a diver to help coax him out and tend to his wounds.

It takes a couple of weeks for him to recover and in that time, the team brings in a new mer, another male. Robin was vehemently against putting him in the same tank as Steve.

"He just got over what happened with Billy. What're you gonna do if this one tries to fight him again?"

"Steve isn't totally helpless", Nancy said, remembering the wounds inflicted on Billy as well. "Besides, we need to figure out if it really is just instinctual, territorial stuff or if there's something else going on."

And so the second male was put into the same tank as Steve's. At first, he was appropriately cautious, as was the other mer. They both kept to opposite sides of the tank. Then Robin began to notice some odd behaviors in them.

The new one, dubbed 'Eddie' by his wrangler Wayne, would sometimes poke and prod at Steve. He would do so and then immediately swim away, like he was bold but shy at the same time. Steve didn't lash out the way he had with Billy, so perhaps it was some form of play? It was times like these that she wished they knew more about these creatures.

Then Steve did more than just not lash out. He appeared to be playing along. Steve had never engaged in play. Honestly, to Robin he seemed a little haughty, like a prima donna of a fish. The gossamer frills of his tail, almost like a betta fish, gave him that look of someone above it all. But when he played with Eddie, he looked, well, goofy.

But he seemed happy. Healthy even.

Then, one day, while passing by on her lunch break, Robin noticed something she had never seen Steve do before. Eddie floated nearby while Steve swam in an alluring display, his tail undulating in a way that made Robin feel like she shouldn't be watching. So she didn't stay for long. There were always cameras on the tanks just in case something happened while no one was around anyway.

But she brought it up to Nancy immediately. Because if her suspicions were correct...

"It looked like a mating dance to me, Nance."

"Don't be silly, they're both males. And if that was possible, then why didn't Steve perform for Billy?"

"Uhh, he kept biting and clawing at him? Not very romantic. And let's not pretend homosexuality is a purely human invention", Robin pointed out.

Nancy was still skeptical. "Well, even if they are engaging in courtship, the fact remains that they can't reproduce together."

Unexpected babies could complicate things in the tank when they knew so little about mers to begin with. How did they even raise their young? It was the kind of question they'd learn the answer to sooner rather than later.

A few days after Robin took notice of the supposed mating rituals, a diver noticed that Steve's belly appeared to be a bit more full. They tried to get closer to inspect but in his first act of aggression, Eddie pounced with the intention to bite their head off. Thankfully, they were fully covered and got away with just a chunk taken from their goggles. Unable to inspect up close, the research team chalked it up gaining weight. It could either be from preparing for winter or having less stress to effect his appetite.

About a week after that, during a routine clean up, Nancy saw that the moment a diver went into the water, Eddie stood sentry at the cave and Steve was nowhere to be seen, presumably inside. Not wanting to agitate him, they waited until he was asleep to send a camera down. Through its night vision lens, they saw the two adult mer and what appeared to be a clutch of about five eggs, the size of grapefuit settled between them.

When the evidence came back, Nancy pointedly kept her gaze from Robin's 'I told you so' face.

"Don't look so smug unless you can tell me how this happened", Nancy said.

Robin shrugged. "I have theories."

It took about three weeks for the eggs to hatch, after doubling in size. The team kept their distance as Eddie's territorial streak rivaled Billy's when his mate was in a vulnerable state. But they checked in whenever they could. Only two of the eggs grew to full term and hatched, the other three deflating not long after being laid.

Nancy chalked it up to it likely being Steve's first mating and having come from a stressful situation. She was proven correct when a year later, he laid again, six this time, and they all made it to full term. She and Robin watched as Eddie and Steve floated together, tails in a twist and holding hands, letting the current carry them as their eight children chased each other around.

Robin nudged her partner. "We're gonna need a bigger tank."

[literaila]

hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

*

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight. 

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself. 

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship. 

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier. 

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality. 

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door. 

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk. 

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?" 

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway. 

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids. 

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault. 

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?" 

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet. 

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack. 

and how to think properly. 

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?" 

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen." 

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house. 

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out. 

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop. 

"dunno." 

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?" 

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again. 

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed. 

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same. 

seriously, neither of you ever get out. 

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him. 

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk. 

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think." 

"i was right." 

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word. 

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer. 

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him. 

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one. 

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do. 

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms. 

you don't respond. 

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually. 

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it. 

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame. 

though satoru is not one single thing. 

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now. 

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted. 

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you. 

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it. 

have it. 

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question. 

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch. 

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though." 

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you. 

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him. 

"so are you," you tell him. 

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now. 

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"  

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away. 

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar." 

"i get it from you." 

you grin at him, not sure what it means. 

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way. 

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first." 

"no, i'm not." 

"do you want me to die?" 

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?" 

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners." 

"so you're an evil ghost." 

"just a bit of karma for letting me die." 

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues. 

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that." 

"you guess?" 

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule." 

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?" 

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making." 

"like he'd believe you." 

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive." 

"we don't have a basement." 

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back. 

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited." 

he raises a brow. 

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those." 

"where'd you put my pocky?" 

"you'll never know." 

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish." 

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers." 

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird." 

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it." 

"i feed him. he can help out." 

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed." 

"like a sleep paralysis demon?" 

"yup." 

"dont you already do that?" 

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible." 

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile." 

"i'm not like a normal ghost." 

"not like normal anything." 

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway. 

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light. 

"hey." 

"do you think the kids are awake right now?" 

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli." 

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think." 

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?" 

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite." 

"true." 

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace." 

"no promises." 

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters. 

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum. 

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there. 

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty." 

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you." 

"i know." 

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke. 

"why're your eyes so blue?" 

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?" 

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be. 

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting. 

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark." 

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?" 

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy." 

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good." 

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in. 

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey." 

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell. 

it feels nice, though. 

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question. 

it doesn't matter. 

"i like you too. hey?" 

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out. 

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him. 

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?" 

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words. 

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love? 

you can't remember. 

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him. 

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything. 

just, you know, everything. 

*

in the morning, your head pounds. 

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives. 

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there. 

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual. 

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you. 

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said. 

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[yuukiiqwq]

An Eternity Without You: Gojo Satoru x Reader

What are the words you would use to describe a God? Beautiful, powerful, strong? The answer is lonely. To be burdened with everyone's dreams and wishes. To be the strongest without anyone to lean on.

Tags/Warnings: God!Gojo, Human!Reader, Angst, Hurt/little comfort, Death (non-detailed), Short One-Shot ˚✧˚. 1.2k words˚✧˚.

Author's note: This is my first time ever writing a fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it! The idea was there, but my execution could have been so much better– I'll do my best to get better at writing! 🩵 (≧ヘ≦　)

Never make promises you can't keep. Especially with a God because if you break it....

"Aren't you lonely?" Was the first thing you ever said to him.

He remembers it like it was yesterday. You, a human, worried about a God? Who did you think you were to worried about a God? He should have cut you down where you stood but instead he decided to indulge you.

"Lonely?" He tilts his head slightly to the side. "What makes you think I'm lonely?"

You look him straight in the eye and answered, "Because you are a God."

He stares at you in silence, confused on what you meant.

"Because you are the strongest," you continued. "You are the strongest...so everyone burdens you with their hopes and dream. You have no one to turn to because you are the strongest. You're always alone with no one by your side, so aren't you lonely?"

He shut down your response by saying– "I am the strongest so it's my duty. I think this conversation is done. Now tell me your wish."

You replied with only a smile on your face.

He didn't deny what you said.

"You know, I've never seen you smile before Satoru. I want to see you smile."

You and him are sitting next to each other, laying against a tree in a flower field. He stares at you like you said something crazy.

"Is that your wish?"

"I told you I'm not going to wish for anything." You reach your hand up to his fluffy white hair and played with it. "I just want to spend time with you and see you happy. I did promise to make you happy didn't I?"

"Ridiculous," he scoffed but didn't stop you from playing with his hair. Instead, he leans into your touch. "You are the strangest human I've ever met."

You only laughed at his comment.

"I promise to stay with you and make you happy," was your promise to him. So why did you break it?

You in his arms, your life slowly fading away. Too soon. Way too soon. Why? Accused of a crime you've never committed. Cursed out by your own kind. Blinded by greed and envy.

"They're always with the God! They're trying to keep all the benefits!"

"They're hogging the God's favor all to themselves!"

"They're trying to seduce the God! They're the devil!"

"We need to get rid of them!"

"Kill them! The God will favor us if they're gone!"

"I will kill them all. Every last one of them."

"Satoru... please don't hurt them," you say as your bring your bloody hand to caress his cheek.

"Why?" He looks at you with a pained expression. "They've hurt you. You're dying. If that's your wish, I refuse. I refuse to grant it."

You tried to laugh but only ended up coughing out blood.

"I don't want you to be cursed out. I don't want you to spend eternity being cursed because of someone like me."

"I don't care. I don't care about them."

"Satoru," You smiled at him. "Do it for me? Promise you won't hurt them please?"

The last smile he will ever see from you. Something that will haunt him for all of eternity.

He stares at you because even at your dying breath, you were selfish. He could just ignore you. Pretend you didn't ask him to leave those humans alone. But he couldn’t because it was you. So he promised. He promised not to hurt them.

"It seems like I will be burdening you with a wish even after saying I won't make a wish. Grant me this wish Satoru. I wish for you to be happy. I wish for you to find happiness. Be happy."

You started to feel tired. Really tired. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and sleep.

"I'm sorry," you said before your eyes closed. Your hand falls down onto the floor and he is left there with you in his arms.

"Selfish until the very end," he brings your cold body into his embrace. "Didn't you promise me to stay by my side?"

Even a God like him, the strongest, was unable to bring you back to life.

"We wish for peace."

"Please bless us with a healthy child."

"I hope he can be cured."

"I hope to be loved."

"Bless my family with prosperity."

"I wish she becomes mine."

"I hope that place burns down in flames."

"I wish she dies."

"I hope they suffer in agony."

"I want him to need me."

"I wish to be rich."

"I want to be happy."

Eons have passed since then. All he does now is listen to the wishes made from humans. Hidden away from their view. He doesn't curse them, after all, he made a promise. However, he doesn't bless them either. After all, how can he grant their wishes when yours was still on the table unfulfilled?

"Grant me this wish Satoru. I wish for you to be happy. I wish for you to find happiness. Be happy."

What exactly is happiness? He's back to being alone. But why does it feel so different now? It's dark. It's cold. It's....lonely? Oh. Lonely. He finally acknowledged it. He's lonely.

So... lonely.

"What have you done to me?"

"Please God. Please give him back to me!! I can't continue life without him. Bring him back!"

Can't live without him? What does she mean? Humans can live on their own.

"I wished we could have been together. But we are too different. I don't want to give up on her.. but we are not in the same position."

Same position? Do humans have to be the same to be together?

"I wish someone could love me so I can be happy."

What is love? Why do you need love to be happy?

"I got great misfortune! I might die tomorrow or something!!"

"Don't say that love. Saying that is a bad omen. If anything happens, I will stay by your side. After all, I can't imagine my life without you anymore. I want you to be happy."

"I'm happy as long as you're here with me dummy!"

It's as he came to a sudden realization of what happiness meant. After eons, he finally came to understand what happiness meant for him.

"...oh. I get it now. Happiness..." A single tear dropped down his face. "Happiness...there is simply no such thing as happiness in a world without you."

"Please return to my side."

He waited more eons without you by his side. He waited for your soul. For the chance that you may get reincarnated and return to him once again. Was it a foolish thing to do? Yes. Because there was a chance you may never reincarnate but he held onto that hope. The hope that you'll return and keep your promise so he can fulfill your wish.

Despite being the strongest, neither God nor Humans could live by themselves.

"So hurry up and return to me."

And you did. Here you are, standing in front of him. The same as ever. As if eons have never passed. You remained the same.

"Why are you crying?"

"I finally found you."

Because if you break it, the God will be sad too.