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raekensluver · 2 months

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a guarded romance (1)

part two

description: you are a famous billionaire's daughter and your father has hired you a new bodyguard. his name is spencer reid and he used to be a part of the fbi's behavior analysis unit.

pairing: bodyguard!spencer reid x famous!reader

contains: age gap (everyone is 18+), fake relationship, mentions of a stalker, talk of parental death, overprotective father, lmk if i missed anything!

song rec: you don't own me by SAYGRACE ft. g-eazy- "don't tell me what to do, and don't tell me what to say."

w.c: 2.4k

an: i hope you all enjoy!! i feel like there aren't many bodyguard!spencer fics on tumblr. please give me feedback! good or bad, i appreciate it!

in the grandiose study, the scent of aged leather and mahogany filled the air, a silent testament to the wealth and power that had been cultivated within its walls. the room was dimly lit, the setting sun casting a warm glow through the stained glass windows, creating a mosaic of colors on the polished floor. your father's office was a sanctuary, a place where he made decisions that shifted the course of empires, but today, it was where your world was about to be upended once again.

"honey," your father's firm voice called out as you stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving the paperwork scattered across his desk. he looked up, the stern lines on his face softening slightly as he took in your appearance. "this is spencer reid, your new bodyguard."

spencer stood by the door, his posture ramrod straight, and his eyes met yours. there was a flicker of something in them, an intensity that made you pause. he was tall, with a lean build and a sharp jawline that spoke of discipline and experience. his suit was impeccable, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface, a wildness that the tailored fabric couldn't quite conceal. he looked older than you, maybe thirty-five, if you had to guess.

"daddy, i don't need another babysitter," you protested, crossing your arms over your chest. "i'm twenty-five, not five. i can handle myself."

your father sighed heavily, setting down his pen and folding his hands together. "sweetheart, it's not about that. it's about keeping you safe. with everything that's been happening, i just want to make sure you're protected."

you rolled your eyes, feeling the familiar ache of frustration in your chest. "what's been happening? i've had one stalker in the last year, and that was just some lovesick fan. i can handle myself."

spencer cleared his throat, his gaze shifting between you and your father. "miss carter, if i may, i understand your concerns. i've studied the case files and the potential threats are minimal. but in the line of work i've been in, it's always better to be safe than sorry."

his words hung in the air, and you felt a spark of curiosity. there was something about the way he spoke, a calm confidence that was hard to ignore. maybe he wasn't just another incompetent bodyguard your father had hired.

"fine," you relented, unable to argue with his logic. "but i don't need you following me around like a shadow."

spencer nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "i understand, miss. i'll do my best to respect your privacy while ensuring your safety."

the week flew by in a whirlwind of meetings and social engagements, with spencer a constant presence at your side. your father had informed you of the annual gala in a week's time, a grand affair where the crème de la crème of society mingled and networked. "you need to make an appearance," he'd said, his tone brooking no argument. "and i expect you to look the part."

"spencer," your father announced, his voice carrying a hint of finality, "you will accompany my daughter to select a suitable gown for the gala. it's an important event, and i want her to be dressed to the nines."

you felt a pang of annoyance at the thought of being dragged around by a bodyguard to pick out a dress, but the idea of escaping your father's scrutiny was tempting. "fine," you said with a resigned sigh, "but i can't believe you're making me go to this thing."

spencer's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he nodded. "i'll be there to ensure nothing goes wrong, miss."

the shopping trip was a delicate dance of wills. you wove through the racks of haute couture, your mind racing with thoughts of the gala and the dreaded encounter with the man your father insisted on setting you up with. spencer remained a silent sentinel, his eyes scanning the room, his presence both comforting and stifling.

you slid a sleek, black dress from its hanger, the fabric whispering against the others as it glided through the air. it was perfect for the gala, elegant yet understated, a stark contrast to the flashy outfits you knew the other attendees would be wearing. you held it up to your body, the soft fabric brushing against your fingertips. "what do you think?" you asked, not bothering to hide the challenge in your voice.

spencer's gaze flicked over the dress and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. "it's… appropriate," he said, his voice measured. "but i suspect you're looking for something more than just appropriate."

you couldn't argue with that. you wanted to make a statement, to show the world that you weren't just a billionaire's daughter to be bartered off to the highest bidder. you wanted to be seen as a woman of substance, not just a pretty face in a sea of designer labels. "i need something that says 'hands off'," you murmured, your eyes searching the racks for the perfect dress.

spencer's gaze sharpened. "you worried about someone in particular?"

you nodded, your thoughts drifting to the smug grin of the man your father was so keen on setting you up with. "his name is alexander. he's… persistent."

spencer's eyebrows shot up, the first real sign of emotion you'd seen from him. "oh, i know the type," he said, his voice tight. "well, let's make sure you're dressed to make him understand that you're not interested."

you felt a strange thrill at his sudden protectiveness, and you found yourself smiling slightly. "okay, let's do this."

as the gala night approached, the tension in the air grew thick. your father had been dropping hints about alexander, reminding you of his wealth and status, and his potential as a suitable match. you, on the other hand, had been preparing your speech, rehearsing the perfect way to tell alexander that you had no interest in him without causing a scene.

the evening of the gala arrived, and you found yourself in a whirlwind of hair and makeup artists, turning you into the picture of sophistication. the dress spencer had helped you choose was a stunning blood red that made your eyes pop and your skin glow. it hugged your curves in all the right places and had just the right amount of flair to make you feel powerful.

as you descended the grand staircase, your father's eyes widened with approval. "you look… incredible," he said, his voice filled with pride. "exactly what a future lady of the house should look like."

you bit back a retort, choosing instead to smile sweetly. "thank you, daddy. i'm sure reid will make sure i'm well protected tonight."

your father nodded, his gaze flicking to your bodyguard, who was standing a respectful distance away, watching the exchange. "he better," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the gala was a dizzying array of lights and sounds, the chatter of the elite echoing through the opulent ballroom. spencer was a silent shadow at your side, his eyes never still as they swept the room, looking for any sign of trouble. you felt a strange comfort in his vigilance, his presence a buffer between you and the world that so often felt suffocating.

as the evening progressed, you spotted alexander cutting through the crowd, his eyes locked on you like a hawk on its prey. your heart sank, but spencer was there, his hand lightly on your elbow, guiding you through the throng of people with an ease that belied his size. "just keep walking," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "ignore him."

but alexander was not so easily deterred. he reached you before you could escape, his smile as plastic as the flowers adorning the tables around you. "so, the elusive miss carter," he said, his voice oozing with false charm. "how are you enjoying the gala?"

you felt your heart race, his presence setting your nerves on edge. "i'm enjoying it," you replied, your voice cool and even. "thank you for asking."

alexander's gaze slid to spencer, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "and who is this charming man at your side?"

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for a way to shake alexander off. without missing a beat, you reached for spencer's hand, squeezing it tightly. "this is my fiancé, spencer reid," you blurted out, the words surprising even you.

spencer's eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, his hand closing around yours. "hello, alexander," he said smoothly, a polite smile playing on his lips. "i've heard so much about you."

alexander's gaze darted between the two of you, his confusion clear. "fiancé?" he repeated, his voice skeptical. "i had no idea, your father said nothing about this."

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you held your ground, flashing spencer a desperate look. "it's a recent development," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "we wanted to keep it private for a bit."

alexander's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "recent?" he echoed, his grip on his champagne flute tightening. "how recent?"

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. "very recent," you said, the lie slipping off your tongue with surprising ease. "we just got engaged."

spencer squeezed your hand in reassurance, his eyes never leaving alexander's. "yes, it was quite a whirlwind," he said, playing along flawlessly. "we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

alexander's expression shifted from skepticism to something darker, his grip on his drink tightening. "well, congratulations," he said, his voice tight. "i wish you both the best."

you felt a wave of relief wash over you as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. you looked up at spencer, your heart still racing. "thank you," you murmured, your voice shaky. "i can't believe that worked."

spencer's smile was tight, his eyes still scanning the room. "it's not over yet," he said, his grip on your hand still firm. "let's get you somewhere quieter, away from prying eyes."

you allowed him to lead you to a secluded corner of the mansion, the music and chatter of the gala fading into a distant buzz. the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, the moon casting a soft silver light over the manicured gardens outside. it was a stark contrast to the bright, flashy lights of the ballroom, and the calmness of the night seeped into your bones.

spencer's hand was still wrapped around yours, his eyes never leaving the partygoers as he scanned for any sign of danger or unwanted attention. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

you nodded, trying to compose yourself. "yeah, i just… i didn't expect to lie like that." the words felt heavy on your tongue, but the truth was, you had no intention of letting alexander near you again.

spencer's gaze softened, his grip on your hand loosening slightly. "it's alright," he said gently. "i've seen worse at these types of events."

you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for dragging him into your personal drama. "i'm sorry," you whispered. "i didn't mean to get you involved."

spencer's gaze finally left the crowd, his eyes meeting yours. "it's part of the job," he said, his voice gentle. "and i'd rather be involved than see you miserable."

you looked down at your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin. "thank you," you said again, the words feeling inadequate. "i just… i don't know why my father can't see that i'm not a little girl anymore."

spencer's eyes searched yours, filled with understanding. "he's just trying to protect you," he said. "it's hard for parents to let go, especially when they've lost someone as important as your mother."

his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. your mother's death had left a void in your life that no one had ever truly filled, not even your father's overbearing attention. "i know," you said softly, "but it's like he doesn't trust me to make my own decisions."

spencer's expression grew serious. "it's his way of dealing with his fear," he said. "but you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, and i'm here to support you in any way i can."

his words resonated with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt seen. "really?" you asked, hope flickering in your eyes.

spencer nodded. "really," he said, his voice firm. "you're a strong, independent woman. and if your father won't give you the space you need, i'll do my best to make sure you have it."

his words echoed in the quiet corner of the mansion, and you felt a sudden urge to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the gala. "can we leave?" you asked, your voice small. "i don't think i can handle much more of this."

spencer's eyes searched yours for a moment before he nodded. "of course," he said, his voice calm. "let's go."

you felt a wave of relief as he led you through the throng of people, his hand at the small of your back a reassuring presence. the cool night air hit you like a slap in the face after the stifling heat of the gala, sending a shiver down your spine. the stars twinkled overhead, a stark contrast to the artificial lights of the mansion.

spencer opened the door to the sleek black sedan waiting outside, his hand on the small of your back as you slid into the passenger seat. you felt his eyes on you as he took his place beside you, the leather seats sighing beneath your weight. "are you okay?" he asked again, his voice low and concerned.

you took a deep breath, the cool leather calming your frazzled nerves. "i'm fine," you said, your voice shaky. "i just… i hate those kinds of events."

spencer's eyes searched yours, and without a word, he reached over and gently took your hand that was resting on your lap. "i promise," he said, his voice filled with a quiet resolve, "i will talk to your father. you're an adult, and you deserve to make your own choices."

his hand was warm and comforting, and you felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards him. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. "i just want to live my life without feeling like i'm under a microscope."

spencer squeezed your hand gently before releasing it to start the car. the engine purred to life, the smooth vibrations of the vehicle a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening. as you pulled away from the mansion, the lights of the gala grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

edited 8.21.24

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targaryenluvs · 9 months

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— meant to be

pairing: percy jackson x fem!gf!reader, dark!luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as if it wasn’t enough for percy to be claimed much quicker than himself, he just had to be with luke’s dream girl. or the one where luke can’t seem to take his eyes off of percy’s girlfriend.

warnings: obsession, jealousy, pining, unrequited love, age gap (14/16 to bring it closer together so aged up percy n you) manipulation

wordcount: 850 words

a/n: heheh in the mood to drive luke to hate percy for having the girl he’s always wanted even though percy had her first - 5/01/24 it’s been brought to my attention the ages might be seen as odd, it’s meant to say you’re 14 and luke is 16 to make it more comfortable.

he didn’t deserve you at all, he wasn’t worthy.

luke could treat you better than a child. when you’d first arrived he couldn’t believe the fact that percy himself was your boyfriend. you were too gorgeous to be with such a clueless idiot.

so he tried his best to at least be your friend in the start.

always accompanying you from your cabin, to breakfast, somehow always ending up at the front of the line with as much food you could wish for. always enthralling you with tales of the time before you arrived. letting you know about the camp, the people, who to watch out for and who to be friends with.

as if he’d let you be with anyone else besides him.

during training he was always more than happy to help you, to teach you, to be close to you. fixing your posture, positioning you properly. he could imagine himself and you, his girlfriend, protecting and helping her. but his bubble was always burst when percy would make his way to you with a smile, talking about what he’d just learnt and the people he’d just met.

in the two days you’d been there you felt yourself trusting luke.

your sweet smile made everything better in his day, but he despised it when it wasn’t directed towards him. percy’s arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder, percy tying your hair up for you, your hands wiping the dust off of him when he fell.

luke wouldn’t have fallen, luke wasn’t that stupid.

luke could hold his own, whilst percy seemed to stumble his way through everything.

he had to hold himself back from strangling percy when walking with him. he was only aiding percy in finding his ‘special skill’ because you’d asked him to. and all luke learned from the experience was that percy was an imbelice. he couldn’t do anything right.

what on earth did you see in him?

you couldn’t sleep, thinking of your quest tomorrow. usually they were taken on by three but percy insisted on anabeth, grover and you. which you were glad for, grover was your friend as well as anabeth, you’d just hoped that all four of you will make it back.

the water was calm, you wondered if it was because of percy being sound asleep. did percy control the waters around him?

your silly questions ran through your head ever since your boyfriend had been claimed. yourself and percy were having the time of your life together, on a journey together. that night the two of you had sat right here, worries running around, the two of you reassuring eachother with promises of safety and return.

his sweet smile, his pretty curls, you loved him with your whole heart, even if you were young.

“y/n?” luke called out to you as you waved, “luke! come to say goodbye?” you teased as he laughed, “sadly yes, how are you feeling?” the night enveloped the two of you in darkness, eachothers presence comforting the other. “as fine as a girl about to go on a literal quest out of a damn movie would be.”

his arm came around you, pulling you into him, “what’re you doing?” you questioned luke, unsure of the close proximity. “it’s fine, calm down.” he pushed your head down into his shoulder, mimicking your earlier actions with percy, minus the love.

you lifted your head quickly, trying to stand up but luke dragged you back down, “get off! let me go luke, i want to go sleep.” his grip was harsh on your wrist, “stop shouting, do you want to make a fuss about the whole camp?” that shut you up quickly, you weren’t exactly in the mood to start up a scene in the middle of the night.

“why don’t you let me go then?” you whispered to him. “why are you going on the quest?” he asked, his eyes were darkened with anger, his tone unwelcoming, a clear juxtaposition to luke’s previous warm embrace of yourself and percy.

“percy wants me to, and i want to. that’s all anyone seems to wait for around here, glory.” he let go of your wrist, speaking with a soft voice, the entire change of his demeanour was off-puting. “shouldn’t you be enough? why does he want annabeth to come along?” you cocked your head to the side confused, “you of all people know how amazing she is, anabeth is the biggest asset to have and an incredible fighter luke.” he loved when you said his name but the sadness in your voice was evident and irritating, almost as much as your boyfriend.

“percy should trust you, believe in you to help him.” and the seed of doubt was in place successfully.

“i don’t know okay! but it’s not like i can stop it, goodnight luke.” you didn’t want to give him a chance to stop you, so you jogged back to your cabin, unsettled and confused.

luke slept nicely that night.

luke would make sure you saw him, all of him.

and how much better he was then percy, you were meant to be.

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #yandere!percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #dark!luke castellan x reader #yandere!luke castellan x reader

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mononijikayu · 1 month

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what’s your type? — gojo satoru.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?” “Ask away.” “.........What’s your type?” You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?” “I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much. Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—” You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 10k words.

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. he won second place in the last poll, so his story has to be contrasting sukuna!!! thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

November 2005

IT'S ALMOST BEEN SIX MONTHS AND SOMEHOW HE STILL DOESN’T KNOW YOU. And because of this he doesn’t think he can sleep at night. You were Gojo Satoru's senpai, a figure shrouded in mystery and calm that even he, with all his power and insight, could not easily unravel. To Satoru, you were more of an enigma than he could ever hope to be—a person who never spoke more than necessary, and when you did, it was with careful precision, revealing only what was directly asked.

You were a Zen'in by blood, yet you never uttered a word of reproach against your relatives, despite their reputation. It was no secret that the Zen'in clan was a place of harshness and cruelty, but you kept your thoughts tightly sealed, never letting your personal feelings slip. Not even with discontent, it somehow never found a way out of your lips. Your life outside of missions and the classroom was a locked box that Satoru could never open.

Gojo Satoru can’t help it, but he often finds himself wondering about you. Your restraint, your quiet strength. Everything about you was so unlike him, so tranquil and graceful and yet, in some ways, it was what made you so fascinating to him. He knew you didn’t like the higher–ups, nor the clan elders; it was in the way your deep purple eyes would narrow ever so slightly during meetings, in the subtle tension in your posture.

But you never voiced your displeasure, not even in private. Yaga–sensei thinks you got that from your father. And you were too much like him. It was unquestionable, unshakable, vibrant loyalty to the jujutsu world, but Gojo Satoru couldn't tell whether it was out of duty, fear, or something else entirely.

For someone like Gojo Satoru, who thrived on breaking down barriers and challenging the status quo the moment he was born, your unwavering silence on certain matters was almost infuriating. He doesn’t think you were that way when you were born either. But perhaps he was used to being the one who held all the cards, who saw through people with ease.

Yet with you, he was left guessing, speculating. You were the aloof cloud he can never understand. Even when he tried to prod for more, you would give him just enough to satisfy his immediate curiosity but never enough to truly understand you. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to understand you. To get to know you. To be close to you.

It wasn't that you were cold or distant—far from it, he thinks. You were always there, always supportive when it mattered. Maybe even more than Yaga–sensei sometimes. But you kept your past, your thoughts, and your emotions locked away in a treasure trove he’s been trying to find. And just as always, it was leaving Satoru to wonder what kind of experiences shaped the person you were. Were you haunted by the same ghosts that plagued him, or was your silence a shield against something far darker?

To him, you were like a mirror that reflected his own complexities. The first in centuries to be born with the gift of Ryomen Hiromi, the only heir of the Zen’in clan in its lifetime. But maybe you were someone with a filter that softens the edges. You represented a kind of strength that didn’t need to flaunt itself—a quiet resilience that came from facing the world with resolve and not letting it change who you were at your core.

In a world full of curses and chaos, where everyone had their demons, you remained the one riddle Gojo Satoru couldn’t solve. A mystery he wished to solve. And perhaps that was why, despite all his power and knowledge, he found himself drawn to you again and again, in search of the answer to the question that haunted him the most: Who were you, really? Who was this senpai he looked up to the most?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gojo Satoru's footsteps as he paced back and forth. His restless energy filled the space, making it impossible for Geto Suguru to focus on his book. After a few more laps, Suguru finally had enough and gave up, placing the book aside.

"Satoru, would you stop that? You're making me dizzy." Suguru said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And now the book feels moot to your annoying footsteps.”

Satoru paused mid-step, looking at Suguru with a pout. "I can't help it! I’m just too curious about them. They’re always so secretive."

Ieiri Shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold from her spot on the couch, took a drag from her cigarette before chiming in. "Let him be, Suguru. At least he’ll burn off some of that energy. We might actually get some peace and quiet later."

Satoru shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that bad."

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue the point. Instead, she leaned back and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."

Suguru, however, wasn’t quite done. "You shouldn’t pry into their life, Satoru. That’s their business, not ours."

Satoru crossed his arms, his curiosity still burning brightly in his eyes. "But they never talk about anything! Don't you want to know more about them?"

Shoko nodded in agreement with Suguru. "I do, but it’s not our place to dig into their past. If they want to share something, they will. Until then, we respect their privacy."

Satoru sighed, his excitement dimming slightly. He knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was something about the mystery that you carried with you that kept pulling him in, a puzzle that he was desperate to solve.

"Fine." he conceded, plopping down on the couch next to Shoko. "But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep wondering."

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing you, that’s as close to restraint as we’re going to get."

Shoko smirked and gave Satoru a light tap on the head. "Just don’t let it consume you, alright?"

Satoru grinned, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. "No promises.”

Satoru leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off his curiosity about you, but it was harder than he expected. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery that was his strong, dependable senpai. Despite the warnings from Suguru and Shoko, he couldn't help himself.

"Come on, Suguru, don’t you wonder about anything? Like, what type of women they’re into?" Satoru suddenly asked, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in entertaining Satoru’s curiosity any further. He has had enough for a whole day already. He sighed. "Satoru, seriously? I thought you put it to rest already!”

“But I wanna know more about them. What’s their favorite mochi? Do they like coffee? What’s their favorite cafe? Do they like idols? What’s their type—”

“Satoru, stop—Ah, my ear! That was so loud!”

“Suguboo!” The blue eyed sorcerer cried as he leaned against Suguru’s shoulder as Suguru groaned with exasperation, trying to get Satoru off him.

But Shoko, who had been lazily biting the lollipop in her mouth, suddenly perked up at the sight. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her flip phone, her fingers typing away with practiced ease.

Satoru noticed and immediately scooted closer. "Wait, Shoko, what are you doing? Do you know something? Don’t tell me you have senpai’s number. Are you texting them? Tell me! I’m dying here!"

Shoko grinned, enjoying the moment as she finished typing. She flipped the phone around, showing Satoru the screen.

His cerulean. eyes zeroed in on the contact name: Utahime–senpai. Then, underneath, a simple message: Eh? Hm…..Yuki–senpai asked them one time, and Yuki-senpai said that they answered Norika Fujiwara—that’s our senpai’s type, which bummed Yuki-senpai. She's not senpai's type.’

"Yuki-senpai, the special grade abroad?"

"I guess so." Shoko retorted back to Suguru. "Apparently she and our senpai's close."

"Hm, that makes sense." Suguru nodded back at his friend. "Huh, I never expected that senpai would be into women. Good for them."

"Right?" Shoko grinned back at the long haired sorcerer. "Women are the best!"

For a moment, Satoru just stared, processing the information. "Wait, Norika Fujiwara? That’s…"

"Yup." Shoko said, her grin widening as she leaned back, clearly amused by his reaction.

Satoru’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. "Our senpai… is into women?"

Shoko chuckled as Suguru shot her a mildly disapproving look, but even he couldn't suppress a small smile. "You know, this makes sense now. Kyoto High has K-1 events on their TV. And Norika Fujiwara's on the programs sometimes."

"Heh, you're right!" Shoko grins at her friend. "I wonder if they only watch for Noriko Fujiwara."

"I don't think our Senpai's that shallow, Shoko."

"Well anyway, you did say you wanted to know more about them." Shoko said, putting her phone away. She raised her thumb up for Satoru. “Now you do!”

Satoru was stunned. He had always respected you as a powerful and composed figure, but somehow this revelation made you even more intriguing in his eyes. "Wow… just when I thought I couldn’t admire them more. They're becoming cooler by the day. You guys don't understand!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head at the whole exchange. "Satoru, you really are something else."

"Hey, I’m just appreciating my senpai!" Satoru shot back, but his tone was lighter now, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

Shoko smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Well, now you know. Just don’t let it go to your head."

Satoru nodded, but it was clear from his expression that this little tidbit of knowledge had only deepened the enigma that you were to him. Because he couldn't help it, when it came to you. He couldn't help but want to know more.

He stood up, trying to open his canned soda and sighed. He thinks he feels faint. But maybe, just maybe, its the weather. He feels unwell, somhow. Gojo Satoru sighed. He should sleep more.

THE AUTUMN LEAVES MARKED YOUR ARRIVAL. The next few days saw you at Jujutsu High, filing a report about a recent mission in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The mission had gone smoothly, but there was something about the activity at a nearby temple that piqued your interest, so you planned to stay on campus all day before heading out to investigate.

Satoru had been unusually quiet since your arrival. He watched you from a distance, his usual playful banter replaced by a thoughtful silence. He still hadn’t figured out how to bring up what he’d learned about you—how could he, when the revelation had left him so distracted?

By the time you suggested sparring, hoping to shake off the tension in the air, Satoru seemed eager to agree. The two of you moved through the training area, exchanging blows with a familiarity that spoke of years of experience. But something was off. Satoru wasn’t as sharp as usual; his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You took advantage of the momentary lapse in his concentration. In a quick, fluid motion, you downed him, pinning him to the ground with a sigh. He groaned, feeling the ground and gravel against his face.

"You’re stupid to let me have a shot at downing you, Gojo-kun." you muttered, shaking your head. “That was a rookie mistake.”

Satoru blinked up at you, startled by your words, before realizing his mistake. He had let his guard down completely. He sighed, a rare admission of fault slipping past his lips. "Yeah, sorry. I’m just… distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, still holding him in place. "Distracted? What's going on, Gojo-kun? Is it about a mission or something to do with the jujutsu you’re working on?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss, but this was different. His thoughts were clouded by what he had discovered, and now, faced with you directly, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally, he decided to dodge, just a little.

"It’s nothing serious. Just something on my mind that I can’t quite shake."

You narrowed your eyes, clearly not convinced but deciding to let it slide for the moment. You released him, standing up and offering a hand to help him up. "Well, whatever it is, don’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t afford to be distracted out there."

Satoru took your hand and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, senpai."

You studied him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something was off but choosing not to press further. "Just remember, Gojo-kun—whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here if you need anything."

He nodded again, appreciating your offer but still unsure how to approach the topic of what he’d learned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With that, the two of you continued your sparring session, but Satoru's thoughts remained tangled. The revelation had stirred something in him, and he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever. But for now, he would focus on the task at hand, trying to push the distraction aside until he could find the right moment—and the right words—to bring it up with you.

You cracked open your canned soda, the familiar hiss of carbonation filling the quiet evening air. Taking a sip, you glanced at Satoru, who was fiddling with his own sweet drink, clearly still wrestling with his thoughts. You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you now a thing of the past.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“.........What’s your type?”

You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?”

“I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much, really. Pretty face, pretty lady. But I have to say, Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—”

You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

He blushes, almost embarrassed as you shake your head at him. “......Is it bad?”

“Hm, not at all.” You snickered at him. “You’re just curious. But I now have a question!”

“Y–yes, senpai?”

“Was it Mei–Mei or Utahime?”

“!?” His face was priceless. It was as though he was a child who had just been caught stealing cookies during the night in the kitchen.

"Ah, Shoko must have asked Utahime." you began, the amusement evident in your voice, "Man, that girl has a big fat crush on Shoko, doesn’t she? She just gave up easily. At least with Mei–Mei, it will be a good five million yen.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on opening his drink. His silence spoke volumes, and you chuckled once more with a softer essence, shaking your head.

“Well, it’s not like I’m hiding anything.” You tout, sighing as you look at him. “But I guess that I’m not as obvious as they come, I suppose.”

Taking another sip, you continued, "I do like Fujiwara Norika. She’s my type of woman. Looking back at it now, she reminds me of someone I dated once. And I think that makes Yuki-chan feel like she has to dye her hair brown now."

Satoru froze mid-sip, and the next thing you knew, he was sputtering, spitting out his drink in surprise. "You… you dated before?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Do...do I know them?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m older than you by a couple of years, you know? And it wasn’t really a secret....Hm.....Would you know? I don't think you liked anyone else from the other clans. But I guess in a way, it doesn't matter, you know?”

Satoru stared at you, still processing what you had said, but then he noticed the brief flicker of sadness that crossed your face, even when you try to laugh it off. It was subtle, barely there, but for someone as perceptive as Satoru, it was impossible to miss. His usual playful demeanor softened, and he watched you carefully, sensing that there was more to the story.

You sighed, looking out at the horizon, your voice quieter now. "I loved someone a long time ago, Gojo. And it broke my heart when she left. But that’s over now.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, and for once, Satoru didn’t know what to say. He could see the pain in your eyes, a pain that was buried deep but still lingered, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

"But, Gojo-kun....you know…." you continued, your voice growing steadier, "I didn’t love her because she was a woman. Or that she looked like Fujiwara Noriko. Even if that's what others believed. I loved her because she brought me to life."

Satoru was silent, absorbing what you had just shared. He could see now that your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself, had been shaped by experiences that ran deep—experiences that he had never even guessed at.

You turned to him with a genuine smile. "People like us have the rarity of that, don't you think? Not has the shot to be brought to life by love."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows around you. Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I’m sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s alright, Gojo-kun. You didn't upset me at all. It’s part of life, part of who I am. And you asked properly. It was right to be honest. Besides, what makes us human if we don't carry our own stories with us, don’t we?"

Satoru nodded slowly, feeling a new sense of respect for you. He had always admired your strength, but now he understood that it wasn’t just about power or skill. It was also about the resilience you had built through the pain of loss, through the love that had once lifted you and then left you heartbroken.

"Thanks for telling me, senpai." he finally said, his usual bravado tempered by genuine gratitude.

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "Just remember, Gojo-kun. Your curiosity isn’t a bad thing. But some things take time to understand. Don’t be in such a hurry to know everything all at once. Even about me. Just….just enjoy things little by little.”

He smiled, a small, thoughtful smile that showed he was taking your words to heart. "I’ll try to remember that."

You leaned closer to him and let your palm pat his head. He gasped, looking up to you as he nearly dropped his soda. You laugh. “Aren’t you my cute, curious and dependable kouhai, Gojo Satoru!”

Gojo Satoru felt his ears turn red as much as his body. He lowered his head, enjoying your touch on his hair. Gentle and yet tenderly comforting all at once. He wished you didn’t have this much of an effect on him. But he supposed that he knew that he’s not good like that when it comes to you.

With that, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, sipping your drinks as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight. It was a rare, quiet moment between two powerful sorcerers, a moment where the weight of your shared experiences brought you closer together, not just as comrades, but as individuals who had lived, loved, and lost in the ever-unforgiving world of jujutsu.

January 2006

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ITS NEW YEAR AGAIN.The cold Kyoto air was crisp as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara made their way up the steps to your family’s ancestral Mikoto temple in the heart of Kyoto. The New Year had come fast approaching, and while you had insisted they didn’t need to make the trip all the way to Kyoto just for you, Gojo Satoru had been adamant to see you. As he always was. He was just that sort of young man.

Satoru's enthusiasm for joining you at the temple for New Year's was palpable, his childlike pout accentuating just how much he wanted to be there. Despite your logical protests about the cold and the crowd, Satoru seemed undeterred, his energy almost infectious.

“It’ll be too crowded, Gojo-kun.” you said with a raised brow, trying to keep a firm stance on your decision. “And not to mention too cold. Just stay in Tokyo.”

But Satoru wasn't one to give up easily, especially not when it came to spending time with you. He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made you sigh in exasperation. “Ehhhhhh, I don’t want to.” His voice was a playful whine. “Come on, senpai! Me being there would make it all fun.”

Suguru, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in from beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’re going to be there too, Satoru.” he pointed out, his tone laced with subtle amusement. “Are we just chopped liver to you?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, snickered at the exchange. “When it comes to our senpai, that big baby is going to be thinking about him.”

Satoru’s indignant protest was immediate. “Hey, I’m not a big baby!”

Before you could respond, Haibara’s grin lit up the conversation. “I’ll go too! I think it would be fun to see how Bishamon temples do festivals.”

Nanami, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I don’t.” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face with a resigned air. “It would be too cold. And I don’t wanna get a cold.”

"Hey! You'll offend senpai like that!" Haibara pouted at Kento.

Nanami Kento turned to you with a blank face. "Does it offend you, senpai?"

"Not at all." You grinned at him.

"See, they don't mind."

"Huh!? But I do!" Gojo Satoru retorted back. "You're going, Nanami!"

"I don't wanna."

"No, you're going!"

"Satoru, don't be so loud."

"But Suguboo!"

"I can't believe I'm stuck with all of you." Shoko huffed, cigarette smooke coming out of her mouth.

Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of all of them wanting to be with you for the New Year. It was going to be a lively celebration, that much was certain. Even after many times you’ve told them to not go, they still told you they were going. And sure enough, it was too cold all the way around.

Nanami sighed, adjusting the scarf around his neck as they neared the temple gates. "This is ridiculous. We could have celebrated in Tokyo."

Haibara, ever the optimist, smiled brightly at his friend. "Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m sure everything will be well. It’s New Year’s day, after all. We should be celebrating together."

As they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by the sight of Kusakabe and Utahime already there, standing near the entrance of the temple. Iori Utahime was wrapped in a thick coat, her breath visible in the chilly air. Beside her, Kusakabe Atsuya was typing away on his flip phone. When Utahime spotted Satoru, her expression immediately shifted to one of irritation.

"Why are you here, Gojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

Satoru grinned at her, his usual carefree attitude on full display. "Because I’m your favorite kouhai, of course!" he replied, his tone teasing as ever. “Aren’t you happy? To be graced by my presence, Utahime?”

Utahime’s eye twitched in irritation, and she started towards him, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could get too close, Kusakabe quickly stepped in, gently pulling her back. Everyone was looking at them but none of that mattered to Gojo Satoru who continued to grin at his elder.

"Utahime, let it go. It’s New Year’s day!" he urged, trying to keep the peace. “Senpai’s also here, we can’t cause headaches for them!”

"But he—!" Utahime began, only to be cut off by Kusakabe, who was already steering her towards the temple entrance, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Satoru just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d gotten out of her. "She’s so easy to rile up." he said to Suguru, who merely shook his head with a smirk.

Shoko, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, nudged Satoru. "Maybe try not to annoy everyone before the night even begins." she suggested, though there was little bite to her words. “Utahime, don’t mind him.”

"Where’s the fun in that?" Satoru quipped, but he did ease off, his attention shifting to the temple grounds. He leaned towards Shoko. “Heh, love sick.”

Shoko slapped his arm. He flinched and groaned in pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You emerged from the temple just as they were finishing up their banter, surprised to see so many familiar faces. "I thought I told you guys not to bother coming all the way out here." you said, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your tone. It was clear you were happy to see them, despite your earlier protests. “It’s very busy here, I didn’t want you guys to suffer waiting.”

Satoru stepped forward, handing you a small package wrapped in festive paper. "No way we were letting you celebrate alone, senpai! Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper New Year without you. Or me. Together.”

“Heh, love sick.” Suguru snickered lowly.

“Shut up!” Satoru slapped his arm.

You accepted the gift with a smile, though your gaze softened at the sight of them all gathered together. "I appreciate it. Truly.”

Nanami, still grumbling under his breath, finally spoke up. "Next year, we’re doing this in Tokyo."

Haibara laughed, patting Nanami on the back. "We’ll see about that, Nanami. For now, let’s just enjoy the night."

As the group made their way inside, the temple's warm glow and the smell of incense welcomed them. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as they prepared to ring in the New Year together. Despite the long journey and the cold, it was clear that none of them would have wanted to be anywhere else.

You ushered everyone inside the temple, the warmth from the lit braziers immediately driving away the chill of the winter night. The monks at the temple were handing out hot drinks to keep warm. Nanami took two, as the others enjoyed one. Satoru thinks that it was sweet plum tea, but it’s not sweet enough for him.

The temple’s interior was adorned with traditional New Year’s decorations—pine branches, plum blossoms, and bamboo, all carefully arranged to welcome the coming year. Gojo Satoru was often here as a child, being a descendant of Hiromi.

He can pinpoint the places he had studied with his Mikoto teachers. But he has never seen it in this way, with all its vibrant decorations. He supposed that he was always celebrating New Years at those boring clan parties.

The air was thick with the fragrant scent of incense, and the sound of gentle chanting echoed softly through the corridors. The bells rang as people prayed in front of the statue of Bishamon. The line was the longest he had ever seen, probably longer than when he buys new Digimon merchandise. But he supposed that it would be the case. The Hiromi Shrine was the most popular of the Bishamon worship shrines in Kyoto, especially because of the performances.

"Make yourselves comfortable." you told them with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. I have to prepare for the dance offering to Bishamon. It’s a tradition I have to lead."

“Heh, you dance, senpai?” Shoko questioned, drinking her plum tea. “Just like Utahime.”

You smiled back at her. “Hm. I’m a priestess in Mikoto shrines also. Bishamon likes being praised, after all. So, it is part of our duty.”

“Your dancing has always been immaculate, senpai.” Utahime cheered as she looked towards you. “Graceful as always.”

“Does this mean you know this?” Suguru turned to Satoru with a curious face. “You have common ancestry with that, don’t you?”

“I was taught, but I wasn’t allowed to perform it.” Satoru retorted back, fixing his glasses. “I’m still a Gojo, you know?”

“I’ll be going now.” You tell them, fixing the pleats on your haori. “I still have to change clothing.”

“Good luck, senpai!” Haibara says, clapping his hands. Nanami mumbled the same but in a lower tone.

You giggled. “You have my thanks. Enjoy the show, okay?”

The group nodded in silent agreement, their eyes following your form as you disappeared deeper into the temple. The faint sound of your footsteps echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hushed serenity of the sacred space. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind you, a soft thud resonated through the air, leaving them standing in the warm, golden glow of the temple's main hall.

The ancient architecture loomed around them, exuding an aura of timelessness and reverence. Flickering candles cast gentle, dancing shadows across the polished floors, while the subtle scent of incense hung in the air, intertwining with the soft murmur of distant prayers. It was a place where the divine felt near, a sanctuary where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sacred atmosphere to envelop them.

Each of them felt the weight of the temple’s history, the centuries of devotion embedded in its very walls. Here, in this tranquil space, they were reminded of the depth of their connection to you, and the unspoken bond that drew them all together, even in the quietest of moments.

Satoru leaned against a pillar, his eyes following the path you had taken. "This is a big deal." he said, breaking the silence. "The dance offered to Bishamon isn’t just for show. It’s a prayer for protection, strength, and victory in the coming year. As descendants of the Hiromi clan, it has to be taken with care and concentration.”

Shoko, intrigued, glanced at him. "So you know all about this, then? In great detail."

Satoru shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, I’ve seen it done before, in the Mikoto household. But senpai… they’ve always taken it to another level. They’re the real deal when it comes to this tradition."

Suguru nodded thoughtfully, glancing around at the intricate decorations. "It’s rare to see someone so deeply connected to their heritage like this. It’s impressive."

Nanami, still somewhat grumpy from the trip, nevertheless looked interested. "It must be a lot of pressure, carrying on such an important tradition."

"It is. She’s the only third one to hold Hiromi’s cursed technique. So she’s held in high regard." Satoru agreed, his gaze still fixed on the doors you had disappeared through. "But senpai handles it like it’s nothing. That’s just how they are."

As they talked, the soft sounds of preparations being made drifted through the temple. The atmosphere grew more reverent, the chatter fading into a respectful silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the doors finally opened again, they all turned to look. You emerged, dressed in the finest Heian-era clothing, each layer of silk and brocade meticulously arranged. The colors were vibrant, yet harmonious, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into the ensemble. Your hair was styled in the traditional manner, adorned with delicate ornaments that caught the light as you moved.

The group fell silent, their eyes drawn to you as you approached the altar. Gojo Satoru felt his breath catch in his throat, completely awe-struck. He had seen you in combat, had witnessed your strength and skill countless times, but this was different. This was a side of you he had never truly seen before—regal, composed, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

As you took your place before the altar, the room seemed to hold its breath. The flickering candlelight reflected off the golden statue of Bishamon, the god of war and warriors, who stood as the protector of the temple. You began to dance, your movements slow and deliberate, each gesture a prayer offered up to the deity.

The bells chimed softly in time with your steps, the melody hauntingly beautiful. The sleeves of your kimono floated gracefully through the air, and the rhythm of your movements told a story of reverence, dedication, and unbroken tradition. Every step, every turn, was imbued with a power that transcended the physical, connecting the past with the present, the divine with the mortal.

Satoru was mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an expression of deep respect and admiration. He had always known you were special, but seeing you like this—fully embracing your role as a descendant of the Hiromi clan, leading this sacred ritual with such grace and authority—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

As the dance continued, the room seemed to glow with a warmth that went beyond the physical. It was as if the very spirit of the temple had come alive, watching over the ritual with benevolent eyes. The other sorcerers watched in respectful silence, each of them feeling the weight of the moment, understanding that they were witnessing something truly sacred.

When the dance finally came to an end, you stood before the altar, hands folded in a final gesture of prayer. The room was silent, the only sound was the soft crackling of the braziers. Then, slowly, you turned to face your audience, your expression calm and serene.

The group remained silent, each of them still processing what they had just witnessed. Satoru, however, couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He had always known you were extraordinary, but tonight, that belief had been solidified in a way he hadn’t expected.

As you stepped down from the altar, Satoru caught your eye, and for a brief moment, there was an understanding between you—something that didn’t need to be spoken. It was in the quiet awe in his gaze, in the way he nodded slightly, acknowledging what you had just done.

"That was… amazing." Shoko finally said, breaking the silence, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Right?” Utahime grinned from ear to ear. “Senpai’s been practicing this for months!”

“I always wondered how they have the time to do all this.” Kusakabe whispered under his breath. “That was just….amazing.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, a rare look of respect on his usually calm face. "Yeah. Truly."

Nanami, who had been skeptical about the whole thing, couldn’t help but nod as well. "I can see why this tradition is so important."

Haibara, always the optimist, beamed at you. "You were incredible, senpai!"

You smiled softly, bowing your head in thanks. "Thank you. I’m glad you could all be here to witness it. It means a lot to me."

As the night continued, the group moved on to the other festivities, but Satoru remained quiet, still caught up in the image of you dancing under the temple’s sacred light. He knew he would never forget this New Year, nor the way you had shown them all the true depth of your heritage and strength.

As the night wore on, the temple grounds gradually filled with the sounds of celebration. The solemnity of the ritual had given way to a more festive atmosphere, with laughter and chatter echoing off the ancient stone walls. The group of sorcerers mingled, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the small fires that had been lit to stave off the winter chill.

Satoru, however, found himself oddly quiet amidst the festivities. He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze often drifting back to where you were, speaking with Utahime and Kusakabe near the shrine. The image of you during the dance was still fresh in his mind, replaying over and over again like a scene from a film.

He had always admired you—respected you, even. You were his dependable senpai, someone who had taught him much, someone who had always been there. But tonight, something had shifted.

The way you had moved, the way you had commanded the space during the ritual, had revealed a side of you that he hadn’t fully grasped before. It wasn’t just about strength or skill. It was about who you were at your core—a person deeply connected to your heritage, someone who carried the weight of tradition with grace and dignity.

As he watched you now, a realization began to creep up on him, one that he hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t just admiration he felt. There was something more—something deeper that made his heart beat a little faster, made him more aware of your every movement, every word.

It hit him all at once, like a sudden gust of wind that took his breath away. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one who was always so sure of himself, found himself completely and utterly disarmed by this newfound awareness.

He liked you. A lot. More than he hoped.

The thought was startling, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. Love wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to—his life was too chaotic, too filled with danger and responsibility. But standing here, watching you laugh with the others, he couldn’t deny it. It was there, unmistakable and undeniable, a feeling that had been building without him even realizing it.

Shoko noticed his distant expression and wandered over, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve been quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Satoru blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glanced at Shoko, then back at you, still trying to process what he had just figured out. "Just… thinking." he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "That’s a first. What about?"

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Senpai."

Shoko followed his gaze and immediately understood. Her usual smirk softened into something more genuine. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I think I do."

Shoko didn’t tease him this time. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on you. "You know, it’s not surprising. They’re… special."

"Yeah." Satoru agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving you. "They really are."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and something he wasn’t quite sure how to name. Love was a powerful thing, and for someone like him, it was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he watched you smile, saw the way you interacted with the people around you, he knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, whatever he had to face because of this realization, he was ready for it. Because this feeling, this love—he knew it was worth it.

"Guess I’ve got some things to figure out," he muttered, more to himself than to Shoko.

She chuckled softly. "You’ll manage. You always do."

Satoru smiled, feeling a little more grounded. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this newfound love, but for now, just knowing it, acknowledging it, was enough. The night was still young, and there was time—time to enjoy this moment, time to figure out what to do next.

As the celebration continued, he allowed himself to relax, to savor the warmth of the fire and the sound of your laughter. There was no rush. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo was content to just be—content to stand by, to watch, and to let his heart lead him wherever it wanted to go.

February 2010

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS OUT OF HIS LIFE. In the first months after your marriage, Gojo Satoru found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t fully anticipated. Marriage, to him, had always been an abstract concept—something distant and almost inconceivable.

After all, he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who walked a path few could follow, always teetering on the edge of danger. He had grown accustomed to a life where attachments were fleeting, where relationships were superficial at best, and where he never had to worry about being tied down by anything or anyone.

But now, everything had changed. With a simple gold band on his finger, a tangible symbol of a bond he never thought he’d have, Satoru realized he was in completely unfamiliar territory. The weight of that ring was more than just the metal—it was the responsibility, the commitment, and the vulnerability that came with it.

In those early days, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, his hand subconsciously reaching out to make sure you were still there, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream. He’d never been one to fear anything, but the thought of losing you, of this newfound connection slipping through his fingers, sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process—a mixture of fear and protectiveness, of love and uncertainty.

Satoru had always prided himself on being in control, of being able to predict and outmaneuver any threat. But this—this was different. Loving you, being married to you, was something he couldn’t strategize his way through. There were no enemies to defeat, no curses to exorcize, just the simple, profound reality of sharing his life with someone else. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

He’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening in a way that was so unlike the confident, cocky sorcerer everyone knew. He marveled at how easily you fit into his life, how you managed to break through the walls he had built up over the years. The way you understood him, the way you didn’t flinch in the face of his power or his occasional bouts of arrogance—it was as if you had always been meant to be there, by his side, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

But with that grounding came a vulnerability that Satoru wasn’t used to. He was no longer just the strongest sorcerer—he was your husband, a role that demanded a different kind of strength, one that he was still learning to wield. The idea of being responsible for someone else’s happiness, of being someone you could rely on, made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. Could he really be the partner you deserved? Could he protect you not just from the dangers of the world, but from his own flaws and insecurities?

These questions haunted him in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you. He was used to facing challenges head-on, but this was different. This was about being present, being open, being honest—things that didn’t come naturally to him. And yet, despite the doubts and the fears, there was something about being with you that made him want to try, to be better, to grow into the role he never thought he’d take on.

As the months passed, Satoru began to understand that marriage wasn’t about being perfect, or about having all the answers. It was about the journey you were both on, together, learning and growing with each step.

He realized that it was okay to be unsure, to be afraid, as long as he was willing to face those fears with you by his side. And slowly, he started to let go of the idea that he had to be invincible, that he had to carry the weight of the world on his own. Because now, he had you, and that was a strength unlike anything he had ever known.

He’d never been one to doubt himself, but when it came to you, things were different. There were moments when he would catch himself overthinking, a rarity for him. Did you really want to be married to him, or had circumstances forced your hand? The thought gnawed at him more often than he’d like to admit.

After all, your relationship hadn’t exactly been conventional. You had always been enigmatic, revealing only pieces of yourself when asked, keeping much of your life private. Even when Satoru confessed his feelings, he wasn’t entirely sure how you felt. You accepted his proposal, but he couldn’t shake the lingering suspicion that you might have done so out of obligation or to avoid being entangled with the Zen’in clan—a fate worse than anything he could imagine for you.

There were nights when he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of your shared room, trying to figure out how to navigate this new reality. He loved you—he knew that much. But he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had simply chosen the lesser of two evils, and he was the one left trying to make sense of it all.

Satoru wasn’t used to feeling insecure. He was used to being in control, always confident in his abilities and decisions. But with you, everything was different. You were his equal in so many ways—strong, intelligent, capable—but you were also someone he couldn’t quite read, someone who could keep secrets even from him.

One evening, as you both sat in the quiet of your home, Satoru couldn’t keep it in any longer. You were sipping tea, looking as serene as ever, while he fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically restless.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “When we got married… Did you… I mean, did you want to?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—sometimes I wonder if you did it because you really wanted to or because it was… the better option. Better than being forced into something with the Zen'in clan.”

You set your tea down, regarding him carefully. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“Satoru…..” you began, your voice steady, “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t have the kind of love story that most people dream of. My life was never about fairy tales or perfect endings. And yes, part of me did see our marriage as a way to avoid a fate I didn’t want.” You squeezed his hand, your gaze never leaving his. “But that’s not the only reason I said yes.”

His breath caught as he listened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. “Then what made you say yes, to me being your husband?”

“I said yes because I trust you.” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “I trust you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before. And… I wanted to see where that could lead. I may not have been in love with you when we first got married, but I knew there was potential for something real between us. Something worth exploring.”

Satoru’s heart swelled at your words, but there was still a part of him that needed to know more. “And now?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel now?”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached your eyes. “Now? I don’t regret it for a second. You’ve become someone I care about deeply, someone I respect and… yes, someone I can truly….deeply love.”

The relief that washed over Satoru was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he had to hear those words until you spoke them. He knew that maybe you felt them, maybe you shared his feelings, his understanding. But to hear them? That’s a whole different thing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his usual confidence beginning to return.

“Good….good.” he murmured, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Because I really, really care deeply for you, and maybe one day…..I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. “I guess we’re both learning how to navigate this together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think we’ll figure it out. After all, we’re together. We can handle anything.”

And in that moment, with you in his arms, Satoru knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them. Because he wasn’t alone—he had you, and that was more than enough.

epilogue

March 2015

It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when everything seemed to align perfectly. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the Gojo household was uncharacteristically quiet. Well, almost quiet.

Satoru Gojo, the ever-proud husband and now father, was lounging on the couch with a smirk that could light up a room. In front of him stood Megumi and Tsumiki, both of them sporting expressions of mild confusion and curiosity.

Satoru had been waiting for this moment—when the kids would finally ask about the somewhat mysterious nature of his marriage to you. And now, with Satoshi—a tiny bundle of energy strapped to Satoru’s chest in a baby carrier—he was more than ready to provide an answer.

“So, how did you and Gen–san end up married?” Tsumiki asked, her tone innocent but her eyes sharp, clearly expecting an interesting story.

Megumi, ever the skeptic, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense. You’re you… and they’re… well, them.”

Satoru grinned, patting Satoshi’s back gently as the baby cooed happily in the carrier. “Why, that’s easy! It’s because they love me!”

The room went silent for a moment as Megumi and Tsumiki processed Satoru’s answer. The stillness hung in the air, almost as if time itself had paused. Then, Megumi rolled his eyes in that exasperated way he often did, clearly unimpressed by whatever explanation Satoru had given this time. Tsumiki, on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter light and infectious, breaking the tension with ease.

Little Satoshi, cradled comfortably against Satoru’s chest, joined in with his own soft laughter, the sound a mix of pure joy and innocence. His tiny hands clutched at Satoru’s shirt, his laughter causing his small body to wiggle slightly in his father’s arms.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the chorus of reactions around him. For a brief second, he looked almost confused, as if he hadn’t quite expected that response. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening his usual cocky expression. In that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

“That can’t be the whole story.” Megumi muttered, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s self-satisfied grin. “I won’t believe Gen–san falling in love with you like that.”

Tsumiki leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Satoru–san, there has to be more to it than that.”

Satoru chuckled, his trademark grin still plastered on his face. “Well, if you must know, it all started with my irresistible charm. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this face?” He pointed to himself, looking ridiculously smug.

Satoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands, making the whole scenSatoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands with pure delight. The sound of his laughter, so innocent and full of life, echoed through the room, adding to the already absurd scene. His bright eyes sparkled as he looked up at Satoru, clearly enjoying the attention and the light-hearted atmosphere.

Satoru’s smile grew wider as he watched his son, the absurdity of the moment not lost on him. The combination of Megumi’s eye roll, Tsumiki’s giggles, and Satoshi’s adorable antics made the whole situation feel almost surreal—like a snapshot of a life he had never imagined for himself, yet couldn’t imagine living without now.e even more absurd. Life was great, he thinks. No matter what happened before.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples as if dealing with Satoru was giving him a headache. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you!” Satoru responded cheerfully, clearly missing—or ignoring—the point.

Tsumiki, always the more patient of the two, tried again. “But really, what made you two decide to get married? Was it some big romantic gesture?”

Satoru paused, his grin softening as he thought back to the moments leading up to your marriage. “It wasn’t really like that,’miki.” he said, his tone more genuine now. “It was more… complicated. But in the end, we realized we wanted to be together. And so we made it happen.”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchanged a look, sensing there was more to the story than Satoru was letting on. That doesn’t seem to be how you told the story. You were more straightforward than your husband, but Satoru got the complicated right. Nothing about the story was ever simple. But now that you are here, nearly five years later. What is complicated to a whole lifetime of happiness?

“And then they fell head over heels in love with me!” Satoru added quickly, not wanting to lose the lightheartedness of the moment. “Then bam! You guys came into our lives and made more love grow! Like kabam!”

Tsumiki laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof, Satoru-san.”

“Maybe I am, ‘miki!” Satoru replied, his grin returning full force. “But I’m their goof, and that’s all that matters.”

Megumi sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess if they can put up with you, that says something.”

Satoru beamed, clearly taking that as a compliment. “Exactly! Now, who wants ice cream? Satoshi here has a craving.”

As if on cue, Satoshi babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching up toward Satoru’s face, his little fingers grasping at the air as he tried to touch his father. Satoru leaned down slightly, letting Satoshi’s hands brush against his cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the child’s excitement.

Tsumiki giggled at the sight, her amusement evident. “I think that’s just you, Satoru-san,” she teased, her tone playful.

Satoru shrugged, completely unbothered by the light jab. “Well, Satoshi is my son,” he declared with a grin, gently nuzzling his cheek against Satoshi’s tiny hand. “My little dawn, my copycat! He’s bound to inherit my great taste in sweets!”

His words were met with another round of giggles from Tsumiki, while Satoshi, as if understanding his father’s pride, continued to babble cheerfully, his joy infectious and filling the room with warmth. You finally came around the corner, fully dressed to go out for the day. You grinned at everyone.

“My love! Woah, you look dashingly extraordinarily fantastically—”

“Satoru.” You giggled, looking into his deep cerulean eyes. Full of love, full of wonder— for you. “Your compliments don’t have to be that long, baby.”

“Huh!? But how will the world know how much I love my beloved?”

You smiled, walking over to him. You placed a kiss on Satoshi’s massive cheeks, eliciting him to laugh. Then you looked at your husband and leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He smiled against your lips, enjoying the touch of your lips against his own. When you parted lips, he looked dazed with love for you.

“New lip gloss?” He asked you, grinning. “It’s more fruity than before.”

“Do you love it?”

He grinned harder. “I do!”

“Ugh, married people.” Megumi gagged, looking at the two of you.

Tsumiki swooned with a smile on her face. “Ah, married people.”

With that, the conversation shifted to plans for an impromptu ice cream outing, and any lingering questions about your marriage to Satoru were put on hold—at least for now. Sweets came first in your family. But as they all headed out the door, there was a sense of contentment in the air, a feeling that whatever the story behind your marriage was, it was something that had brought everyone closer together. And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

As the four of you headed out to the nearest ice cream shop, the lively chatter filled the air. Satoru, as usual, was at the center of attention, effortlessly juggling his roles as the strongest sorcerer, doting father, and husband with a charm that was uniquely his.

Satoshi, snug in his baby carrier, was babbling away, occasionally pulling at Satoru’s white hair, fascinated by its softness. Tsumiki walked beside them, laughing at Satoshi’s antics, while Megumi trailed slightly behind, trying to mask his amusement with an air of indifference.

Once you reached the shop, Satoru wasted no time in ordering a variety of flavors—far more than anyone could reasonably eat. He carried the overflowing tray of cones and cups to a table outside, grinning as he set it down.

“Alright, everyone, dig in!” he announced, looking far too pleased with himself.

Tsumiki eagerly grabbed a rainbow sprinkle cone, and even Megumi couldn’t resist picking out his favorite flavor, chocolate chip. You grabbed pistachio and your husband Satoru took a seat, carefully adjusting Satoshi in his carrier before picking up his own ice cream. He looked around at his little makeshift family, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and contentment.

As they enjoyed their treat, Tsumiki’s curiosity got the better of her again. “Satoru–san, do you think Satoshi will grow up to be like you?”

Satoru smirked, scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. “Well, he’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure,” he said, tapping Satoshi’s nose with a finger. “But as for the rest, who knows? He’s got plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he wants to be.”

Megumi, ever the realist, chimed in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your ego.”

Tsumiki tried to stifle her giggle while Satoru feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “My ego? I prefer to think of it as confidence. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be like me? I’m the complete package!”

“Because they love me!” Tsumiki teased, echoing Satoru’s earlier statement with a playful grin.

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly! See, Tsumiki gets it.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You are too much, Satoru.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Fortunately, yes. I do.”

Megumi shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Despite the banter, it was clear to him how much Satoru cared for you and the life you’d built together. Satoru might joke around, but there was no denying the depth of his feelings, especially when it came to you and Satoshi.

After a while, the conversation turned to other topics—school, upcoming missions, and plans for the weekend. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. As they sat there, laughing and talking, it was easy to forget the pressures of their world, if only for a little while.

Finally, when all the ice cream was gone and Satoshi was starting to get sleepy, they decided to head back home. Satoru, now carrying a drowsy Satoshi in his arms, led the way, still chatting animatedly with Tsumiki and Megumi as they walked. Your shopping bags filled one hand and the other, a matcha drink you so adored.

As they neared your home, Megumi suddenly asked, “So, do you think you guys will want more kids?”

You choked on your drink. You coughed. Megumi looked panicked at your state. You haven’t really thought about more kids. Having Megumi, Tsumiki and Satoshi felt more than enough. Tsumiki handed you a wet wipe, worry evident on her face. She took the matcha drink so you could clean yourself.

“You alright, my love?” Satoru asked, fear in his face. “Megumi, get water!”

Megumi nodded as he rushed off. You cleaned your face from the matcha.“I’m…I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just surprised, that's all.”

Megumi finally came back and handed you water. You smiled at him and drank the water slowly. You thanked the boy, patting his head with your free hand. Satoru took a breath of relief and paused, glancing down at the now peacefully sleeping Satoshi, his expression softening.

“We don’t know yet, about more kids. We haven’t thought about it yet.” he said thoughtfully. “If that’s something we both want, then why not? After all, I think we make a pretty good team.”

Tsumiki smiled, nudging Megumi. “I think it would be nice if Satoshi had a little brother or sister to play with.”

Megumi, trying to maintain his usual indifferent facade, just shrugged. “As long as Satoru–san doesn’t try to turn them all into mini versions of himself.”

You smiled. “Another version of me would be a change, don’t you think?”

“Satoru–san would spoil them!” Tsumiki grinned. “I would too!”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of them being like me. I don’t want them to be. Everyone’s got to find their own path, right? I just want them to be happy and strong enough to protect what’s important to them.”

He looks at you and grins. “But another version of you I could hold dear and treasure? I would be the happiest man.”

“Simp.” Megumi snickered as you put down the shopping bags.

As they reached the door, Satoru turned to face them, his grin returning. “And what about it? I’m proud of being a loving husband!”

“What Satoru said, that includes you two as well.” You smiled at Megumi and Tsumiki. “You’re all part of this family now, whether you like it or not. Okay?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting any more ideas.”

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru opened the door, ushering them all inside. “No promises!”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world as the Gojo household settled in for another evening. And as Satoru laid Satoshi down in his crib, watching the tiny baby sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that life, with all its chaos and surprises, had turned out pretty damn good. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it with you, Satoshi, and the rest of the family by his side. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about being the strongest—it was about being loved, and loving in return. And that was something even Satoru Gojo knew he couldn’t do alone.

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pr1ncessjo · 1 month

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Jo. You asked I deliver 🤍🤍🤍

What about first kiss with wade that turns into first EVERYTHING. basically everything sexual lmaooooo. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

MDNI 18+ content ; shy/innocent fem!reader, corruption kink, fingering, lots of pet names, i'm ovulating can you tell?

tysm for the request angel !!! this is part one bc i got kinda stuck lol :P part two soon <333

losing your innocence to wade pt. 1

as much as wade teases and makes lewd jokes, he practiced an astonishing amount of patience when it came to your lack of sexual experience. he respected your boundaries (to some extent). of course, there was the occasional peek at your ass or 'accidental' boner while you cuddled on the couch. he couldn't help it. you were the most enticing thing to him and it drove him fucking mad. he was so used to immediate sex after (or during) the first date, but you really have thrown him for a loop. just as he's about to get close to you, you stop him.

"not yet..." you'll whisper with a little sheepish giggle. if it was any other girl, this would piss him the fuck off. the blue balls alone had him fighting internal demons. but that's the thing. you weren't just 'some girl'. there was something about this whole dynamic that kept wade insatiably hooked. he got to look at everything he couldn't touch and for some fucked up reason he was obsessed with how painful it was.

lucky for him, tonight he gets to look and touch.

you and him were currently snuggled up on the couch watching a random movie neither of you were really into. he had just got back from a mission, suit a little tattered and adrenaline through the roof.

"um, wade?" you ask shakily, pausing the movie and sitting up to face him.

he mirrors your posture so that you know you have his full attention. "somethin' wrong, sweets?" a gloved hand goes to your thigh, soothingly rubbing the skin your sleep shorts didn't cover.

you were trying to find the right words, opening your mouth to speak and closing it several times before huffing, clearly frustrated with yourself. little did he know, you were just has horny has he constantly was. you were simply better at hiding it. but not tonight. you physically couldn't wait any longer. albeit dramatic, you throw yourself at wade, straddling his lap and kissing him above the mask.

he doesn't deny you, but he's definitely shocked. "woah, woah, hey..." his hands find the sides of your face, leaning back as he catches his breath.

for a moment, you take his surprised state personally, feeling stupid and embarrassed. "sorry, that was stupid. i-" stumbling, you start to get off of him, but he firmly plants your hips back down on top of him.

"ah, ah, ah," he tuts, "where d'you think you're going, baby?" he peals his mask up just above the tip of his nose so you can see his mouth. "just thought your first kiss should be with an actual mouth."

you giggle, getting comfortable on his lap again. "oh yeah, right."

"alright, baby, take two. lights...camera..." he whispers, cupping your face and pulling you into a heated kiss, not caring to finish his sentence.

you're not sure what takes over, but your hips start to rock against him. the rough material of his suit against your skin feels so good. judging by the erection you start to feel beneath you, he's feeling good too.

"ohhhh, i see," wade muses, noticing how you desperately chase the friction between you two, "you wanna try me on for size, pumpkin?" he asks, but it's clearly rhetorical because he doesn't wait for a response, gripping your hips and rocking you back and forth against his bulge.

"shit, wade..." you mumble, as the bunched up fabric of his suit hits your clit just right. the sensation was new, but you were hooked, wanting-craving more.

"just wait, baby. haven't even gotten to the main course." he teases, pealing his mask back down before picking you up and walking to your bedroom. his brash action elicits a squeal from you as he quickly kicks the door open and places you gently on the bed. this is new for him, the whole 'slow and gentle thing', but there is something so undeniably hot about how you watch his every move wide-eyed and innocent. he can see your chest rise and fall as he crawls on the bed, resting on his knees between your legs. "mind if i pop the hood, see what i'm workin' with, doll-face?"

eagerly, you nod, chewing your lip with anticipation. with your approval, he doesn't waste a goddamn second, tugging down your shorts to reveal a lacy pair of black panties. if that wasn't enough to get him going, the burgundy little bow in the center definitely is.

"black and red...like your suit." you whisper out shyly, praying he doesn't think it's too much.

"jesus h. christ, baby, i'm hard as a fuckin' rock." he says bluntly, toying with the fabric, "look at you-fuck, look at you...." he starts to thumb your clit over the fabric, your arousal dampening the area more and more by the second. "ah, dry cleaning bill is gonna be a nightmare, but fuck it." he says, more to himself than you, as his pulls your panties down and circles your weeping entrance with his gloved finger.

"oh-" your hips jerk at the new feeling, back lifting off the bed as his digit sinks inside you.

"so tight, sweet thing." he clicks his tongue, trying to stretch you out with another finger, "can't believe i'm the lucky bastard that gets to do this to you for the first time..." wade shakes his head to himself with a chuckle, curling two fingers inside of you.

his skillful prodding has you soaked, biting your lip as you gazed at him flushed. you needed more and quickly.

wade notes your impatience, pulling his fingers out and examining how your arousal dripped down his glove onto the sheets, "huh, well would'ya look at that, pumpkin....someone's excited."

taglist 𓉸ྀི @maneskinwh0re (lmk if you'd like to be added !!)

#©pr1ncessjo #wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool smut #deadpool x reader #deadpool 3 #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson smut #deadpool 3 smut

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rainyorca · 2 months

Text

Rebirth 𓆗 Kenji Sato x Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, smut, pnv, cunnillings, long form, angst/comfort, no established relationship.

Summary: You aren't the type to date one night stands, however, after a rather compelling night with Kenji, you may reconsider.

Notes: I dropped one of my other works to work on this one, the idea came to me in the middle of the night and is slightly inspired by Love song By Rihanna. This one came from the heart, a little self reflecting in there but I find works where the author can reflect on are often times the best ones, a little bit more significant. Anyways I hope you guys like this one <3 I took a little inspiration from @spurbleu please go read their works!

Words: 7,987

MDNI

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

It all started as a simple one night stand, or so you thought. You’re not the type to date your one night stands, as it was something you deemed….inappropriate, just simply not something you're comfortable with. He doesn't really seem like the type to have time for a relationship anyways, given he’s a famous baseball player, which you weren't aware of at first, ironic his face was plastered all over Tokyo but you didn't care enough to pay attention. Why would he waste his time on you? But also, the overall idea of being in a relationship with a celebrity makes your head hurt, you have no desire to be the center of attention, especially with someone like him by your side.

But you always thought about it.

In truth, you always thought about him, whenever you had time to think. You remember the first night he brought you home, you weren't expecting much, given the way he acted when you met him. He was arrogant, egotsictal, but he was cute so you gave him a chance, flirting with him in hopes of getting what you wanted, just a quick fuck and you’d go, like usual.

However, there was a new found deepness in the way he kissed you, the softness and genuine feeling of his touch, the way he would moan your name, or even simply say it. It awoke something in you, made you realize something, you’ve never felt that kind of profoundness before and it uprooted some new feelings in you. That night, you sat awake in his bed, your mind replaying what had just happened.

Even before he gently opened your legs that night the whole experience between getting to his house was incredibly different, a sweetness in his eyes as he watched you admire the vastness of his place. How he would ask questions before to make sure you were comfortable, even offering you something to drink or a quick snack before he brought you to his room. Usually with your other hookups, your hands are already on each other as soon as you get through the door, even in the Uber or ride to someone’s place, but taking a breather before getting into things was nice, significantly better than what you were expecting.

The usual guilt after the climax always hits you, and it did this time just not as strong. You couldn't help but wonder if this is really what you wanted to keep doing, if you wanted to keep hooking up with random people. Another thought slithered its way into your brain, fangs sinking into the organ, intruding your thoughts. This was the most honest, real, one night stand you’ve ever had.

Something about the way he looked at you before kissing you, the way he spoke softly to you the whole night, how gentle he was, and most importantly how he cleaned you up afterwards, gingerly holding your legs apart. You stared at the softness of his face, noticing every little detail from the faint (but visible) eyebags to the beauty mark on the right side of his face, just a little below his bottom lip. His focused expression and relaxed posture made your heart swell, and the way he would praise you while he cleaned you up. Saying things like “you did so good” or “you took me so well.” He even asked about you, how you were feeling while he carefully helped you get your panties back on, mindful of your shaking hands. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Questions about you, paying no mind to himself. God, it was torture, from his looks to his mere and genuine kindness, he had you wrapped around his finger and he didnt even know it.

Everything about him was torture.

That morning you awoke to his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his sharp features softened, a quiet snore emitting from him. You sat up, his arms sliding down to your hips now. Staring outside one of his massive windows, you could see the reflection of you and him on the bed, his shirt fitted over your frame, once worn by him. It made your head throb, your heart ache. You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, still trying to really wrap your head around how you were feeling. Carefully, you slide out of bed, his arms dropping onto the mattress softly. You dress yourself, taking his shirt off and leaving it folded at the end of his bed. As you always do, even for your worst experiences, you left him a note, but trying to figure out what to say to him was difficult. You left without waking him, leaving him with the scent of wisteria on his pillow.

But really, you couldn't lie, you did leave your phone number on the note, saying if he needed anything or wanted to reach out to give you a call. To your surprise, he did, about a few days later. He had asked to meet up again, and you physically reacted. You didn't know if it was excitement or regret for leaving your number, seeing him again, after all this is what you wanted, right? Of course you still went, it would be crazy if you didn't. He had made a nice dinner which you two shared and talked over, it wasn't long after that, his hands were all over you, studying your body and taking in the canvas of your skin, desperate to decorate it with his own colors.

A part of you wanted to believe it wasn't just lust and rather he felt something for you too, but in situations like these it was hard to believe.. And when he moaned your name as desperate and softly as he did that previous time it was like it all came washing over you, cold water splashing onto your face, jolting you awake in the middle of the night. Kenji’s arms wrapped around you again, holding you a decent distance away but you could still feel his warmth. Three in the morning and you were wide awake, staring at his beautiful face, struggling with the viper in your head.

It became repetitive.

Kenji would invite you over, have dinner, maybe even watch a movie or swim in his pools and then he’d bed you again. The more you spent at his place, the more confused you were but the deeper in love you fell. You didn't want to ruin what you two had going on and most of all you were terrified, fear stopping you from asking him out officially. What would he say? Would he laugh at you? He’s awfully arrogant sometimes. Would he end things with you, tell you to leave his house? If you did, would you ever see him again? Aside from the billboards, the Tv ad’s, not being able to see his face in person would destroy you.

But none of that really sounded like him, honestly. You wished you had the confidence, the power to say something, you were confident enough to flirt with him, to get him to fuck you but not confident enough to tell him you wanted to be with him. It was weird, something that seems so easy is so difficult for you to do, you felt like a little girl all over again, afraid to ask your crush out.

So you lay there, always up before him because that viper won't leave you alone. When you get home, you can't help but wonder, hope, that you're on his mind as much as he's on yours. It's pathetic, really. You tried seeing other people when you weren't wrapped around him, but it all felt empty to you, a cold spot on the bed. The others would treat you like any other girl, fuck you, leave you a mess, and then tell you to leave in the morning, something you were used to after spending years of this same cycle, and when they moaned your name it made you want to vomit. Nowadays, you leave before they can kick you out themselves.

And you always notice something about him, he only fucks you in the comfort of his bed. He never bends you over the table or sits you up on the kitchen counter, it’s always in the softness of his white sheets, surrounded by his room. Curtains halfway open, letting light pour in so he can see your face and so you can admire his.

You hated yourself for this, you wished you never got caught up in this lifestyle. You don't even remember why you started, desperate for love maybe, touch deprived? It's all blurry to you now. Eventually, you stopped hooking up with other people, but you stayed with Kenji. Your heart wouldn't let you leave him. And you know, his face has probably been buried in tons of other girls' thighs, even the days when you're not with him. But when he was buried between your legs, mouth working expertly at your core, deep eyes staring up at you, you couldn't help but feel, maybe he gave you better treatment than the others. Your love for him dripped out of your core, seeped into his mouth, staining his tongue, but he was too blind to taste it.

You wanted him, not in a sexual, carnal way but in a loving, passionate, devoted way. You wanted to be in his possession, you wanted to be his girl. You would whine his name, countless times as he reached your sweet spot perfectly, hoping he feels that same shudder, that same tingle when he would moan yours. The feeling of love in just the simplicity of a name.

One night you got home from work, a hectic day weighing on your shoulders, Kenji had texted you, asking if you wanted to come over. You broke down, suddenly, randomly, sobbing into your hands while you sat on your knees. You don't know why you cried, maybe stress from the rough day you had, or maybe it was because of him, oblivious, unaware, him.

“Oh, okay.” he said over the phone, his voice echoing into your ears. “Is everything okay though?” Perhaps he could hear your sniffles, your quiet sobs.

“I’m fine,” you responded, simple and quick. “Just had a rough day.”

He said, “I understand, if you wanna talk about it—-you know I'm here, always.”

You had tensed up, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. He sounded unsure, like he knew you were crying but didnt want to push, like hes never never had to comfort someone hes fucked before, only when theyre sore and hurting. You felt bad, wiping your tears as you tried to settle down after the rather short phone call. Again you were left wondering if he was thinking about you, that viper curled its scaled body around your mind, squeezing.

On the rare nights he would cancel, he was busy and didn't want you coming over too late, he would offer to give you some release over the phone. Always putting your pleasure first, that's what he's done since day one. When he called you that first time, it surprised you, he cared enough about you that he still wanted to help you out in some sort of way. You'd tell him you were fine, to enjoy whatever it was he was doing and usually that would be that. But sometimes he catches you at the right time, when you're frustrated, needing release. He’d talk you through it over the phone, drinking up the sound of your soft moans as you pleasured yourself to his voice. His voice, god. It was the most devastating, siren-like melody you had the honor of hearing. He knew all the right ways, tones, words to get you off. His voice was indescribable, he could literally call you by your name and you’d be on your knees, it always sounded best after his own release. Once you were finished he’d talk to you a little more, at least until you stopped responding, and then he would hang up.

He owned you, he owned your thoughts, your feelings. It was terrible, absolutely terrible.

The real eye opener was a few months into this situationship, after you had gotten rid of your other hookups, right around the time baseball started picking up again. He grew busier so seeing him, being able to feel him after not being able to in a while was rewarding. You remember it so clearly, he was buried deep inside you, his eyes closed and mouth agape as he pushed himself to his release, soft moans and grunts coming out of his mouth. That was when he finally released and upon the bliss, he spoke freely.

“I love you,” he gasped, not once, but multiple times, “I love you—love you….so much.”

That was it for you, really it was. The once tears of pleasure turned into something deeper and you cried in front of him (unnecessary, embarrassing tears you would tell yourself). He didn't realize at first, his head was resting on your collar bones as he caught his breath, settling down from his release. But your quiet whimpers and sobs made him sit up, his expression changing when he saw you crying. He knew it wasn't a cry of pleasure, you were full on sobbing, covering your eyes and wiping them with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, pathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

Confused and bewildered, Kenji cups your face with both hands. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, “no need to apologize, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you choke out, grabbing his hands as he holds your face, “no–” You couldn't even get the words out, it was embarrassing, choking on mucus and struggling to breathe. You weren't sure why you were crying, maybe because you felt bad, maybe because his words set you off, but why?

“Then what's wrong?” he pushed on, his voice as gentle as ever. “You can talk to me.”

You never told him, instead you continued to cry like a baby, until he pulled you into his chest, holding you tight. One of his hands running up and down your back soothing you until your sobs quieted to sniffles and then went silent. He was up before you the following morning, still rubbing your back softly, listening to your breathing, chest stained and damp with your tears. You left your mark on him that day, unnoticeable to the naked eye, but seen by him.

For once, you thought about praying, praying to whatever god there was, up there watching you. It's not like you were asking for the world, you were just asking for him, is he really too much to ask for? A few days later, he had hit you up, asking if he could come over this time. So he showed up at your place, standing in the doorway while the rain pelted down, soaking his clothes and hair.

God he was beautiful, he looked so good standing in the rain you couldn’t even find the words to express it. A tingle goes up your spine, making you shudder, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little turned on right now. That was his effect on you, just merely the sight of him can get you excited, turn you on, sometimes you even questioned yourself if it was your libido making you feel this way, but you knew it wasn’t, it was more.

You gave him a towel to dry off as he looked around your apartment, given it was his first time in here. The first thing he noticed was the smell, your place just smelled like you. It was earthy and floral at the same time, hints of jasmine. He looked at your bookshelf, multiple books of all genres, dusty and showing that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while, a clear give away to the state of your mind. You make him some tea, butterfly pea for yourself and regular green tea for him, setting them both on the coasters of your wooden coffee table. Kenji sat down on your couch, the towel resting on his broad shoulders. You sat next to him, feeling the awkward tension, averting your gaze. His fingers tap on his cup, as if he’s debating on bringing up what had happened a few nights ago, he’s tense.

“So, I didn’t just come here to-“

“I know,” you interrupt him, “I know.”

“You never told me what happened that night,” he continues, cautiously, watching your face for any change. You turn to look at him, pressing your lips into a line before trying to speak.

“It was-“ you stop yourself, “I was just having a rough day, that was it. Sometimes it catches up to me at the wrong times, I’m sorry.” It was a lie, of course it was. You didn’t want to tell him what it really was, especially now of all times. It’s silent for a few moments until he suddenly reaches over, grabbing your face with one of his large, gentle hands, scooting closer to you. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” he responds softly, “you should've said something earlier.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Moments like these are what makes you feel like there's more to this, more than just the sex but still, you keep your mouth shut.

He’s gotten more stingy with his time, finding it hard to see each other. A part of you wonders if he's chosen to move on after what happened the past week, wondering if he decided to drop you completely. You wouldn't blame him if that's what he was doing, at least he was letting you off easy. His texts and responses were still the same but they became slower and eventually you stopped texting him, it was foolish anyways, pointless. Why in the world would he freely talk to you, waste his time, when you two aren't even together? When you were bored, you would find yourself watching his games on the Tv, or at least whenever they came on. You would focus on him the entire time, ignore every other player, he was your star, your black sheep.

You questioned if he would even enjoy seeing you at one of his games, after all he never invited you, you would have to invite yourself. So you did, the next game you went ahead and bought a ticket, clearing your plans for the night just to watch him play. Your seat was pretty good, you could see his face clearly from where you were sitting. His focused face always made you smile, always made you flutter, he was so indescribably charming it hurt. You kept your cheers quieter than everyone else, but it wouldn't really matter if you didn't, you would be fitting in with the crowd, but a part of you didnt want him to look up and somehow notice you, it would be hard to pick you out of this huge audience anyways.

After the game, you decided to stay, somehow finding where the locker room was, surrounding yourself with wives, even children of the other players, in a way you kinda fit in. You don’t know what motivated you to go there, maybe the ache between your legs? After seeing him play you couldn’t help it, something about a man with ambition, a man with passion.

You were still sticking out like a sore thumb, nervously tapping your foot and feeling uncomfortable, it was obvious, you were just too dumb to realize. Your eyes bore into the door, waiting for him to come out, a new found nervousness filling your soul. “Psst,” someone tries to get your attention, you didn't realize it at first until a lady bumped shoulders with you. You turn to look at her, brown eyes meeting yours. She was older than you, probably around thirty maybe even forty but you dont assume.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she says, voice friendly, “do you know one of the players?”

“I guess you could say that,” you respond quietly, trying to find a way to explain who you were to Kenji but most people wouldn't take “we hook up all the time” as an answer. So you kept quiet until she spoke again.

“Which one? I'm curious.” She pressed on, her tone dripping with some type of underlying excitement.

You clear your throat, feeling a little awkward.”Um, Ken–Kenji, Sato,” you try to keep your voice from sounding too shaky, worried she might assume you're an obsessive fan.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing lightly, tossing her head back and gesturing with one of her hands, “I’ve never seen anyone come see him, it's about damn time.”

You can tell she's just joking a little, you smile as a response. “God wow,” she says suddenly, sounding astonished, “you have a beautiful smile, absolutely gorgeous, wowww.”

“Oh,” the random compliment makes you smile a little wider, “thank you.” She nods, looking back at the door but then turning to you again.

“You're a real pretty girl, you know,” she hums, crossing her arms, “and you seem nice, I mean you came to one of his games. Sato must feel really lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That word, the word you avoided for so long, what a terrifying thing to be called.

“Oh, I’m–” you stop yourself, should you tell her or not? What's the chance of her bringing it up to her husband and then he says something to Kenji. “He's not my boyfriend, we’re just friends,” you settled with that, she seemed to be a little surprised and ... .upset?

“Oh but you like him,” you blink at her, the response unexpected, “a mother always knows, I can see it all over your face.”

Warmth spreads over your face, painting your cheeks a gorgeous shade of red and she notices, chuckling to herself. “I’ll tell you what I always tell my daughter,” she says, her tone morphing into something more firm, she turns her whole body towards you now, “it's always good to tell them before it's too late, you never know what’ll happen.”

Were you really about to express your feelings to a random middle aged woman? “But,” you start, shifting uncomfortably, “what if he doesn't like me?” You sound pathetic, like how you did in highschool, crying to your mom because you were confused on why you couldn't love the way others did. You suddenly felt bad for your highschool lover. The real question you should have asked is why do you feel uncomfortable at the mere thought of being in a relationship.

“His loss,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “but all you can do is accept and move on, it sucks and it hurts for a while but it gets better, trust me.”

It was nice talking to her, you don't talk to your mom anymore since moving to Japan, she also just doesn't approve of your lifestyle. Having no friends(too distracted, driven by lust to try) made it hard to get advice or even someone to talk to about problems. Having someone to tell you this made you feel a little better, opened your eyes.

“I guess you're right,” you mutter out, “thank you for the advice.” You smile a close lipped smile at her and she returns it. The locker room door opens and the first few players start to spill out, greeting their wives and children. Her husband comes out next and she turns to greet him, smiling widely as she wraps her arms around him. You can't help but feel envious, until Kenji walks out, hair messy and his bike helmet under his arm. Holding your breath, wondering if you should go up to him, his eyes scan the area, like he's looking for someone, then they lock onto you. You can feel yourself shaking, worried he’d be upset that you're here, especially after not talking in a while. His expression is unreadable for a few moments and then he smiles, you can't tell what type of smile it was. Happy? Surprised? Hiding disappointment? He walks over to you, a mixture between his cologne and sweat wafts into your face when he stops in front of you.

“What're you doing here?” he asks, his tone playful.

“Just thought I’d pay a visit,” you breathe, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets. “You played really well today.”

Before he can talk, the woman from before taps on your shoulder, you look and she quickly hands you a sticky note before smiling at Kenji and then walking off with her husband. Kenji raises an eyebrow, watching the woman leave and then looking at you.

“What was that about?” he questions, chuckling softly. You read the note, squinting at her cursive handwriting.

I can tell by the way he looks at you, he is so in love. Shoot your shot and if you need anything, call me :)

Her phone number was left under those words. “Just a friend I made while waiting,” you respond, shoving the paper into your pocket.

“Making friends now?” he nudges you, making you laugh softly. He must've found out about your loneliness a long time ago, something you both had in common but never spoke about. You walk out with him, passing by the other waiting wives.

And of course, he invited you over and you agreed, almostly immediately. Needing release, from your thoughts (thick scaled viper squeezing at your flesh), from your pent up arousal after not seeing him in what felt like an eternity. You were the one that latched onto him first this time, most commonly he starts it. Sooner than later he has you on his bed, legs spread, one captured between his in an attempt to keep you stiil. He lays on the side of you, fingers buried in your cunt while his lips stay attached to your throat, your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Cries of pleasure spill out your mouth, his name like a prayer on your lips. The sweetness from his kisses stuck on your tongue. Your back arches off the bed when your first peak washes over you, making you sob out his name sinfully as you always do, music to his ears.

“You have no idea–” he grunts, his tip now nudging at your entrance before sliding into you slowly, his jaw clenches until he's fully inside you, “how good it felt to know you were watching me play.”

He practically fucked you like he was thanking you, clearly appreciating your presence. For once your mind didn't wander other places(the viper loosened), too focused on the feel of his cock pressing against your sweet spot and his moans to even think about anything else.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “My girl, my good girl.” Those simple words always made you crazy, a moaning mess in short. It sounded so filthy during the moment but afterwards, when he's bathing in the afterglow, chest heaving, the words leave his lips again, and they sound less sinful, more fond and tender.

The next few weeks you ponder on what that lady had said to you, debating on texting her, asking her for more advice. As baseball started to come to a close, Kenji started having more availability. You started to invite him to more casual things, like coffee at your favorite cafe or a walk in the park just to talk. The whole time he was around you, a permanent smile worn on your face, he talked to you like you were more important than anyone in the world, however your time together was never long. This new feeling bubbled up inside you, happiness for once? Maybe excitement that you finally get to be around him without the sound of skin against skin. You invited him over to your place for some wine one night, sitting in your living room, music playing softly in the background while you two drank until your faces were warm and red.

“Do you see other girls?”

Fuck.

The question came off your drunken lips, a sober thought meeting your intociaxted mouth. You realized shortly after that you fucked up, quickly tensing up and waving your hands dismissively.

“I'm sorry,” you rush, “that just came out, I don't really mind if you do, it wouldn't change anything.” His face was unreadable, but he turned to stare down into his glass.

His response is simple, “No.”

“You're the only one,” he continued after a few seconds, “I stopped seeing other people a while ago.”

Your face heats up as if it wasn't hot enough already, a drunken smile on your lips, unnoticable by him. “Okay, sorry I asked,” you huff, deciding not to refill your glass this time, instead just setting it down on the coaster.

“What about you?”

His question probably catches you off guard as much as yours did. “I couldn't bring myself to do it,” you admit, “I did for a while but then things got complicated, so I cut everyone off, stopped going out to try and find sex and just settled with you.”

The silence is uncomfortable for a moment, until he speaks again. “Why?” simple, just like his response.

You bit your lip, staring at him and then looking away to avoid eye contact. “I….” you didn't want to admit anything now, not when you're intoxicated at least, “I just didn't want to see anyone else.”

He's silent again but then he hums, drinking down the final drops of red liquid before sitting back on your couch. “Come here,” his voice is quiet but strong, beckoning to his side with his hand. You hesitate but slide over to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around your waist. Thoughts swarm your head (the viper slithers into action once again), but they are quieted when he speaks again (the ear bleeding hiss, silenced).

“I didn’t wanna see anyone else either.”

Mentally you smile, physically you probably made a weird face he couldn't see but you stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat through his clothes.

𓆙

The thought about what that lady said to you lingered in your mind. You’ve known Kenji for a year now, fucked him for a year now, at this point you shoudlve told him, save yourself the suffering. The winter was long, nights growing ever the more longer, you found yourself reaching out to him for warmth rather than just sex.

And to your surprise, you came home after work to a freezing apartment, your heater had broken leaving you with nothing but sleepless nights in your freezing bed. You had complained to company numerous times until they finally got someone to come by and take a look, and to make things worse, it would take longer than usual for them to fix. You weren't really sure why, you weren't the only one having this problem in the complex, numours people had left because they were taking so long to fix them. Out of options, and exhausted, you called Kenji. You were worried he would decline but he agreed without hesitation. So, you packed up some clothes, your necessities and headed to his house that night.

It was safe to say he was pleased by your company, upon living alone himself, despite having a supercomputer floating around, he still loves you being around. He respected your space, fed you, made sure you knew where everything was. Mina would talk to you when he was gone, you freely asked her questions about him, oftentimes she would give you a schedule of what he had going on today and when he would be home.

Before he would get home from whatever he was doing that day, you would cook for him on your days off of course. He’s a late eater, assumingly due to him coming home late from practice or games, so you always start cooking a few minutes before he arrives. He comes home, smiles when he sees you in the kitchen, walks over to you and snakes a hand around your waist, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before disappearing somewhere into his huge house. Moments like those made you forget you weren't in an actual relationship, you don't even know what you would call it, friends were too simple, lovers were too complicated. Friends with benefits would be overlooking everything, you two were not close like friends but you two still hung out, had sex, no strings attached they would say. But still, there was never a right label to describe what you and Kenji were, so no labels were used, by either of you.

Sleep was still hard to come to, difficult in such a large bed, you would turn to your side, expecting him to be there but he wasn't. Sometimes you would hear a faint beeping sound, then some rustling outside your room, a low rumble below you and then silence. It happened often, not so often it was repetitive, but often enough it made you curious, too curious.

One night after the rumbling stopped, you left your room, tentatively heading to his room. You opened the door to see his bed was empty, your heartbeat quickened, slowly stepping into his room until Mina called your name from behind you. “Where’s Kenji?” you ask, shutting the door softly behind you.

“His father asked for him,” she says simply, “you should go back to bed.” You were suspicious, there was no way his father was calling him at two in the morning, his dad was old but not that old that he couldn't take care of himself. However, you listened, heading back to your room, opening the curtains of the massive windows to look out at the ocean, something you always found peace in.

And then, you heard him come home around an hour later, hesitantly you go out to greet him. You catch him right as he’s about to go to his room, making him stop in his tracks and stare at you. He takes in your slightly exposed form, all you had on was a shirt and panties, acting as if he hasn’t seen you naked before.

“You’re up?” He questioned, his face confused, he looked guilty of something. You stare at him for a few moments, blinking tiredness out of your eyes until you settle with a sigh, not questioning where he’s been.

“I can’t sleep,” is what you settle with, yawning to make it more believable. A soft smile graces his face, and then he beckons you to follow him, so you do. For once since high school, you sleep in until noon, face buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

You knew something was up, you’ve always been good at figuring things out and Kenji was a terrible liar, also terrible at hiding things in general. You wanted to be respectful, mind your business and not act like an overbearing lover, if that’s what you would even call yourself, but you were desperate to know his little secret. That viper squeezed a little tighter these past few days.

So you waited for him to come home after disappearing, sitting up in his bed with the lamp on, you had grown accustomed to sleeping with him rather than in your own bed, after all it was just a few more days until your heater got fixed and you wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, watching all the news about Ultraman and the recent, ongoing Kaiju attack. The door opened up to his handsome face, a visible cut on his lip still bleeding. Then it clicked for you, his awkwardness when coming in, the surprised look he had on his face. When he got in bed you hesitated to speak, but then he spoke for you.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ve noticed…” you respond, trailing off slowly. You watch him seemingly debate with himself mentally, biting his cheek. He wets his lips with his tongue, some of the blood smearing but going unnoticed, he’s vulnerable right now, you tread carefully.

“Kenji, you can tell me anything you know,” you hum, putting your phone down, “nothings gonna change my view of you or whatever.”

“I’m Ultraman,” he blurts, looking more surprised than you. The expression on your face is probably what made him nervous, really he didn’t know what response you would give him.

“Oh,” you say, quickly softening your face, “um well that’s something.” He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “Still, that doesn’t change anything,” you continue, pushing the blankets off and crawling on top of him, straddling him.

You cup his face, your thumb on his bottom lip, wiping off the excess blood. “You’re still the same Kenji I know,” you sigh, wiping the blood off on your shirt. He makes a face, like he’s surprised but disgusted by what you had done, he starts to smile slowly.

“Being a…twenty foot tall metal man doesn’t change how I feel about you,” your words make him raise a brow and it was then when you realized what you had just said. “And how do you feel about me?” He teases, grabbing your hips to hold on to you, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“The same way I always have,” you quickly try to change the subject, planting a kiss on his lips, “anyways you should get some sleep.” He holds you still, his grip on you tightening as you try to get off of him.

“I’m not tired,” he coos, running a hand up your shirt to feel the bareness of your body.

“Well I am,” you remark playfully, squishing his face with your hand before getting out of his grasp and settling down beside him. You reach over and then turn the lamp off, pulling the blankets back over you and closing your eyes. His secret was safe with you, and the fact that he was so trusting of you made you think, maybe it really isn't just his libido. Kenji stares at your back, a concerned expression on his face before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in.

Your heater was fixed just a few days later and you left Kenji’s place with a heavy heart, standing in his doorway with your bag in your hand. It was weird, how you felt, that viper had become still for a moment and then it was back, hissing and sinking its fangs into your already hurting brain. You didn't know when you would see him again, but you knew it would be soon.

The night before you left, Kenji had shown you a picture, his face a mixture of emotions. “Who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the woman next to him, it was a dumb question but as stated before, you dont assume.

“My mother,” he responds plainly, the underlying hurt heard in his voice. He’s hurting, you can tell, and he's vulnerable. You dont push, instead you compliment her.

“She's beautiful,” your eyes scan over her still face in the picture, noticing the same, signature beauty mark Kenji has, “I see where you get your looks from.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, smiling fondly.

The vulnerability he showed while you were staying at his house, made you fall ever more in love with him and it made you sick, the venom seeping into your brain and spreading throughout your body.

𓆙

Rain pours down outside, loudly pelting against the windows, sounding like hail. The sound drums loudly in your ears, making your head hurt for once. The grayish blue lighting seeps into the expansive space of Kenji’s living room, the city fogged and rain wrapped in the distance.

Placed on his lap, legs on either side, straddling him fully clothed, damp from the downpour outside. His clothes sticking to his skin, his chest and torso exposed under the soaked white fabric, visible to your searching eyes. Black panties pressed against his crotch, not in a teasing manner. Your shirt sticks to your skin but loosens as it dries in the chill of the room. Kenji’s eyes, gray and lustrous, staring up at your warm face, strong grip on your hips. His head rests on the arm rest, lifting it enough so he could get a good view of your precious body.

The viper is still, its fangs frozen deep in your consciousness.

His lips part, glossed over from the rain as well as his chapstick, he starts to speak. “You look so pretty like this,” he breathes, reaching up to feel your body, an empty canvas waiting to be painted, to be marked.

You shift, eliciting a rather warm noise from him, a moan in short. His cock desperately wanting freed from the prison of his pants. The fabric of his pants rubs against your throbbing clit through your panties, making you hum a soft tune of anticipation. The viper moves, its teeth itching further into your ruined brain. Chewing on your bottom lip, you move again, a little rougher this time.

“You’re tense,” he randomly points out, making you freeze, “relax, baby.”

“I am relaxed,” you remark, rutting against his clothed cock again.

“No, you're extremely tense, I can see it,” he pushes on, his voice hoarse, “keep your shoulders down.”

“I’m frustrated,” you admit, dipping your head down so all he sees is your hair while you mindlessly tug at his pants. He watches you, lifting his hips so you can pull his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Then tell me,” he says suddenly, “tell me your frustrations, ride them out on me.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “I hate you.” You move your panties to the side, slowly sinking down on him with a delightful moan.

He hums, watching you slowly grind against him, his tip already nuzzling against your sweet spot. The viper moves again, this time its scaled body curls around, tears suddenly stinging your eyes. This is the type of sex you liked, sensual, slow, the type he always gave to you. You grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers together in a warm grasp, letting his hand rest near his head while you use it to steady yourself. “So beautiful,” he purrs, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, his other still gripping your hips.

“I hate how good you make me feel–” you cut yourself off with a shaky gasp, “and how–how…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you with an amused expression, waiting for you to continue. “Mmhm,” he hums, eyes closing briefly, devouring the feeling of your walls around his cock.

“You stress me out so much and you don't even know it,” you shudder, your body relishing the way he throbbed inside you, poking at your spot, “you really have no idea.” Playful banter at first, at least that's what he assumed, but you couldn't stop talking, couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“So I'm the cause of your frustration?” he asks, his voice sickeningly sweet and playing his part, a melody to your ears. You gasp, lifting your hips and then sinking back down on him again, slow and steady.

“Yes,” you whine hoarsely, “you're on my mind all the time, you have no idea how annoying it is.” His expression softens, going from a small smirk to a slight frown, he’s trying to debate if you were being serious or if you were still being playful.

“I'm on your mind…?” he questions, sounding unsure, a deep groan breaks from his throat.

“Fuck yes, all the fucking time,” theres a throb in your heart, “your like a fucking snake, squeezing my mind—mmmh—making my head hurt.”

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” you whimper, throwing your head back when you feel him suddenly buck up into you.

“But you have me already,” his voice is gentle, as sweet as candy, understanding.

“No, I don't,” you roll your hips, squeezing his hand, “No–” His other hand comes to caress your bare skin, sneaking up your wet shirt, his sounds of pleasure starting to pick up in volume. You clench around him.

“I don't understand,” he hums, “I'm right here, underneath you, feeling your body. I'm real, my love.”

“Don't call me that,” you hiss, “please.” Your plea ends in a whine rather than a firm word, his expression completely changes.

“Do we need to stop?” puzzled, he sounds concerned. “No!” you exclaim, a little louder than you intended. “No, please don't stop, I don't wanna stop.”

He gives you a questioning look, but allows you to continue riding him, your orgasm starting to build up deep within you. “I don't have you, Kenji,” you keep talking, suddenly feeling a whole new wave of confidence, maybe it was your mind torn between pleasure and the truth, maybe you finally realized it's time, “and it's killing me.”

Endearing, that's what he thinks as you ride out your truth on him, spilling from both your cunt and tongue, staining him once again, but this time he can taste it, feel it, bathe in it. “You don't get it,” you sigh, keeping up with a steady pace, trying to bite back moans as you speak to him breathlessly.

He doesn't talk, doesn't say a single word, why would he need to if you can see it in his eyes? He wants to know more, wants you to keep going. “Im tired–tired of this,” heat pools in your stomach, the feeling of release drawing ever closer, “shit..”

“I've been keeping this quiet for so long, too scared to tell you anything because–because I didn't know what you would say or do,” the viper freezes, your orgasm approaching, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, onto his shirt.

A mixture between pleasure and pain falls onto him in drops, he reaches up, wiping your tears with his thumb. You grab his hand, holding it on your face while you start to ride him quicker, desperately.

“I'm in love with you,” you finally say, coming out more as a choked out sob than simple words,”I always have been.” You open your eyes hesitantly, looking down at him, unable to read his face. Expressive as he is, he had no physical reaction, he just stared at you, blankly.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I know I just ruined everything, but I needed—fuck—needed to tell you before i dug a deeper hole.” His hand still remained on your face, flush against the warmth of your cheeks. Then he smiles, soft and understanding, a mix of relief in there too.

You erupt into a whiny sob, digging your nails into the back of his hand. Your climax comes over you, a viper shedding its old, dulled, colorless scales into something new, bright, and colorful. Rebirth.

While you're riding out your orgasm, pulling his out of him too, he sits up, quickly adjusting himself, and he captures your lips into a kiss, passionate and heartfelt. Your arms curl around his neck, sobbing against his lips as you kiss him back, your grinding coming to a slow even pace and then stopping completely.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away from your swollen lips, “as I always have.”

Kenji is a terrible liar, you can see in his eyes, he's telling the truth. More tears well up in your eyes, body shaking, tremors from your orgasm.

And then you cry again, a mixture between happiness and sadness, apologizing profusely as he pulls you in for a tight embrace, your tears staining his shirt that was once soaked with rain water.

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#ultraman rising #kenji sato smut #ken sato smut

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girlwithrituals · 6 days

Text

101 ways to improve self esteem

1) Master a new skill.

2) List your accomplishments.

3) Do something creative.

4) Challenge your limiting beliefs.

5) Talk to a counselor.

6) Don't worry about what others think.

7) Read or watch something inspirational.

8) Stay true to your character.

9) Let go of negative people.

10) Set healthy boundaries with others.

11) Care about your appearance.

12) Welcome failure as part of growth.

13) Be a lifelong learner.

14) Face your fears.

15) Become a mentor.

16) Accept compliments.

17) Eliminate self-criticism.

18) Practice coping skills to manage stress and big emotions.

19) Notice negative thoughts and beliefs.

20) Challenge negative thinking.

21) Think about what you learned from negative experiences.

22) Practice gratitude.

23) Exercise.

24) Eat healthy and limit junk food.

25) Get good sleep.

26) Spend time with positive and supportive people.

27) Encourage yourself.

28) Write a list of your strengths.

29) Don't compare yourself to others.

30) Avoid perfectionism.

31) Do at least one positive, enjoyable activity every day.

32) Celebrate small victories.

33) Be helpful and considerate to others.

34) Be honest with yourself and others.

35) Accept your flaws.

36) Don't give up.

37) Practice self-care.

38) Go easy on yourself.

39) Practice being assertive.

40) Practice saying "No".

41) Practice relaxation techniques.

42) Take on challenges.

43) Volunteer to help others.

44) Forgive others and yourself.

45) Set goals and work toward them step by step.

46) Seek balance in all areas of your life.

47) Discover your passions and purpose

48) Groom yourself.

49) Dress nicely.

50) Be kind and generous to others.

51) Practice good posture.

52) Change a small habit.

53) Smile.

54) Don't procrastinate.

55) Don't take things personal.

56) Organize your personal space.

57) Challenge unkind thoughts about yourself.

58) Spend time outside.

59) Notice the good things.

60) Celebrate your successes

61) Write a list of things you like about yourself.

62) Don't take too much on.

63) Do something for yourself every day.

64) Develop daily habits.

65) Remind yourself it's okay if not everyone likes you.

66) Practice mindfulness.

67) Learn to tolerate discomfort.

68) Use problem-solving skills.

69) Take responsibility instead of blaming.

Tell Yourself Positive Affirmations Such As:

70) I am grateful for every day.

71) I am worthy of happiness and love.

72) I am in charge of my own happiness.

73) I love, respect, and believe in myself.

74) I deserve to be happy and successful.

75) I approve of myself, right here and now.

76) I am learning and changing for the better.

77) I accept 100% responsibility for my own life.

78) Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.

79) I can learn to accept the parts of myself that I don't like.

80) I am thankful for my challenges as they make me a stronger person.

81) Write down three positives about each day.

82) Make a collage with your talents, goals, and dreams.

83) Practice laughing.

84) Be proud of yourself.

85) Say mistakes are an opportunity to learn.

86) Show respect to yourself and others.

87) Resolve conflict peacefully.

88) Ask for help or support.

89) Complete a daily task list.

90) Have a growth mindset.

91) Be optimistic.

92) Treat yourself with kindness and compassion.

93) Focus on the things you have control over and can change.

94) Get started on tasks you have been putting off.

95) Practice good daily hygiene.

96) Focus on solutions not problems.

97) Talk about your feelings with someone you trust.

98) Drink plenty of water.

99) Start a new hobby or join a club/sport.

100) Do random acts of kindness.

101) Create a dreams list.

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rottiens · 3 months

Text

⊹ ˚. BAROU SHOEI ┊ tags. . 18+, professional player barou, established relationship, afab reader, pussy inspection, oral sex (f! receiving), praising. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You are comfortable. Barou's bed has always felt that way to you. Your back rests on the soft mattress, your body sinks just a little into the blue sheets with white triangular patterns. The room smells clean as always and of the lavender spray in which Barou bathes every space in the room after he comes out of showering after a long match.

The ceiling fan makes a barely audible noise which you catch, recognizing for the first time about three weeks ago after years of spending time in his room. The window is open too, helping to keep you from breaking a sweat.

You have a pillow under your head, one on your lower back and, you're comfortable… You might even fall asleep, if of course, you weren't so excited to pay attention to him.

You crane your neck to get a better look at him and see exactly what he's doing, what he's looking for.

"Shoei…"

"Hold still," he growls, grabbing a restless foot that moves over the width of his shoulder.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere—," you tell him, even though you know he's not paying attention to you, not to what you have to say at least.

Your stomach raises your hands with a deep inhale.

"What are you doing?" you want to stir beneath him again, acutely aware of what he's doing, or rather what he's not doing.

Every now and then you feel his fingers sinking the cotton of your panties between the folds of your pussy, other times his breath leads in hot swirls to your slit and, you know at this point your panties are soaked, dripping through them, making the material see-through.

"I'm watching." Barou replies, obvious. One thumb at a time strokes your clit in circles, the feel of the fabric kissing your sensitive area and you gasp slowly. "I can tell you like it when I do it."

"That's not—"

"Don't lie to me," he accuses you with a smile you can't see. You settle your posture again to watch, the air billowing over your heads brushes the sweat from your forehead and tousles Barou's dark strands in soft spirals. Across your 'M' shaped legs and the valley of your stomach, he gazes at you with narrowed eyes and a hunter's gaze. "You're so wet," he acknowledges, breaking the connection between his eyes to look at your pussy now.

He tosses the edge of your panties aside, the smell of sex and sweat wafts to your nose barely noticeable amidst the overpowering scent of lavender. Your breath hitches and your face feels even hotter. You know that it being summer only makes your heat that much worse.

With your pussy now naked under his nose, Barou can take a much better look at the mess he's created. His thumb helps him spread the folds apart, going up and down on the soft sensitive flesh of your inner labia.

"Hold your thighs for a moment," he commands, his voice husky.

You do so, grab the flesh just below your thighs and expand them further for him, with your feet now not on his shoulders but in the air you feel much more unsteady, weaker.

You are trembling as he squeezes your clit between index and middle fingers, as he slides a digit up your slit and your hole twitches at the sudden touch. Barou can sense your desire, noting how eager you are by the flushed hue that has taken over your pussy. Borou squeezes it, pinches it, uncovers it as if he is touching it for the first time, like a scientist experimenting. You are trembling, now harder, you call his name and regret it almost immediately.

Barou looks at you as if he hasn't touched you for days. His mouth is open, his lips wet with, perhaps sweat, his own saliva. His hair is black as if someone has tousled it with their fingers and his crimson eyes have turned dark.

"What, baby?" he asks as if he doesn't know what you want. "What is it?" he speaks after leaving a kiss on your thigh.

Your throat turns scratchy as soon as he lowers his head without losing eye contact, his tongue just a pinkish flash that you lose sight of after it sinks into you. A flat tongue lick that makes a mess of your juices, he tastes you, devours you. He takes your nectar on his tongue and swirls it around your clit, sucking and licking, increasing his stroke with each new taste.

Barou grabs your ass and pulls you further into his mouth. He raises his eyes and looks at you with your pussy in his mouth, shaking his head from side to side as he sucks on your clit.

You're not going to see him for days after today because of his practices and the big game he has at the end of the month. You know he has to concentrate, that he's not going to be distracted by seeing you in person because he can't think of anything but you when you're around, always full of devotion to you, so maybe this is his way of making you remember him, that you'll be thinking about him all those weeks until you see him again.

Barou sucks once more on your clit, your fingers loosen to grab his hair and yet he whimpers like a wounded animal. He pulls away with pursed lips from the sweet fruit he is devouring to bark— "Keep them open for me."

You do as he asks, and Barou alternates between fucking you with his thick tongue and licking your clit. Between the heat rising like an invisible fog that overwhelms you and his punishing tongue leaving you no room to escape, you have no choice but to cum in his mouth, arching your back and falling further into the trap that was him.

"Give it all to me," Barou rolls the words on his tongue, full of possession, full of egotism, proud to know that there is no one in the world who can taste you the way he does.

And this is all he will think about in the match. Every goal he scores, he'll get him closer to being with you and going home. Every game he wins, he knows it will be an orgasm he's going to give you.

"That's my girl. Drink water, you're going to give me another one."

#wr #barou x reader #barou x you #barou smut #barou shouei x reader #barou shouei smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk smut

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letsquestjess · 5 months

Text

One, Two, Throw - Part 1 (Hunter x F!Reader)

Summary: You look incredible throwing Hunter's knives, and he decides to show you just how irresistible you are.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Smut! 18+! MDNI! Fingering. It's Hunter-is-horny hour!

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and I'm a little torn between feeling proud and wanting to hide in a corner. Anyways, if people enjoy it, I'm down for writing some more.

Part 2

-- -- -- -- --

“There you go,” Hunter encouraged, his touch on your waist warm and reassuring. His breath ghosted your nape as he leaned close to your ear. “Concentrate on the target and visualise it landing where you want to hit. Feel the weight of the knife, the way it balances in your hand.”

“If there was an enemy in front of me, they’d have got me by now,” you chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a mischievous smirk. “I know what to do, we’ve been doing this for hours.”

With an amused glimmer in the flinty brown of his eyes, he stepped back and signalled for you to proceed. He had to admit there was a certain charm to witnessing your determination. You had a particular look in your eyes, a fire that didn’t burn or destroy, but kindled the very core of who you were, and it brought him an indescribable joy.

You returned to the target as you shuffled your feet in the grit and lifted the weapon. Your stare lingered on the silhouette framed by the shrubbery of the back garden. Scratches and dints marred the pale outline, hitting almost every place other than the one you wanted. You’d even managed to land a strike on the groin, which had earned you an instinctive wince from the sergeant.

“Don’t strangle the knife,” Hunter cautioned as you were about to make your shot. “It needs to move.”

Coughing pointedly, you rolled your shoulders. Hilt over blade, it rotated and revolved until lodging itself into the wood inches from your intended destination with a deliberate twang. You let out an irritated huff.

“Keep trying,” Hunter said. “You’re getting better.”

“Seems like I’m getting worse.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

As you recovered the knife, you granted him a firm nod and a warm grin.

Again and again you tried, each attempt glancing off the edge or striking a non-fatal spot. It felt as though you would never take it down. Despite any doubts, Hunter’s constant reassurances kept your confidence from faltering.

He asked a couple of times if you wanted to stop, but you adamantly refused. After all, you had suggested this to experience his world before he chose to settle down, and you were starting to understand him more.

He rarely spoke about the hardships he and his brothers faced during the war or the difficulties he encountered after Order 66. As curious as you were, you didn’t want to pry. Although you had been dating for over a year, you understood that lightly encouraging him to talk was more effective than poking at his past.

Hunter observed you with the intensity of a hawk, studying your posture, your fortitude, your concentration. By the stars, you looked amazing with a vibroblade in your grasp, staring down that wooden silhouette. Every time you squared your stance and locked onto your target, a flood of adrenaline travelled up his spine and exploded with anticipation as you unleashed your shot. In his ravenous gaze, you were magnificent.

Sneaking closer, he inched his hands over your waist as you readied yourself for your next attempt. His lips swept behind your ear, planting a trail of kisses on your exposed skin.

“Want to offer more tips?” you asked.

He shook his head against your neck and continued his ministrations.

“I see, you’re trying to throw me off,” you figured.

“In dangerous situations, there will always be distractions,” Hunter reasoned, his hips pressing into your rear and his enjoyment of the situation immediately becoming apparent. “You need to be able to block them out.”

“Oh, so the enemy will be getting up close and personal.” You gave him a tantalising, raised eyebrow, almost bordering on mean, the sultry lilt in your tone even more so. “Is that what you meant, sergeant?”

As if in a blur, he swiftly disarmed you, snatching the knife from your grasp and launching it. The vibroblade quivered in the chest of the wooden target.

Before you could catch your breath, he twirled you round and lifted you up, balancing you in his arms and latching his lips onto yours as he strode with purpose back into the cottage.

Your hands found purchase in his hair as he nudged open the bedroom door and lay you down on the bed.

“Such a tease,” he murmured, breaths intermingling between kisses.

His mouth moved slow and deep, savouring the scent of you and your mounting arousal as his tongue explored your lower lip and slid inside. Tasting him like this had you tilting your hips, and he let out a low chuckle as he guided them back onto the fluffy bedspread.

“Hunter,” you groaned.

“Do you have any idea how good you look with a knife in your hands? Never seen anything so tempting.”

When you searched his eyes, you found nothing but pure devotion in them, an unyielding desire to be by your side for as long as time allowed.

“You never gave up,” he continued, undressing you languidly and lavishing any stretch of skin he exposed. “I’m proud of you. You stood there, determined. Fucking incredible.”

His kisses grew hungry as he finished unclothing you and discarded his own clothes, throwing them behind him with reckless abandon. He’d clean them up later. For now, all he craved was you.

You smoothed his dark waves from in front of his face as he climbed back up to your lips. He slid his fingers between your breasts, massaging and playing with each in turn before he trailed lower. To say he was skilled with his hands would be an understatement; his caresses were gentle yet firm, creating masterpieces of bliss on your skin. With every inch of contact, your breath caught in your throat, a soldier’s hands but a loving touch, and a silent ‘I love you’ lingering within.

Need gripped you and your nails dragged down the ridges of his chest and abdomen, lifting your hips to get him to explore the one place that ached for his talents. This time, he skipped the teasing and dipped a finger into the wetness between your legs, finding his way to your clit. With each circle he traced, he delighted in the enticing sounds you made, grinning mischievously as you pulled away to gasp, your head pressed against the pillows.

When he gently slipped a finger inside you, your whimpers became moans. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back from begging him for more, but you did your best. You knew how he loved making you feel good and working you up for him, and you wanted to let him have this.

Hunter soothed the dip of your brow with a tender press of his lips, gazing at you as though you provided him with the air he breathed. He’d never tire of seeing you like this, sweat dappling your skin, body lifting and falling with each wave of pleasure. He craved to etch this view behind his eyelids to look at whenever he closed his eyes. “That’s it,” he whispered, spurring your rising bliss with another finger.

“I need…” You swallowed and released a purposeful breath.

“Tell me, sweetest,” Hunter cooed. “What do you need?”

His fingers worked their way in and out while his thumb circled your clit. Your core lit up and your hips chased the motion. You couldn’t stop it, even if you tried, and this time, he didn’t ease you back down with a steady hand. He let you grind against him, hunting that sensation only he provided as his hard desire pressed against your abdomen.

“Need you,” you whined. You brought him down for another kiss, determined for him to devour every single one of your senses.

“All in good time.” He curled his fingers and brushed that particular spot that had you panting and squeezing your eyes shut while his other hand prowled up and down your body in slow, deliberate caresses. His kisses turned feverish before his teeth nibbled at your throat and a rumble purred in his own.

He could smell you, you realised, the scent of your pleasure only heightening his own desire to sink into you.

The hunger within you built as he quickened his pace and your climax thundered ever closer. “Hunter, I…” you breathed. “I’m so…”

“Can feel it,” he practically growled into your neck as your pussy clutched onto him, the tip of his nose brushing yours with every thrust of his fingers. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That was all you needed, those three words spoken with such security and tenderness, and the tightening coil in your core snapped. White hot seared through your veins and covered your body in pure bliss as he coaxed you through your high. As your pleasure reached its highest point, you gave a soft groan, your nails digging into his shoulders to ground you.

Hunter kept you afloat, his movements inside you slowing. He hushed your whimpers and kissed the corner of your lips as you panted. “That’s my girl. You good?”

“Better than good,” you managed to get out. “Maybe I should practice knife throwing more often.”

You smirked at the muffled vibration in Hunter’s throat as his eyes fluttered shut, and you could almost see the image of yourself wielding his knives imprinting on his mind.

“Later,” he assured you. “We’re nowhere near done here yet.”

I'm going to start a separate NSFW taglist since I know that it's not for everyone. If you would like to be added, feel free to send me a message (18+ only).

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csuitebitches · 2 years

Text

On Being Well Spoken

I recently received a request about posting something regarding being well spoken.

Something you need to realise is that you’re not going to become well-spoken overnight. You need to practice on people. You need to SPEAK.

I used to stutter so badly that I could barely speak a whole sentence.

Flash forward a few years. I pitched my start up in front of a crowd, I joined Model United Nations in high school and college, I’ve been invited to speak on my entrepreneurial experience by some top universities in my country. It’s taken a lot to get here. And I’m still not where I want to be.

1. Apps to track progress and help you get better at public speaking

An app that you can use: “Speeko.”

I used to use this, it is beginner friendly and you can improve your public speaking skills as well.

2. Use topic generators

Go online and look up a topic generator. Generate a random topic, video yourself speaking on that topic. Don’t give yourself time to prepare anything - read the topic and start speaking. Set a time limit - you’ll realise that speaking for even 2 minutes can be quite difficult at times.

Not only does this make you realise that you may have limited language skills, but it will also make you realise exactly where you’re falling behind. Note down things in a journal.

- is grammar the issue?

- Lack of vocabulary?

- Too many filler sounds?

- Knowledge gap?

This is also a great idea if you’re at an intermediate level of learning a language/ polishing a language. Do this everyday and maintain a diary on your improvement.

3. Reading out loud

Select a news article or any article. Read out loud, slowly and steadily. Pronounce every syllable calmly.

A two minute read should take 5 minutes to read out loud. That’s how slow you should go. Not more than 4-5 words per breath.

Your tongue needs to get used to different syllables and sounds. Practice will help.

4. Talk in real life

Talk to anyone and everyone whenever you can.

Ask your barista how their day is going.

Ask your work or university security if they’ve had a good day and if they ate today.

Chat with your taxi driver about their life. I always start with asking them if they are from the city we’re travelling in. Even if you’re from that city, act like a tourist. Where are the best eateries? The conversation eventually goes to personal questions. How many children do they have, and what do they do? What do they like about the city?

You’ll learn the art of small talk only through practice. No book or guide can actually prepare you. You have to practice, practice and practice.

5. Diaphragm breathing

Diaphragm breathing is very important. Look up some YouTube videos for reference. You essentially breathe from your tummy (stomach goes in and out; not chest going up and down). This is a great calming exercise too.

6. Stuttering tongue/ jaw exercise videos

These are great because they really do prep your jaw and tongue well. The videos could include tongue stretches, placing your tongue on your palette correctly, etc. Search on YouTube.

7. Body posture

You really need to work on your posture too. Sit up straight. Back, STRAIGHT. Chin up, shoulders relaxed. Something as simple as posture can change your level of confidence.

8. Pranayama

A yoga exercise for breathing. You can find a guided video on YouTube for sure.

9. Vocabulary

Invest your time in expanding your vocabulary. There’s enough apps and games that can help you with that, if you aren’t fond of reading. A sign of being well spoken is having great vocabulary.

Start by looking up the synonyms of everyday words.

“I’m upset”

- how many different words can you find for upset?

“I had a crazy day today”

- one can easily use “hectic”, “chaotic” “lively” instead

10. Idioms

Idioms, phrases, sayings - look up common idioms in your language of choice. Aim to use at least 3 new idioms on 3 separate occasions in a week while you speak. You need to understand when and where you can use the idioms in your vocabulary.

11. Knowing when to switch

You can’t talk like a 50 year old heiress to a 10 year old child; you need to get down to their level.

If someone is clearly not a native speaker and is struggling to put words together, don’t use difficult words around them.

If you’re meeting with someone high profile, refrain from using slang.

The best speakers know when to switch their level of language.

You can’t use one singular type of speaking with everyone. You need to understand that there is a time and place for everything - and you’ll be able to switch like a pro only when you actually speak and start gaining experience.

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frantic-fiction · 4 months

Text

What Is Now

Pic Credit: preciouslittlebhaalbabe3 (I cannot get over how he looks at Tav)

Astarion X gn!Reader/ gn!Tav

Summary: It's date night and Astarion cooks you dinner.

A/N: A slight continuation of this piece, but could probable be read as a standalone. Also big thanks to @dajeong, I didn't exactly plan for a sequel but you got my brain working so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Pure fluff, like seriously I have a problem you guys, Astarion being lovesick and so excited about it, he's just so happy.

Masterlist

It's been a few weeks—maybe a month—since your almost-date with that wretched bard. Astarion hasn't kept track of the time; why bother with details when he's too consumed with the lightness in his chest and the electricity coursing through his veins? It feels like you've breathed new life into his soul, making him feel alive and as giddy as a child.

Right now, he's practically buzzing around the room, a whirlwind of excitement and nerves. Astarion has finally wrangled you, the ever-busy diplomat, from whatever's kept you away for over three moons. It's been dreadfully boring without your company, but the time alone has allowed him to perfect the meal he's finishing just for you. A simple stew, taught to him by Shadowheart through many exchanged letters, a visit and a favor collected. He even baked a loaf of bread—this time, not scorched. It's not much, but it will have to do with Astarion's limited culinary experience.

He bites the inside of his cheek, fang grazing the tender skin. Astarion throws water onto the fire, coaxing the flames into sizzling coals. He gives it a final stir and hangs the ladle on the side.

"Gods, please be edible this time."

You're not due for another half hour, so the vampire attempts to finish up the tunic he's making. But his knees are bouncing too fast, and his mind is racing with thoughts of you. Astarion gives up after the needle pierces his finger for the fourth time. He tries to read, but the words blur together. Astarion moves to do the dishes, keeping his hands and mind busy for a mere blink before he paces the hall, waiting for your knock.

Then he thinks better of it. He scolds himself; he's not some lovesick pup. Except he is because as he sits on the couch, he listens for your knock with a slight desperation in his posture. And when it finally comes, Astarion shoots to his feet and bolts to the door. He at least has half a mind to slow his walk, to hide his eagerness to see you. He hopes you can't see it on his face.

As soon as the door opens, he is blindsided by your body slamming into his. Astarion falls back a step, catching you in his arms, laughing at the zeal with which you greeted him.

Your arms are around his neck, your face in the crook of his shoulder and jaw. "Hells, I've missed you!" You say breathlessly, smiling against his skin.

This unleashes the floodgates of affection, and Astarion is cupping your face and crashing his lips onto yours. An adorable squeak leaves your mouth in surprise, and Astarion eagerly swallows it in his excitement, licking into your waiting mouth and deepening the kiss. You melt into his hold, desperate to feel his body against yours, relishing the little gasps that bubble up Astarion's throat when you scratch the nape of his neck and play with the soft curls that dangle there.

Astarion can't get enough of you; he's an addict, and you are his drug. The warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips, the taste of your tongue—everything about you makes him crave more while feeling lightheaded and happy as if evil could never touch this perfect little bubble of his.

You pull away with a gasp for air, but Astarion quickly captures your lips again, needing your kisses as much as you need oxygen.

"Astarion—" you try to speak, but he kisses you again. "Astarion," You're laughing now, shoving his face away, and he changes tactics and starts to pepper kisses over your face. "Gods, you're ridiculous."

"I can't help it, my love," Astarion chuckles, running his nose along the line of your jaw, inhaling your intoxicating scent. He pulls away, a dopey grin on his face. "I've missed you."

Your eyes soften, and you cup the side of his face. He leans into your palm. "I've missed you too, Star. And I smell something divine—did you cook?"

"I might have," Astarion says coyly, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. "I thought it best to even the score and feed you for once."

"I can't believe it," you giggle, tugging Astarion down the hall. "You're telling me. Astarion, mister 'allergic to labor,' made little ol' me dinner?"

"Darling, is it that surprising I would do something nice for you?" He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest as you rush to the cooking pot to inspect the meal. "I'm not completely selfish, though I did expect this surprise to be met with affection, not mockery."

The last part was merely a mumble, but you heard it because as soon as you finish the spoonful of stew, you look up at him with a mischievous glint—an expression that holds promises of more than whispered praises. The look immediately affects Astarion, his mouth suddenly becoming dry. If he could blush, he's sure one would be blossoming up his neck.

You stalk towards him, eyes narrowing at his throat bobbing as he swallows over nothing. A light hand slides up his crisp blue shirt, a color you once said suited him perfectly and stops over his chest. Astarion's hands find your hips in a tentative hold, thumbing the skin peeking out from your shirt.

You kiss him, and Astarion is lost in your touch, but only momentarily before you pull away and smugly say, "It needs salt."

The light melody of your laughter follows you as you twist from his hold and move to grab a bowl. Astarion stands dumbfounded as he watches you serve a bowl and sprinkle the specs of mineral around the stew he spent hours perfecting—or so he thought. You stir it and give it a sample before adding another pinch and tasting it again.

"Mhm, perfect," you practically moan, mouth full of potatoes. "Don't worry, Star, we'll get you to be a master chef in no time."

The comment has Astarion rolling his eyes. He clicks his tongue, "Oh yes, I'm sure in due time, all of Faerûn will be flocking in to enjoy a meal served by a vampire."

"With one as handsome as you, I bet my coin that you would have a line running down the lower city begging for a taste." You smirk over your bowl.

"Then, I guess it's a shame I'm only the private cook for a certain hero," Astarion laughs, kissing your food-stuffed cheek. "Now, come sit down; I also made you bread."

"You did not! Astarion, I think you're spoiling me."

You let him guide you to the kitchen table and watch as he pulls out the still, slightly warm loaf from the basket. He intently cuts a few slices for you, and you're quick to dunk it into the broth, letting out noises of satisfaction with every bite.

"My intentions were to spoil you tonight. You have fed me for far longer; this was the least I could do." A smile seems to be a permanent fixture on Astarion's face as he reaches over the table and thumbs the dribble of stew that trickles from the corner of your mouth.

"Well, handsome, be careful—you'll be stuck with me if you keep feeding me like this." You push the now-empty bowl away, leaning back with a lazy grin on your pretty face.

Astarion rounds the table, effortlessly turning your chair. His hands frame each side of you, pressing into your space. "Then, you have fallen perfectly into my villainous plan. You'll be mine in no time, my love."

You kiss his cheek. "I'm already yours, Astarion." You leave the vampire in a state of shock, your feet padding against the floorboards as you move into the living room.

Astarion recovers quickly, practically bolting after you. You're already settling on the sofa, feet folded under you as you wrap a blanket tightly around your form. He stands on the threshold, just staring, mind whirling from your words. You turn your head with a soft smile on your face.

"Are you going to join me?" You say with a laugh that pierces straight through him.

"Did you mean it?" His voice is hoarse. Astarion falls into the cushions next to you, and you immediately curl into his side.

"Of course I did. I—"

You don't get a chance to finish. Astarion's lips crash onto yours, a fervent, desperate kiss that's all passion and urgency. His hands are in your hair, and yours find their way to his chest, pulling him closer as he guides you down onto the cushions. The kiss deepens, and it's a messy tangle of tongues and breaths, each of you matching the other's intensity.

Astarion pulls back suddenly, breathless, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion you've never seen before. "I love you," he exclaims, the words tumbling from his lips as if he can't hold them back any longer.

For a moment, you're stunned. Those three words hang in the air, so powerful and profound. Then, a radiant smile spreads across your face, brighter than the morning sun. "I love you too."

Astarion feels a surge of intense joy, almost overwhelming. His heart feels like it's beating again, or maybe it's just yours beating for him. Either way, he's never been happier. His lips find yours again, softer this time, and you lose yourselves in each other.

At that moment, Astarion makes a silent promise to himself: now that you're his, nothing will ever take you away. He doesn't think he could bear the heartache.

I just wanted some fluff and some giddy lovesick Astarion okay! I won't apologize, look how happy he is, he's so in love dammit!

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #reader insert #bg3 x reader #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #frantic fiction

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perpetual-stories · 9 months

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Eight Strategies for Improving Dialogue in Your Writing

Well, hi! Oh my… wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted! I’ve been very busy and I am genuinely sorry to all my followers, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this account, but here is one final post for the year!

Hopefully next year I become consistent with it again!

Let’s begin!

One of the best ways to help a reader connect with your writing is by crafting excellent dialogue. Use these tips to learn how to write dialogue that showcases character development, defines your characters’ voices, and hooks readers.

Why Use Dialogue?

Good dialogue performs all sorts of functions in fiction writing. It defines your characters’ voices, establishes their speech patterns, exposes the inner emotions, and showcases their character development. Beyond mere characterization, effective dialogue can also establish the setting and time period of your story and reveal information in a way that doesn’t feel overly expository.

Authors use lines of dialogue to reveal a character’s personality and express their point of view. For instance, an archetypal football coach might speak in short, terse sentences peppered with exclamation points and quotations from famous war generals. By contrast, a nebbish lover with a broken heart might drone on endlessly to his therapist or best friend, speaking in run-on sentences that circle around his true motivations. When an author can reveal character traits through dialogue, it cuts down on exposition and makes a story flow briskly.

Eight Writing Tips for Improving Dialogue

The first time you write dialogue, you may find it quite difficult to replicate the patterns of normal speech. This can be compounded by the concurrent challenges of finding your own voice and telling a great story overall. Even bestselling authors can get stuck on how a particular character says a particular line of dialogue. With practice and hard work, however, lackluster dialogue can be elevated to great dialogue.

Here are some strategies for improving the dialogue in your own work:

Mimic the voices of people in your own life. Perhaps you’ve created a physician character with the same vocal inflections as your mother. Perhaps your hero soldier talks just like your old volleyball coach. If you want to ensure that your dialogue sounds the way real people speak, there’s no better resource than the real life people in your everyday world.

Mix dialogue with narration. Long runs of dialogue can dislodge a reader from the action of a scene. As your characters talk, interpolate some descriptions of their physical postures or other activity taking place in the room. This mimics the real-world experience of listening to someone speaking while simultaneously taking in visual and olfactory stimuli.

Give your main character a secret. Sometimes a line of dialogue is most notable for what it withholds. Even if your audience doesn’t realize it, you can build dynamic three-dimensionality by having your character withhold a key bit of information from their speech. For instance, you may draft a scene in which a museum curator speaks to an artist about how she wants her work displayed—but what the curator isn’t saying out loud is that she’s in love with the artist. You can use that secret to embed layers of tension into the character’s spoken phrases.

Use a layperson character to clarify technical language. When you need dialogue to convey technical information in approachable terms, split the conversation between two people. Have one character be an expert and one character be uninformed. The expert character can speak at a technical level, and the uninformed one can stop them, asking questions for clarification. Your readers will appreciate it.

Use authentic shorthand. Does your character call a gun a “piece” or a “Glock”? Whatever it is, be authentic and consistent in how your characters speak. If they all sound the same, your dialogue needs another pass.

Look to great examples of dialogue for inspiration. If you're looking for a dialogue example in the realm of novels or short stories, consider reading the great books written by Mark Twain, Judy Blume, or Toni Morrison. Within the world of screenwriting, Aaron Sorkin is renowned for his use of dialogue.

Ensure that you’re punctuating your dialogue properly. Remember that question marks and exclamation points go inside quotation marks. Enclose dialogue in double quotation marks and use single quotation marks when a character quotes another character within their dialogue. Knowing how to punctuate dialogue properly can ensure that your reader stays immersed in the story.

Use dialogue tags that are evocative. Repeating the word “said” over and over can make for dull writing and miss out on opportunities for added expressiveness. Consider replacing the word “said” with a more descriptive verb.

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #writers on tumblr #original writing

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the-blind-bard · 7 months

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Parasite Shigaraki x Reader

| Part 2 | Part 3 (Soon) | Masterlist |

Synopsis: [Strangers/Lovers, Smut, Loser!Obsessive! Shigaraki] - |Shigaraki x Reader| Your family called your quirk "parasite", able to feed off of someone's quirk and make it temporarily your own. Luckily, the only other person on the subway happens to have the most powerful quirk you've ever seen and zero experience with women.

Content: MDNI, eventual smut, reader has a quirk, submissive Shigaraki, fem reader, prob other stuff but that's all i can think of

Your eyes burned.

Tired and weighty, your eyes were exhausted from your shift at work. You winced when stepping onto the familiar public transport system with its flickering, yellow light and stench of stale cigarettes and musk.

Working as late as you do, there are usually only ever two or four others riding the subway with you.

Most were either just as tired as you, working late and reveling in the joys of selling your health for capital gain, or they were harder-fallen victims of the fucked system just trying to grab a sheltered sleep.

People abandoned. Deemed worthless rubble of society with quirks that weren’t suited for practicality or glamour. Just aimlessly riding round and round and round-

There was only one other passenger tonight.

This guy was slouched over, posture shitty and seemingly contributing to the slightly musky scent of the subway.

You guessed that by a couple of odd-end stains on his ratty, black hoodie that shielded his face from view, aside from some loose, blue hairs.

Your decision on where to sit was made instinctively.

The closer, the better.

For the sake of your quirk.

Your family had always called your quirk “parasite”.

You embraced the title, albeit with a touch of bitter sarcasm.

But they were right.

You were born a parasite.

Your quirk fed off of the born abilities of others.

Allowing you, with just a touch, to take someone’s quirk from them. You ripped away the abilities that they had known their entire lives and rendered them quirkless until you disengaged physical contact.

The drawbacks? Aside from having to be close enough to touch them, your quirk also wouldn’t let you use someone’s quirk against them. Anything else was fair game.

It was a bit cruel.

Such a useful quirk, but only as useful as the people around you.

You knew what it felt like to be quirkless, since that’s how most of your time was spent. You didn’t even usually bother telling people you had a quirk, sick of inflating other’s god complex by making them think you’d depend on them.

It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something you just gave away. That’s why you always silently smirked when people gave you odd looks at night for sitting directly next to them on the subway.

It was safer for you to be able to grab them quickly and rip their own abilities from their bodies rather than you be sitting on the other side of the subway and finding out how dangerous they are.

You sat down right next to the blue-haired guy, rubbing some of the weariness off of your face and shooting him a polite smile.

Your quirk made you bold in your adult years. Whenever you realized how dependent people were on their quirks alone, you felt secure in your abilities to throw off any danger coming your way by rendering them useless.

The guy’s body had frozen entirely when you sat next to him, thumbs halting on the mobile game he was playing seconds ago.

You’d never seen someone hold a phone quite like that.

You watched, interested, as his hands flexed around the device, outstretched pinkies twitching in what was likely annoyance that you sat next to him with every other seat being open.

You glanced down at his phone screen. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes were drawn there by the way his pinkies oddly hovered, catching your attention.

Your eyes gleamed with a small burst of energy, as your guard was let slightly down.

Any guy sitting on the subway playing Minecraft mobile in the dead of night surely couldn’t be that bad.

You felt obligated to do something about his reaction, feeling kinda bad for disturbing him. Then again, it was kinda cute how jumpy he was. Seems like people don’t elect to sit next to him often.

Maybe it was the way he was so spooked by the mere action of you sitting next to him or maybe you would later blame it on you seeing the comforting, colorful blocks of that nostalgic game, but you tried to think of a way to comfort the man when you realized he was still frozen like a flighty, feral cat.

“It’s more useful to trap the animals and start a farm.” You noticed his little character was facing only two sheep, holding a little block of TNT. “Then you’ll have a whole herd of sheep to blow up instead of just two. Taking out two sheep? Doesn’t do much. Take out a herd? They’ll remember that.”

You chuckled lightly, just trying to be pseudo-philosophical about Minecraft sheep while also slipping in some of your signature bitter pessimism.

Little did you know, those words would replay in his mind for years to come. Those words would consume him on silent nights, driving him to plot and destroy. Destroy the herd. Destroy the sheep. Make them remem-

“Whatever.” He put his phone away with a scoff, irritated that his game was interrupted.

He looked up, giving you a full view of his face. Something about him was endearing to you, even if the scratch marks around his neck looked painful.

Without his game, he just sat there, peripheral view gliding over to you.

He momentarily thought about dusting you for being so fucking annoying, but he couldn’t ignore the stuttering of his pulse or the sweat that collected on his palms when the smell of your perfume slightly covered up the dingy state of the subway.

His throat felt impossibly tight and his neck itched uncomfortably. Were you making fun of him? Fucking bitch. You think you can just sit next to him as a joke, smelling nice and smiling so prettily at him?

Girls never sat by Tomura Shigaraki.

You shrugged your shoulders at his silence, indifferent to him shutting down your Minecraft philosophy. What a shame, you would have loved to watch him play for a while to take your mind off of the subway ride.

You reached in your bag and took out a book you had picked up recently. It was some pompous piece of classic literature that you didn’t really care for but liked to be informed about.

After all, how can you tell your coworker how fucking dumb and up-his-own-ass he is unless you read what he’s talking about?

Yeah, this was a spite read.

You sat there reading for only about ten minutes or so, ignoring the red eyes that were trying to pretend like they weren’t watching you intently.

Sure, he was kinda weird, but, honestly, you thought that maybe he was worried you were the creep.

Yeah, you probably would keep an eye on him too if he sat next to you on an empty subway and started on a rant about society in relation to video game sheep…

You would reflect on your horribly embarrassing actions later and remember to leave poor, anxious boys alone when they’re trying to game in peace on the subway.

The subway lurched particularly hard as it came to a stop.

You had tried to catch it, but a quiet gasp came from your lips as your body jerked and the book flew from your hands that were gripped too loosely around it.

He wasn’t thinking.

He was a fucking idiot.

You might- in his mind- be making fun of him and you might just be some side-quest bitch annoying him on his way back to the hideout, but at this moment, Shigaraki was thinking about how good you smelled and how soft your fingers looked against the pages of that stupid book.

He thought he was so slick, staring at the way your hands ran over the page, him wondering what would it be like if a girl ran her hands over him like that. What would a girl feel like? What would you feel like?

He hoped you didn’t notice that he leaned in slightly to smell you better. He decided he liked your perfume. A lot.

He was growing tense with the excitement of being so close to a pretty girl that apparently liked video games and also apparently seemed to be somewhat of a pessimistic asshole like him.

One that chose to sit next to him and talk to him.

He felt like a dating sim where a new character just unexpectedly got unlocked, introducing the MC’s love interest. This had to be a part of the main plot for him.

So, like an awkward, horny idiot, he reached out to stop her book from hitting the rank subway floor. He thought she was going to smile brightly and talk to him again, thanking him and blushing.

Instead, his eyes were wide as he remembered who he is-

what he is.

He’s a fucking monster, not some handsome dating sim MC.

Your book was ash, falling through his fingers.

You weren’t tired anymore.

Your lips parted in surprise which enraged Shigaraki as he assumed it to be fear.

Shigaraki’s expression looked indifferent, but you could kinda detect the shameful flush of red creeping up his neck before he brought up a hand to incessantly scratch the skin.

You gave him the courtesy of looking away as blood collected under his nails. Was that a drawback of his quirk or was he just that embarrassed?

Regardless, what a spectacular quirk. Your brain felt like it was suddenly submerged in ice water, a cool clarity of all the things you could do with someone like this by your side.

The access to power you’d have.

Alone, you’re no one. With him, you could both have everything.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, about to acknowledge how you know it was just an accident and how he meant to do something good, but right as those words went to leave your lips, a group of three obnoxious men boarded the subway.

They were all laughter and stumbles, not caring who heard their obnoxious banter.

Your eyes left the boy next to you and went straight to one of the men. Particularly, to the one that just whistled at you.

They all muttered amongst themselves, glassy eyes searching your face and figure, picking apart your appearance’s worth to their disgusting desires.

It would be so easy.

If you always had someone like the anxious boy with his beautiful quirk next to you, it could all be so easy.

“Hey babe,” the tallest one of the bunch said as he was carried on by his friend’s laughter, “why don’t you come sit over here and let us give you the subway ride of your life? Might not wanna get off though.”

His friends cackled, a loud and disgusting sound.

Your brows pinched in irritation, but you smiled. Something empty. Not like the sweet and earnest ones you had given minutes ago to the itching boy next to you.

“Don’t know, your friends seem to be riding your cock hard enough as it is.”

The boy next to you loosened his stiff shoulders for the first time since you got on the subway, lightly exhaling a breath and restraining laughter.

Your smirk grew, grateful you also had an audience to urge you on. Glad he seemed responsive to what you said.

However, the guys across from you didn’t find it as funny, standing over and pointing a finger towards you.

“You bitch, I’ll kick your fucking jaw off. Stupid slut.”

You watched as the man approached. Was he alluding to a kicking quirk?

No matter if you were right or not, you didn’t want to find out. He had pure hatred in his eyes at you embarrassing him publicly, and he came right at you to do something about it.

You didn’t see the blue-haired boy’s hand get ready to reach out towards the man. Instead, you felt his startled shock and felt him try to jerk away from your grasp as you grabbed his hand.

You’d have to apologize to Minecraft boy later.

You felt it as soon as your soft skin made contact with his rough, cracked hands.

Power.

It was like a drug had hit your system all at once, rushing to your fingers and making them unmatchable weapons of destruction.

You reached out and touched the fucker standing across from you, watching as he decayed.

It was breathtaking. One minute solid, the next…reduced to dust.

Silence. The only sound was the rumbling of the subway as it neared the next stop.

The other two men looked at where their friend had been in fear. It was like the world stood still for just a second.

But not for long as the men started clambering to the exit in anticipation of the next stop where they practically flung themselves out of the subway.

Next to you, the boy physically shook.

Fuck. You were hoping you hadn’t fucked up too badly. This couldn’t be the last time you see him. The last time you get to use that quirk.

You gave him a sad smile, hand rising to his cheek, lightly caressing it. You felt a pang in your heart as he leaned further into it, his breath hitching in his throat.

You spoke gently to him.

“Hey now, it’s okay…I’m sorry I didn’t ask before I did that. I didn’t think I really had the time to explain. I’m (Y/n) by the way.”

You tried to comfort him, hoping he wouldn’t bolt out the door. You really didn’t give a fuck about killing some random dickhead, but this sweet boy seemed so shaken up, you needed to calm him down. You needed to make sure you didn’t scare him off.

You needed to feel the power of his quirk again.

In his seat, Tomura shook but it wasn’t the nerves you suspected. He was nervous for far more carnal reasons.

No, his breath was coming out in labored pants, him practically vibrating at the lingering ghosts of your touch.

Not only had you touched his hands and not decayed before his eyes, but then you dared to kill that man in front of everyone without flinching.

It’s like you were his personal fallen angel.

And the hand that had lightly held his cheek with it’s soothing and stern hold? He was instantly addicted to this new feeling, wanting your hands to never leave his skin again.

His face was flush and his pants shouldn’t feel as tight as they did. He felt like he was suffocating under a fire. Fuck, he might even cum in his pants if you got any closer.

He thought you were fucking perfect. A custom character made just for his two-player mode.

“Shigaraki Tomura.”

You smiled, glad to see he was still willing to talk to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shigaraki.”

Red eyes stared into yours, wide and filled with ravenous wonder.

“Who are you?”

You laughed, “(L/N) (Y/N)-”

Shigaraki shook his head, hands clumsily reaching out for yours, shaking like his life depended on holding your hand in his own again.

His grip on you was impossibly tight, stinging your own skin as his nails dug into the living flesh. His hold was harsh and unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to using his hands without the intention to destroy.

“No. Who the fuck are you? Why doesn’t this do anything to you?”

You shook out of his grip, entwining your fingers between his.

You ran your thumb over his hand while both of yours were locked, you enjoying the simmering power under your fingertips.

“Oh trust me,” you leaned in closer to him to whisper into his ear, enjoying how you can hear every labored breath of his from being so close. You could even feel the tremble of his body. “It does something to me.”

A little noise bubbled up from his throat and his face flushed with the prettiest red you had seen aside from his own eyes.

You let go of his hands only for him to involuntarily whine and squirm at the feeling of you reaching into his pocket.

Grabbing his phone, you couldn’t help but be fond of how sweet Tomura seemed. With just a touch of your hand, he melted, and with just a touch of his, you destroyed.

It felt almost fated.

“Unlock it.”

Usually, Tomura wouldn’t hesitate to bite back if someone dared to give orders to him like that, but he didn’t feel like himself. No, this was different from when Dabi was being an asshole or some pro-hero fuck tried to tell him what to do.

This made his stomach churn in the most wonderful way.

He wanted you. He could be good for you. Only for you.

You gave the phone to him, his pinky already stretched outwards by reflex. It was a little sad to you how careful he had to be.

“My number’s in your phone. Text me. I’ll tell you all about my quirk next time.”

Your number? This couldn’t be real. He was sure he was bound to wake up to an embarrassing mess of sticky sheets any minute now.

“Sure.”

You smile at him and grab your bag, preparing to get off at your stop.

God, you hoped he would text you. You weren’t looking forward to having to investigate all the possible stops on this route to find him if he didn’t message you.

You would find him.

Neither of you were aware of the other’s intention, but you wanted to absolutely ruin him by making him yours in every possible meaning of the word.

Meanwhile, he considered you to already be his.

But you knew one thing for sure, Tomura Shigaraki has not seen the last of you.

Pt 2

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #tomura shigiraki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki smut #tenko shimura

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schoenpepper · 5 days

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Despite Everything (It's Still You)

Intro: When he looks at you, he sees everything he could have been.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, kinda angsty, more platonic im pretty sure cus its not specified if ur lovers, might be ooc idk and idc, everytime i write idia i feel 10 years older because i cringe at my own internet slang

A/N: Done! Last request is finished, hope you like it worm anon. On my end, this is super rushed and it's not like, my fave ever so ehhhh.

Masterlist

Riddle thought he’d found a comrade in you. Out of everyone in Twisted Wonderland, he’d thought you would be the one to understand him.

He sees it in your posture, always straight and never slouching. You’re good with academics, a diligent student. Like Riddle, you’d gone through life with the iron fist of a well-meaning parent, so surely, you understand him, right? You agree with him. You believe that rules are important to be upheld lest society fall into chaos. It’s such a refreshing feeling to find a person who, like him, thinks that structure and stability are core values of a proper community.

But you don’t. You don’t understand. No one does. His consciousness is flickering between ink and reality. He’s slipping into the grasp of the phantom and he feels himself slowly being consumed. He’s being devoured. Right before the overblot, even you had stood against him. Why? Riddle wasn’t wrong, he was never wrong—the rules aren’t wrong. Because if they are, then what did he lose his entire childhood for? So you must be the one at fault. This is your mistake. You just don’t understand. You tell him that the rules and the competence and the structure matter less than people. You try to convince him that there’s a better way of living. Is there?

Riddle doesn’t know why. He’d thought you were a comrade because he saw his own experiences in yours, but he’d never been so wrong. While he was still caught up in the chains of his mother’s words, you’d already broken free from the cage. You help him to reclaim the shards of childish wonder he’d never been allowed to have. You help him learn how to breathe, how to relax. Little by little, you bring him onto your path.

He doesn’t understand you anymore.

Leona doesn’t have any opinions about you. You never really talked to him at first, and he can respect that; you don’t go out of your way for bothersome, meaningless things.

Every time he sees you, you’re sleeping or slacking off. Whatever, it’s not like he can judge you for it. You also have a real competitive streak for spelldrive, and your wit’s not half bad, especially when compared to the muscle heads in his dorm. Clever and snarky, talented and strong. He can respect you. Maybe just barely, and he’ll never admit it, but he sees a part of himself in you. So, a sort-of equal. He’s still better than you though.

The taste of sand lingers on his tongue as it swirls in the air through the storm. There’s a part of himself he can no longer control. It makes him wrap his fingers around Ruggie’s throat and Leona… He doesn’t want this. But he can’t stop. He can still recognize you on the edge of his vision. Weren’t you just like him? At birth, everything good was handed right over to your older sibling, leaving nothing but scraps for you. You found it unfair too, didn’t you? So why are you standing against him? This is his chance to be someone worth more than his birthright. Why…are you not agreeing with him?

Leona tried to stay away from you. But call it his instinct or whatever; he can’t seem to avoid you at all. The second prince of Sunset Savanna is awestruck by your words. You tell him that birth doesn’t determine everything. You tell him that you’d learned from your own past. That you can still make something of yourself without that which was given. You sure are chatty now, but who is he to stop you?

You’re not his equal. You’d long since left him in the dust.

Azul sees you as an opportunity. He likes you, really, because you know how to do business and you find a way to compromise that doesn’t step on either person’s lines.

It’s not difficult for him to find out about your past, and to be honest, he’s greatly delighted to find out about all that you have in common. Did you feel the way he did when he was isolated and bullied? Did you feel his pain? You were an outcast too, weren’t you? But wow, look at you (and him) now! It’s rare he sees someone as diligent as himself, as cunning and as smart. Resourceful and oh so benevolent, you’d fit right into Octavinelle!

He’d steered himself long ago; he would never be weak again. He had long, long since forgotten humiliation and defeat. But he’s here again. This time, defeat was brought by your hands. Azul had thought you were allies. Business partners, at least. Why betray him like this? Don’t you get it? He’s powerful now! Why try to stop him? Why did you succeed? He’s left in the aftermath of heartache and debris. He doesn’t know why he did the things he did, but he’s sure that he was so close to being all-powerful. Perfect. A being so beautiful and flawless and strong… You took that chance away from him.

Azul wants you out of his life—your presence now is only a reminder of everything he could have been, and everything he failed to be. Unlike him, you’ve already moved on. You’ve learned to forgive your tormentors, and most importantly, you’ve learned to forgive yourself. You tell him that it was never his fault, but that revenge was never meant to be the answer.

He finds that he had nothing in common with you, after all.

Jamil is perceptive. Next to the one who’s attracting the attention of the whole room with a bright smile and sunny disposition, he finds a kindred spirit in you.

You seem responsible enough, and like a mirror, he sees you taking care of that person the way he does with Kalim. It’s easy to pierce through your act because he knows how to do it too. Seemingly not too smart, not too dumb, not too strong, not too weak. You’re good at pretending to be average. Like Jamil, you’ve lived a life of servitude. Are you tired of forced humility? Of feeling like your life isn’t worth anything when compared to the one you serve?

He’s tired too. He’s so, so tired. Why was freedom unreachable to Jamil right from the moment he was conceived? Was he unworthy of a life unbound by shackles? You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger. Jamil looks at you like you’re a mirror. A mirror that’s shattered, and damaged, and every piece is covered with ink and regret. You know what he’s been through, so why are you in his way? You should be an accomplice. Do you not yearn to be your own person? The phantom is whispering promises he knows it won’t keep. But nothing is more tempting than just…one day of happiness. Of his own happiness.

Jamil is inevitably drawn to you. You live so brightly; you see your master as a friend. You tell him he doesn’t need to do the same. That the only thing he needs to do is find a way that works for him. And you’re asking about things he hadn’t thought of before. An employment contract? The legal status of slavery in the Scalding Sands? Wait, you’re serving that person out of your own volition in exchange for salary and other related benefits?

In you, he sees a light at the end of the tunnel.

Vil approves of you. Like looking in a mirror almost, he sees beauty and a passionate drive to remain beautiful in every single way.

You’re a person with a consistent goal and a persistent drive to do better and be better; a hard worker with tenacity like that of the Queen herself. You are no potato. You are a diamond that has found a way to shine uniquely, and like him, you are already a master at your chosen profession. And yet, he sees the trophies and the medals are all silver and never gold. It is frustrating, but Vil knows that you as well know what it’s like to always be second best.

He’d worked so hard. He’d tried his very best. Professional music and choreography, styling and costumes. He’d set up a multi-week boot camp for his team members in order to whip them into shape. It’s all swept away by that person. Again. And again. And again and again and again and— No. No more. He will take matters into his own hands. But you stand in front of him with a familiar determination, only this time, you’re determined to stop him. Rook had betrayed him and now, you do too. Is he not worthy of a victory? Not even once? The blot is so, so ugly. But if it means he’ll get to wipe out everything that’s opposed to him, he’ll take that blot and use it to his own advantage. Like the queen who’d disguised herself as an ugly witch in order to take down the princess; everything can be sacrificed for the sake of ultimate beauty. If you’re not with him, you must be against him.

Vil apologizes sincerely for his faults. He knows he was wrong, even if it hurts his pride to admit it. But you accept him so easily, so readily, he can’t believe you’re acting like he’d never even hurt you. You forgive him. You help him accept his losses and continue to strive. Because you’d been in his position before, but you’d grown to be happy and appreciate the wins in life instead.

You are no mirror image of him. You are better.

Idia’s never been this happy before; through his screen is someone who just gets him. You’re good at games, and an introvert too? Score!

It’s not like, ever, that someone who vibes with his genius just comes strolling through his life, so Magicord bears witness to long, late night chats about anything and everything. You’ve got some real fucked up childhood trauma too, big mood tbh. It’s easy to spill his guts out over the internet, because even then, you still don’t really know him. You like the games and animes that he likes, and he’s so glad that for once, there’s a person out there who’s lived through the same villain-arc that he has.

He can’t rebuild the world if so many noobs are trying to stop him. Why? What’s so wrong with wishing for a world that can fit him and Ortho right in? Why is that too much for him to ask for? Why are you, the person he thought was his cool moots, acting up too? Don’t you like Ortho? Bro…no…you’re not actually doing a protagonist monologue rn, are you? Seriously? You think you can defeat him and his phantom through the power of friendship? Lolz, you’re so lame. If the world was a fairytale, he wouldn’t have been born with this dumb curse. If the world was a fairytale, he would never have been trapped in STYX with no way out. If the world was a fairytale, Ortho would still be alive. But it’s not. So he’ll remake it to be the story he’d always dreamt it to be.

Idia thinks you’re 110% cringe, like actually barf-inducing. But you did kinda save him or whatevs, so he can put up with you. Like, begrudgingly yk. You’re just such a weirdo. He really thought you were just like him, but no. You’ve had therapy. That’s like, actually wild. You try to counsel him too, talking about feelings and whatnot, and how to move past grief so that it no longer consumes you from the inside out.

So it turns out you didn’t have a villain arc like Idia did. You’re the main hero.

Malleus finds you absolutely delightful. To see another who can speak to him without fear or nervousness is a marvelous thing that he cherishes.

You are no fae or long-lived species, but he finds you fascinating. You are intelligent and wise beyond your years. You are powerful in your own right. You are familiar, in every sense of the word. Even your experiences seem to be shared. You’d been orphaned too, and experienced loss and grieved. You’d mourned for far too many loved ones who have left before you. Do you see the present as he does? Do you embrace the past as he does?

The world is a sad, sad place. He would like to change it. Into one with happy ever afters, into one where there is no hunger and no poverty. There will be no suffering. In his hands, he will mold the world into one that is kinder to its people. There will be no death and separation. He’s had far too many of those, enough to last his long lifetime. He’s not wrong. So why…why do you stand against him, weapon pointed towards him? The only thing he wishes for is permanence. Do you not see the vision? There is so much sadness in the world, why do you choose to wake from your beautiful slumber and face it head on? No matter. He will help you, even if you deny him.

Malleus is more than happy to take your hand when it is outstretched towards himself. You teach him so many things he hadn’t realized before, like how to cherish the present and treasure each memory more than attempting to find a solution to make them everlasting. He had believed wholly that he was right; that the answer to death was a long period of dreams in which everyone lives in a happy ending. He had believed you to be similar to himself—he is wrong about many, many things.

You’ve always looked to a brighter future than he could even imagine.

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