#NOT MAKING ME HAVE TEARS IN THE CORNERS OF MY EYES

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (A bet with Simon about wearing a vibrator secretly and not to come in public)

A bet with Simon brought you to the predicament now. Squeezing through the crowded station’s concourse with his hand around you waist, looking like a normal couple, but no one knows there’s a remote controlled vibrator—designed to stimulate your g spot and have a little curve hooked snuggly against your clit—buzzing freely inside you.

Don’t come in 10 minutes, then you can do anything to him, his words ignited the competitive fire inside you.

The weather is cold, allow you to excuse your flush with it, hide your face in the scarf slightly when your moans sneak their way out.

“Only 3 minutes passed, sweetheart.” He leans down to murmur as he lead you across the concourse, the sultry tone disguised within, only able to get noticed by you. You shoot daggers back at him, try not to drop to your knees whenever someone accidentally bump into you in this packed station, making your thighs shifted in the force and the vibrator digs further into the sweet spot.

You meet his eyes behind his disposal mask and black cap, and you know the bastard is laughing at you from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

Your eyes are glossy with the tears from the constant stimulation, trying to threaten him with those bunny eyes but failed adorably. He can tell you’re teetering on the edge, and he’s been enjoying your fluster too much, his trousers straining behind the cover of his long coat. How can he not when you look absolutely cute like this, stopping between of your steps to forbear the orgasm, arms holding with his tighten and press your cheek against his bicep to stifle the whimpers.

You let out a sigh of relief when he dials down the intensity, look up at him with a hint of disbelief. The vibrations keeps sending shivers down your spine, your legs are doing their best to stay straight, but it’s much better than they were seconds before. So you give his hand a squeeze, resume the walk across the massive concourse.

The walk is torturous, every steps is worsening the divine ache between your legs. You didn’t like how the vibrator rutting into your sensitive clit, your panties isn’t soaked with all the juices and you’re not clenching that tight cunny under the onslaught of pleasure. You brainwash yourself repeatedly, the vibrations never cease, and you’re dancing on the edge even after Simon turned it down a few notches earlier. One minute left, just one minute…

Of course it won’t be that easy, he just wants to prolong your pleasure and get the show go on as long as it could, before finally breaking you.

Just as you two almost reach the main entrance of the station, you almost tripped when he abruptly changes the intensity once again. Covering your mouth and fully cling onto him, you’re totally speechless when he leads you to stand aside in the station, pulling you into his arms and coos lowly.

“Come for me, love, let it out.” His fingers card through your silky hair when you bury your face into his chest, muffling all the cries as you get pushed over the edge, gushing in your panties and you know it’s definitely ruined by now.

A few people spare a glance at your way, curious about what just happened before going on their life. Yet you’re totally unaware of it, trying to quiet your whines and you keep tucking yourself in his arms.

Simon adjusted his coat, enough to engulf you in it, and he keeps crooning sweet nothings into your ears “You’re so beautiful, so gorgeous when you came in my arms, love.” His voice soothing you along with his palm rubbing on your back, hiding you in his coat and shield you from the world, even though he’s the one bringing you the luscious torment.

Supported by his strong hands so you won’t fall to the ground with wobbly feet, you lift your head from his chest after your breaths slows down, and you manage not to punch him in the face when pat your head and remind you the truth.

“9 minutes 47 seconds, you didn’t make it to 10 minutes. what a shame.” Simon’s chest rumbles with the quiet laughters. You see the mischief in his rich brown eyes, and hell, he’s definitely thinking about how he will get you to do from losing the bet.

[lycheeloving]

Why is there almost no Lex Luthor content... I saw him in Young Justice and immediately got inspired lol

Anyways, here's a yandere!Lex Luthor fic, with Superman and Batman rescuing you, but do they have good intentions? 👀 (gender neutral reader ofc)

Warnings for mind controlling/altering devices & substances ✌️ and general yandere stuff ofc

You're not the biggest fan of big events with many people, but with Lex at your side, you find you don't really mind anything, even the gala you're currently at.

Holding his hand, you happily watch him as he talks to rich people you couldn't care less about, when he turns to look at you.

You perk up as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You try to lean into it, but he pulls away too fast for your liking. At least you catch a whiff of his scent, he always smells so good...

"Be a doll and get yourself a drink at the bar, would you?"

Ah.

That's code for "we're going to talk about confidential business stuff". Sure. You can spend some time away from him, even if it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. You'll do it for him!

You silently nod, reluctantly let go of his hand and start making your way across the room towards the bar.

As you're leaving, you make out the word "Justice League". They have been giving him trouble recently, is that what their conversation is about? You can never remember what exactly their issue is with him... He's just a CEO!

Unfortunately the bar is out of earshot, so you can't keep listening, which is exactly why he sent you away in the first place, but you sit on a stool from which you can still easily see him.

He always says that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about his boring business stuff, so you don't, but he always looks so good when talking about it! So serious and in charge...

After ordering a fun looking cocktail you sigh, already missing him.

You didn't use to like alcohol, but everything tastes better now that you know him, so you indulge in the occasional drink.

You catch yourself staring at Lex. Maybe you shouldn't look at him this much? What if people think he's weird for dating someone who's this obsessed with him? You don't want that for him, he has so much to deal with already... Swishing your drink around, you try to tear your eyes away from him.

You sigh again.

Somebody slides onto the stool next to you and orders a fancy sounding drink. He turns to you.

"Are you ok? I could hear you sighing from across the room."

"I'm fine... I just miss my boyfriend." You hold back another sigh and absentmindedly trace the rim of your glass.

"Oh, so you came here alone?"

"No, he's over there." You subtly point at him. "He's just talking about some important business stuff without me right now."

"Lex Luthor?" He pulls a face as you nod.

"So you're..." He says your name. Apparently people know you! Huh. You hadn't realized.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way."

Now that he mentions it, you don't know how you didn't notice it before. He is quite famous. You probably should have recognized him, but you were too distracted by how dreamy Lex looks...

"What are you doing with him? I mean, he's not known for being fun. Or kind."

He sounds like he's joking, but you don't think it's funny. Your face turns serious.

"You must not know him very well, then."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Or him, I guess..." He trails off.

Changing the topic with a grin, he says: "I'm guessing that means I don't have a chance with you?"

You shake your head. He can't be serious.

"...What if I shave my head? Would you consider leaving Luthor for me if I was bald?"

You crack a little smile at that. But your answer remains the same.

"No, I wouldn't leave my Lexie for anyone."

His eyes widen. "Oh, wow, so your relationship is pretty serious, then?"

Why would he even ask that?

"Of course it's serious, I love him!"

He pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something.

"...and does he love you?"

You gently touch the spot where Lex last pressed a kiss to your face and look in his direction, only to find he's already looking right back at you. You smile.

"He does." You're sure of it.

Bruce gets up from his chair as Lex starts making his way towards you. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm going to go find someone I actually have a chance with." And avoid a confrontation with Lex.

He winks at you. "Bye!"

You don't say anything back as he leaves, because you're too busy looking at Lex, who's now standing right in front of you. He puts his hands on the bar behind you, caging you in with his arms.

"What did Wayne want from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, nothing important." Already distracted, you reach up to play with his tie.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you not paying attention to him? Good. Can't have you leaving me for him."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, even though you know he's just teasing you.

You would never! He smirks as if he can read your mind.

"Well, I have some more business to attend to. I have informed our driver that he is to take you home whenever you wish, while I will be returning to the office."

You pout at him. "I know your work is important, but please don't take too long. I'll miss you..."

He smirks. "I know, darling. I will hurry back to you."

The kiss he presses to your lips is eagerly reciprocated by you, before he gently pulls your hand away from his tie and goes back to the people he was talking to earlier, vanishing through the door.

No reason to stay here now that he's gone, right? You finish your drink and leave the building, but as you turn to look for your driver, you bump into someone.

You go to apologize, but the other guy is faster.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

His eyes widen and he straightens his glasses.

"Wait! You're Lex Luthors significant other, right?"

You nod with a smile. How lovely that this is what people know you as!

"I'm Clark Kent, with the Daily Planet. I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

Your smile vanishes. "No comment."

Lex told you that no matter what you say, reporters twist it in a way that makes you look bad, and that it's best not to engage.

He seems a bit disappointed at your quick response. "That's fair. But off the record, can I just ask how you met him? As far as I know, you weren't a part of these circles before you showed up on his arm one day."

"Off record?"

He nods.

You think you can trust him, at least with some of it.

"We met at my workplace. I used to be a barista."

Not knowing how to make it sound nice, you leave out the part where you thought he was rude to your coworker and reprimanded him, and how you only grudgingly agreed to go on a date with him because he cornered you after work and threatened to get your coworker fired if you refused.

But it was all a big misunderstanding! During that first date you realized that you really like him and that he's a really good guy!

He just didn't know how else you'd agree to go out with him after you were so angry at the beginning!

"So it was love at first sight?" Kent questions.

"Not first sight, maybe, but I knew he was the one during our first date. It just... felt so right."

Lex, of course, did know at first sight, but he's always been smarter than you, so it's not a surprise that he caught on more quickly.

"Well, thanks for the conversation. I'm going to find someone I can actually interview now, so my boss doesn't get too mad at me. Bye!"

He stumbles towards the building, bumping into someone else. What a clumsy guy! You catch him looking at you again before he enters through the door.

You finally make your way to the driver and get into the limo, driving home in silence.

Time for a lonely night without Lex...

After you get home and get ready for bed, you put on one of his shirts and go to sleep on his side of the bed.

That way you'll definitely wake up when he returns, because he refuses to sleep on your side. He'll have to get you out of the way somehow, probably pick you up...

Burying your face in his pillow where his scent is the strongest, you fall asleep.

A noise from the direction of Lex's home office wakes you up.

You're still on his side of the bed. Did he come home and keep working? Seriously? Maybe he'll let you sit in his lap while he finishes whatever he's doing...

Quietly walking towards his room, you hear low voices. Is Lex on a call? In the middle of the night?

As you make it to the entrance, you can finally make out words. It's not Lex.

"-only let you come because you said you could be stealthy. If I knew you'd be this loud, I would have come here alone."

You sneak a look around the door. Is that Batman? And-

"This is my city, and I know Luthor better than anyone, that's why I came along. Besides, I didn't make that much noise!"

-Superman!

You take a step back. Where is the button that alarms security again...? Next to the bed, right? You start making your way back to the bedroom, but...

"We have company."

You're almost at the button, try to start running towards it, but Superman is in front of you before you can blink. Shit.

"Sorry, can't let you inform anyone that we're here, we still haven't gotten everything we came for!"

He actually looks apologetic. What is wrong with him? Breaking into your home, but pretending to feel bad about it?

He holds onto both of your arms and leads you back into the office, where Batman is tinkering with Lex's computer. What could they be looking for?

"Well, if you're here already, we might as well ask you directly. What do you know about Luthor's mind-controlling technology?" Batman asks you.

Mind-controlling? What would Lex need that for?

"I- I think you've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who usually would never cooperate with Luthor have started working for him, so I got suspicious. After some research I was able to figure out that he uses microchips to control them. But we haven't been able to figure out how to extract them without causing damage to the person they've been installed in."

Batman takes a step towards you.

"So I'll ask one more time. What do you know?"

You really have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wh- What would Lex even use that for? I don't understand!"

"Batman, are you sure they know anything? We're already 99% sure there's a chip inside of them as well, maybe one of its effects is not remembering anything about the chips?"

"It was worth a try." Batman turns to look at Superman. "I assume this means you haven't checked for a chip yet? Make yourself useful and use your x-ray vision."

"Oh, right! Right..." Superman mumbles. "No need to be rude about it."

He focuses his gaze on you. It's pretty unnerving, knowing he's looking inside of you. There's nothing you could hide from him, nothing you could do to make him stop looking at you. You hope he's really only looking inside of you...

After looking at you for too long for comfort, he chimes up: "Yep, there's a chip! Right in the shoulder."

Of course there's a chip in your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're being controlled!

"That's just a tracker! Lex put it there in case I'm ever kidnapped or something, so he'll immediately know where I am!"

"...You let him put a tracker in you? Voluntarily?" Superman seems confused.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?" You're confused as well. Why wouldn't you let him? He did it because he loves you! To take care of you!

Batman doesn't seem to care, only humming in acknowledgement and going back to fiddling with the computer.

That reminds you that Lex put another gadget on you...

Your necklace (beautiful, expensive, and of the letters "LL") sends him a discreet emergency signal as soon as you take it off! You just need to be able to reach it...

"Um... Superman?" You crane your neck to look up at him.

"Do you have to hold onto me like that? I mean, just, what could I do to get away, right?"

You look up at him and try to look as confused and innocent as possible.

You glance at Batman. He seems to not be interested in your conversation at all, instead focusing on the computer. Good.

"You're fast enough to immediately catch me, before I could even take a tiny step! Just- This position is kind of awkward to be in, right?"

Please fall for it, please fall for it...

"Sure, you've been pretty cooperative so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about with you..."

He chuckles, almost embarrassed, then reluctantly lets go of his hold on your arms, flexing his hands.

Holy shit. It worked.

"Nice, thanks!" You smile. What an idiot.

Now you just have to play it cool...

Act natural and normal and not like you're up to anything...

You reach up to rub your neck, as if having turned it to look up at Superman strained it.

Well, it did, but you're mostly doing it to get your hands near the necklace. And now you just have to-

The necklace opens with a quiet click, followed by an alarm sounding from the computer.

Right. You forgot it sends a signal to all of Lex's technology, including the computer in this room. Oops.

Oh well, doesn't really make a difference if they're aware that you alarmed Lex or not. What could they do about it now?

Both Superman's and Batman's heads snap towards you. You smile. Lex should be on his way now.

"Superman, why would you let go of-" Batman cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. I have the information we came here for. Let's go."

"Are we just going to leave them here?" Superman sounds concerned.

Batman walks towards you, holding something up to your face. "No."

It smells weird, what is that? You feel dizzy, try to pull your head away from it, but Batman is holding onto you, you can't move.

Then, everything goes black.

You wake up on a bed in a bright, unfamiliar room with an ache in your shoulder.

There's a bandage in the spot where your tracker is. Or, used to be, you assume.

Rude of them, to dig around in your body without your permission.

Lex will freak out when he hears about this. He must be looking for you already.

What is this, some kind of infirmary? Where exactly are you?

Just when you decide to get up and try to leave or find out more about where you are, Superman enters the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" He gently pushes you to lie back down. You don't object, you know how strong he is, even if he is being careful right now.

"You shouldn't get up yet, your body should still be adjusting to the chip being gone."

He looks at you with curiosity. Or with hope? You can't quite tell what his expression means.

"Which, by the way, do you feel any different? About Luthor? Any memories popping up that you couldn't remember before?"

Now that he mentions it, some of your time with Lex seems... clearer. You suddenly remember the whole chip thing. And that he's constantly trying to fight (and kill) Superman and the rest of the Justice League. And a bunch of immoral business choices. And villain stuff.

But you still love him.

"I don't feel any different."

Lex must have had a good reason to block those memories from your mind.

Maybe it was for exactly this scenario, so that if the Justice League kidnapped you, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything! Unfortunately they were able to restore those memories, but that doesn't mean that you have to tell them that and make it easier for them!

Superman looks disappointed. "Oh... That's unfortunate."

Why does he seem to be so invested in this? Just because he hates Lex? What does he care if Lex is in a relationship, that shouldn't concern him at all!

"So can I go now?" You throw your legs over the side of the bed and sit up again.

"I mean, now that you know that I wasn't influenced by that chip? You can't keep me here, that would be kidnapping!"

It already is kidnapping, technically.

"Sorry, I can't let you leave." He doesn't look super apologetic about this.

"Batman is still working on something."

"I'm done working on it, actually," Batman responds.

Wait, when did Batman get here? You didn't hear him enter the room...

Superman perks up. "And did you find anything?"

"I did." Batman turns to you, his expression even more serious than usual.

"Blood tests revealed that you are affected by a toxin that messes with your pheromones. After digging through more information on Luthors computer, I was able to find correspondence between him and Poison Ivy. Apparently they made a concoction that is specific to your dna, meaning only you are affected by it, and it causes you to be attracted to him alone. He must have used it as an aftershave or perfume, but it seems pretty long lasting. The effects should last up to a month after exposure."

No. That can't be true.

"You're lying. Lex wouldn't do that. He had no reason to do that, I love him!"

Batman ignores you. "Luckily I was able to synthesize an antidote. Hold still."

You don't hold still, of course, trying to scramble off of the bed, but Superman holds onto you.

"Shhhh, calm down. You'll feel better soon," he whispers, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.

Batman gets closer to you with a syringe, preparing to inject you with a green liquid.

"This is going to hurt."

"Wait!" you try to protest, but-

-you feel the syringe enter your skin, and then you feel pain. In your entire body.

It hurts! Why does it hurt so much!

You squirm in Superman's grip. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

There's nothing but pain for a few seconds that feel like eternity.

But then- nothing.

You feel nothing. No pain. And-

"Holy shit." You blink.

"Holy SHIT."

What did that fucker do to you?

"I was in a relationship with Lex Luthor? Why did nobody stop me! What is wrong with everyone!"

You blink again.

"I mean, I guess you stopped me. So... thank you?"

Superman lets go of you, seemingly content that you've come to your senses.

Batman seems to be holding back a smirk.

You're not done processing everything yet.

"Why would he-"

You forget what you were going to say and gasp, distracted by a new thought.

"Wait, what the fuck am I going to do now! Where can I go? I moved in with him and he made me break off contact with all of my friends! I don't have an apartment anymore or friends to stay with!"

You look at the two heroes. "D- Do you think he'll look for me? Probably, right? I mean, we were going to get married."

You feel sick.

"Wait, is an engagement legally binding? Fuck. Can I just leave? We didn't make it public yet, but that doesn't make a difference, right? Fuck!"

Superman puts his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that. We won't allow him anywhere near you ever again."

Batman adds on: "And you can stay in the Watchtower for now. That's the safest place for you. He won't manage to get in here."

You frown. "Are you sure that's ok? I don't want to be a burden..."

Superman's smile gets wider, it's almost creepy.

Batman moves closer to you, putting his hand on your other shoulder. You're starting to feel a bit smothered.

"We'll gladly take care of you. For however long it takes."

You wonder if that means forever.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ INKED. featuring s. geto.

↻ geto enjoys his job for this exact reason… he gets to give pretty girls like you your first ever tattoo.

tags : tattoos, slight masochism, dirty thoughts, suggestive actions, possessive behaviour, tattoo artist x florist trope, voice kink, dirty talk, praise kink, latex kink (if you squint), implied fingering, marking (literally and figuratively), implied virgin!reader, slight dubcon // wc. 1.1k

author's note : the longest one of the series… and possibly the longest author’s note too. i want to thank everyone who’s supported me throughout this event from the day i released the masterlist all the way up until the last work today!! i know i’ve said that every one of these have been my favourite but why not save the best ‘til last… this very specific image of geto haunts my (wet) dreams 🤤🤤 thank you again for all the support, because of you guys, i managed to go from 200 to over 900 followers !! 💓💓 i can’t thank you more, and i hope you enjoy this last work. this has been luna, and thank you for reading!!

pspsps …. you might want to stick around for my upcoming kinktober. it’s going to be a thriller…

“i would’ve never striked you as the type to want a tattoo, sweetie.” GETO looks at you over the frame of his glasses, eyebrow quirked as he confirms your appointment on his laptop. “and especially not one of this… calibre. is it your first time?”

you nod shyly, eyes averting from his gaze. he looks at the sheet of paper with your desired design on it, and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. a tramp stamp. totally not your type upon first glance. 

he’s looking forward to this. 

you’re a sweet enough girl. you wear denim miniskirts and baggy floral t-shirts, and your face is almost always bare, save for a few coats of mascara on your eyelashes and the occasional touch of lip gloss to make your features pop. you work in the flower shop across the street, and the only way geto can describe you is cute, and definitely not the type to want such a striking design tattooed on your lower back. it’s in such an intimate position, and he can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous for the lucky fucker who gets to run their hands all over it whilst he-

“it’s not too… extreme, is it?” you bite your lip nervously. “my friends told me that i should do something out of my comfort zone, so…”

he tears his eyes away from the sheet of paper to look up at you kindly. “it’s beautiful. come this way, we’ll get started now.”

“since it’s your first time, i’ll try to take things slow.” you’re lying flat on your front on the table, skirt pulled down an inch and shirt riding up your stomach. geto stands beside you, rolling up his sleeves and donning his latex gloves before prepping the stencil. 

you have such pretty skin, he notes. beautiful and untouched, with such a pretty arch in your spine. he would’ve loved to imagine you positioned like this in different circumstances, but for now, he’s your tattoo artist and you’re his client, so his job is to make you feel as comfortable as possible. 

so, to soothe your nerves, he runs his latex-clad fingers along the arch in your spine, splaying his hands across your lower back and smiling when he feels you shiver as a disinfectant wipe comes into contact with your skin. 

“i’m just prepping the skin, and then i’ll transfer the stencil. it’ll feel a little cold at first, but hopefully it’ll help calm all those pesky nerves. does that sound alright?” you nod. “good girl.”

shit. it just slipped out, the praise, but then he notices that your muscles start to relax. you like praise. good to know, for next time. 

time seems to pass slowly as geto works his magic, plastering the stencil onto your lower back. it’s affecting him, your reactions, and when he finally reveals the potential placement of your totally out-of-character tramp stamp, he has to physically restrain himself from groaning out loud. 

the placement — it’s fucking dirty. 

geto decides to check up with you before finally starting to prep his equipment. “are you sure about this? it’s your first time, so it might hurt.” he chuckles lightly. “scrap that. it will hurt, but i’ll try to make it quick so that you feel the least amount of pain as possible.”

“i…” your voice dies in your throat when you feel his fingers trace the outline of your preeminent tattoo. “ ‘m a bit nervous. never done this before.”

“mm, i know, angel. you have such a beautiful body… i’d be honoured to mark it up some more next time.”

oh. you know (read: think) there’s no underlying intent to his words, but the way his honeyed voice purrs behind you has a stream of wetness start to build inside of you, and you try to discreetly clench your thighs to quell the dull ache in between your legs, praying that geto doesn’t notice. 

he does. if he wasn’t mistaken, this might just be your kink: being left merciless whilst someone toys with your body. he doesn’t overstep though, just teases, running his hands along your bare legs. “how about here next time? i could ink a pretty little flower on your ankle, or maybe some initials… yours, of course.”

geto rathers he mark his initials on your ankle, but again, boundaries. to stop himself from saying anything that’ll have you bolting out of the studio in a millisecond, he finally sits in his chair, picking up the needle and scooting towards you. “are you ready, sweetheart? this is going to hurt, so tell me if you want me to let up at any time.”

you won’t. he knows you won’t, because the feeling of his fingers on your skin is intoxicating for you given the way your toes begin to curl in your flats as he steadies his hands on your lower back. “relax, love. it’ll hurt less.”

the needle pierces your skin, ink blooming as geto begins his work. the feeling… it’s strange, given the fact that it’s quite literally repeated pinpricks on your back. but it feels strangely good paired with geto’s hands on your back, and his smooth voice praising you all the way through. 

“oh, you’re doing such a good job for your first time, love. i’ve never seen anyone react so well.”

“does it feel alright? wouldn’t want to cause any harm to this precious body of yours.”

“i’m almost finished. you’ve been such a good client, i wouldn’t mind inking you again.”

all of it goes straight to your head, and the pain of the needle is replaced with instant euphoria as your mind fills with lewd images of geto fucking you in this exact position, hands on your lower back in the same way as he eases inside of you. and his voice, good lord, his voice… he would totally talk you through it, his rich grumble echoing in your ear as he guides you to orgasm. 

“you’re taking it so well, aren’t you, baby? that’s my good girl.”

“fuck yes, angel, just like that… oh, you’re so damn perfect.”

“you’re close? cum for me, baby. need to feel you, atta girl…”

before you know it, a moan slips from your lips, and you immediately dread geto’s reaction. 

“did you just…?”

your cheeks are on fire. “n-no! sorry, it hurt a little bit there. i should be fine though, you can keep going.” 

he quirks an eyebrow. “well then, the fault is mine entirely. allow me to make it up to you? i’d feel horrible for hurting you, after all.”

your slight nod is all he needs and suddenly he’s finishing up and wrapping your tramp stamp before prying your thighs apart and slipping his latex-clad fingers into your dripping panties. 

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[daceydeath]

After Party

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Word Count: 0.7K Genre: Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities, Swearing, Alcohol

A/N: This is literally come from seeing Hyunjin be too damn fine at the Versace show I have no excuse other than it's his own fault.

You had seen him at the show, his beauty accentuated by the sultry unbuttoned silk shirt and thin black choker but avoided him, sitting far from him you had managed to stay mostly out of his sight as he mingled and participated in interviews after the show. Now changed into a less structured dress you hoped that you would have the same luck at the party you were now stepping into. The drinks flowing and the music loud you were able to see glimpses of him as he danced his red leather trench flashing brightly as he moved. But as you drank and laughed your caution dropped you found yourself exactly where he wanted you to be. Your back pressed against a door you dress hitched up around your waist as his hands wandered across your burning skin.

“Hyunjin, we need to stop” you breathed, the warning lacking any conviction as you continued to kiss his lips between words. “You know we can’t”.

“Is that really what you want darling?” he smirked, kissing you deeply as swallowing the small gasp you let escape your throat. His fingers moved your underwear aside to let his fingers trace your damp folds. “You still can’t just admit you are mine and not his”.

His coat had been dropped to the floor somewhere behind him he had let go of it the moment he had cornered you in the empty room, now with his black trousers undone enough to get them halfway down his thighs he roughly sheathed himself inside you you eyes opening wide as you silently cried out his hips not stopping to give you even a second to adjust before he began thrusting into you with harsh desperation.

"Hyunie" you whined brokenly, your breath being punched out of you with each movement of his cock. "Please, I can’t…". 

"Tell me to stop then" He strained his voice thin "Tell me you don't want my cock so deep inside you, you will never forget how it feels". You clenched and moaned, your head falling back against the door, your brain starting to fog with pleasure too much to even comprehend how to speak.

"Ah... Ngh... Hyunjin" you breathed unable to make a sentence of even two words while his lips and tongue work on your neck nipping and sucking lightly at your flesh. “Please, more”.

"That's what I thought, you will always be mine darling" he uttered sensually moving his lips to mesh with yours, his tongue licking into your mouth which you were so willing to allow. Feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix was sending red hot tendrils of pleasure through your body forcing you to pull him in closer with your leg that had remained tightly wrapped around his hip when he had placed it earlier.

"Fuck I need you so bad" Hyunjin groaned against your lips "Need to fill you, breed you, own you". His words were making you spiral the already insane level of pleasure from his perfect length pounding into you was sending you hurtling toward your high. Your thighs twitched and your eyes blurred with unshed tears until finally you broke, cuming so hard around him that his hips stuttered as your walls fluttered and gripped him so tightly you thought you might pass out.

"Hyunnie... Fuck Hyunnie" you sobbed feeling him resuming his previous pace each time he pressed into you the dull ache that followed him making you squirm in his grip.

"Relax darling I got you" he soothed his heavy panting against you neck slowing the speed of his hips and letting you breathe your vision is hazy now white dots appearing around the edges of the room but Hyunjin just kisses you again his lips soft and comforting contrasting in the best way to how he's pounding into your sopping cunt. "Only mine darling, only ever mine".

Each word leaving you shivering and gasping as you cum again only this time after a few more thrust Hyunjin follows you filling you with his hot seed as he presses himself as deep as he can inside your quaking walls.

"Hyunnie I..." You whisper, unable to trust your voice to come out properly.

"I know darling, I love you too. I always will" he smiles against your lips before kissing them sweetly.

a/n: Thank you for reading my loves you support, likes, reblogs and comments are my greatest encouragements and I appreciate you endlessly for them.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[mononijikayu]

i have love and dreams too — gojo satoru.

Yuji looked down at his hands, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Do you really think… you can never have that life you want?” Satoru didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his silver hair. For a moment, he was just Satoru—not the strongest, not the invincible sorcerer, but a man burdened by the life he had to lead. “I don’t know, Yuji……” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But I like to dream that maybe, someday… we could all disappear. And live. Just live.  Just me, my wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… away from everything. Living in peace.”

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 271 of jjk (spoilers at your behest), 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: 6.8k words.

NOTE: i rush wrote this at uni, at the restaurant i was at and then a car on the way back and forth from uni and home. i just started crying profusely because i hated how jjk ended. and i hated that panel with satoru and yuji because i just kept crying. i cant believe this is the end, but i cant believe even more that this is what satoru had to deal with. this is the most rushed end and the saddest end.

i wish gege had decided to take a break and decided to take his time. but alas this is not my story. still, id like to make more for satoru. ones where he'd be so loved. genmei (you) and satoru will always be happy in whatever life you have, that i write. for bitter or for worse. even in death. smiling is all there will be. even with tears.

anyway, i hope you bear with me, for i am very emotional. thank you for understanding this situation. i love you all, i'll see you soon <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

GOJO SATORU IS EXHAUSTED. But he thinks that there is no use to sleep. He knows he cannot. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, the light too dim to chase away the shadows that lingered in every corner, just like the uncertainty that hung between you and Satoru.

He sat across from you on the edge of the bed, his usual carefree demeanor gone, replaced by a solemn stillness that felt out of place on him. His eyes, usually so vibrant and mischievous, were tired tonight, the weight of tomorrow pulling down his every breath.

"You don’t have to do this." Your voice came out in a whisper, the words heavy with a desperation you’d been trying to suppress.

Satoru didn’t answer right away. His gaze was locked on the floor, and for a moment, you wondered if he was even listening. But then he looked up, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours, and there was something in them you rarely saw—fear.

"It’s not like I have a choice," he murmured, his voice strained. "You know that."

You did. And that made it worse. He was the strongest, after all. If anyone had to stand against Sukuna, it was him. But the weight of those expectations had never felt heavier than it did now, with the reality of the fight looming closer with every passing second.

"I hate this, Satoru." you confessed, your voice trembling. "I hate that it always comes down to you, that you’re the one who has to bear this."

Satoru smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stood and crossed the small space between you, kneeling in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. His touch was warm, grounding, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside you.

"Hey." he said softly, lifting your chin so you’d look at him. "I know it’s not fair. But it’s what I have to do."

You shook your head, biting back the tears that threatened to spill. "But what if—" The words caught in your throat, the question too painful to finish.

Satoru’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. "Don’t think about that," he whispered, his voice as soft as the night air outside. "Not tonight."

"But how can I not?" you shot back, your frustration breaking through. "How can I pretend that everything will be fine when I know you’re going to face him? When I know there’s a chance that—"

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips gentle but firm, grounding you in the present, in this moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"I’ll come back to you," he promised, but even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice. “To you and Satoshi. And… I’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki back. We’ll be a family again, like we used to be.”

It was the way he said it—so sure, so certain—that made it all the more unbearable. As if speaking it aloud would somehow make it true, would make the universe bend to his will the same way he bent the forces of space and time. But you knew better now, didn’t you? You’ve always known. Satoru Gojo, the man who was too powerful to fail, too stubborn to admit defeat, could never stop lying—not to you, not to himself. He believed in his own invincibility, as if his strength alone could rewrite the world.

But the world doesn’t work that way.

And you think then, that your husband has always been a liar.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard those words, promises wrapped in silk and carelessness, the way they tumbled off his tongue so casually. It was as though the act of saying it was enough for him, as though the truth could be commanded with just his voice. And maybe for a long time, it was.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could bend the world to his whims and yet still—he was human. And humans lie. Sometimes because they have to, sometimes because the lie feels better than the truth.

But tonight, in the quiet hours before dawn, the weight of his words pressed down harder than ever. We’ll be a family again, like we used to be. You wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him stop speaking as if the world was something he could fix with his bare hands. Megumi was gone, taken by darkness, by fate, and Tsumiki…Tsumiki was as good as lost to you both. Even if Satoru came back, even if he somehow survived this fight with Sukuna, the cracks in your family couldn’t simply be patched over like they had never existed.

You bit your lip, tasting the bitterness of unshed tears.

"You always say that," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft hum of the night. "But you don’t know this time, do you?"

His gaze faltered, the usual gleam in his eyes dimming for a fraction of a second. It was a flicker of something too vulnerable, too raw—something he rarely let anyone see. It was the truth that lingered behind his endless bravado, the truth that no amount of strength could hide: he didn’t know if he could win this time.

And you had known it all along.

Satoru had always come back to you. Bruised, battered, bleeding—but alive. He would stumble through the door with that infuriating grin, wipe the blood off his face with the back of his hand, and act like nothing had ever been in doubt. But this time was different. This wasn’t just another battle against curses or enemies who fell beneath his overwhelming strength. This was Sukuna.

"I’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki back," he had said, as if they were just lost children in the woods, waiting for him to lead them home. But Megumi had slipped beyond reach, swallowed by the very darkness Satoru had spent his life fighting. How could he promise to bring him back when he could barely keep the pieces of himself together?

"You can’t save everyone, Satoru," you whispered, your heart breaking as you said it aloud, the truth as bitter as the lie was sweet. "Not even with all your power."

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost too strong, as if holding onto you could somehow anchor him to the world, to the promise he so desperately wanted to believe. "I have to try," he murmured, his voice rough, as if the words themselves were painful to speak. "For you. For Satoshi. For them."

Satoshi. Your son. His name hung in the air like a thread between you, a fragile tether that held what little remained of your family together. You could see it in Satoru’s eyes—the fear of leaving his child without a father, the guilt of not being able to protect him from the storm that loomed over your lives. But you also saw the lie there, the same lie he told every time he went to war. The lie that he would come back unscathed, that he could shield all of you from the world’s cruelty just by being who he was.

But he couldn’t. Not this time.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice breaking. "You don’t have to be everything for us. You don’t have to be invincible."

His eyes softened, and for a moment, just a moment, the mask slipped. He let you see the man beneath the legend, the man who was just as terrified as you were. "I’m not invincible," he admitted, the words barely audible. "But I can’t give up on them. I can’t give up on us."

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Even in his most vulnerable moments, even when the odds were impossibly stacked against him, Satoru Gojo refused to let go of hope. He clung to it as fiercely as he clung to you, because to do anything less would mean admitting that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t strong enough.

And in that moment, you realized something: it wasn’t that your husband was a liar. It was that he couldn’t afford to tell the truth, because if he did, the weight of it might break him.

So, you let him hold onto his lie, let him believe in a future where you, Satoshi, Megumi, and Tsumiki could all be together again. Maybe it was kinder that way. For both of you.

As the night stretched on and the inevitable dawn crept closer, you pressed your face against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For now, that was all you had—the warmth of him beside you, the sound of his heart still beating, the fragile hope that somehow, against all odds, he would come back to you.

And maybe, just maybe, the lie would come true.

“I always have, don’t I?” he added, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, that signature bravado surfacing in an attempt to reassure you. “I’ve always won the day. I’ll come back.”

Your husband’s bright eyes—those crystalline blue eyes that had seen so much, fought through so much—they betrayed him. Beneath that unwavering confidence, there was something else. Fear? Doubt? It was a crack in the façade of the invincible man you married, a truth too terrifying to speak aloud.

Your throat tightened as you met his gaze, the silence between you heavier than any words could be. He had always come back, hadn’t he? Through every impossible battle, every mission that should have left him broken or worse, he had somehow returned to you, grinning as if the world itself were a game only he knew how to win.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. The nights he returned bruised, bleeding, barely standing, those nights played in your mind like a broken record. He made light of it all, brushing off your worries with a laugh, a kiss, a flippant “I’m fine.” But those were lies too, weren’t they? Lies wrapped in love.

“Satoru,” you breathed, your voice unsteady, “you don’t have to say it.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, and that brief flicker of vulnerability nearly undid you. He pulled you closer, his hand cradling the back of your neck, his touch tender but laced with desperation. "But I will come back," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "I always do."

You wanted to believe him. You needed to. Because to imagine a world where he didn’t come back, where that promise wasn’t fulfilled, was a world too cruel to fathom. But tonight, as the shadow of Sukuna loomed larger than ever, the weight of that lie pressed down on you both. What if this time, his strength wasn’t enough?

“What if…” you started, but he silenced you with a finger pressed gently against your lips.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he whispered, though you both knew better than that. Satoru had lived his life defying fate, bending it to his will. But not even the strongest sorcerer could escape death forever.

His hand moved from your neck to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your face as if trying to memorize it, as if this moment might be his last chance. You could see the weight of the world in his eyes, the burden of being the one everyone relied on, the one expected to face the impossible—and win.

But for once, he wasn’t invincible to you. He was just a man, your husband, and for the first time, you saw the lie for what it was: his way of protecting you. Of protecting himself from the truth that this might be the one fight he couldn’t walk away from.

You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin, and in that moment, you didn’t care about lies or truths, about promises or fears. You just wanted him here, now, with you. "Then stay with me a little longer," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Satoru closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, and nodded. "I’m here," he said, pulling you into his arms, his voice a soft, almost broken promise. "I’m here."

And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, neither speaking, just holding onto each other as if by doing so, you could freeze time, stop the inevitable from coming. You memorized the feel of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his heartbeat under your palm. You clung to the moment as if it were your last.

As the night wore on, you both lay down, tangled in each other’s arms. Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did, it was fitful, haunted by the looming specter of tomorrow. You held onto him tightly, afraid that if you let go, he would disappear into the darkness, never to return.

In the early hours before dawn, Satoru stirred, his arms tightening around you one last time. The weight of the night clung to both of you, thick and heavy, the silence between his breaths and your heart beats a fragile barrier against the coming storm.

You felt him shift beside you, his warmth pulling you closer, as if holding you tighter could keep the inevitable at bay for just a moment longer. His fingers traced gentle circles on your back, his touch familiar, grounding, but laced with an unspoken tension.

"I’ll be back, hm?" he whispered again, the words soft and lingering in the stillness. His voice, usually so sure, faltered at the edges, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to comfort you.

He said it like a prayer, like repeating it enough times could bend fate, twist reality to make it true. But you knew better. You both did. Those words, though meant to soothe, carried the weight of all the times you’d heard them before, and the growing fear that this time might be different.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The knot in your throat tightened, a lump of unspoken fears and uncried tears. There was too much to say, too much that couldn’t be put into words without breaking whatever fragile hope remained between you. If you spoke now, you might lose whatever composure you had left, and you needed to hold on to it, if only for his sake.

Instead, you pressed your face against his chest, your ear resting just above his heart. The steady, rhythmic beating echoed through your body, its cadence familiar and reassuring, a sound that had become synonymous with home.

It was the same heartbeat you’d fallen asleep to countless nights, the one you’d clung to after long missions, when he’d returned battered but smiling, and you’d held him just like this—like he was your anchor to the world.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t just seeking comfort; you were memorizing it. The sound, the feel of his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, the warmth of his skin against yours. You were committing it all to memory, engraving it deep into your soul because, somewhere in the back of your mind, a quiet voice whispered that this might be the last time.

Each beat of his heart became a marker, a reminder of the moments you had shared, of all the laughter and love and quiet nights like this one. But now, it also carried the weight of what could be lost. The inevitability of tomorrow pressed against your chest, suffocating, as if time itself was slipping through your fingers.

You tighten your grip around him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, unwilling to let go, even as the sky outside began to lighten with the first traces of dawn. The sun was rising, and with it, the time for him to leave drew nearer.

Satoru’s hand moved to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently, soothingly. He kissed the top of your head, and though his touch was as tender as ever, there was a lingering sadness in it. He held you like he was trying to memorize you, too, like this was as much for him as it was for you. He didn’t say anything more, perhaps because he knew that no words would ease the ache that had settled between you, a chasm neither of you could cross.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room, you felt him shift again, his breath hitching slightly as he prepared to rise. You wanted to beg him to stay, to forget about everything else, just for today. But you knew he couldn’t, and you wouldn’t ask that of him. He had a duty, a burden that he had carried for as long as you had known him. And no matter how much you wanted to keep him safe, you couldn’t shield him from what was coming.

When he finally moved to leave, your arms loosened around him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go completely. Not yet. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than he needed to, as if he, too, was trying to hold on to this last fragment of peace before it was shattered.

“I’ll be back.” he whispered once more, his breath warm against your skin.

This time, you didn’t respond because you couldn’t. Instead, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat linger in your memory, holding onto it as tightly as you held onto him. The door would close behind him soon, and with it, he would walk into the fight of his life, a battle that you both knew could be his last. But for now, in this fleeting moment before dawn, you let yourself believe in the lie, because the truth was too painful to bear.

And when he finally left, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone in the silence, the echo of his promise lingering in the air, fragile and fleeting.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHY, BUT HE JUST FELT LIKE TALKING. Quite unlike him, if he was being honest with himself.  But as Gojo Satoru sat beside Itadori Yuji, all he could think about was peace of mind. And to do that, he thinks he should talk.

Gojo Satoru could feel his usual smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, though today it felt more subdued. They had been talking for a while now, their conversation meandering from one thing to another. But beneath Satoru’s lighthearted tone, Yuji sensed something deeper. Something weighed heavy on his teacher’s mind.

“When something happens, I want you to be there for me, Yuji.” Satoru said suddenly, his eyes staring ahead. His voice was soft, but not weak—it carried the strength of someone who had lived with the knowledge that he had to bear the world on his shoulders. “I have love and dreams too, you know.”

Yuji blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in Satoru’s words. He wasn’t used to hearing his sensei talk like this, with a depth that seemed so different from his usual carefree attitude.

Satoru glanced at Yuji, his smile widening slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you know, one day, everyone will grow up and leave me behind, right?”

Yuji didn’t know how to respond. The idea of leaving Satoru behind felt impossible. But Satoru’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his loneliness. It was a rare glimpse into the mind of the man everyone thought was invincible.

“I have high hopes for you.” Satoru continued, his voice becoming more playful, but there was something fragile beneath the surface. “Desire and ambition!”

“I could never forget you.” Yuji said as he smiled nervously, trying to deflect the seriousness with humor, though it didn’t quite land. 

Satoru sighed. “I honestly think it’s better to have someone stronger than me who can truly forget my existence.”

“Isn’t that a bit concerning, Sensei?” Yuji asked after a moment, tilting his head. “Are you okay with that?”

Satoru’s smile softened. “Ah, you’re so young and naïve!” he said fondly, his voice carrying an almost paternal tone. “You’re brimming with confidence, aren’t you?”

The conversation lulled, and for a moment, the two sat in silence, the air between them thick with unsaid things. And then, Satoru spoke again, but this time his voice was lower, as if he were confessing something he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

“You know, Yuji…..” Satoru began, his gaze distant. The most emotional Yuji had seen him to be. “Sometimes I wish I could just… run away. With my beloved. My wife. Megumi, Tsumiki, and little Satoshi too. I dream about it sometimes. Hiding us away somewhere no one could find us. No more battles, no more curses… just peace. We’d be a family again.”

Yuji looked at his sensei Gojo, stunned. He had never heard his teacher speak like this before, as though the weight of being the strongest had finally worn him down. Gojo Satoru’s dream of escaping, of living a quiet life with the people he loved—it was so human. 

So far removed from the man everyone saw as untouchable, undefeatable. But at this moment, Satoru wasn’t the strongest sorcerer in the world. He was just a man who wanted to protect the people he loved. A man who longed for something simple, something real.

“That’s my dream, my love and dreams.” Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I know it’s impossible. The world needs me too much.”

Yuji’s heart ached for him. He didn’t know what to say, so instead, he simply sat there, hoping that in his silence, his sensei could feel his support.

Satoru sighed, standing up and stretching as if to shake off the heaviness of their conversation. “Anyway, enough of that.” he said, flashing his usual grin. “Let’s focus on what’s in front of us.”

But even as he spoke, Yuji couldn’t shake the feeling that, deep down, Satoru Gojo longed for something far beyond his reach.

Yuji stared at Satoru, processing the weight of his sensei's words. It was hard to imagine Satoru Gojo, the invincible sorcerer who seemed so carefree, harboring such a vulnerable wish. A man who could crush enemies with ease, someone who always had the answers—yet, here he was, confessing a dream that would never come true.

“I never thought… you’d want something like that, Sensei.” Yuji admitted quietly, his voice breaking the silence. “I guess I never really thought about what you’d want outside of all this.”

Satoru glanced at him, a softer smile playing on his lips. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? When you’re as strong as I am, no one really thinks to ask what you want. They think you don’t need anything… or anyone.”

Yuji frowned, guilt washing over him. He hadn’t meant to think that way about Gojo Satoru, but it was true. He had always seen his teacher as larger than life, almost beyond human in his ability to control any situation, to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

"But... you have them, Sensei." Yuji said slowly, searching for the right words. "Your wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, and Satoshi… They need you, don't they? Maybe you can’t run away, but you still have something, sensei. A family. Isn't that enough?”

Satoru chuckled, but the sound was hollow, lacking its usual energy. He sat back down beside Yuji, his gaze once again distant. “You’d think that, right? But the stronger you are, the more people take from you. It’s like… I’m always on borrowed time. I’m always one fight away from leaving them behind too.”

Yuji swallowed hard. He’d never thought about Satoru’s life in that way. It was a sobering realization, that even someone as powerful as Gojo was constantly battling not just external threats but the fear of losing what little he had.

“I wish I could protect them from everything.” Satoru murmured. “Just take them somewhere far away… no more battles, no more cursed energy. Just… quiet. But no matter how strong I am, I can’t do that. I can’t just… leave the world to burn while we live in peace.”

He turned to Yuji then, his icy blue eyes piercing through the air. “You know, sometimes I think I was selfish for bringing them into my world. Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… my wife. They didn’t ask for this. I chose this life for them.”

“Sensei.” Yuji started, unsure of what to say. His heart ached for Satoru. “They love you. And… they wouldn’t want to live without you, either. Even if it’s dangerous.”

Satoru’s lips twitched upward in a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, I know. But love’s a tricky thing, Yuji. It’s not enough to stop the world from trying to tear us apart. It never has been.”

Yuji nodded, not fully understanding, but feeling the gravity of Satoru’s words. There was a silence between them, but it was heavy with the weight of shared thoughts, of unspoken dreams and impossible futures.

Satoru leaned back, his hands resting behind his head. “But hey, that’s just how it goes, right? No point in dwelling on things we can’t change.”

He looked at Yuji with a bright grin, but it felt like a mask—one Yuji was starting to see through more and more. “So, enough about me. What about you? What are your dreams, Yuji?”

Yuji blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “My dreams?”

Satoru nodded. “Yeah. You must have some. Or did you think I was the only one allowed to have them?”

Yuji scratched the back of his neck, thinking for a moment. “I guess… I don’t know. I never really thought that far ahead. I’ve been so focused on everything happening now, I never gave myself the chance.”

Satoru chuckled softly. “That’s the thing with us, sorcerers. We get so caught up in fighting for today, we forget to dream about tomorrow.”

Yuji looked down at his hands, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Do you really think… you can never have that life you want?”

Satoru didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his silver hair. For a moment, he was just Satoru—not the strongest, not the invincible sorcerer, but a man burdened by the life he had to lead.

“I don’t know, Yuji……” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But I like to dream that maybe, someday… we could all disappear. And live. Just live.  Just me, my wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… away from everything. Living in peace.”

His voice trailed off, and Yuji could hear the longing in it. The truth was, Satoru Gojo might be the strongest sorcerer alive, but even he was bound by the same rules as everyone else. He couldn’t run from the world, couldn’t hide from the battles he had to fight.

But it didn’t stop him from dreaming.

Yuji looked at him with a new understanding, realizing that no matter how strong someone was, they still carried their own struggles, their own wishes and dreams. And sometimes, those dreams were just as fragile as anyone else's.

"Maybe one day, sensei." Yuji said softly, with an honest smile. "You won't have to fight anymore."

Satoru chuckled, opening one eye to glance at Yuji. "Maybe. But until then, we keep going."

And with that, the conversation ended, but the weight of it lingered between them—a reminder that even the strongest had dreams they longed to chase, even if those dreams were just out of reach.

YOU THINK YOU WAITED FOR THIS MOMENT FOR A LONG TIME. When you wait for your eyes to close with finality, the weight of the years presses down on you, a quiet fatigue settling into your bones. You’re tired—so tired—and when you open them again, you're met with the familiar sight of Fushiguro Megumi and Gojo Satoshi. Your two sons, waiting for you to go and leave them. 

Megumi stands tall, his arms crossed as usual, but his gaze softens when he sees you. Satoshi, ever his opposite, smiles that wide, carefree grin of his. They both look at you, concern etched into their features.

"I'm exhausted." you tell them softly, the words slipping out like a confession you’ve been holding in for far too long.

“You can’t die yet, Mother......" Satoshi pipes up, his voice steady, but the cracks of fear were unmistakable. His usual bright demeanor falters, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he grips the hem of his shirt. His voice may be steady, but his eyes betray him—glossed with unshed tears, reflecting a grief he’s not ready to face. Not now. Not yet. 

“You’re still too young!” There’s urgency in his words, a childlike plea echoing in his tone, though he’s long since grown past childhood. The way his shoulders hunch forward, the way his gaze darts between you and Megumi—he’s holding on. Clutching to hope as if his words could anchor you to this world a little longer. 

Megumi stands beside him, more composed, but his silence carries a weight just as heavy. He nods, his expression solemn. “He’s right, Gen-san.” Megumi adds quietly.

His voice is low, restrained, as though he’s struggling to hold back everything he truly wants to say. His hands remain tucked in his pockets, his face as unreadable as ever, but his eyes—the eyes you’ve known for so many years—hold a flicker of something deeper. Desperation? Fear? Perhaps both.

"You’re only 48. You still have time left."

His words are careful, deliberate, each one carrying the weight of someone who’s had to shoulder too much responsibility, too much loss. The faint tremor in his voice betrays how much he’s already bracing himself for another wound, another absence he’ll have to carry.

You look at them both—Satoshi, who still clings to hope as though it could somehow rewrite fate, and Megumi, whose quiet strength has always shielded him from the full brunt of the pain—but not this time. They both stand there, torn between urging you to stay and accepting the inevitable.

But you smile at them, a soft, knowing smile that carries the weight of the years, the joy and the sorrow, the love and the loss. It's a smile that’s lived through the ache of life without Satoru, a smile that remembers every laugh, every argument, every stolen glance, and every moment that felt too brief. 

“I know, I know......” you say, your voice gentle, steady. There’s a peace in your tone that they don’t yet understand, a quiet acceptance that fills the space between you. “But I’m ready. I’ve missed Satoru... for so long.”

And in that moment, as you say his name, the air feels lighter, as if the years of separation, the longing, the silent ache in your chest begins to unravel. You missed him—not just in fleeting moments or in passing thoughts, but in the depths of your soul. Every day, every night. The space he left behind has been a constant companion, a reminder of what once was and what could never be again.

The tears in Satoshi’s eyes finally spill over, and Megumi’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening, but neither of them say anything. They understand, even if they don’t want to.

Because love—true, enduring love—is something that even death can’t diminish. And they know you loved Satoru with all that you were, and perhaps, even now, they understand that your heart has been waiting for him all along.

The weight in your chest lightens as you speak his name. Megumi frowns but doesn't say anything more, and Satoshi’s smile falters, understanding settling into their eyes. 

You close your eyes once again, the world fading into a peaceful darkness. There's a brief moment of silence, a quiet passing, before a familiar voice echoes softly, teasingly:

“Did you miss me?”

Tears well up before you even open your eyes. You don’t need to see him to know it’s him. The voice, that unmistakable voice—playful, laced with all the love and mischief you’d missed for too long.

When your eyes flutter open, there he is—Satoru, standing before you, that brilliant smile lighting up his face. The tears fall freely now, but for the first time in years, they're not from

“Satoru......” you breathe, his name barely a whisper on your lips, as though speaking it aloud might break the fragile moment. Your voice catches in your throat, a mix of disbelief, relief, and the sorrow that’s lived inside you for far too long.

It’s a name you’ve spoken to the silence of empty rooms, whispered into the night when no one was there to hear, a name tied to a thousand memories you’ve held onto so tightly for all these years. 

The tears that have welled up in your eyes begin to spill over, blurring the figure before you, but you don’t need to see him to know it’s him. You feel him—his presence, his warmth, the way his energy fills the space around you like it always did. 

He steps closer, closing the distance between you in a way that feels like the erasure of all those agonizing years of separation. His familiar warmth envelops you, wrapping around you like an embrace you’ve longed for, like a homecoming after a journey that has lasted far too long.

The brush of his thumb against your cheek is achingly gentle, tender as he wipes away the tears that won’t stop falling. His touch, so familiar, yet so missed, sends a wave of emotions crashing over you—grief for the years you lost, joy for the moment you never thought you’d have again.

"You came back to me, finally." His voice is quieter now, the usual teasing that you had come to know so well is gone, replaced by something deeper—something raw and vulnerable, a depth of emotion he often hid beneath his bravado.

There’s relief in his words, but also a quiet sorrow, as if he too felt the weight of all the time you’d spent apart. As if he too had been waiting, missing you just as much as you had missed him.

His breath is warm against your skin, and you hear the slight tremor in his voice, that hint of fragility in the man who always seemed invincible to you. There’s a vulnerability in him now, standing before you, as though he’s afraid this moment might not be real. Afraid that if he holds you too tightly, you might slip away again.

His thumb continues to trace gentle patterns along your cheek, the rhythm of it soothing and familiar, grounding you in the reality that he’s truly here. And as he looks at you, his bright blue eyes softer now, there’s a depth to them that speaks to all the words left unsaid, to all the years spent in separation, to the weight of the grief he carried alone.

"I waited and waited, stalling some gods....." he continues, his voice just above a whisper now, the teasing facade stripped away, leaving only the rawness of his feelings. "I waited so long, and every day… I missed you."

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between you, heavy with the unspoken sorrow of time lost, of love interrupted by forces beyond your control. His hand, still cradling your face, trembles just slightly, as if even Satoru, with all his strength, couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again.

The weight of it all—of everything you endured, everything you lost—comes crashing down at once, and you let out a soft, broken sob. You feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him, holding you close like he’s afraid to ever let go. 

“I missed you too. So so much.” you whisper into his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. “I never stopped missing you, Satoru.”

You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the sorrow that’s been living inside you begins to ease. It doesn’t disappear entirely—grief never really does—but here, in Satoru’s arms, it feels lighter. It feels like, maybe, you can finally rest.

And in that moment, you realize that the exhaustion, the waiting—it was all worth it. You're home.

epilogue

The afterlife wasn’t exactly what you expected. Instead of floating through clouds or endless fields of serenity, you found yourself at what looked like an airport terminal. Before you could process how bizarre this was, you spotted them—Kaiko and Namie, both waving like maniacs from the crowd.

“Finally!” Kaiko shouts, sprinting toward you with the grace of someone who has no concept of personal space. Namie follows, beaming brightly, and within seconds, they’re both squeezing the life out of you.

“Guys, air... I need air!” you gasp, but they only hug you tighter. Kaiko plants a kiss on your cheek, and Namie loops an arm around your waist like they’ve been waiting years for this reunion.

“We missed you so much, you know?” Kaiko pouts, ignoring your protests. “The afterlife just isn’t the same without you.”

“Excuse me.” You look over Kaiko’s shoulder to see Satoru, sunglasses slightly askew, his mouth pulled into a pout that could rival a spoiled child’s. “You’re hogging my wife.”

Kaiko smirks, not even turning to look at Satoru. “Your wife? Funny, because I’m pretty sure I was her first love.” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head ever so slightly as if daring him to challenge the claim.

Satoru's eyes narrow behind his shades. “That was ages ago, you homewrecker! She married me—” he steps forward, pointing at the both of you— “not you.”

“Oh please,” Kaiko rolls her eyes. “I’ve known her longer. I laid the groundwork. I was and always will be the original concept!”

Satoru steps closer, his height towering over Kaiko but Kaiko isn’t fazed. “She chose me.”

“She settled for you, shitty eyes!” Kaiko quips, her grin widening. “There’s a difference.”

And that’s all it takes. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, and suddenly they’re in each other’s faces like squabbling children. You can barely get a word in before they start throwing insults—Kaiko jabbing at Satoru’s height, Satoru boasting about his undeniable charm.

“Guys, seriously?” You rub your temples, trying to hold back laughter. “This is ridiculous.”

Geto Suguru, ever the voice of reason (or at least the one who knows when to pick his battles), sidles up beside you with a casual smile. “Looks like some things never change.”

You grin at him, feeling a sense of ease that only Suguru can bring. “Tell me about it. Can’t believe I’m back and they’re already fighting over me.”

“Typical Satoru!” Suguru laughs. “He never could handle competition.” He offers you a knowing look, then gestures to the absurd scene in front of you. “Should we break it up?”

“Nah, let them tire themselves out.” you reply, waving a hand dismissively. “They’ll realize how stupid they’re being soon enough.”

As if on cue, Kaiko flicks Satoru in the forehead. “She loved my kisses first!”

“Oh, for—" Satoru huffs, about to lunge at Kaiko when you step in between them. “She loved mine more!”

“Oh shut up,your kisses are slimy and disgusting!”

“HUH!? You take that back!”

“Ugly frog! Bwah!” 

“Alright, enough.” You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Satoru, Kaiko, stop acting like children. I’m here for everyone, okay?”

“Everyone except Kaiko.” Satoru mutters under his breath.

Suguru chuckles beside you, giving you a side glance. “Welcome back.”

You smile, patting his shoulder. “Good to be back. I see things haven’t changed much.”

As Kaiko and Satoru continue bickering like they’re back in high school, Suguru leans over, smirking. “Should we take bets on who wins this round?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m putting my money on Namie. She’s going to step in and drag both of them away soon enough.”

And, just like clockwork, Namie swoops in, grabbing Kaiko by the arm and tugging her toward the exit, muttering about “taking this fight outside.”

Satoru watches them go, arms crossed, still pouting. He looks at you, expectant, as if waiting for reassurance.

You chuckle, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest. “Relax, Satoru. You know you’re the one I chose.”

His pout softens into a grin, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “Damn right.”

And with that, the chaos of the airport fades into the background, as you bask in the comfort of having your husband by your side—and of course, the endless entertainment of old rivals.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! My inbox is being evil again (it's trying to keep us apart!) and temporarily deleting the exact requests I want to find, so here's a copy+paste of the request I got and thank you so much anon :)

could you do a james x fem!reader where he helps her through a particularly bad panic attack and then just cuddles her and grounds her again? i get them all the time and the thought of the comfort just makes me feel better :,)

cw: modern au, panic attack

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

James knows it’d be no help to tell you how scared these attacks make him, but they do make him very scared. He imagines it’s not too different from your reasoning right now; he knows, ultimately, that you’ll be alright, but the thought doesn’t provide as much comfort as it should when he’s watching you with your breaths coming quick and short and your nails digging into your own palm like you can hurt yourself worse on the surface that whatever’s doing this to you. 

He starts there. Takes your hand and uncurls your fingers, threading them through his. 

“You’re okay,” he tells you, sitting on the coffee table with his knees touching yours. He shuts the computer on your lap, easing it out of your grip to move it away. “Take a breath, sweetheart.” 

If you can still hear him you show no sign of it. A tear forms in the corner of your eye, falling when you blink. He can feel your heartbeat jumping where the base of his palm rests over your wrist. 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

There, a slight nod. James curls towards you eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, his knees on either side of your thighs and sitting a bit taller than you while he rubs your back. He makes big, sweeping circles, hoping to lull you with the slow pattern. Tears slug down your cheeks in curved lines, his shirt collecting their damp masses. 

“It’ll pass, angel. It always does, yeah? I know it feels like it’s not going to get better, but it will. You’re doing so good. So, so good, my love.” 

Your breath wheezes slightly on the way in, evidence of your diligent efforts, and when it comes out a low, pained sound comes with it. James feels it deep in his throat. He increases his pressure on your back. 

“Is this okay?” he worries, then feels shitty. You’re hardly up for questioning right now. He tries to sound certain. “Focus on my hand, angel. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Take a big breath for me.” 

He feels you try, your little sob when it doesn’t go as deep as either of you want. 

“I can’t—” 

“You can, it’s alright. You’re already doing so much better, see? It’s going away.” 

This one is worse than some of the others James has sat through with you. It seems to take ages for your breathing to slow down, and a while after that until he feels your heart find a somewhat normal rhythm under his palm. 

He knows you’re with him, more present, when you move your legs to give him easier access to you. James adjusts eagerly, giving you a proper hug. Your crying is less stilted now. He never thought he’d be so relieved to hear you sniffle and weep on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” he sighs, holding you tight. “You did it, sweetheart.” 

“James,” you whimper. 

“I know, but you’re okay. Keep breathing nice and deep,” he reminds you, worried another one will start up. “You made it. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a while.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft, small thing. It encourages James back from you, though only far enough to see your face. One tear hangs from your bottom lashes like a dewdrop from a petal. When he kisses beneath your eye it transfers to his skin. 

“No thanks necessary.” He kisses you on your other cheek, just to make it even. “You did all the hard work yourself.” 

“Still,” you say, a bit wobbly, “thanks.” 

James frowns. He allows himself to stop rubbing that same endless circle on your back, brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “Anytime,” he tells you sincerely. 

The worst of your crying seems over, but the look you give him suggests you might start again. James likes to think of himself as a man unafraid of tears and strong emotions; he’ll let you cry all night if that’s what you need. Still, he’d prefer to avoid it. 

“How do you feel?” he asks quickly. “Do you want some water? We could go for a walk, it might help to be outside.” 

You don’t want to do either of those, but you do consent to another hug. Which, really, is a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for. 

[sierra-r-a-e]

Hyyy , love you work🩷 do you mind doing kento being a little bit mean due to frustration or maybe jealousy? Thank you 🎀

Hii, Thank you for requesting!! I’m sorry it’s so late though! 🎀

cw: jealous!nanami, orgasm denial, jealousy(obviously), hair pulling, edging, squirting

Nanami Kento was never one for being jealous, he didn’t care who you hung out with or was friends with, he trusted you.

It was when you purposefully flirted with one of his coworkers to get a rise out of him, that’s when he really gets fed up.

The two of you were attending one of his fancy work gatherings when he spotted you standing and laughing with Gojo, being casually touchy with him. He knew you were doing it on purpose because you glanced over at him, making sure he was watching.

That’s how you ended up in this position— Kento behind you, one of his hands gripping a fistful of your hair, the other pinning you hands behind your back as he pounded into you from behind.

“m’ sorry-“, you say through a moan, trying your best to speak despite the overwhelming pleasure from the pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you up onto your knees by the hold he had on your hair and wrists. “You didn’t seem to sorry when you were having a good time with Gojo, now did you?” He grunted, his mouth right near your ear as he roughly pounded into your sopping hole.

You knew you shouldn’t be getting off on his frustration and jealousy— but god, it was so hot.

The hand he he’d been using to pin your wrists behind your back now reach around to your front and to your clit, rubbing tight circles into the bud.

You knew you definitely weren’t going to last long, especially not if he kept this up. In fact, it only took a few more thrusts before you felt the familiar sensation of an impending orgasm bubbling up in your abdomen.

“Ken, m’ so close,” you warned, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, understood?” He spoke, the grip he had on your hair tightening, his hand then landed a light slap to your clit.

Your knees were beginning to weaken, but his strong arms kept you upright as he roughly thrusted his hips into you; the sound of his pelvis hitting your ass creating a lewd slapping sound that echoed through your bedroom.

“Please~”, you begged him. Hot, frustrated tears forming in the corners of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. His hand was now rubbing torturously slow circles into your sensitive nub, letting your orgasm build up, then edging you by pulling his hand away.

“You can hold on a little longer,” he grunted, his voice more gravelly than before. You could tell he was close from the way he’d twitch every time your dripping cunt clenched around him.

“I’ll let you cum if you promise to behave from now on, got it?” He said, giving a firm tug on your hair, making you moan.

“I— I promise,” you spoke, hardly able to think straight at this point. “Cum for me then, sweetheart”, he commanded, his hand now expertly rubbing at your puffy clit.

With a loud moan of his name, you came hard, this being one of the rare times you squirted all over his cock. The way your pussy convulsed around him so deliciously had him reeling.

He came almost immediately after you, his arms trapping you against his muscular body as he shivered from pleasure.

Once the two of you came down from your respective highs, he spoke, “You know I know that you flirted with Gojo on purpose just to make me jealous, right?”

As always, he had managed to see right through you and your little schemes.

a/n:

yall i have had a rough month. first of all im in the marching band so that takes up a lot of my time, and the free time i do have, i spend it sleeping.

second of all, people threatened to shoot up my school twice like why are they going for colleges now 💀

anyways i’m sorry this has been sitting in my drafts(unfinished) for an entire month. i hope you like it, im currently exhausted as im writing this so it’s not my best work

anyways thank you so much for reading!!

[divider credits: @/anitalenia]

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 11)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship (everyone is an adult).

-

It was Suguru’s lips colliding with his that brought him out of that toxic trance, Suguru used his last weapon, the most lethal he had. Gojo melted against him, unable to hold that track of selfish thoughts, instead giving all his attention to his husband's lips, his hand ended up sliding from the knob and Geto smiled against his mouth, pecking those pouting lips a couple of times before smashing a hard kiss on his forehead and sending him a disapproving look. The white-haired man shrugged like a scolded child. He almost ruined it... almost.

“I’m not sure if we are there yet, Gumi…” You mewled timidly. But he needed to fight for his right to have you, Megumi was burning to be yours, literally burning, he could not think straight anymore, you were all he thought about nowadays, you and him, just that. 

You'd only been together for a two month, and you hadn't been intimate yet, maybe some fooling around, here and there, some make out and touching— you'd jerked him off and he'd fingered your pussy after a stressful mission but that was as far as you two had gone... you couldn't find it in you to end the transaction, not when you were terrified of confusing his name with one of his parents. Not when Gojo and Geto had given you an ultimatum. Not when even now they were likely listening in from the other side of the door, if you judged by the shadows you had seen under the door, discreet enough to go unnoticed by your distracted boyfriend who prioritized his attention on you, but undoubtedly blatantly indiscreet enough for you to know and strive to keep your promise.

Nor Gojo nor Geto had been happy about your new relationship with their son but when you explained Sukuna's sudden appearance and your inability to go any other way, they understood, reluctantly… but they understood.

"Not under our roof." Suguru had spat severely, "NEVER under our roof, (Y/N) ... or I'm not responsible for my actions." With that, he spined on his heels with more sharpness that it was necessary and walked away to smoke a cigarette in solitude. His silhouette, the clear posture of an annoyed, irritated and highly conflicted, man.

Leaving behind a very guilty sorceress and a very shaken husband. You sucked in a shaky breath and the lone tear that ebbed the corner of your eye was quickly whipped away before it could even roll down your cheek. 

"Oh, my sweet pup, don’t cry,” Gojo spelled sweetly, burying you in a bear hug “this is all my fault, I should never have—”

“Don’t!” you squealed, “don’t even think about it. I wanted to!... I still DO.”

You felt his lips press a kiss on the crown of your head, to then hear the sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he chuckled, “I feel lighter already. Thank you.”

You opted to stay inside his warmness, the silence was comfortable, nevertheless, was also brief.

“I know you didn't have a choice and the last thing I want is for you to hurt Megumi," Gojo wanted the best for his son, but also for himself. He wanted you so bad, it physically hurt him. His knuckles sliding down the softness of your cheek, slowly, so slowly, felt more like if he was sewing the texture of your skin to his brain. That blue, shiny gaze firm on yours. Searching your stare insistently. Stare that refused to meet his, out of embarrassment. 

"Look at me, (Y/N).” Gojo demanded in a calm tone which quickly grew sharp. “You owe me that much-"

"Y-You have no idea how hard this is for me as well!"

Your outburst was cancelled by his arm getting tighter around you, burying you deeper into his chest, your nose dug hard against his shirt to inhale his fragrance, smelling Gojo always calmed you down, it was one of his many gifts. He smelled safe, if that was even possible, everything about Gojo Satoru made you feel safe. You melted on him, and he smiled against your hair.

"You miss us?" It wasn’t a question, it sounded like one, but it wasn’t.

Your head nodded against his broad chest, and his hug tightened even more. Tight, so tight it should hurt but it didn’t. Gojo’s fingers began to make circles on your back. Massaging the tension away with tender motions, melting the anguish in you with his tireless compression.

"We miss you so damn much, that's why Suguru is so-" his eyes shifted to the aforementioned, who was already on his third cigarette, "-is so upset."

"With me?"

You felt how deep his sigh were, when his chest rose against your cheek.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't know how to be upset with Megumi, pretty. He adores him way too much-…So, you'll have to put up with his bad mood for a while," he laughed but not the merry sound you loved. Then, he kissed each request against your forehead, soft and warm kisses filled with tender pleading, "...please, please don't judge him for his behavior. Suguru isn't good at sharing-"

Your head whipped up to look at him, and he chuckled. "He's not good at sharing with anyone but me."

You giggled, returning to your original position. No! a little close, if that was possible. "Now what?" your lips asked, afraid of the answer.

"We’ll figure it out and while we do it..." Gojo felt conflicted, even so, there was one thing he already knew he wanted from you. Warm palms dug thick thumbs under the curve of your jaw to help him tilt your head up for some needed eye contact. Once your eyes met, Gojo’s understanding look faded away and his reverent grin turned icy "...don't let Megumi fuck you." All tenderness melted away, and he repeated, "... promise me, (Y/N), you won't sleep with him until we know how to handle this."

You promised.

"I'm afraid that's NOT enough." 

It startled you. Suguru Geto, standing behind you, he dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and step on it, those onyx orbs he called eyes, black and devoid of any kind emotion, were kinda shocking but what shocked you the most was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Let's do a binding bow-"

"Suguru—" 

Gojo started but was quickly stopped by his husband with hard squeeze to his shoulder, it carried a hidden message, something only Gojo could appreciate: ‘let me be the irrational for once’- Gojo fell silent. 

“I already promised to-”

Geto denying his head cut you short.

"It doesn't really make any difference-…but the binding bow, that will actually make you keep your promise."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Suguru?" It was easy to detect the touch of indignation in your voice. Abruptly, you pulled yourself out of Gojo's arms to stare at Suguru with a hint of defiance. "Don't you-"

"I'm not going to let Megumi get hurt, DAMN IT!" The special grade sorcerer bellowed, rushing to you until were face to face. “Over my death body,” he threatened, your mouth scrunched up, a complaint about to come out before being cut off by him. “No, it’s not what you think either,” Geto added, quickly. “I don’t plan on losing you either. You are not going anywhere…”

You had never seen him so visceral, so emotional. Gojo was the creature full of fragile feelings, not Suguru, but apparently you had gotten under his skin, deeper than he had even anticipated. 

“You are mine-...Ours,” he corrected and Gojo chuckled, shaking his head, amused “...if you and Megumi start getting intimate it will only complicate everything.” The raven-haired insisted, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you closer to him, “the binding bow will prevent this.”

“How? I don’t see how-”

“Just grant me this, (Y/N).” He pleaded, grabbing you by the forearms, desperate, crazed, "...I'm dying here, just grant me this, I trust you...but even though I love my Megumi more than my own life," now, you felt your cheeks being wrap in his warm, big hands, "I don't trust him, at least not with you. I know how he feels and after all, he is our son."

Suguru didn't have to explain any further, Gojo supported him, and you ended up, accepting. How right he was, how much Megumi resembled his adoptive parents. Because right now, he refused to accept a negative.

"Is that a, no? you don’t want us to—” he asked, a taciturn emotion kidnapping his features, and the hurt in his eyes made you feel sick to your stomach, you were weak for this entire family, to some more than other, even so, they all have a part of your heart.  

“I do-”

“You do?”

Megumi's eyes sparkled, filled with renewed hope and his parents felt a lump in their throats. Fushiguro climbed on top of you, slow and cat-like, you crawled back until your head hit the headboard of his bed and he laughed amused, excited, hands equally excited sliding down the length of your legs, you could almost hear him purr.

If there was one thing you loved about him, it was the difference that did exist between him and his parents. His shy essence was unbreakable, making him a tender and dedicated creature even in movements predestined to be abrupt. He accommodated you under him prioritizing your comfort over his own, he would have to put more tension on his body, but it was worth it if you were happy.

"Gumi-" you mewled, and he swallowed your next complaint with thirsty lips and slippery tongue. "Just let me show you, (Y/N)," you heard him mumble against your neck, "I know I can also make you happy."

Also?... you didn't dare to delve into that comment, it sounded too desperate, coming from a place deep inside Megumi, a secret and intimate place.

It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to Gojo and Geto, like a bullet going through their selfish hearts, really, they wouldn't give this pleasure to Megumi? Were they really that self-absorbed? They both turned to look at each other and after a few seconds, you saw the shadow under the door disappear completely.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette asked when he noticed you distracted, and you shook your head. Yes, there was a problem, but it wasn't Megumi's problem.

“Nop, babe.” 

Megumi tugged you forward-or maybe he'd lunged toward you of his own accord, he loved when you tagged him as you ‘babe’—and just like that, you were kissing with the fervor and passion of touch-starved souls all pent-up repression and stress, released in a single instant. The force of the collision, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, was deliciously bruising, enough to knock the breath out of you. 

Megumi gasped your name, smearing each syllable in saliva and praises, overly excited, wondering if only him was feeling that cord of electricity running through his veins, fiery adrenaline coursing through his body, blood pounding in his ears as a shiver ran down his spine, so powerful that he thought he might collapse on top of you.

Each effort of Megumi making you let yourself go more, letting you mind fly free, maybe too free to your own good. Your hands tangled in his hair in an instant, pulling him even closer, even harder against your lips as your excitement soaked your panties.

“…. May I have a taste, (Y/N)?”

You had half a second to entertain the request of your boyfriend, before he asked again, just sweeter. 

“One lick or two,” those were the last words you thought you'd hear coming from Megumi, "I just want to put my mouth down there for a minute, please, my love-... may I?" 

His lips quickly came in aid to his goal, eating your neck in sloppy but awfully well-planned kisses, bites and licks, a joint effort to weaken your reason. It was slowly working. Pressing back with his tongue even as a moan began to well up in his chest, “P-Please?

You squealed, a sign of your upcoming defeat. He used that weakness to pull your bodies together for an instant of pressure that sent fireworks off all across your skin. A sensation that you had only experienced with Gojo and Geto, confusing your mind with sparks of recognition, men who were not there felt present in each caress that their son executed without fail.

You surrender to his wholehearted efforts, it was too much, too vivid. Megumi had shown his claws, and they were sharp, going deep, deeper than you ever expected. Sharp in need, tearing you apart like a ragged doll. Your lips parted and the affirmative he so craved was about to pour out-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[moodymisty]

Hi! I would like to request a continuation of the alpharius (omegon) party fic, if it hasn't been requested already ofc ofc. I'd love to see them make good on their "promises". Thank you!!!

Part 1

Author's note: :3

Relationships: AlphariusOmegon/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Alpharius/reader/Omegon sandwich, Light degradation, Double penetration, Anal, Dubcon

The party has proven more entertaining than you thought it would be, much to your surprise.

High ranking officers and all other sorts of a high stature pack around primarchs and a scattered few space marines, most of which of the latter are making themselves scarce- aloof in various corners. They aren't the most talkative lot; Other than perhaps the occasional Space Wolf. A few are sitting however- like the Imperial Fist across from you.

While you have no idea his name and you'll very likely never see this man again, the way he is tearing into the food in front of him will forever sear itself into the deepest parts of your mind. He tears into the meat and veg like an hellacious, wild animal; Shoving it into his mouth like it's little more than out of the pouch nutrient paste. Sauce and meat and blood collects in the corners of his mouth, before he gives you a glance like you're the odd one at this banquet table.

It is... A sight.

To watch men far smarter and stronger than any of which you could hope to be chew through meat- and what you presume was just bone judging by that crunch and the way his jaw flexed- like this is the last meal he'll ever have the luxury of shoving down his scientifically designed astartes pre-stomach.

"Are you at least paying attention?"

You turn away from the mess of a man across from you, who has been locking eyes with you for a good minute now, and look up at Alpharius; He watches you with both an expectant and amused expression. You compose yourself and abandon the shock and awe, nodding to him as you adjust the way your dress lays on your thighs.

“I am.”

He smiles, effortless and composed.

“Good girl. I trust that you are.”

It’s been a long evening; Far too much talking for your liking, far too much pretending. Alpharius thrives in it- you struggle to keep up with the web of lies they've tangled around each and every primarch that you have to navigate like a bug desperately trying not to get stuck. Alpharius at times lets it slip that he believes Omegon isn't as good with these extremely front facing plays, and that is why whenever there is galas and parties and dances, you're always with Alpharius.

'I will take her.'

Alpharius is blunt, gesturing for you to come closer. You watched as Omegon curls his lip.

'You don't trust me with as simple of a task as bringing her to get her dress fitted?'

Alpharius stares down his other half and you watch caught in the middle of both of them; And in that moment you realized perhaps they aren't as good at sharing as you'd originally thought.

'You know well that all this talking is more my thing. You stay and keep our men in order.'

Omegon stared at his brother, words unsaid, before giving in for the time being and letting go of your shoulder.

When the party begins to wind down into it's conclusion, you return to The Alpha with haste once Alpharius bids his fellow primarchs goodbye and slips away into the cold and windy evening.

The short flight back to The Alpha which sat moored in Terra's atmosphere was quiet, but the entire time you could feel Alpharius' eyes on you. Whenever you looked up at him however, questioning, he gave nothing but the smallest smile.

Alpharius had liked this dress on you, he'd said; The sleeves draped over your wrists, shining almost like the scales of their armor. The skirt fell to the floor in a small pool, and only a small slit up the side revealed a bit of skin. It was one of your favorite dresses now; Delicate while matching their armor with a formal coldness.

He preferred it on the floor, however.

Tossed aside with the rest of your clothes like little more than garbage as your writhe in his lap, teasing your body as his fingers curled inside of you.

One hand taps on your bottom lip, playing with it until he pushes your chin to make your jaw go slack, and he presses his thumb against your tongue.

“You always play your part so perfectly. You are just my dumb little beloved, aren’t you?”

Alpharius smirks at your expression as your eyes dart across his face, mouth muffled by his fingers as you try to speak up in defense of yourself.

“Don't worry; I only tease,”

You hear the door open behind you, and Omegon comes in. Any attempt to move or hide the embarrassingly open position Alpharius has you in is rendered moot before it even begins. He does at least have the decency to remove his fingers from your mouth so you no longer gape stupidly like a whorish fish, however.

“Ahh, brother. You got my vox. Come join us, she's ready.”

Omegon needs no convincing and quickly comes to join you, slipping behind you to put his face into your neck. You feel the fabric of his clothing against your skin as the rough touch of his lips trails along the vein of your neck.

“Did you enjoy yourself down there?”

He says, and you can already hear the rustling as he moves to free himself from his trousers. His cock hits the small of your back- heavy and hot. It only takes him rubbing it against you a few times feeling the way his precum slicks against your skin before he already getting hard. He raises a hand to your mouth, two fingers, and roughly presses them against your lips.

“Suck.”

You have no choice but to allow them in, covering his digits in your spittle before he removes them with a wet pop.

Alpharius meanwhile can feel your palms against his chest as your cunt leaks all over his hand, clenching around his fingers as they push into that soft, sweet spot at the front of your walls.

"It went well enough."

Omegon's hands drift downward, and Alpharius notes how much tighter you get around his fingers the moment Omegon slips his fingers past the tight ring of your ass. You keen in this adorable way, gasping as he pushes past your clenching muscles.

Always his preferred; He rarely complains about not being the one in the wet heat of your puffy cunt. An amusing happenstance.

"And you?"

You swallow a knot in your throat and nod jerkily, whimpering as both of them ruthlessly tease you open wider for them. Alpharius can tell from the way you’re whining and clenching around him that you're about to cum again, pursing your lips tight. Your clit is throbbing, and there’s an ache in your stomach that feels about to explode.

"It, It was a b-bit boring, but,"

Your sentence trails off in a shiver as you finally cum and choke on your words, a noise that Alpharius almost laughs at. Your thighs shake however, feeling him scissor his fingers inside of you even as you spasm through the aftershocks and coat his palm in your sticky release.

Nearly limp and already struggling to hold yourself up right in defense of the both of them, Alpharius decides to pick you up by the hips and ignore the way you gasp and hold on to him as the safely of the bed is left behind.

It also makes it possible for both of them to fuck you; As given your drastic difference in height, you on your knees is still not high enough for their hips to meet at your own.

Your knees hook over his arms- leaving your body dangling between the two primarchs. The lack of control makes your heart race faster, the instinctive fear of falling, but his hold on you is nothing short of suffocating as you hang pressed firmly between them exactly where they want you. You have no say in it- like you're little more than a warm toy for them to use.

Omegon goes first; Sliding his cock along your folds and feeling his shaft get coated in your juices before notching it against your ass. He slowly pushes in and listens to you whine, gasping as your hands desperately reach for something to hold on to as his cockhead pops past your tight entrance. You settle on trying to grip Omegon's arms, squeaking as he reaches almost halfway inside of you and his cock starts burying its way deeper. When he’s halfway it feels like too much, it always does, and you whimper pleading for mercy you know he won’t give.

"O-Omegon, p-please,"

Your throat catches on your words as he's almost bottomed out inside of you, the fat base of his cock pushing your to your absolute limit. Your grimace, feeling him heavy in your gut. You feel his balls press against your ass and you know he’s full buried to the hilt, your body shivering as your body tries to clench around the intrusion.

You barely have time to breathe- not that you have much room to do so in the small space between them- as Alpharius slides his cockhead through your folds before prodding your entrance, watching you whimper before he pushes and easily slips inside your dripping hole. The moment his cock starts stretching you even wider than his fingers did you squeal, and Alpharius delights at being the one to be able to see as your eyes widen and threaten to roll back in your head.

There's barely any room in your pelvis as he pushes deeper, feeling how much tighter your cunt is with Omegon already buried in you. You thrash, hips twitching as he pushes and pushes and pushes deeper until the tip of his cock snugly fits in the tight space just against your cervix. You tighten around him, feeling the stretch of your muscles struggling to try and accommodate.

Omegon eagerly follows your writhing movements, the slight bit of friction making his cock twitch inside of you as his hips instinctually want to thrust into you.

With both of them fully sheathed inside of you words are lost on you, panting incoherently as your nails dig into Omegon's skin and you haplessly pant and your hips roll with no particular goal.

You can't tell if you want to beg them to stop, or if you want them to push deeper.

It’s just too fucking much.

"Too full?"

Alpharius jokes, listening to you hiccup as tears threaten to break your waterline.

The twins don't normally do this often; They rarely are in the same place for long, and sometimes, one of them just wants you all to himself. Omegon in particular has less time with you, and often wants to have you all to himself.

Those times are when he's particularly beast-like.

Alpharius also likes to joke that this is only a reward. That if they always give you this much cock, you'll get greedy.

Your head lolls back against Omegon's chest, jaw slack and bottom lip loosely caught between your teeth as your face overheats like the burning fire of a kiln. Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, waterline filled with tears, moaning only their names incoherently. Alpharius controls the pace they fuck you by lowering you up and down on their cocks, and the pace he chooses is brutal. Your head lolls back and forth, chest bouncing, whimpering incoherently. You hear the salacious sounds of skin slapping skin and the wet sloshing of your soaked cunt, Alpharius whispering the filthiest of things while Omegon grunts and ruts into your ass like an animal.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to function normally after them- each time you feel like they’ve rearranged your innards to never work quite the same again.

“It seems even you aren’t meant to handle two Primarchs,”

Alpharius teases, as your lower legs bounce limply- hanging over his forearms as he fucks you. Omegon huffs hot air against your neck, leaning forward to nip at your ear and listen to the way you whine so weakly.

“Most can’t handle one.”

Alpharius hums, taking Omegon’s words into account as he slides you up and down their cocks. Your clit throbs painfully and each pulse as you tightening around them, and each time Alpharius drops you down on his cock you feel his cockhead knock against the softness right before your cervix.

“A-Alphar-Al-pharius,”

You slur his name almost drunk, stomach churning and tightening like a knot of ropes in your gut. You feel so full- too full, every time it’s like they’ve pushed you past some limit somewhere inside of you and broke you just that little bit more.

Alpharius drops you down on his cock hard and you squeal as Omegon pushes upward digging even deeper somehow, feeling your every muscle tense around him even after your ass has been bullied enough into giving up and allowing his intrusion.

“O-Omegon!”

He groans at the sound of you saying his name, his hands on your chest brushing over your skin.

You feel him cum, the raw heat of it fills your gut with an overwhelming, swollen feeling. The pressure of it finally causes you to cum again, weakly crying out and leaning back against him. Your hips squirm as much as they can in Alpharius’ firm grip, and you feel the swollen heaviness as Omegon’s cock keeps all of it inside of you. You swear you can feel each pulse and twitch as he lets out yet another string of cum into you.

Alpharius shifts a bit to continue driving his cock into you while holding you still as Omegon settles in his afterglow, thrusting his cock deeper into you. He feels the spasms of your walls as you shake, sobbing in an overwhelming amount of nearly painful sensation as Alpharius fucks you through it all.

“You really are the perfect little thing,”

He grunts out breathlessly, clearly close. You feel his balls hit your ass over and over and over and you manage to focus your eyes enough to see the light flush that has overtaken his face.

“I… I’m glad you decided to keep you.”

Alpharius finishes moments later, and you feel the heat pulsing through you as he fills your cunt. You’re so tight around his cock you can feel each pulse, listening to him groan as he fills you to the brim.

Filled with cum to an absolutely egregious degree, only once they pull their cocks from you do fat beads of cum slip out and drip down your thighs in a disgustingly erotic display. It stains the blankets below, though the thought of that isn't even close to crossing your mind.

Honestly, not much is crossing your mind at all, other than the ache in your body and the way you hang limp in Alpharius’ arms, ass and pussy both bullied open and leaking a mixture of cum, spit and your own juices. Your legs are still hooked over his forearms and dangling useless, exposed for either of them to observe their work as your cunt and ass look puffy, sore, and well used.

“You should really reconsider what I said awhile ago,” Alpharius speaks to Omegon as if he isn’t holding what once was a human but now serves as a cum stuffed fuck toy in his arms. Omegon grunts in response.

“We don’t have the time for lavish things like that-“

Alpharius rolls his eyes, watching as your head leans against Omegon’s collarbone, and each noise you let out is hoarse and sore.

“You’ll reconsider.”

[buckgasms]

Ok let's talk about Dark!Cowboy Bucky shall we......

Expect dark themes ahead y'all 🧡

Here's what I'm thinking:

He is a bounty hunter in the early days of the wild west and sadly you have a bounty out on you.

Maybe you were caught up in a crime but you are really innocent, but no one seems to care about a young woman, or the truth for that matter.

You already felt like the unluckiest person on earth, but when you overhear in a bar one night that the infamous bounty hunter Bucky Barnes is looking for a pretty little runaway, your stomach churns. And it hasn't stopped since.

🧭

Bucky hates the rain. It makes things so much harder. His horse is more grumpy and less willing to obey. People don't hang about to share tidbits of information. It's harder to get a drink.

However, it also makes his prey act silly. Especially pretty girls on the run. They aren't made for the rain. And they are so easy to spot, running across open fields in a dirty white dress, seeking shelter in a barn.

He chivves his horse onward, a wry smile on his face.

🧭

You are sitting on a bale of hay, wringing out your hair when you hear a horse approaching. Your blood runs cold as you hear the door open. You dash as quietly as you can into a dark corner and hold your breath as a man walks his horse in, talking to it gently as he guides it into a stall.

He removes his hat, gloves and shrugs off his wet coat.

"I know you're in his little darlin'"

Your eyes widen and you squeeze your arms tight to keep you from moving.

""If you come out now, it'll be easier. I'll put in a good word for ya..."

You debate it, but you can see him through a hole in the wood. And his face, however handsome, is plastered with a cruel smile. You don't believe him.

He huffs after a moment of silence. Looking around the barn, assessing how good it'll be for the night. He sits down and starts running a thin rope through his fingers.

"Gettin impatient now sweetheart... Don't like to be kept waitin..."

You shiver in the cold, your body dripping with sweat and rain. Maybe you could run out while he was distracted? You were pretty fast and you really had nothing to lose at this point.

You took a quiet, shuddering breath before dashing out from your hiding space. Despite feeling the wood of the barn door it was futile.

A tight, sharp object wrapped around your ankle and you felt the floor give way beneath you. You managed to roll over and watched as he dragged you backwards, pain tearing though your limbs as you were pulled along the floor.

"There you are" he mutters, pressing his boot onto your tummy, as he looks down at you. You suppose it would be to prevent you from fidgeting, but you are frozen in fear.

"My, my. Those wanted posters don't do you justice little darlin'. Don't quite capture that pretty face..."

You whimper as he kneels down, starting to wrap the rope around your other leg to tie you together, before looping it around your wrists.

"Please... Please sir I didn't do anything. It's a big mistake. Please...?"

He ties you off with a bow and chuckles. "Oh I know. I'm not as stupid as your neighbours, thinking a little flower like you could be involved in a bank robbery. Fuckin' dumb as hell..."

Your relief at his statement is short lived when he stands up and leaves you on the floor.

"Well then... Can't you help me? Let me go?" You wriggle and writhe, trying to keep him in your eyeline. Maybe he could be reasoned with?

He chuckles and sits himself on a bale. "Well I did think that, but there are two problems. First is that I've been chasing you for 5 days, in a storm and you've kinda pissed me off..."

You gulp, tears pricking at your eyes as he smiles at you.

"And the other problem is, now that I've gotcha, I don't think I wanna let you go."

You let out a shaky sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping as you have for many times in the past week, that this is all a dream. When you hear his boot scuff near your head you know it isn't. He kneels down next to you and takes your face gently between his hand and turns you to look at him.

"All I keep thinking is how I'm ready to retire, head up to my little cabin and have a pretty little housewife all to myself. Cook my dinners and have my babies hmm?"

Your eyes glisten as he talks, blurring vision as you begin to panic. You shake your head and mumble a weak 'no'. It makes him tut and squeeze your cheeks tighter.

"I know darlin', you're gonna fight me ain't ya? God knows you don't do anything the easy way huh? It's ok though. I'll have you convince by mornin'."

🧭

Convinced might be simplifying the situation, but by morning you are certainly not putting up a fight anymore.

Overnight as the storm raged outside he took you apart piece by piece. There was no part of your body that was now foreign to him.

He'd carefully removed your dress and kissed you all over. It was almost like a lover would. Sucking and biting gently at your soft skin, leaving marks all over you.

You shout and cry as loud as you can but he just smothers your cries with kisses. You tried to roll away, fight despite your bound state but he just chuckled and rolled you back where he wanted you.

He'd gotten very cross though when you tried to keep him from your heat. He'd had to find more rope to tie you open and spanked your heat until you were red and puffy.

"Wives aren't supposed to hide what belongs to their husbands darlin'. So don't you be hidin' from me..."

He resumed his gentler approach after, claiming your body with unexpected softness, kissing your tears away and praising you for taking him so well.

Hours passed and he barely relented. He let you rest a little, providing you with drink and a warm blanket. You slept when you could but were often woken by his lust, kisses and bites on your neck and chest.

"God you're beautiful yknow? So good for me... You gonna be my little housewife? Let me hide you away?"

He smiled wide when you nod. What else could you do?

I literally couldn't say no....

[frogs00]

Hello:) can I request Regina or Janis x reader angst fic?

Reader avoids their partner because they’re struggling with stress from schoolwork or home stuff etc and uses restriction to cope. But partner finds out and confront reader so reader hesitantly admits it to their partner and they try to help

Tears

Summary: The request but worse

Warnings: Child/Domestic abuse, reader's home life sucks, Regina and Reader have daddy issues, depressing thought, alcohol abuse. Reader's discretion is advised. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairing: Regina George x reader

"Call you on the phone, you just tell me not to go. Baby, I don't want to be alone anymore."

"What the hell is wrong with you? " Your father screamed in your ear, right in your ear, waving the piece of paper in your face, "A 'C+'? On a math test? You're pathetic, if you don't get your grades up you'll fucking regret it.”

He shoved the paper back into your arms, and you held it to your chest with shaking hands, worried about what he might mean. It wouldn’t be the first time he had threatened you. Tears dripped onto the paper and you squinted your eyes shut, trying to blink your vision into focus.

You looked up after a moment and his hand was raised, and the next thing you knew the back of his hand connected with your face.

—

Your weekend was filled with studying. You always struggled with focus and motivation, but he threatened you. Threatened to take away the only thing keeping you here. Eyes never leaving the textbook, writing notes till your hand cramped, you ground your teeth. You were drained, so drained.

Bags had formed under your eyes, and you'd hardly eaten. You dreaded Monday. You didn’t want to face anyone, and why would you? Why would they want to face you back?

It was an awakening of the rudest sort, realizing that in the end, the only person that you have is yourself. You’ve been hearing this phrase all of my life, and sure you had Regina and you had your friends. But that all just had to be temporary? Because why would Regina George want a fuck up like you?

What was the permanent? The facts.

The fact that you weren’t worthy. The statistics didn’t lie, and your last test said you were nothing but average. You tried so hard on that test, and yet you still scored average. And did you hate it? Yes, with every fiber in your being. Who wouldn’t hate the feeling? The way your father treated you and how your mother did nothing to stop it. You couldn’t blame her, he scared you, and hurt you to the point you felt unsafe in your room.

But you had to push through if you wanted to accomplish your goals, your dreams, that aching need to escape the house you were raised in.

Snap goes the pencil in your hand, you hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding it. You let go of it with a shaky hand, and the splintered piece of wood and graphite fell on the desk. Tears stained your cheek and you let your face fall into your hand.

But, oh god, was It getting to a point where you had to ask yourself if the dream had become a nightmare.

—

Monday had arrived, you were tired, so fucking tired. Still, you had to try and make that less obvious. How did you do that? Avoid. You had practically mastered the art of ducking and dodging people around you, and it’s not like you felt they’d miss you.

Or maybe you had just gaslighted yourself into thinking that because it scared you to be loved and cared for. You couldn’t handle that… it was too much. It was all too much.

You walked the hall with your eyes downcast, backpack slung rather uncomfortably on your shoulder. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want your girlfriend, lying if you said your head wasn’t pounding, and lying if anyone bothered to ask if you were okay. Sucks to suck I guess.

You had been lost in thought as you turned the corner, bumping into someone. Thankfully, or maybe so so thankfully, it was Cady, “Sorry- Oh, it’s you! Hey, y/n, I’ve hardly heard from you all day,” she laughed then proceeded to eye you skeptically, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” You responded, putting on your best fake smile. It seemed to fool her, at least a little, because she asked if you were sure, when you nodded she then bid you goodbye and skipped away. She was always so happy, it almost made you jealous.

So I guess I’m a liar now. You thought as you darted into your class. You sat down in your seat and fought the urge to nod off, it was almost comical the fact that you already knew everything this particular teacher was talking about, at least the studying paid off, even if you were facing major burnout.

Class dragged on— Honestly, everything did; From how you pulled yourself out of your chair— to how you dragged yourself through the halls. Life was a drag.

Before you knew it, the day passed in a blur, and you were on your walk home.

—

The next day wasn’t that much different from the last. A foggy haze of numbness and meaningless conversations.

Well, mostly meaningless. During the passing period, your last one of the day, you were switching out your book from your locker when your girlfriend approached you.

“Y/n…” Regina's voice was a whisper, your throat clenched. She sounded worried. You hated that she sounded worried, because if Regina George was worried about you, then that meant you couldn’t wallow in that self-pity you made your home.

“Yeah?” You asked after clearing your throat, you didn’t force a smile though. She’d tell it was fake.

“I’m worried about you, you’re quiet. Did I like…do something? Or some shit.” She asked, her tone growing a bit irritated as she reached the last part, but that was just how she was. You knew it still came from a place of worry, in fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that irritation was aimed towards herself. Just because you knew that didn’t mean it felt like it.

“No, Regina, you didn’t. I’m fine, just tired.” You shook your head, avoiding her gaze as you shut your locker. Lies, lies, and more lies. Well, you were tired, but that wasn’t just it. You and her both knew that.

“Baby, come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” Regina coaxed, her tone increasing as she spoke, making her sound angry. She was anxious, though, you could tell. Neither of you was great with emotions.

“Stop. I said I’m fine, leave it alone,” You snapped, turning your back on her, “You’re so pushy, god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of watching the ones closest to me drift away!” She snapped right back, just like you knew she would. The perfect excuse to walk away… or retort her.

“I’m not your dad, Regina. I have a couple of bad days doesn’t mean I’m going to up and leave, okay? So stop acting like this is the end of the world.” You seethed, grinding your teeth. You glanced at her just in time to see her flinch, a wave of nausea and guilt washed over you.

“Wow.” Regina scoffed, collecting herself, “That was so unnecessary. I was just worried, and you…” She shook her head, you should see her tense, the ways she drew in a breath. She was trying.

You turned around to fully meet her gaze, and you could feel your eyes watering, “I’m sorry, I am,” You whispered, her face softened a bit, “I…I’m just stressed, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Regina agreed, “It’s fine, I get it, or whatever.” You both stood there for a while, just staring at one another.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“I know.” More silence followed, til she said, “Do you need a hug?” you smiled a bit, the first time in a while. You nodded softly and she wrapped her arms around you. You breathed in deeply, her vanilla and coconut shampoo soothed your mind if only for a moment. Maybe you’d find the strength to talk to her, but not now, you just let yourself be held and pushed through.

You both pulled away when the warning bell rang, and you left it at that.

—

You were home, or you were at your house. This place didn’t feel like home, not at all, not ever.

You were unpleasantly surprised to find your father sitting on the porch, beer in hand and lead tilted back. He was drunk, you could tell just from the sight of him, and it made your stomach churn. He could be so violent when drunk. You swallowed your fear and clutched the strap of your backpack, slowly approaching.

A silent caution always lingered when you interacted with him, always. That was unchanging even as he stopped you.

“Why are you home so late?” He slurred, glowering at you then pushing himself off the wooden chair he spent most of his day.

“I had to walk, Dad, the bus doesn’t run that way on Mondays,” You explained calmly, and he nodded. Your gaze flickered around and you noted that your little sister's shoes weren’t on the shoe rack, “Where is Ashley?”

His expression turned sour, “She’s at some friend's house, on a school night. A load of bullshit! Me and your mom got into it because of her, because of you dumb ass kids,” he growled, “Why do you care, anyways, huh?” He took a step towards you, and the acrid smell of both alcohol and cigarettes hit your nose, you grimaced.

“She’s my sister, of course, I care-” You started but cut off as you watched his irritation grow. You could see it in his body language, hands curling into fists.

“God, you kids are so fucking useless! You should be studying, you hear me? The least a mistake like you could do.” he grabbed your shirt and tugged you towards him, and your heart pounded.

His voice was heavily slurred and his eyes were wide and wild, breath hot on your face. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t do this another day, and pushed him off of you then sprinted the other way.

He trampled after you to the edge of the yard, but he didn’t give chase, too intoxicated and not caring enough.

You were so tired of running, what exactly were you running to? You’re tired, tired of all this escaping. It reminds you of that part in all the horror movies, the ones where the characters are running for their lives. Because ‘It’s all so beautiful’ or ‘lf is worth living’, and shit. Well, maybe it was to them. But, god, was it a whole lot of hell for you right now.

Two blocks down, you stopped, panting. You sat down on the curb and placed your head in your hands. You pulled out your phone, lucky it wasn’t dead.

You called Regina. I mean who else would you call?

After two rings she answered, “Regina?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, feeling those tears you’ve been holding back slip from the corners of your eyes, “Can you pick me up? My dad…” you trailed off, voice shaking.

“Your dad? Yeah, I’ve heard enough. I’m on my way,” you heard rustling over the phone, a jingle of keys, then her voice asking, “Where are you?”

“I’ll drop a pin,” you looked over your head, grey clouds were rolling in, and you just hoped it didn’t start raining before she got here, “thank you.”

“Of course.” she softly said into the phone, then hung up.

You sat there by yourself, a wind chilling you to the bones. You didn’t like the wind, never had. It flushed your face and made your hair a mess, but you liked the smell it brought in, the damp smell of leaves and coming rainfall, it was all so refreshing in a way you couldn’t place. You wish you could appreciate it more, but that was hard with tears rolling down your cheek still, adding to the icy feeling.

You wiped the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, staring at the pavement. You hardly registered Regina’s mom's car pulling up, but you did register the footsteps approaching, lifting your head.

“Baby, oh god, are you okay?” She gasped out the question, looking you over and pulling you to your feet. You felt something wet hit your head and you looked up, not answering her question.

It was raining.

“Baby?” She repeated a concerned expression on her face.

“Yes, sorry. I’m okay. He didn’t hit me…right now at least.” You and she pulled you into a hug and then towards the car, she must not have brought the Jeep because she actually checked the weather.

You both got into the car quickly. You closed your eyes, she didn’t ask any more questions. She knew better than to ask right away, it was better to let you settle in. You leaned against the cold window of the car, your breath foging the glass, watching the downpour and the water streaking down the glass.

You liked the rain, you did. You liked the way it filled the world with white noise, it was soothing. You liked to run around in it with your arm spread out and head pointed at the sky. You enjoyed the things that came with the rain too. You like gray and wet and rhythmically noisy, you liked hiding under cozy blankets.

You were so lost in your thoughts, that when you felt a warm hand brush yours, you flinched. You turned your head, looking at Regina who was staring at you curiously. You intertwine your and the blonde's fingers together wordlessly.

“You’re cold, feel okay?” She asked and you nodded, you didn’t want to talk. You turned to stare at the red light that shined through the gloom.

You glanced back at her, she was still staring so you asked, “What?”

“Nothing, you always just look so thoughtful, I guess.” She shrugged, then stepped on the gas.

Sooner than later you two arrived at her house, you both were quiet when you two got back, Regina went straight to the kitchen and you sat down on the couch inhaling and exhaling slowly. Minutes late she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. You gave her a tired, grateful smile. She smiled back.

You both sipped at your drinks quietly, it wasn’t awkward necessarily but you could tell she was itching to ask questions, so you turned to her.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For this, I know I’m a mess. My dad is a huge ass and it’s physically and mentally killing me,” You trailed off, swallowing thickly, “Still, I feel like It’s all my fault, I don’t know why I do this. I’m not used to this, to being loved. It’s hard to accept; it scares me so badly. It terrifies me and I run away.” It was easier that way, but you didn’t say that.

Regina sighed, setting down her mug then grabbing and clutching your hand, “It’s okay, I know. Dads can be pretty shitty. Yours is, mine is. But it’s not your fault. It isn’t, y/n,” she shook her head, “Avoiding others isn’t helping, though. I get it, trust me, I’m the queen of avoiding my problems. Hell! I avoided the truth I was gay for years, but I’m trying. We both are.”

You started crying again, it was hard to hold it in, “Thank you…” you breathed, “I don’t deserve you-”

Regina smiled a bit, “Don’t say that, it’s bullshit,” she rolled her eyes, then softened, “You have people in your corner, okay? You don’t have to do everything alone. We can both work on that.” She pulled you into a hug, you cried softly into her. Damn, did it feel good to get out, to be held.

You both remained like that for a while till she asked you if you wanted to shower, you agreed pretty quickly considering it was still pouring. You took a shower together.

You got comfortable at Regina’s side, rubbing circles in her lower back, “Your back okay? I know it can get achy when it rains.” you whispered, gazing into her blue eyes.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Regina shrugged, then yawned, “I kind of like the rain, actually. Not getting wet though, that’s disgusting.” she mused but didn’t elaborate further.

You let out a soft laugh at the sour face she made, Regina hated getting wet, unlike you, “Me too.” You smiled. You both lay in each other's arms, listening to the rain and wishing it would stay longer. The sound seemed to drown out all of your problems, or maybe just laying beside her made it all fade away.

A/N: Kinda proud of this one even though it took me forever

[romiiq]

Part 2 of this

It had been a few months since Valentine’s Day, and Rafe had been pulling away more and more. He would disappear for hours without explanation, brushing off your questions with vague excuses about work or family. You’d ask him where he’d been, but he’d never look you in the eye. His answers felt hollow, like he was present, but not really there.

Tonight, though, was different. Topper had convinced you to join him and Sarah for drinks at the country club—a rare evening where you weren’t sitting at home, waiting for Rafe to come back from wherever he’d been. Sarah had even bought you a new dress, and as you stood in front of the mirror, you tried to convince yourself that tonight was going to be fun. You needed this.

"You look amazing, Y/N. Seriously," Sarah grinned, nudging you. "Forget about my brother for a night. Just… enjoy yourself."

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I’m trying." The truth was, it felt nice to be out, to laugh at Topper’s dumb jokes, to have a drink in hand instead of staring at your phone, wondering if Rafe would even bother coming home tonight. Laughing at some stupid joke Topper said you looked away from your friends to encounter someone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. At first, you thought you were imagining it—the dim light, the crowd, your mind playing tricks on you—but then you recognized that beautiful blonde hair and those wide shoulders and last but not least her.

Your heart clenched. Sofia. 

She was sitting in a dimly lit corner, her hand threaded through Rafe’s hair, pulling him close as she whispered something in his ear. He leaned in, smiling at her the way he used to smile at you, his fingers resting comfortably on her waist.

"Y/N?" Sarah’s voice was cautious, as she followed your gaze. "Oh my god…" She said as Topper followed muttered a “Fuck”.

"I-I need some air" you whispered, stumbling to your feet. You blinked back the shock, the betrayal sinking in like a heavy weight.

“Hey, wait—” Topper started, but you were already pushing through the crowd, your heart racing, and your senses numbed. You didn’t want to hear their pity, didn’t want to explain. You just needed to get out of there before you fell apart in front of everyone. You made it outside, the cool night air hitting you, but it did nothing to soothe the storm inside you. You stood there, hands shaking, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen.

He’s with her. He’s always been with her. Your mind shouted as the noise behind you started to face and a cold sweat creeped on your back. Meanwhile Sarah confronted her brother who just ran to you before you could collect yourself, footsteps echoed behind you. You knew who it was, you could recognize him even blind.

"Y/N…" Rafe’s voice was low, his tone already defensive.

You turned slowly, your eyes locking with his and your shaky arm raised, stopping him in his tracks. "Don’t." Your voice was sharp, filled with more hurt than you had ever imagined.

“Y/N, I can explain,” Rafe started, stepping toward you.

You shook your head, taking a step back. "Explain what, Rafe? That you’re still in love with her? That you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?"

Rafe flinched. “It’s not what it looks like—"

“Oh, really?” Your voice rose, incredulous. "Because it looks exactly like you’re cheating on me with the girl you’ve never let go of! How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to me?" His silence told you everything his mouth didn’t.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. He didn’t deserve them. "You called me by her name, Rafe," you whispered, your voice shaking. "That night… on Valentine’s Day. You said her name in your sleep."

His face paled, his mouth opening to say something anything to fix it, as his mind raced trying to remember, but you cut him off.

"You kissed her the same way you used to kiss me, or maybe you were kissing me as you used to kiss her" you continued, your chest tightening and your voice raising. "And I sat here, trying to convince myself that I was enough. That you’d forget her if I just loved you harder, if I tried harder. But I was never going to be enough for you, was I?"

“Y/N, please… listen to me, it’s not like that—” He reached for your hand, but you pulled away nauseous and flowning, the sting of his touch too much to bear. Sarah and Topper stumbled outside looking for you with worry written across their faces. Sarah immediately ran to you as Topper followed her cautiously.

“Y/N, do you want to get out of here?” Sarah asked gently, grabbing your arm, glancing warily at Rafe. 

“No, let her stay," Rafe snapped cold as always with his sister and desperation showing. "I need to talk to her.” But you shook your head, feeling the weight of everything fall on your shoulders. You were done.

"I’m done, Rafe," you said softly, but firmly. "You’ve made your choice. It was always Sofia." Rafe’s eyes filled with panic, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please… don’t walk away. I—I love you.” 

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away a tear. “You love the idea of me, Rafe. But not me and I don't even know if what I said first it's the truth. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone back to her.”

Topper stepped in, putting a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Man, maybe you should back off, let her breathe.” “Stay out of it, Top!” Rafe barked, his frustration boiling over pushing Topper aside. But you had already started to walk towards Topper’s truck, Sarah by your side, as Topper stood his ground and pushed Rafe back, keeping him in check.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, her voice heavy with guilt. You smiled sadly at her. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Rafe’s voice called out to you one last time as Topper held him back. “Y/N! Please… I can fix this!”

But you didn’t turn back. For the first time in a long time as you hopped in Topper’s truck, you felt a sense of clarity. This was the end. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[evanescencelovrr]

You have a tough week at work

hey yall—tough ass week here. i needed to write this cute fluffy moment with reader x simon x price ughhh. my poor heart is mush atp. enjoy!! pls like comment and reblog to share the love <3

notes: she/her pronouns used, lots of fluff & reader struggles for acceptance affection. Lovie, lovebug, love nicknames are used.

I think after a long week and shedding tears over a tub of ice cream—Simon & Price decide you’ve had enough.

First you come through the front door frowning, your usual scowl and eyes twitching from the lack of sleep. Your neck sags, shoulders hunching from the heavy bag and responsibilities weighing on you. You feel like you’re never enough.

Immediately Simon rounds the kitchen corner, not hesitating to take your shoulder bag off—lengthy fingers curling around the strap. You could see the warm lamps are lit, the fireplace on and going which never failed to make you feel at ease in tough times. The flames roared with life.

You trace your eyes to look up all puffy eyed and your nose red—most likely from just crying in frustration. You stiffen up for a moment at him seeing you like this, and faintly you could hear Price cooking in the kitchen. It smells of warm food.

“Lovie, give it up.” Simon said gently—much gentl(er) to you than he would with anyone. His brow was raised and he’s got that scolding look to him.

One that told you to bite down on any resistance.

So you did, too tired to fight and knowing it would be useless. You give the bag to him, and Simons’ hunky form maneuvers to the couch, where he placed it down. His mask if off, wearing sweatpants and a longsleeve knit you got him. His rugged features glow softly in the fire light, oranges and yellows lighting his irises.

Price then calls out from the kitchen, “Is the love bug back already from work?”

“Aye, I got er’.” Simon responds gruffly—turning around when he heard you groan.

There you were trying to take your shoes off, bent over and fingers sluggish working the laces. Damn thing wouldn’t undo itself. Tears sprung up in frustration, finding the simple task so demanding and exhausting. And it didn’t help every muscle protested in pain.

“Lovie—“ Simon closes the distance with his house slippers and holds up upright by your elbows.

“I-I can’t do it.” You say weakly, frowning. Apart of you feels like you needed to “adult,” better—but this week? This week was a mess.

You hear a clank from the kitchen.

“Lovie, come, none f’that, yea? Let’s get you sorted.” Simon briefly caresses your cheek with warm tender fingers, and you find yourself aching for more when he pulls away, round wide eyes gazing.

Simon doesn’t miss the look you gave him and knows. He knows what you need. He gently leads you to the couch, making you sit. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed and places one behind your back to support you, and occasionally hearing your sniffles.

“I’m sorry—“ You begin to say, voice shaky and on the verge of sobs. You felt guilty for making them care, but then again it was their job as well. They looked out for you, you looked out for them.

Simons heart aches as he hears you. The woman he knows who is determined, strong and wise is now hurting. Vulnerable, cracked open. He knows what this must feel like, since he did too at some point of his life.

It was a hard choice—sharing how you felt. And be found himself appreciative of how you let him take care of you tonight. He was determined to put your stressed soul at ease, doing whatever you asked for if you did.

So, his warm voice floated in, as deft fingers loosened your shoe laces, gentle warm eyes peering up at you from under his brows.

“Lovie, its a’right. A big man like me can untie y’er shoes, no?” Simon says lightly, lip lifting up slightly.

That earns him a swift grin from you despite the tears and your chest warms. You know Simon could do a lot more. It was so secret anymore who he was, his past, and Price as well. His large hands slide under your ankles, supporting it up into his lap.

Price then turns the stove off and you hear soft padding. Simon slips off your shoes and tosses them aside—his attention immediately back onto you. He could care less of the shoes. He wanted-needed to know if you were okay.

Price wiped his hands on the rag—his face falling when he saw you, his love bug all teary and crestfallen.

“Dove, let me make you a cup of tea.” Price said firmly, without question. He knows you must be a bundle of nerves and felt frazzled. A nice tea outta do it, he thought. Inside, he was worried.

He worked with ease at the kitchen, tall form hardly needing to stretch an arm up to open the cupboard. He already reached its height anyway.

Immediately he steeped a bag, a nice peppermint tea. In your cute little mug you always loved—the one with pink and white fluffy clouds, with golden stars painted and the moon. He found himself warming at the sight—you.

You were everywhere and he loved it. Little remnants.

He returned and Simon got up to sit next to you, a hand rubbing your back. He softened at the sight and crouched down in front your resting form. He saw the eye bags wearing you down, the redness of your eyes and how irritating the skin was from all the rubbing. Most likely wiping your tears off.

He could see the frown lines, the way your eyes had glossed over in exhaustion.

He felt even more concerned—maybe even livid at the way work had drained you. Nonetheless, his priority was you, not blowing up because of your work.

“Love bug, d’ya think you could sit up for me?” Prices’ warm voice said, one large hand holding your cute mug, the other resting on your knee.

You gently nudged your head in acknowledgement—which was resting on Simons shoulder. All warm and content.

You moved to sit up and uncurled your legs, warming at the sight of Price holding you mug.

Not just any mug.

And the tea you loved too.

Tears sprung up again and you grabbed at the mug, holding it.

“Lovie—“

“Love bug—“

They both said immediately at your tears.

“I’m okay…just overwhelmed by your support.” You managed a small smile, eyes flitting to meet both their concerned ones.

Simon had his brows furrowed, an arm slung back behind you. But now he moved to lean in, a hand touching your back again.

He nodded, meanwhile Price continued rubbing your knee in a comforting manner, thumb drawing circles now.

“Love, you have nothing to apologize for. We know its been hard for you lately.” Price said in a soothing low tone, brows raising. He lowered his head to get a look at you—although not staring holes into you.

He watched as you drank your tea, sighing in relief.

“I-It was.” You began, “I lost track of time and missed some deadlines at work. My Boss has been upset.” Your voice cracked as you explained, and the tears sprung up.

Both of them knew how late you were staying at work, and to hear your inconsiderate Boss only add fuel to the fire was maddening.

Simons’ chest puffed out, taking a breath in—and Prices’ eyes flashed momentarily, only to soften when he spoke to you.

“Just let it out lovie.” Simon said softly, a large hand brushing your hair aside as you cried. Tears dripped down and Simons calloused hand cupped your cheek, rubbing them away. Gently. He wasn’t used to this—but with you, it came so naturally.

There was this feeling in him you reached deepest. It only amplified in moments like this. He didn’t even know he was capable of being gentle still, yet you brought it out in him.

Price patted your leg softly, “Easy love. Let me get you some good food in that tummy. I made you your favorite.”

With that you look up at him as he arose, and Prices’ eyes crinkled underneath with his warm smile. His heart melted—a mixture of concern and care as your eyes were watery and half lidded. He reached a hand to cup your jaw, stroking the tender skin before gliding to the kitchen.

You sniffled and leaned into Simons arms, needing warmth and comfort. Immediately he accepted—no questions asked. He didn’t stiffen up the way he would when you first met him. He let you in completely, loving you the way you did to him when he was lost.

He knew you needed someone to lean on. Both physically and mentally.

“Love, we got this, aye? You jus’ let us do the big work. Don’ worry bout’ bein’ big. And doin’ the big things.” He would whisper soothingly into your hair, a large arm wrapping around your shaky form.

It curled around you so easily, and you closed your eyes, cheek nuzzling his chest. He softened even more, hand reaching up to wipe your face.

But before he did, he made sure to tilt your head up so he could get a good look to clean it.

“There she is.” Simon whispered, affectionately.

He heard Price shuffle back and you gave a soft smile—although weary.

The rest of the night was spent with Price feeding you, even if you complained about doing it.

Simon held you, your back to his chest while he figured he could learn to braid your hair. Halfway, as Price fed you a spoonful, perched onto the coffee table—Simon grumbled and spoke up.

“Lovie, you ave’ such nice hair—I don’t want to be an arsehole, but how in the hell do you manage it?”

Simon whipped the braid over your shoulder so you could see it. Price held the spoon up, cocking a brow at the braid—to which Simon glared.

What you saw had you laughing. It suddenly bubbled out—chest shaking and smile breaking out. Hair was sticking out, untucked properly in the braid. His tension was off so it looked like some braids were bigger than the other, and he fumbled with the hair tie which was slipping off.

“Lovie.” Simon whined roughly—although he couldn’t lie, seeing the lights on in your head again and the way you laughed—it had this man crumbling.

And Price—Price looked proud. Almost like: I knew we’d get her back. His smaller eyes were wide in joy, drinking in the way your shoulder scrunched and lips stretching.

“Simon—this is so sweet.” You say, sighing. God, laughter really was the best medicine, you thought.

And with that, Simons fingers began gently prodding your side to tickle you. You squirmed and hands scrambled to hold his broad shoulders—once again laughter pouring out like bubbles.

Price grinned, a lip quirking up, as he set the bowl aside, “I’m tryin’ to feed her.” But he was enjoying this well enough—

“Oh come on old man, you like this.” Simon teased, his voice slightly shaky as he tickled your squirming form.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay! Okay!” You stated, panting, and face red. You were still smiling, leaning to the side and holding up your hands with the widest grin at Simon.

“Good, lovie?” Simon asked.

“Good.” You repeated.

——

Lets just say, HR received multiple complaints from “two” anonymous sources who relentlessly called over and over.

It piled up until both got what they wanted—your Boss suspended for verbal harassment and having employees work overtime.

When you heard the news—you were glad and relieved. Didn’t need to deal with him ever again, you thought.

As you hummed and blasted your music in your headphones, tucked away in your room for the night, both Simon and Price grinned at each other.

[xiaominghao]

Prettiest eyes in the universe

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader.

Warnings: none.

"Can we buy some marshmallows?" you suddenly askedas you walked toward the store checkout.

"Right, you don't have any..." Vernon whispered to himself, looking at the shopping list you wrote before going out. "Sure."

When you reached the candy aisle, you grabbed two bags of different brands, unsure which one to take, so you brought both to the register where Vernon was waiting patiently.

"Tell me, which one do you prefer?" You placed both bags at shoulder height, he stared at you but said nothing. "... Then?"

"Yeah?" Vernon tilted his head slightly, blinking fast a couple times.

"Please, help me" you smiled awkwardly, behind you was a person waiting for their turn and didn't seem to be friendly.

"Whatever you want, princess" He replied with a shrug.

You sighed and left one bag in the cart to return the other to its place, then you went to the register to help with the bags.

On the way back to home, you were walking down a nearby alley and there was a beautiful fluffy cat resting in a planter.

"Hey, is our little neighbor" you said with joy and leaned to the cat, who stood up to greet you with a meow. "Do you think his owner knows he sneaks out to sleep here?"

You turned to Vernon waiting for his response, to tell one of his out-of-context jokes, but he just stood there, gazing at you fondly. As you smiled, you both resumed the way to home.

After putting away the groceries to its place, you took a shower and changed into comfortable clothes, thinking about wath you should cook for dinner.

"Yesterday we had spicy food, what about hotcackes?" you asked while tying your hair.

Hearing no response, you turned around, only to find him sitting on the bed looking at you with a big smile on his lips. You sighed deeply.

"Hansol, you've been too quiet all this time" you said with some concern, looking at him with tender gaze. "Do you wanna tell me something?"

Vernon stood up from the bed and walked towards you, he remained silent for a while, then he cleared his throat.

"Recently, I've been thinking..." Vernon made a small pause and gave you a warm smile. "My princess has the prettiest brown eyes in this universe"

You felt your cheeks starting to burn as you bursted out in laughter, covering your face with both hands. He liked to do it, saying those kind of things out of blue; for you it may seems like a game of his, but for him is the perfect excuse to make you smile.

Watching you that happy is all he needs to have the perfect day.

You caught your breath, drying the small tears in the corner of your eyes, and then you took his face in your hands like the most precious thing that ever existed.

"C'mon, Hansol" you said softly, looking him straight in the eyes "You have the prettiest brown eyes in this universe"

[naranja-301]

Stan can feel his vision going blurry, he was crying, figures out a while ago but how can't he? He felt like it was to much, to much for him but at the same time felt so good.

There betwen his legs laying down in the bed was Fiddleford, his hands holding with a gentle hold both his thighs and his mouth trailing with soft Kisses his skin. His touch was so gentle and so hot at the same time, the lips of Fiddleford going all the way up from his knees to his inner thighs.

After a few minutes of kissing the touch turned into nibbling, the teeths of Fiddleford leaving light marks in Stan.

Oh, but that wasn't the thing that was making Stan go crazy, it was the things that Fiddleford said to him in any touch his lips Made, in any nibbling his teeth Made on the skin of his thighs.

"I love You so much, Stanley...You are so good...so inteligent"

Another soft bite meets the skin of Stan, that with those Words, the way Fiddleford said them Made him unable to hold back another cried moan from his throat

"I'm-...i'm not-"

"sshhh...My love...My everything...yes You are"

Fiddleford moves his lips more up, almost metting with that spot on the body of Stan that sure would made the man go more overwhealmed that he already was.

"please...Fidds...I...I can't-"

"yes You can, love...please...let me love You..."

Fiddleford moves slighty from betwen the legs of Stan, sitting betwen them and his hands make their way to the face of Stan that had some tears in it. He gives Stan a warm smile, his eyes showing only love for the man under him, sweaping his tears with his thumbs.

He leans foward, Stan has to hold tight the sheets of the bed to supress another moan that wanted to leave his lips but at this point his body didn't made the actions his brain was telling to. He felt scared, even a bit frustrated with himself. Weak, the first thing his brain was screaming at him when he leaves another moan when Fiddleford breaks the Kiss and returns to those soft, gentle touches Fiddleford around his body, and just like if Fiddleford could read his mind he stopped, it was so sudden that made Stan freeze in place.

Stan looks up at Fiddleford Who had a somekind sad expression in his face and Stan hates himself for feeling like being the reason of that expression. Before he can Say anything he feels how Fiddleford holds his hand with his, guiding it to his face, massaging the back of his hand with both of his hands. He could feel the warm of the skin of Fiddleford, his thumb in an unconsious action caresing his cheek.

"Stan..."

"...i'm sorry... i'm-...I-"

God, why did he felt like this? Why does his heart have to hurt so much when looking up at the eyes of the other? Those eyes that Saw in him something he doesn't even know what, but sure enought to make the other stay and don't leave him, don't push him away. He felt his visión going blurry again, no no no he can't, he can't show weakness, not now, not with Fiddleford.

He is about to Say sorry again when the sensation of those warm and soft lips meet his jawline, then the corner of his lips, his nose and finally, the corner on his left eye. His hand no longer on the cheek of Fiddleford but holded with his in a soft grip.

"Stanley...You don't have to Say sorry for anything..."

"..."

"It's ok...it's ok, Stanley..."

Stan keeps looking up in silence at Fiddleford for some minutes, just Staring at the other with a shaky breath. His eyes traveling for all the face of Fiddleford, his eyes, his large nose, those lips, the lips that Made him felt like crazy just Moments before.

And then, he can feel how his ear gets a bit wet, his vision going more blurry. Stan leaves a shaky breath while more and more tears falls from the sides of his face.

He can't help himself this time, his body craving for letting all out, feeling still scared but now more secure, secure that the other wouldn't call him weak, or even a dissater. He cries, he even can feel how Fiddleford hugs him tight with his arms, cooed to him as if he were a little kid.

"it's on Stan...I got You...I got You..."

Stan wraps his arms back around Fiddleford, it was tigh, like he was scared the other would run away from him. He cries now more lauder, hiding his face on the crock of the neck of Fiddleford.

They both keeps like that for around 30 minutes, Fiddleford not stopping wispering those sweet and warm Words to Stan, brushing his hand on his back.

Stan sniffes his nose, sweaping the tears out from his eyes. He doesn't dare to look up at Fiddleford, not yet, he just stays there and wispers lowly at him.

"...thank You...for everything..."

Fiddleford hugs more tight at Stan, leaving a soft Kiss in his ear.

"anytime..."