#and turns that into a strength! like there IS no other acceptable way to approach a dear evan hansen program

[beautifulstorms]

Layla Veillon and Alexander Brandys, You Will Be Found || JGP Courchevel 2022

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[bountycancelled]

ANTIFRAGILE

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

opla zoro x reader

in which, even though it doesn't seem like it, zoro cares (alot, about you, specifically)

genre: one shot, gn! reader, short

requested: yes! tysm (reqs are still open for anyone<3)

a/n: idk, enjoy I guess? (unedited)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"need any help, darling?" Sanji's flirtatious voice rang out from behind you, disturbing your damn near embarrassing attempts at lifting a box.

you huffed as you dropped it once again, turning to face Sanji as you shrugged him off with a wave of your hand. "no no, I wouldn't want you using your hands for something that isn't in the kitchen. I can manage."

an unconvinced Sanji nodded before walking off, leaving you and your own stubbornness to deal with the heavy lifting. the truth of the matter was, that you definitely did need help, but you'd be dammed to hell before accepting any.

it seemed as if you had some sort of problem accepting yourself for who you were.

you were by far the most stealthy individual anyone had ever met, most people didn't even know you were in the room until you had a knife to their throat. you were the resident idea person in high pressure situations, and what you lacked in strength, you made up for in technique.

ah yes, strength. if there was one thing that you could not accept that you didn't have, it was physical strength. you were never the type to brute force your way out of a situation zoro-style, bit it would still be nice to have the option of doing so.

it wasn’t as if anybody in the crew made you feel bad for your lack of strength, it was more so an internal issue within your own psyche.

what could you say? you were tired of having to ask your fellow crew mates to help you do something as simple as carrying something from point A to point B. you were tired of feeling useless every time more hands on approach was needed. but that all ended today. (well, you hoped that it all ended today anyway)

after what felt like and probably was an eternity you could finally lift the box that you had set your eyes on, sure you had taken so long that Luffy had forgotten that he even wanted it but you had done it nonetheless and you were proud of yourself. that pride however was short lived with your body ache in a way that you never thought possible.

you knew, or at the very least, you thought that you knew how much your body could take, but said body had no problem humbling you the second you had gotten a little too confident in skills that you didn't have.

you weakly limped towards your room, ignoring the sympathetic look from Sanji, the "you shouldn't have done that but I still feel bad" look from Nami, the soft pat on your back from usopp, Luffy not even noticing your current state, and Zoro's blank cold stare with what you could only hope bubbled with a bit of concern.

you would be lying if you said that you weren't trying to impress a certain green haired individual on the crew with a knack for using swords in unconventional ways. but your little schoolgirl crush was getting to the point where it was causing you physical pain, and you needed to get your mind out of its delusion.

Zoro was not going to give you attention just because you lifted a heavy bo–

your self chastising session was ended prematurely by a knock in the door, that kind of sounded like an alien life form trying to imitate a human custom. you let out a small 'come in', not being entirely suprised to see Zoro on the other side. (after all, he's the only in the crew who would care or even think to knock.)

what you were suprised to see however, was the plate of food in his hand. it was your favourite dinner which he had threatened Sanji to make which he placed on your desk, walking out just as quickly as he came.

before he left, he looked at you over his shoulder, seemingly contemplating if he should say what he wanted to say.

"you shouldn't push yourself to do something that's dangerous for you body. you're... more talented than you give yourself credit for."

you smiled to yourself, unable to not feel the butterflies floating around in your stomach, but his last words sent you over the edge.

"I don't want to see you hurting. ever."

[catcze]

Wriothesley can hear your loud stomps from a mile away as you furiously speed-walk to his office door like a bloodhound trailing a scent. Even if not for that, the way that you bang your fist on the door is enough to grab his attention.

"WRIOTHESLEY." Comes booming in from the other side of the door. It's thick wood. He wonders how deaf he would have gone if the door hadn't protected him. The door (the thick, supposedly impenetrable door) rattles on its hinges like a screen in a hurricane when you try to kick it again. "DID YOU EAT MY DONUTS."

It's not even an accusation at that point. It's practically a declaration of war.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" You yell so loudly a group of guards turning the corner down the hall scramble back the way they came. "Open up, jackass!"

Wriothesley, knowing he cannot escape the consequences of his actions, merely settles deeper into his chair as he drinks his tea. His last meal. Drink. Similar thing.

The door keeps rattling as you yell profanities at him, until one of his traitorous guards approaches you hesitantly, saying not a single word but offering up the spare key to his office with shaky hands, head low and aggressively avoiding eye contact.

"Oh!" you say, demeanor switching immediately, losing the intimidating glint in your eye as you gingerly take the key. You smile kindly. "Thank you very much!"

Then you turn back to the door, the threat of violence in your eye as you wield the key like a weapon of war, inserting it into the keyhole and twisting it with a dark finality. The guard wonders if they should fear for their superior's wellbeing.

Wriothesley looks up from his newspaper as you close the door ominously behind you, somehow maintaining a blasé facadé even while staring down certain death.

"Well?" you prompt him, eye twitching like a stressed villain from a kid's cartoon show. You round on him in an instant, too quick for him to escape. Somehow, he keeps up his poker face. "Care to explain where my donuts went, Duke of Meropide?"

"I didn't eat them," He deadpans, staring you right in the eye. He pointedly does not acknowledge the white powdered sugar on his face.

"There's white powdered sugar on your face."

"Ah. So there is."

Another cartoony villain eye twitch. "Want to try that again?"

"...I love you?"

"And I love you. Last chance, though."

And he folds like a lawn chair. Wriothesley knows this is a fight he can't win. Even Neuvillette would tell him it's best to just kick the bucket and plead guilty at this point. He sighs breaking eye contact first like a wolf with its tail between its legs.

"Okay, I'll buy you another dozen of them."

You cross your arms, staring at him. He sighs.

"Another two dozen."

You soften just the slightest bit, coming close to perch on his lap and lean into his space. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him.

"And?"

Wriothesley leans forward too, enough for your foreheads to touch. You can feel the breath of his sigh against your lips.

"And you have my sincerest apologies for taking your things. In my defense, I thought they were mine at first.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, satisfied, and peck him quickly on the lips. Before it can turn into anything else though, you’re springing up from his lap. Ignoring the disappointed furrow in his brow and the way his arms have still not moved from their position holding you earlier, you take his hand and pull him up from his chair with such startling enthusiasm and surprising strength that it has him stumbling for a second. You pull him towards the door regardless.

“C’mon, you’re making good on that apology right now, Wrio! Hope you finished your work!”

And no, technically he hasn’t finished his work. But he already knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and that pushing that work to tomorrow wouldn’t hurt. Probably. Whatever— it’d be worth it.

So he just sighs and gives the palm resting in his a squeeze and let’s himself be pulled along. You squeeze back.

“As long as you let me have a few. Those were pretty good.”

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: Fluff and Sexual tension at the end -> Raw +18 warnings will come later in other chapters

Notes: Thank you for reading and for all the nice hearts you have given to this series <3 Ready for Bridgerton S3?

WC: 4.5K

It took all your strength to be on your right side of mind for a week. You called it a simple infatuation but your mind kept calling it... calling it... in reality, you didn't know how to call it but mere fixation was not. Was it supposed to happen in such a way that by only sharing a few glances, you could feel desire? This type of feeling was meant to be grown like plants, is it not? With talks, with promenades and tea and biscuits.

But you had those already.

Your eyes popped as the thought grew and grew. Indeed you have shared all of those with him. Seven years ago you started talking. He was your age, 21 and you 14 when by magic you two mixed like butter and toast. Talks? More than enough. Walks? More than a normal courtship can have. Tea and biscuits? More than you should have eaten.

You had scratched your forehead as you stared at the figure of Lord Coxingworth making his way to his carriage. The third talk of the week and you have learnt all the right things. All the proper ones. Benedict would have never.

"Stop it" you whispered as you shook your head, comparison cannot bring anything good, both are different and oh yes quite different "Ugh" you chastised yourself because your mind was going in circles "It is temporary," you said "My courses," you said looking at your dress, underneath "It might be that"

You were the most sentimental when your courses were expected. Indeed that was it, it is a good friendship and shall not be confused with anything more.

“Miss Ashbourne” the sound of Sarah appeared with a knock “an urgent note for you, from Eloise Bridgerton”

When you opened the small squared note you saw her handwriting in the fashion of urgency as she said “Let us exchange some judgemental words about the world. We should talk”

A sudden fear came to you, she knows. How could she? Benedict told her. How could he? No, he couldn’t.

You make no haste to walk out with Sarah by your side as you make your way to the park. It was a lovely day, the sun was out and there was no wind at all. The park was crowded and yet Eloise was easy to find, you knew where she would be, she loved the bridge and the pond.

“There you are future Lady Coxingworth or Marquise Ashdown”

“You should have brought swimming attire, it could have been the most useful when I threw you to the pond”

She smiled, her cheeks had the most beautiful glow as she gave you a hug and then proceeded to sit on the bridge. You sat beside her and let the sun hit your face and for a moment the focus was on another Bridgerton.

However, the crisp of the day proved to be more equipped than you two and so you decided to escort Eloise to her house. The grandiose of it always made your eyes soft.

“Well come on for a small refreshment and then you part” she offered and you accepted

And while walking inside the pastel drawing room you spotted the nape of Benedict as he kept reading the journal of the day.

“A bit late to read news is it not?”

He turned around from the soft couch and smiled at you “not at all, for me is morning still”

“Yes brother we all know you didn’t sleep last night”

Your stomach made a turn, why he didn’t sleep? Was he perhaps talking to someone?

“I have a commission coming next week and the deadline is approaching so I stayed awake working on the details and then I forgot it was morning already when I started drawing and... well it is done and here I am reading the news of the day with a headache” he closed the journal and stared at you “Miss Ashbourne, how are you this fine morning?”

You snorted, your morning was hours ago “Good thank you, the most wonderful morning” you followed the game “I came from the pond with Eloise”

“I have painted that” he commented “You’ll find a very badly angled canvas by the entrance"

“it is not bad, Benedict” Eloise said

“My profes-“

“Forget about art school, I can’t believe that you follow their word. Today’s art is bland like fish for breakfast”

He chuckles as you see their banter “They do have excellent points to give”

“And I am far from interested in them”

“What about you, Miss Ashbourne?”

“Me?”

“Interested”

In what? On who? You asked for yourself

“Well-“

“That is a yes” he stood up “sister would you mind…?”

“We have been walking and standing most of the afternoon, brother. She might be tired”

“Let her speak then”

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, how could you avoid a private chat with Benedict? Your heart was not prepared.

He offered his arm and you took it. Both of you walked downstairs, the colours of the sunset settling outside the majestic house.

“My mother has ordered them to hang every single painting I have made. Quite adamant I had to be with her for her not to hang my five-year-old pieces”

You laugh softly as the image comes to mind. “I would not blame her. Eloise is right”

“Hmmm”

“I am sure that professor had good points but art has proven to be the most emotional is it not?”

“Your point?”

“That one cannot structure emotions. One cannot compare the same canvas with the other one as if they were similar. They are not, they hold different emotions and perspectives.”

You stopped as Benedict looked at one of his paintings hanging on the wall. The fruit bowl had the most detail you have ever seen.

“You speak like a true artist,” he said still fixated on front

“I might not be one for the brush and paint but I do know other things”

He quickly turned “Like what?”

You instantly blushed. You were not going to start reciting mathematics or philosophy. So you shrugged in silence which made him smile.

“What about that stolen poetry book?”

“Oh” he remembered “in my room”

“Yeah? Well I don’t mind for a new poem today”

You snorted “I shall go, it’s getting quite dark outside and my mo-“

“I believe you don’t remember that for me is morning now”

You dropped your shoulders at the still childish game “Is it?”

“Oh it is”

“So on this fine morning” you smiled “you want me to fetch my book and come back so I can read one more poem?”

“Yes, after you have followed your pius girl routine”

“Meaning?”

“Aren’t you going to bathe?” He smirked as you slapped him with your hand“And eat with your mama and then prepare for bed?”

“Yes… I should do that” you whispered

“Come here before you sleep and read to me. I am not a stranger after all”

His smile and the glint of mischievousness were the things that made you follow that routine in its perfection.

The bathing went fast as the soapy rose water left your skin glistening, the dinner made your stomach fill and by the end when your mother said good night and your lady left you alone, you took the green robe by the end of your bed and did the most silent walk ever.

You walked with your velvet slippers and swayed across the gardens careful of not being noticed and minutes later you knocked softly on the window you knew the art studio was in.

It made you giggle, the thought of using the back door like any other servant. Such a sneaky way, such adrenaline of doing something like this and unaccompanied. If Lady Whistledown could see you now, tomorrow you were sure there will be a paper with only your name on it.

“You are late,” he said

“I am not, I did my things fast” you argued getting inside where the kitchens are “You have lost your sense of time today”

You didn't bother to close the door because it would have made a sound. The kitchens were empty and the only light that could be seen was the candle by the countertop.

"So which one would you read to me?" He said behind you

You turned seeing his face slightly darkened “Patience, let me sit down at least”

“You make me wait like a child”

“Are you not that?” You coyly smiled while walking to his studio, you knew above you the Bridgertons were sleeping and that only increased the adventurer within you. And when you entered, the same smell filled your lungs, you moved the robe and sat down on the maroon couch. You watched intently as Benedict eagerly closed the door and tried to move all the cluttered brushes and boxes.

You felt your body tense as he walked past the sofa and picked a book. You didn’t want to ask what the book was and why the sudden interest. You watched as he turned around with the book open.

“And what is that?” You questioned

“My own journal, I want to see if the poem will spark any sort of inspiration… for a painting”

“Very well” You nodded ready to split the book in your hands and ready but his hand as soft as a pillowcase stopped yours

“Forgive me, do you need something to drink?” He asked and saw the thoughts in your eyes “Perhaps something stronger than milk?”

“Brandy you mean?”

He shrugged “If you want a sip I can give you from mine”

“I am not a child. I am a woman”

“I know”

“Then I want a glass, a quarter of what you normally drink”

“Your wishes are commands, my lady, let me get us something and you shall begin reading while I look for it, yes?"

"Yes"

The candle by his desk was enough for you to see how he stood up and went to the corner where the brandy and the cups were. You opened the book on a different page and you adjusted your eyesight.

“I got it”

“Tell me the name” he ordered still pouring some brandy into what you believe is his glass

“Beneath the Velvet Veil”

“Ooooh” he remarked “beneath… the velvet rail. Do you believe is about what lies beneath a woma-“

“Benedict” you said harshly “not everything has to be about women”

“I disagree but please” he returned with the glasses and offered one “One sip before you start”

The smell of alcohol made your nose wrinkle nevertheless, you drank from the glass and let the liquor slip through. The burn in your throat made your eyes watery and it made you cough a little, the sweetness of it however made you feel more awake.

“Good?”

“Quite” You took another sip out of bravery and tasted it better, your eyes, suddenly fixated on the poem started to scan the first line

"Beneath the Velvet Veil"

Beneath the velvet veil of night,

Where shadows whisper, hearts take flight,

A silent war of classes rages on,

As dreams of change are fiercely drawn.

In cobblestone streets where lanterns glow,

The cries of the oppressed begin to grow,

Against the tyranny of wealth and power,

They yearn for justice in the midnight hour.

With fervent hearts, they take a stand,

United voices across the land,

For a world where privilege has no reign,

And every soul may dare to dream again.

Oh, let the winds of change arise,

And lift the veil from blinded eyes,

For in the hearts of those who fight,

Lies the dawn of a new, just light.”

Benedict blinked twice and rapidly formed a smile on his face “This one here can spark a revolution”

“It takes more than one poem to do so"

"True," he said drinking again "but it takes a poem with such desire to stir some passion in people" he leaned back and grunted "Does it say which year was published or at least... bind together?"

You quickly scanned it "No, there's nothing else"

"It can't be more than a few years old I assume, so whatever the fight this poem was trying to build... it failed" he snorted "We are still the same"

"Unequal wages outside London" you rapidly added "Social reputation as a means to oppress..." you sighed

Benedict curved his lips at the so sudden but so true comments coming from your mouth "You say it with such experience"

"I am a woman in society, Benedict"

"And a lovely one"

You blushed at his words, not the compliment that was given, but the way his voice was, a soft low tone as if he was singing and that made you stare at his lips for a second until you distracted yourself with one final sip of the fruity brandy.

"Thank you, what I mean is that I do know things"

He moved fast on his spot trying to stare at you "Yes you have said so already... please tell me, what are these precious things you know?"

You laughed and shrugged "A lot, Sciences, languages, music, social sciences"

Benedict snored and smiled "You are boring me"

You opened your eyes and took your hand and tried to pinch his arm "I am an accomplished lady. I am also quite observant"

"Are you?" he questioned, "are you really?"

"What does that mean?"

"Do you have an inkling of a clue as to why I have not slept?"

"Because you were working?"

"Partially" he took his hand and ruffled his messy strands of hair "That damned painting, the commission is taking longer"

"Because you can't sleep," you said

"No, because..." he dropped his shoulders and drank the whole glass "Because my thoughts are somewhere else"

You blinked slowly at his words "Are you well? I know a good doctor that-"

"I am well"

"But then what is it that is making your thoughts wonder?"

He licked his lips as the brownish liquid slipped through "You"

You swallowed as your throat went dry and as much as the fire within you wanted you to act confident... you just tried to be absorbed into the cushion as if you were retracting yourself.

Benedict took the silence as his turn to keep talking so he moved closer and rested his chin on the back pillow "Be so kind as to tell me how is it that inspiration works?"

what kind of question was that? you asked yourself and you again shook your head in silence.

He opened his mouth "Because I was alright before returning to London. It has been two months since the season started and look at me" he snorted "I had a good smear of inspiration given by Aubrey Hall and its landscape. I come here and start talking to you again as we have done so for years but this time my inspiration fades away"

You frown, an honest confused frown "Bu-"

"Oh do not give me that face, Miss Ashbourne" he gulps "You are aware of what you have been doing, are you not?"

"If you say I am responsible for your inspiration fading away..." you blinked "I don't kn-"

"It faded, yes but only for it to move all over you" he whispered and looked into your eyes

You gasped, your breath suddenly short and your chest tight. The words inked deep now in your mind and heart.

"I am not joking, it is true" he scratched his chin "It is the most confusing thing ever because..." he snorted "I cannot stop thinking about your face or about you wholly and it is more confusing because I know I started seeing you in other colours since last season"

"But I was only-"

"Twenty years of age I know. A part of me tries to conceal that because I may be bold but not to that level yet I am honest and I had to tell you that"

You gulped.

"I often question my reason and told myself that we have not been together enough and that this.... in me" he touched his chest "Is just transitory"

You blinked at that, it is exactly what you have told yourself "I..." you said "I thought so too"

"Have you? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

It was your time to talk so you clenched your legs and crossed your ankles trying to be straight as you said it "That..." you smiled "that there have been enough talks and enough walks and enough... secret readings for this to arise in us"

"Us?" he said "I was merely talking about me... do you mean you have felt it too?"

"Since last year" you whispered, your eyes fixated on him. His eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it is improper, not that I have ever cared about that, but... as you said I was twenty"

"Right"

"I didn't want to believe it" you confessed "So I have been ignoring it"

"Did it work? Because my trials have failed if I could tell you what I have done, what I have thought"

For a second, or more than that, between your legs, you felt a tingling that made you gulp "What?"

"What?"

"What have you thought?" the question came too suddenly but by the look of it you could not retract it at all

"Things about you that should not be thought"

"What kind of things?" you insisted, the fire within you made you feel alive "Tell me"

Benedict touched his face and looked at you, you saw a hint of fear in his eyes as he opened his mouth

"Tell me" you insisted "If we have already confessed, what are the odds of doing it again?"

"A lot, Miss Ashbourne"

"I don't mind"

"Well" he laughed nervously "I..." he rapidly moved on the couch, he leaned to you, quite closely to your figure retracted on the corner of the couch "You must wash my mouth with soap after telling you this"

"I can take it, I assure you"

"I..." his lips opened, a soft and pinky pair of lips, you wondered if they would taste the same way his brandy did "I have seen you naked"

You frowned "Naked?

"In my mind, I have formed you. I have used what I know to construct that image. I..." he looked down at your white sleeping gown "I have seen your arms, the crease of your elbow and forearm. I have seen your neck and your shoulder blade and I remember when I saw your ankles once" he shrugged "Forgive me but as an artist, I must use any resources to form a muse"

"What else have you seen?" you asked in a whisper, you could smell the brandy out of your mouth too

"I have seen your chest, only the beautiful way the collarbone curves, and I have imagined the shape of your breasts... I have imagined the curves of your belly, your waist and hips and... your thighs and" he bit his lip as his eyes looked at your covered legs "and the rest"

Your mouth gaped and felt the air in the studio become thick and hot "Oh"

"Yes, forgive me"

"Don't" you whispered, the heat from your body becoming unbearable

"And..." he added, his face closer "I have used you in my mind with the purpose of-"

"Painting?" you asked

This time Benedict squinted his eyes and then stared at you "Not quite. It feels like a puzzle"

"How so?"

"I had it almost built with everything I know about you. I am sure I could write a book about your person and you won't know how I know those things yet I miss some pieces that I know I should be patient getting them" he slowly shook his head "And you?"

"Me?"

"Have you thought of me?"

"A little"

"More than a little?" he smiled

You were sure he was testing your level of knowledge. And indeed your level is high. You know the human male form if that is what he is asking. Have you thought of him in such state?

"I have wondered..." you murmured "What is about your lips that are always so... rosy?"

Benedict smiled "Do they look inviting?" he said leaning closer

For once you did not retract more into the couch, not that you could more. You took a breath and said "I don't know"

"Would you like to know?"

"Benedict"

"I am only asking"

"What else would you do if I said yes?"

"Taste yours in return"

Your lips parted and you were not able to speak. He was staring at you in a way that made your whole body tremble, the tingle in your belly becoming an actual throb between your legs.

"Miss Ashbourne"

"Mr. Bridgerton"

"Do I have to spell it out? I want to kiss you"

"Why?"

"Because I have been waiting a long time to do so"

"You said we are friends, friends don't kiss"

"Friends don't confess either but here we are" he moved a bit more, his lips only a few inches from yours "I need to know how is it that the world makes sense, how is it that I can have the inspiration that has left me in such a long time. Is it all the alcohol or is it you? You are the answer, right?"

"I don't know"

"Can I find out?"

"Please do"

The words made his heart flutter and the air became thick, his lips touched yours and it was like an electric shock. You felt the room spinning in darkness as you closed your eyes. You felt the softness of his lips against you and quite indeed the fruity lingering of brandy. It was the perfect mix of both. The kiss grew the opposite of chaste. The feeling was so overwhelming and you felt like Benedict was going to consume you and the most curious thing is that you were willing.

You felt his ample hand touching your back and pushing you against him and that made the kiss grow wild. You moved your head and let the passion guide the kiss. The world made sense like this and still, it made no sense at all.

"Y/N" he whispered between the kiss and moved to your cheek and kissed behind your ear

"What?"

"You have freckles here," he said and kissed your skin "Here" another kiss and another "and here. It is like admiring a masterpiece no one has ever left you get near before"

You grew impatient for how many words were coming from his mouth when he could have been kissing you more. You searched for his lips and found them in a latch that made him growl and move his tongue to play with yours. You were so lost in his kiss that the feeling in your stomach grew and grew and was about to explode.

Benedict's hands moved to the side of your hip and then the top of your thigh where he squeezed. A gentle moan escaped your lips, and he swallowed it.

"You are a dream," he said between kisses "A beautiful and vivid dream"

"And you are a madman"

"Perhaps," he said and pressed his lips to yours once more, the kiss was different, his lips moved to yours and it was as if he was trying to memorize every single spot. You felt your whole body reacting and it was becoming hard to breathe.

The feeling was so strong that it was unbearable. The tingling turned into a throb and it was making you lose control, your hands fought with your mind as if they needed to pull the skirt of your gown and touch yourself.

"You taste better than the finest whiskey," he said as his mouth moved to your neck. Your head fell back and gave him more access to your skin.

"Benedict" you whispered

"I love how you say my name. You always have so many things to say" he kissed deeply on your gentle skin "but now you only say my name"

How can this night end? So many scenarios ran through your mind but alas the wetness of his mouth made the rest disappear.

He pressed his body against you and his hand moved to your knee. A small moan escaped your lips and it made him look into your eyes.

"What is the matter?"

"N-nothing"

"It is something. Did I hurt you?"

"No"

"Then what?"

"I..."

"Y/N" he whispered

"I don't know how can this... be... grow more than a kiss"

He saw the innocence of your statement, of course, he could never compare you to the other women he has met. They knew with exactitude how this could "grow" and yet you, a different golden fruit in front of him were questioning whether a kiss is already what means intimacy.

"It can" he gulped seeing your shining eyes "It definitely can"

"How"

"I cannot show you now, my dear"

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust myself"

"But-"

"I want you, Y/N. Not only your mouth but all of you" he moved his hand and cupped your face "I cannot show you this tonight but if you will give me the chance, I promise I will do my best"

"To what?" your question carried a heavy responsibility in its meaning

"To..." he snorted "do something. I don't know" he laughed "Close that robe of yours and I shall accompany you to your house. You ought to sleep now"

"Impossible"

"Do your best" he kissed your forehead "Let's go"

The night was quiet, and as he held your hand and guided you through the back gardens of the other houses you kept yourself in silence. The soil under your slippers was not there you were sure. As if you were floating.

"Go on then," he said pointing at the backdoor "Be a good girl and sleep"

Suddenly the wetness you felt between your legs came back "Right... shall I see you tomorrow?"

He took your hand and placed a finger but he stole a very haste kiss from your lips. A grin on his face as you smiled inr return at the stolen kiss "You will"

"And the day after?"

"Of course"

"And the one after that"

"You are being too greedy but I'll say yes because it is you"

You nodded and turned the knob of the back door but a hand turned you gently away from it "Yes?"

Benedict stood there like a child. He was silent and then he softly smiled "Nothing, go on you, sneaky girl. Next time don't even bother bringing that poetry book. We won't need it"

[novlr]

How do you write characters who ignore their feelings

When you write characters who ignore their feelings, you delve into a complex psychological landscape that, if done well, can resonate deeply with readers. These characters are walking contradictions, their emotions simmering just beneath the surface. This tension between their inner experiences and external expressions makes them fascinating and relatable to readers.

Behaviour

Disregard their own emotional well-being

Focus on logic and facts

Appear stoic or unfazed in stressful scenarios

Engage in compulsive behaviours as a distraction

Will take on burdens without complaining

Avoid conversations about their feelings

Can be reliable in a crisis

Immerse themselves in work or hobbies

Seen as cold or insensitive by others

Exhibit control issues, and micromanaging tendencies

Interactions

Difficulty forming deep, emotional connections

Uncomfortable with physical displays of affection

Struggle to empathise with others’ feelings

Change the subject when discussions turn emotional

Appear indifferent or detached in social settings

Perceived as blunt or straightforward in their communication

Offer practical solutions to problems, rather than emotional support

Have a small, close-knit circle of friends, if any

Inadvertently hurt others by dismissing their emotions

Often seen as the ‘rock’ or ‘anchor’ by their peers

Body language

Cross arms or create physical barriers when emotional topics arise

Maintain a steady, controlled posture

Rarely exhibit nervous ticks or fidgeting

Minimal eye contact during emotional conversations

Often have a rigid or stiff walk or stance

Avoid touch or recoil slightly from unexpected contact

Neutral or hard to read facial expressions

Look away or distance themselves from emotional displays

Rarely cry or show signs of emotional distress in public

Likely to control voice pitch and volume meticulously, even when agitated

Attitude

A practical and no-nonsense demeanour

Often skeptical of emotional reasoning or decisions

May seem dismissive or cynical about sentimentality

Value strength, self-sufficiency, and independence

Pride themselves on not ‘giving in’ to emotions

Can be incredibly self-disciplined and focused

View emotional displays as weaknesses or inconveniences

Have a strong drive to maintain composure under pressure

Sometimes accused of lacking passion or enthusiasm

Can come across as disinterested or aloof

Positive story outcomes

Learn to acknowledge and accept their emotions in a healthy way

Build stronger, more genuine relationships through vulnerability

Find themselves more at peace after emotional breakthroughs

Gain respect from others for their growth and emotional maturity

Overcome past traumas that caused them to suppress their feelings

Develop a more balanced approach to problem-solving

Become a role model for others struggling with emotional expression

Facilitate a cathartic moment that resolves a central conflict

Experience personal breakthroughs leading to unexpected joy

Discover hidden strengths through the acceptance of weakness

Negative story outcomes

Relationships may deteriorate because of emotional neglect

They could face a breakdown from accumulated stress

Might cause unintended harm to themselves or others

Risk becoming isolated because of their lack of emotional openness

Can suffer from health issues related to suppressed emotions

Might miss out on life-changing opportunities because of fear of vulnerability

Could be overtaken by their emotions in a critical moment

May lose the trust or respect of peers who crave emotional honesty

Potentially fail to resolve a major conflict because of emotional barriers

Their growth as a character might stagnate, leading to a tragic outcome

Helpful Vocabulary

Aloof

Detached

Dismissive

Stoic

Impassive

Restrained

Unflappable

Resolute

Suppressed

Guarded

Inexpressive

Dispassionate

Self-contained

Unemotional

Nonreactive

Disconnected

Inhibited

Controlled

Reticent

Reserved

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[jeannineee]

just finished your az & cass headcanons and… would you be up to doing a little drabble fic about like three examples of early-mates drama 🫣? because like… imagine it with me. i feel like there would be a little bit of spite there in the beginning (ESP. with az, considering how he acts about elain canonically) and i can totally imagine like them “accidentally” interrupting dates or one sees the other talking to you alone and just sliiiideeeeesss in lmao

Illyrian Babies

Azriel x Reader x Cassian

a/n: just a couple of little scenarios based on what it would be like in the early days of being mated to Azriel and Cassian.

Quickly proofread, sorry for errors.

“No, not like that, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured from where he stood only a couple strides away. You halted your strikes on the punching bag, turning to your mate.

“I’m doing it exactly as you told me,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow before bracing your hands on your hips.

“Here…” Cassian approached, placing his hands on your shoulders, turning you around to reface the punching bag. His hands slid down your waist, angling them to better your stance.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the contact, earning a chuckle from Cassian. He pressed a kiss onto the crook of your neck, behind your ear.

“We’re supposed to be training,” you breathed, instinctively leaning into his touch.

Cassian hummed, the sound sending vibrations over your skin. His hands slid even lower, toying with the waistband of your pants. “I think it can wait—“

“How is the training coming along?” Azriel asked from behind the two of you, a very smug smile on his face.

Cassian’s expression hardened, until he loosed a breath, offering you a halfhearted smile before turning to Azriel. “She’s doing fine. The same as she was when you asked an hour ago.”

Azriel stepped forward, planting a kiss on your forehead. “You hungry? Figured we could get lunch from that cafe by the Sidra that Mor told you about?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Cassian interrupted, “We’re busy, Azriel.”

Azriel didn’t look at Cassian as he responded, “She’s been training all morning. I’m sure our lovely mate could use a break.”

Cassian snorted. “I’m sure our lovely mate can speak for herself.”

Azriel gave Cassian a flash of his teeth. Cassian returned the gesture. The sheer arrogance radiating off of the pair had you wanting to throttle them both.

You sighed, praying to the Mother for any amount of strength to help you deal with the two of them. “I am hungry, Cas. We can train more this evening?”

Cassian stared at Azriel for a few more moments, before turning to you, his previous scowl gone, his eyes now soft with adoration. “That’s fine. Go eat,” he said, pecking your lips. “I’ll see you later.”

Cassian shot another glare at Azriel before stalking off.

When you arched a brow at Azriel in silent question, the spymaster merely shrugged as he interlocked his hand with yours.

“He’s had you all morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you finished that book you’ve been reading? The romance one?” Azriel asked as he sipped at his coffee.

The sounds of people conversing around the cafe, and the Sidra flowing nearby filled your ears as you and Azriel ate your lunch.

You smiled at Azriel’s question. “I finished it last night. Already started a new one.”

“I’ll have to get you more books, then. That’s what, three this week?”

“Four.”

Azriel chuckled. “Maybe we can spend some time at the library today. I saw a few books that you might—“

“Az? Y/n? Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here.” Cassian sent a wink your way as he slid into the booth, sitting beside Azriel.

Azriel deadpanned, “What are you doing here.”

Cassian grinned. “I was hungry. Didn’t feel like cooking.”

Azriel remained unamused. “Velaris has countless other establishments you could’ve visited.”

Despite the murderous intent swimming in Azriel’s eyes, Cassian wasn’t intimidated. Though, they’ve been brothers for centuries, so you supposed that was to be expected.

Cassian accepted water from a passing waitress, before glancing between you and Azriel. “You’re right, Azriel. However, I happen to like this establishment.”

“The establishment that you knew y/n and I were having lunch at today.”

Cassian feigned innocence. “I had no idea.”

Azriel’s jaw twitched, his shadows swirling around him with anticipation. “You were two feet away from us when I asked her to lunch.”

Cassian shrugged. “Semantics.”

You cleared your throat, hoping to ease the brewing tension between your mates. “Azzie, it’s alright. We can have lunch together, and then you and I will go to the library.”

“What an excellent idea,” Cassian mused.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at Cassian for a few moments longer before turning back to you, nodding. “That’s…fine.”

The three of you ate your lunch together. Surprisingly, it went smoothly—up until the three of you decided to go on a walk along the Sidra, afterwards. It was impossible to enjoy it, what with Azriel and Cassian casually trying to assert their petty-Fae-male-dominance over the other every thirty seconds.

When they asked you for your opinion, you’d finally had enough.

“Both of you need to cut it out. I love you both. Very much—more than anything. Nothing is going to change or affect that.”

You loosed a breath, continuing, “I know that neither of you ever thought you’d find your mate, let alone that you’d have to share her. But you both—we all agreed to make it work. We can’t make it work if you’re having pissing contests when I have alone time with either of you.”

They both seemed very interested in the ground as you spoke, their broad shoulders slumped in shame.

Azriel spoke first. “I’m sorry. A lot of it is just—it’s instinct, to want you to ourselves.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry, too. We’ll try to keep the pissing contests to a minimum, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “Good. That’s all I ask. Now can we go to the library?”

The pair chuckled and nodded. “I’ll fly you,” they said in unison. Fortunately, they didn’t have a showdown of sheer will and stubbornness this time, with Cassian instead saying, “Az can fly you to the House of Wind. I’ll see you this evening, to continue training.”

Cassian shared a quick kiss with you and shot off into the sky. Azriel picked you up, bridal style, before doing the same.

“When can I expect another pissing match?” You laughed as you questioned Azriel; the sound of wind rushing through your ears.

Azriel smirked. “I give it a few hours.”

“That’s generous.”

“We’ll make up for it,” Azriel murmured, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Tonight.”

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! taiju x alpha! kokonoi x alpha! inupi x omega! reader

my masterlist : ☆

tw : yandereish(?), some red flags, sex, breeding kink, slight oral (f!receiving)...

(I tried something that has been on my mind for a while now, I'm not exactly satisfied of what I wrote but I'll probably write more scenarios of them in the future to make up for it!)

there's definitely a clear hierarchy inside your little pack. with, of course, taiju on top of it all. his supremacy actually wasn't decided by worth or anything, but by a primal sense of submission none of you could fight off.

kokonoi and inupi are fine with it, as they still get to be close to you. they're glad taiju has accepted them enough to allow them to approach you. in fact, if taiju was to deny them of your affection, they wouldn't really be able to do anything. he is just way too strong for them.

but they feel linked to him and are very loyal, so there wouldn't be any valid reason for taiju to just throw them out of your pack. it's even safe to say that taiju does appreciate their company.

but don't be mistaken, kokonoi and inupi aren't powerless and do have an influence and a role to play. taiju isn't a dictator, it's far from the reality to assume that the three of you are abused by his bad temper.

kokonoi has quite the temper himself and speaks up whenever he thinks something is not right. whenever taiju is being too rough with you for example, gripping your wrist with just too much strength. kokonoi will clearly not let it slide, telling him to be more careful around you.

on the other hand, inupi is more laidback. he cares so much about your wellbeing, but simply trusts kokonoi to protect you. what he does best is reassuring you after a particularly lively argument between your alphas. shielding you from the bloody scene before you, whenever taiju gets mad at someone.

it rotates though, with either kokonoi or inupi staying with you. but what doesn't change is taiju, who's always leading the assault on the poor soul who crossed their paths.

inupi analyses your reactions and emotions, he knows what triggers you, what makes you happy... he has the chance to spend more time with you, as taiju and kokonoi are the ones ensuring your safety. it wouldn't be the case if it was just the two of you, so he's thankful.

kokonoi and inupi aren't particularly aggressive, but it doesn't mean they'll stop taiju's blinded rage and jealousy. they'll even join him sometimes, if the fight is justified. but it's too much of a bother to try and get him to listen, so they just witness the carnage. the good thing is that it reinforces the fear others feel whenever they look at you, knowing who is looking out for you...

                                     · · ୨୧ · ·

kokonoi finds it funny how you manage to turn the big and scary taiju into a tamed alpha. that's when realises just how much taiju loves you. despite his rough appearance, he would never hurt you willingly.

there are times when his protective instincts become overbearing. he's fiercely loyal, and driven by a need to keep his precious omega safe. while his intentions are genuine, his actions can come across as controlling.

that's when kokonoi and inupi intervene. you might not see anything wrong with taiju's behaviour, thinking it's only right to let his instincts decide on what to do. but kokonoi isn't all pleased when his omega starts going outside less and less.

he wants to be able to do all sorts of stuff with you and confronts taiju for his lack of consideration. inupi softly scolds you for not saying anything and just playfully pinches your cheek when you answer that it's fine with you.

taiju doesn't want his omega to feel trapped, albeit your reassuring words, he's hesitant. so he'll listen to his friends, like he always do. he knows they want the best for you, that's why he isn't doubting their intentions.

when you're spending time together outside, taiju again starts to act all intimidating. for your own sake. "taiju, stop being so mean to everyone! I was only talking to my friend!", you scold him after catching him sending daggers to your friend. he didn't mean to make them run away, he was just looking out for you, making sure he wasn't planning anything funny.

kokonoi is quick to buy you a treat afterwards, teasing you for being so cute when you're mad. you don't stay annoyed for too long though, preferring to chat with inupi.

                                     · · ୨୧ · ·

you're the heart of the relationship. their lives literally turn around their omega.

kokonoi is calling you multiple times a day and delivers cute gifts to you. inupi likes to come to your house unannounced with sweets he knows you love. taiju actually prefers to spend the day napping with you, cuddling in the safety of your nest. he'd rather have you close to him than anywhere else, he wants to know where you are as it appeases him.

taiju surprisingly is a great cook and overall great at any domestic task. so he'll express his love through acts of service, by cooking your favourite meals, running errands for you and anything you might ask of him. he's the definition of provide and protect.

he's a great listener, acting as an attentive support. you can share your concerns with him, although he might lash out later on if your sadness was provoked by someone else.

inupi frequently reminds you of how much he loves you, verbally expressing the deep affection he has. he likes to be intimate with his omega, so he'd rather build your relationship around trust and loyalty. you're really grateful for how compassionate and gentle inupi is with you.

kokonoi feels the need to shower you with excessive affection to make sure you feel loved. you told him countless of times you didn't need all of that, but he's still sending you gifts and taking you to cute and romantic dates with the others, although they're mostly planned by him. inupi and taiju fully trust him for this matter.

kokonoi wants you to know they'll always be there with you. he wants you to rely on them, because they'll do anything to provide a stable life for you.

                                     · · ୨୧ · ·

as I said, taiju isn't a tyrant and while he seems a bit aggressive, his pack's harmony is what matters the most in his eyes, along with your safety.

kokonoi is assertive and it complements taiju's nurturing nature. inupi is the soft side you need, and your support whenever you disagree with a decision that was made, especially if it's about you.

kokonoi and taiju often agree about how they should treat you ; if going out at this party is a good idea, if you should stay at home and stop working because clearly they can provide for you...

inupi does see the good in their choices but doesn't like they way you're left unsatisfied and frustrated. your scent often takes a sour note and while kokonoi tries to reason you by calmly describing why you should listen to them, inupi doesn't like the smell of your pheromones. he negotiates for you and often comes out victorious because your pouting and sulking face is just too much for them to not give in.

                                     · · ୨୧ · ·

during your heats, there is also a definite order. they don't like sharing you during such a vulnerable time of yours.

taiju goes first, rough and aggressive. he wants to breed you, nothing else. you awake such a strong sense of duty in him, he doesn't even prep you, judging you're just wet enough for him to start pounding into you. he's strong and you're so tiny, he's splitting your body in two, with his big hands solidly holding your legs up, knees touching your chest.

taiju makes you cry tears of pleasure, absolutely wrecking you and turning you into a mess. by the time he's finished with you and kokonoi takes his place, you're all pretty and obedient, ready to submit to whatever your alphas will do and say.

kokonoi likes seeing you so meek. you're already crying for his cock the second he enters the room and if your aroused scent didn't already, you can be sure the sight of his cute omega begging for him is enough to send blood rushing to his length.

he wastes no time in indulging in your desires, practically losing himself as well in the moment. while not violent at all, he's still vigorous and thrusts into you just how you like it. he bites and claims you, licking your already bruised skin. your scent is completely washed away, the musky ones of taiju and kokonoi sticking to your skin instead.

he fucks you from behind, loving the way the flesh of your ass bounces with each thrust. there's something about this position which just feels so right. seeing his omega so docile is honestly so rewarding and it satisfies his instincts.

lastly, you'll end up in the ends of the lovely inupi. he'll take his sweet time with you, knowing he's the last. he will kiss you everywhere, licking the hickeys left by his two friends before him. he's so patient and so kind that you become calmer and less impatient as well. you know inupi is gonna take good care of you, so you savour each of his actions.

he'll start by pushing his tongue inside of your pulsating core, lapping at your juices and remains of cum. your scent here is so strong it's almost too much for him too continue without instantly burying his hard cock inside you. but he has an insane self control and hearing you moan so loudly at his touches makes his alpha purr with pride.

by the time you've come at least a couple of times on his tongue and fingers, he's finally giving you the real thing. your senses are even more alert and inupi loves your glossy eyes. he fucks you gently, carefully praising his oh so perfect omega.

at the end of your heat, you're exhausted and completely weak, although very satisfied. your alphas know exactly what you need and how you need it and they always give it to you without any delay.

they take care of your trembling form, carrying you to the bathtub and tenderly massaging your poor muscles.

they never forget to tell you how much they love you and how grateful they are to have you in their lives. even taiju has his open hearted moments, where he confesses just how much of a blessing you represent.

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

For your wounded heart

Pt.1

Pairing: Mizu x reader

Word count: ~2k

Notes: If there will be interest for it, I'll continue the story, because so far there isn't really a Mizu x reader going on lmfaoo but we'll seeeee

Ps.: Mizu's pronounce is he/him in this part

Here's Part 2

The molten gold disc of the sun slowly crept up the horizon, pouring gray onto the world from the darkness. It rose drowsily, languidly among the tall canopies, leaves lighting up as it projected onto them as thousands of thalers appeared next to the shining disk.

The songbirds ruffled their feathers — ready for the challenges of another day, and sang happily to their companions.

A strong draft escaped from under the wooden door, making the embers of the flickering fire dance before running through your covers.

The sudden cold bit into your skin; grabbing you from the realm of dreams, dragging you back to the world of the living with its icy fingers. You opened your eyes with a terrified sigh; waking up from the warm and caressing dream you pulled yourself under the covers.

Another day, another task ahead of you.

Wearly, you dressed up before trying to gather your belongings, which you would need shortly.

A scalpel, a knife, gloves and a deep basket soon graced your side as you set off into the awakening forest.

Three days ago, you were approached by one of the most influential merchants in town. His wife caught the chills-fever, which her priests had not been able to cure with any of their treatments. Realizing that needles, prayers and incense would not help here, the nobleman visited you the day before, when the noises of the market in the main square seemed to dull down, when you started packing your goods to go home.

It had been a long time since you were last offered such a sum - too long for your liking. Short of money - and because you would have faced the wrath of a powerful man if you refused - you accepted his offer to heal his spouse.

Early in the morning, when the rooster hadn't even crowed, you were already ready to go collect the ingredients for the potion.

The sharp autumn air crawled over your skin, penetrated your bones and breathed newfound strength into your heart. Listening to the soothing soft melody of the forest, you set off towards its thickets, hoping that you would find enough ingredients for your tonics today. Everything was ready to take care of the sick wife- all you had to do was get the hojicha flower, of which you had run out of stock a while ago.

Pulling your cloak tight around your shoulders, you stepped on the wet moss carpet, careful not to slip on the rutted ground. Soon the ground would start to freeze- you thought as you tried to remember which tree trunk you marked, where you should turn right or left to reach your usual harvesting location.

"If I want to have everything in the winter, I have to collect them in time..." You sighed, stepping over a taller ditch. "Maybe I should look at the market to buy seeds and-"

"To the best of my knowledge, you have to go the other way to the nearest market." A harsh, sharp voice spoke from your left.

You immediately screamed and if the cold didn't do it until now — the stranger who suddenly stumbled here had certainly frozen your blood. The pounding of your heart only made it worse as you spun backwards, trying to face the source of the sound. Your foot slipped and you fell to your knees, hitting a wet log while you turned your head trying to find the source of the sound.

After a while, three men appeared in front of you; one from the nearby bushes, while two crept out from behind the cover of the trees; like wild dogs lurking in wait for their prey.

"The lady must be lost, people can disappear quickly in the forest..." The other man nodded with a vile grin, rubbing his palms together while approaching you.

"Certainly, it is not recommended to walk alone in such remote places at the crack of dawn." The third man took over, turning his attention to the basket lying on the floor next to you. “It's better if we accompany you… so no one attacks you.”

"I didn't, I just-" You stammered, but your voice got stuck in your throat as the three strangers walked closer and closer. Their ragged and dirty clothes, their darkly glistening dreadful eyes ruled out that they were simple wanderers.

You ran into bandits on the road, alone, in the middle of the forest. Your heart was pounding in your throat and kept yelling for you to move, escape, run — otherwise you will take your last breath here forever.

Your eyes darted to your overturned basket – deep inside your knife was glinting in a cold light. If you could be fast enough to get it out of there...Fight for your life. You fight or you die.

But instincts were stronger than reason; the Gods opened a third way for you at that moment.

You pushed yourself away with your hands, your heels digging into the ground hard, almost scraping it up as you jumped up to run away like a chased deer. You could barely feel your legs, could barely breathe as you ran through the trees with all your might, jumping over bushes, rocks, and pits. With your heart in your throat, with the sound of the bandits' steps and shouts in your ears, you kept going forward, not even daring to look back.

Your ability to navigate had left you, you didn't even know if you were running towards or away from them, there was just the feeling that you still had to go, still run, still fight. If you stopped you were dead, if you fell you were dead, if they caught up you were dead.

A huge thorn bush appeared in front of you, too high and wide it would have been almost impossible to jump over it, to get around it; so for lack of a better option you tensed your muscles, pulled your neck in, closed your eyes and ran into the branches, shielding your face with your arms.

The pain that ignited in the darkness flashed through you as a hundred and a thousand spikes dug into your exposed skin; then you felt the ground open under your feet, suddenly you began to fall.

You didn't even have time to cry out when you hit the hard ground with your side.

Lying there injured and exhausted, with a bursting heart, you realized that it was all over.

You just sealed your faith.

Panting and choking from crying, you heard the rustling of the bushes behind you, then the trampling of feet.

"Here's the little slut" One of the men chuckled, but the cheering stopped almost immediately.

You did not dare to look up from the ground, did not dare to move; you were left lying on the ground trembling, awaiting death...

But nothing happened.

Another second, but there was only silence, no more footsteps, no giggles, no shouts.

Blinking away the dirt and blood, you looked from behind your lashes and then realized why you were still breathing.

The attention of the three thugs no longer plagued you. They turned almost motionless, to the left, watching ahead of them.

You followed their gaze and saw that you had fallen on a road. On a road where a fourth stranger was now standing in front of you.

A tall, lanky stranger in blue traveling clothes, the bamboo hat he wore pulled low over his face, obscuring his features.

A stranger with a sword in his hand.

Suddenly everything around you seemed to be silent; the chirping of the birds died away, the trees and twigs no longer creaked and cracked, as if the wind itself had stopped to watch the unfolding scene.

Not wanting to break the silence, you stared at the fourth stranger, holding your breath, wondering what would happen now.

Was that your savior ahead of you? Or was he just a wanderer who didn’t care what troubled others, who would only solve his own problems, regardless of if he made others ill-fated? Maybe you got out of the frying pan into the fire?

"There's nothing to see here." The nimblest bandit growled, a rusty knife in hand. "Everybody's minding their own business, right?"

"This matter belongs only to us and this woman, there is no need to cause difficulties for anyone." The largest one with a long mustache spoke slyly, the one closest to you clutched a heavy cudgel in his fist, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped it.

The blue-clad stranger didn't answer immediately, instead tilting his head to the side, he peeked out from behind the brim of his hat, flashing his yellow-tinted glasses in the light.

"Looking at you, I suspect you are road thugs." The sword bearer spoke, his voice softer than you would have expected. "You rob those who come here." His words didn't seem like a question.

At this, the third man - the fox with a smile, who had a katana, spat down his side stepping forward in front of his companions.

"If you want good for yourself, you turn back or walk past us without another word." He snapped in his raspy voice, grabbing the hilt of his sword as the other two tensed with their weapons as well.

Barely able to handle the shaking and the hitching of your breath, you lifted your torso off the ground with challenge, turning to the blue-cloaked stranger desperately.

"Please…" Your voice trailed off as sobs broke from you. "Don't let me die, please!" Your voice cracked; hot tears washing away the mud and blood from your face. "Help me, please!"

The lanky stranger moved his arm back, revealing the hilt of his sword as he reached towards it with his right hand.

You inhaled through your teeth when you heard the deep clang of metal and clattering footsteps as the bandits charged towards him.

You dropped back down, pulling your knees to your chest as the battle began. Only daring to watch the scene from the cover of your arm.

The swordsman reached first the blue-clad savior, swinging an upward blow from the left, but his sword met another steel.

The man in the hat drew his sword from the sheath with the speed of a viper, breaking the first attack with almost no effort. Before the thug could react to it, the man was already flying to the ground, his legs entangled as the blue clothed one pushed him away to answer the next blow.

The rusty knife reached him second, and while his companion seized the stranger with his blade, he thrusted his knife towards your helper's neck. The cloaked man shoved the katana wielder away with his foot as he turned his torso to the side, the knife still flying towards him mid air.

Taking advantage of the movement, he turned to the right, placing one raised foot in front of the other, cutting across with his blade in front of him.

In a blink of an eye, red rain shot from the arm of the knife-wielding bandit - the sword almost cut his arm off. He staggered with a sharp wail, then fell to the ground, where he continued to shriek.

The one with a cudgel on the other hand did not attack yet, instead he stopped from a decent distance so the sword of the man in blue could not reach him, seemingly considering his next moves.

But this proved to be only a distraction when the first attacker reappeared, this time springing into action behind your savior's back.

The one in blue could hear this, as he turned to the side keeping an eye on both of his attackers, but then the largest started to move suddenly in order to attack at the same time with his other partner.

Seeing the impossible situation, you already had the mental image of the swordsman slashing your savior while the other beat him to death with the heavy club — you whimpered in terror, burying your face in your arms to shield yourself from the sight.

You heard a shout and the clang of steel meeting again, something heavy falling to the ground. A dull, more watery pounding - the cudgel! Bubbling, frothy snoring- a moan of agony and then silence.

You were next, you were sure of that.

Sharp cuts, bone-crushing blows and then slow, lingering death awaits you.

But there was no movement, not even a single grunt from the fight.

Panting, you raised your head to shorten your wait, but you did not find yourself facing the person you were waiting for.

You caught the gaze of the blue-cloaked stranger. You watched with a dry throat and roaring head as he stood over the three bloodied, dying bandits, his sword still clutched in his right hand.

The bamboo hat was no longer on his head, it probably fell off sometime during the fight when you weren't looking, and now was lying at his feet, waiting to be dusted off and put on again.

But instead, the stranger staggered, his knees buckling as he took two steps forward, finally slumping forward onto the ground, leaving you alone in the field of vigilance.

[paimonial-rage]

lol yeah ok - how about 12 and 13 instead? - last anon

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What is Neuvillette’s love language?

As that he does not have a way with human relationships, Neuvillette shows his feelings best through acts of service and gift-giving. After all, words are difficult and easy to construe. Quality time often leaves him at a loss for the very words he has a difficult time with. And physical touch? That’s simply too intimate for him. So what better way to show how he feels through something concrete? Surely if he gives of his time and resources for the people he cares about, they will understand how high of a regard he holds them. At least, he hopes. 

What is Neuvillette like in a relationship?

As unfamiliar with human emotions as he is, you notice Neuvillette’s feelings for you long before he does. How can you not? You see it clearly—the softness in his eyes whenever they fall upon you, the fondness in his smile, the requests for you to stay if not just a moment longer. You are taken by surprise the day he notices. He approaches you with a troubled, albeit bashful expression. He says that it was brought to his attention that he has feelings for you. Adorable as he is, what else can you do but accept them?

Much to your expectation, there is a hesitance in his step after he begins to court you. He has never been in a relationship before. He doesn’t want to mess it up. So how close is he allowed to walk next to you? Is it proper to offer you his arm? Will you refuse him if he asks you to accompany him to a show? But your presence at his side leaves him light-headed. How many times this has lead to social gaffes and things of the sort? But when you laugh, how can he not chuckle to himself in turn?

With Neuvillette, you will find no bombastic displays of affection. There will not be poetic words of love and adoration. After all, Neuvillette is a simple man and will show his love through simple, yet earnest ways. He will want to spend time with you. He will want to do his best to communicate and be honest with you. He will want to make you happy in any way you see fit. He will do his best for you.

Zhongli's below the cut!

What is Zhongli’s love language?

Anyone close to the Geo Archon knows his penchant for gift-giving. Really, it often catches many by surprise the sheer thoughtfulness and rarity of the gifts he gives. Not only are they often pricey, but also chosen with the receiver specifically in mind. It’s not rare to see people moved to tears upon receiving them, touched by the amount of care he puts into each one. As with gifts, Zhongli is also liberal with the words of affirmation he gives others. He does not hesitate to state a person’s strengths, nor how high of a regard he holds them. With him, there is no room for doubt. 

What is Zhongli like in a relationship?

You don’t exactly know when you both became an item. As wordy as Zhongli is, he never bothered to tell you his feelings plainly. He even rejected you at first, stating he didn’t see you in that way. But then he said he’d try, didn’t he? And from that point, things began to change. How he’d invite you to Miss Yun’s performances, or offered his arm for you to take while he’d walk you home. How he’d tell you the most outrageous stories with a straight face, then laugh with an amused glint in his eye when you took him seriously. Somewhere along the way, the wall he kept began to fall.

Still, it is hard to tell his feelings as he never becomes the most physical with his affections. He does not hug you, nor does he hold your hand when you walk at his side. Sparing the moments when you’re the most endearing, he does not often kiss you of his own accord. Still, there is a level of familiarity and intimacy that he displays with no one else. You’re the only person he’ll let by his side on the days he wants most to be left alone. You’re the one whose opinions matter the most. You’re the only one he’ll tease as mercilessly as he does. You’re special.

With Zhongli, you realize that your relationship with him is not primarily one of romance, but of companionship. He does not simply view you as a friend. No, you’re much more than that. Out of all the things that come and go in his life, you are and will always be the only constant. You are everything to him. Even if you may part ways for a time, the place by his side will always remain yours. A relationship with you is a contract, one that he will always uphold. 

[moon-delia]

★ ៸៸៸ FRIENDSHIP 1 ╱ post ❜ ✸ ៸ !?!

Good friendships can turn a decent story into a memorable one as, it not only does it make the reader care more about the story, it adds emotional weight to the story.

But there's one problem. Good relationships are difficult to write. You thought writing romance was difficult? Well, writing friendships is a whole new level of difficulty.

Romances normally rely on professions of love and staring into one's eyes for lengthy periods of time. But, how do you develop friendships?

# ៸ make each character their own person.

If a character's only purpose in the story is to act as "the friend", then it's guaranteed that they will be a flat and uninteresting character. This will lead to a friendship that no reader will be invested in.

Unfortunately, a lot of stories are like this ― you have your main character, and then their 1-dimensional friend who might crack a joke every once in a while. 

We have some good examples from movies like Samwise Gamgee from The Lord of the Rings. He isn't just "Frodo's friend" who tags along. He's a gardener and a cook. He has a fascination with elves, a crush on Rosie, and a bad habit of eavesdropping. He is loyal, brave, and can persevere even when there is seemingly no hope.

You see this is in Toy Story as well. Even though Woody and Buzz both have the same goal ― to escape Sid's house ― they both have different journeys. The story means different things to each of them. Woody learns to not be as selfish and Buzz struggles with accepting that he is just a toy.

# ៸ give them something in common.

Once you have fleshed out your characters, you need a reason for them to be friends. What brought them together? What gives them the reason to hang out? You need to give them similarities.

This can be a number of different things, like:

★ Status

★ Hobbies

★ Struggles

★ History

★ Background

★ Interests

★ Enemy

★ Goals

★ Dreams

# ៸ give them meaningful differences.

Once you've established their similarities, it's time to dig deeper and create their meaningful differences. Don't just make your characters different. Give them meaningful differences that can build off of each other.

With those differences, your characters can help support their strengths and build them up during their times of weakness. This can lead to a strong friendship.

Here are some great ways to give them differences:

# ៸ skills.

★ One of the friend can be smart in terms of intelligence while the other is good at using her hands and inventing stuff.

★ One might be good at coming up with plans, while the other might be good at improvising when the plan goes awry.

# ៸ conflict resolution.

★ If there is a bully bothering them, one might want to go and blow up at the bully, while the other chooses to ignore it.

★ If they are having an argument, one friend would want to talk it out maturely, while the other just likes to play devil's advocate and throw more heat into the argument.

# ៸ personality.

★ One is confident and sly while the other is shy and awkward.

★ A is cold and determined while B is relaxed and compassionate.

★ B is an easy-going pleasure seeker, and B is a serious planner.

# ៸ method of action.

★ Both friends are trying to break into a house. One will look up videos on YouTube about how to pick a lock. The other friend will just break the window with a rock.

★ The two friends are trying to persuade someone to do something. One friend uses bribing techniques, and the other friend uses a more passive-aggressive approach.

# ៸ reaction.

★ One friend with freak out and the other friend will stay calm.

★ A will get discouraged and want to give up, and B will encourage them to keep going.

★ One person is terrified out of their mind, while the other tries to stay positive.

[mynahx3]

CAN I REQUEST SOME HEADCANNONS OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT OF CHOSO, NANAMI, AND GOJO HELPING THE READER GET THROUGH A BREAKUP

LMAO It's finally here! This took me way longer than needed. So sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy! Made HC and a lil fic with Choso, Nanami, and Gojo

Choso

Def think Choso would be standoffish at first but would be a good friend once he gets closer, someone you could talk to about things easily. 

Wouldn’t know how to talk to you or what to do when you were upset but he would be genuine. 

Choso might not be vocal but he would notice how distant you acted the last couple of weeks, not as open, more closed off now. 

He wouldn’t know how to approach you right away but he would definitely be one of the first people to notice. 

Begins to slyly ask people around what's wrong, ending up asking Yuji who tells him what happened. 

Immediately goes to your place, even if it’s dark

Choso knocked on your door urgently with panting breath; he had run from Jujutsu Tech, and it was now almost midnight. He became anxious once he realized the time; he was afraid you might be asleep and had rushed over without a second thought. His heart beats loudly in his chest, waiting for you to answer the door. Thoughts raced through his mind, wondering what excuse he could give for showing up at your door late at night without warning.

After hearing that you had found your boyfriend cheating on you with a close friend and then dumped you, he rushed over. Anger filled him at the thought of someone hurting you like this. You showered your ex-boyfriend with love and acceptance, yet he never reciprocated. Offering excuse after excuse for that man to improve his treatment of you.

One day, while you were venting on a phone call about your toxic ex, Yuuji overheard and informed Choso about the breakup. His brother grew close to you as you helped mentor him by overseeing the missions of first-year students at times.

Having grown close to you over time, Choso had heard some of your complaints about him firsthand. He had his own thoughts on your relationship but remained quiet out of respect for you.

Over the course of knowing you, Choso has grown to admire you. Your strength as a sorcerer and your unwavering kindness towards others had captured his heart. He knew he couldn't stand the thought of you suffering alone. These feelings confused him in the beginning; he had only felt this love for his brothers to that extent. You weren't family, and yet he felt drawn to protect you. When he talked to his little brother about his feelings—wanting to hold you from the world, wanting to be there for you closer—his brother simply smiled, telling him it sounded like he had a crush.

At this realization, Choso began to understand that his feelings for you went beyond mere admiration and protection. He was falling in love with you, and it both thrilled and terrified him. Your relationship did deter him from confessing, but he couldn't deny the growing affection he felt for you. Choso knew he needed to confront his feelings and decide whether to take the risk of revealing them to you.

Coming back to reality, he saw your lights turned on inside. Taking a deep breath, he waited for you to open the door.

You peeked out with sleepy eyes and messy hair, dressed in a faded shirt and sweatpants, giving him a confused look. To him, you were absolutely adorable. The redness in your eyes and the faint traces of tears on your cheeks caught his attention before his mind could process your appearance.

"Choso, why are you here?" Your voice was raspy, and your lips were slightly cracked and dry. It looked like you had been crying a bit and had just woken up.

"I-I" He stammered, unable to find an excuse as his voice stuck in his throat, and his dark eyes avoided contact in his nervousness. "I heard what happened; I wanted to check on you."

You visibly looked shocked. Feeling a wave of mixed emotions crashing over you, caught off guard by his unexpected gesture of concern. As he shifted uncomfortably, the gravity of the moment settled heavily on both of you.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding," he added softly, hoping to convey his genuine concern for you.

"No, I appreciate it, Cho." You smiled, trying to reassure him, grateful for his presence during a difficult time. You stepped to the side to let him in. The chill of the night air crept into your apartment. "Get in here; it's cold out."

His eyes softened at your response, a flicker of relief crossing his face before he nodded in understanding. Walking in, he took his shoes off, slipping into the guest slippers you offered.

After multiple invitations, this was his first visit to your residence; it fit you. The place appeared worn-out and cozy, with small trinkets strewn about. Your personality showed in your decoration choice, making him feel more at ease. In a hurry, you clean the kitchen counter that was cluttered with dishes from your dinner earlier.

"Sorry about the mess," you apologized, feeling a bit embarrassed. You hadn't been keeping up with your cleaning as of late due to your lack of energy and busy schedule. He waved it off with a smile, appreciating your hospitality regardless of the state of your home.

"Don't worry about it. I'm the one that came out of nowhere."

Moving to your living room, you both sit in an awkward silence on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm ambiance. The tension slowly dissipates as you relax in each other's company as the conversation flows naturally with him.

"I know this is sudden." He starts getting to the reason for his unexpected visit, fiddling with his hands. "I heard what happened and was worried about you."

You sat close to him, still smiling, as you tried to convince him you were fine. Choso felt his heart race more. This was the closest he's ever been to you alone. It felt different than being at the school—a good different.

"I'm not familiar with human relations, but… I could tell you were not yourself lately." Choso's words are hesitant, but his concern is genuine. You appreciate his honesty and the effort he's making to connect with you on a personal level. You nodded to him, laughing a little at his awkwardness.

"I guess I've been out of it. I appreciate you checking in on me," you reply, feeling grateful for his presence. Choso smiles softly, relieved that he was able to express his concern for you.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to."

"Coming in the middle of the night was… sudden, but it means a lot to me." You say it with a laugh at his unexpected visit. "Talking would be nice, actually. Want some snacks first?"

Choso nods, eager to continue the conversation over some snacks. You both head to the kitchen, grateful for the opportunity to bond and share a moment of connection.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as you engaged in a heartfelt conversation with Choso, delving deep into your thoughts and emotions over steaming mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. With each word shared, a sense of relief washed over you, lightening the burden on your shoulders. Choso listens attentively as you speak, his eyes empathetic. You vented about how your ex-boyfriend dismissed your concerns and belittled your feelings, brushing off the warning signs you desperately tried to address. You hesitated to speak up further, fearing that your ex would accuse you of being a jealous partner.

"I just wish I didn't let him walk all over me like that." You sniffle, wiping your eyes. Choso reaches out and places a comforting hand on yours, offering a reassuring smile.

"You possess a strength within you that shines even in moments of vulnerability," he says softly, his words a gentle balm to your wounded spirit, offering the support and understanding you craved.

"Pfft, yeah, right." You laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "I was so stupid. I thought he'd change or realize how much he was hurting me, but nothing I did was good enough."

Firmly, he takes both of your hands, capturing your attention.

"Do not say that about yourself. He was the one who hurt you after everything you had done for him. It was his fault; not yours. You deserve more than that dick who betrayed your trust. You are incredible; he didn't see it."

His words took you by surprise; he wasn't one to swear much or get so passionate without reason, usually remaining quiet. Squeezing his hands back, you smiled at him, feeling a warmth in your chest at his unexpected outburst of support.

"Thank you," you whispered, grateful for his words and the comfort they brought.

"You possess a strength beyond measure," he said softly, his eyes brimming with sincerity. With a gentle touch, he brushed away your tears, cradling your face tenderly. "You deserve far more than the way he mistreated you. You deserve to be cherished and valued for the amazing person you are."

"It's odd, but… I feel relieved after all this. It felt like our relationship was over months ago. I just didn't have the guts to end it myself." You sigh, leaning into his hand that cupped your face, as you contemplate the newfound clarity in your heart. It was a bittersweet realization.

Choso nodded, his movements slow and deliberate, scooting closer to you on the couch. "I'm glad you feel that way."

Looking at him, time seemed to slow, his eyes looking between your lips and back up looking into your eyes. The two of you slowly lean closer, unspoken words hanging in the air between you. 

“I just… I care about you.” He said, his voice almost a whisper, as he got lost in you. Taking in your beauty this close was amazing to him. “A lot, actually.” 

You lean in closer to him, putting a finger on his lips to stop his stammering. His cheeks tinted a light pink from your proximity. You had a hunch that he had some feelings for you. You, yourself, had felt a blooming attraction to him but tried to push it down because your boyfriend, now ex. Choso, was always attentive to you on missions, keeping you safe, and making sure you were okay. With nothing else holding you back, you decided to take a plunge. 

“You care about me?” You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. Thumb tracing his bottom lips in thought at your next actions. ”Want to show me how much?”

Without hesitation, he breaks the distance between you both. As your lips finally met, you could tell he was inexperienced. His hands didn’t know where to go, almost scrambling before settling on your waist. Your hands went into his hair, tangling in his black, soft locks as you guided him in the kiss, teaching him with each movement. The initial awkwardness melted away as he began to respond, his lips moving in sync with yours, a silent promise of learning and growing together.

The kiss started tentatively, with a soft and gentle meeting of lips that conveyed innocence and curiosity. In that moment of shared vulnerability, you both embarked on a journey of exploration and intimacy, marking the start of a new and thrilling chapter in your relationship.

As the kiss breaks, your foreheads rest together, smiles playing on your lips at the sweetness of the moment. Choso's face was a bright red in the realization that it was his first kiss; he couldn't be happier that it was with you.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he whispers, his deep voice filled with emotion, caressing your face.

"Please, do it again," you say, your voice filled with longing and anticipation.

Choso leans in for another kiss, this time more confident and passionate, as if he had been waiting for your request. The second kiss lingers longer, the depth of his emotions evident in the tender caress of his lips against yours. After breaking the kiss again, you laugh and hug each other tightly. This moment marks the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship, a chapter filled with promise and affection. 

Nanami

You two have known each other since highschool but lost touch after graduating. 

Reunited with you in your 20s, you were still a sorcerer. 

Never liked your ex when you brought him around to hangouts after work. 

Noticed how you were always dismissed when talking or flat out ignored by him. . 

Sees that you’re depressed after your BF of 3 years broke up with you suddenly only to get with someone shortly after. 

Wouldn’t confess his feelings right away so you could focus on healing yourself first

Show his support through acts of service but never out right calling you out on your different mood. 

Had feelings for you for a long time but didn’t act on them due to the both of you being sorcerers

Nanami walked alongside you, occasionally glancing sideways, his heart fluttering with each step. Tonight, he decided to finally confess to you after years of yearning for you.

He never acted on his emotions before due to the history of your old relationship. The breakup was a nasty one that left you feeling hurt and broken. Your ex left you suddenly with no real reason after almost three years together. Shortly after, he was seen with another woman, leaving you feeling betrayed and devastated.

It had been almost a year since then, in which he remained by your side as a friend. He ensured your well-being and helped gradually rebuild you into a healthier you.

For months, Nanami quietly supported you in your weakest moments.

Checking in on you frequently, as well as walking you home almost every day, became part of his routine. You barely ate after the breakup, which led to significant weight loss. Because he cared about you, he frequently prepared or offered to buy you lunch. Your energy and color made their way back as you slowly started to heal, and he couldn't keep his feelings hidden any longer, especially due to recent events.

Just a few days ago, you had gone on a mission, one that risked your life greatly. With luck by your side, you made it to Shoko in time, getting healed like nothing had occurred. Despite the pain of the past, Nanami couldn't ignore his feelings any longer and knew he had to take a chance on confessing his love to you. The fear of losing you was too great to keep silent any longer.

Gaining courage, he broke the comfortable silence between the two of you. The streets of Tokyo were quiet this time of night, creating a serene atmosphere.

"You know, you scared me the other day." He stated this, looking at you. His warm brown eyes could be seen because he was not wearing normal sunglasses.

You wince at him, shaking your head at the mention of it, looking up towards him.

Nanami had rushed to the infirmary when he heard the news, grateful to find you laughing in bed with Shoko by your side. You were fine, with the exception of a few scratches, one of which was still on your cheek and was covered with a bandage now.

"Yeah, I was scared for a second too." You admit rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile on your lips. "Things got a little crazy, but I managed to get out."

"I'm glad you're okay," he says, his eyes reflecting genuine concern and a small smile playing on his lips. "Next time, be more careful, please."

A frog felt like it had settled in his throat, making it hard to speak. He wasn't one to normally let his feelings get the better of him, but in this moment, he felt like a teenager all over again. Before he could speak, you broke the silence.

"Thank you, Nanami. I appreciate you checking in on me; you didn't have to." You say this, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as you walk.

As you both passed a nearby ramen shop, it served as a reminder to him that you were almost at your apartment. He needed to act fast before he lost his nerve.

"Regardless. Who would I be if I didn't come check on you? I care about you." His tone was gentle as he asked, a departure from his usual stoic demeanor.

You smiled at his words, feeling grateful for his presence in your life.

Nanami remained by your side, forcing you to work out with him and helping clean your apartment when you were at your worst. He was always there for you, even when you didn't ask. His actions spoke volumes about the depth of his care and concern for you.

Slowly, you felt your feelings for him begin to shift from gratitude to something deeper, something that made your heart flutter whenever he was near. It was a realization that maybe, just maybe, there was more to your relationship than just friendship. Apart from that, you were too scared to admit it, afraid of ruining the friendship you cherished so much. Deciding to bury your feelings deep down instead.

As you approached your apartment building, you felt disheartened. Your time with him was going to come to an end soon.

"Well, I'll make sure to cook you a nice meal to thank you for being such a good friend," you said with a grin, already planning your way of showing appreciation.

You experimented with different foods and cooked often, making it a new pastime of yours. You discovered your passion for baking through this endeavor, so you surprised him with his favorite bread when you felt he was feeling down or worn out. It was your way of reciprocating the kindness he always showed you.

He chuckled, the sound making your heart flutter as you both walked up the steps to your building, filled with joy. Shaking his head at that, he said, "You don't have to. It was more so for my heart than anything. Scare me again like that, and I might not recover."

Your hearty laugh fills the air as you reach the top of the steps, grateful for his presence in your life.

"You'd be fine without me."

"I highly doubt that," he replied, flashing you a warm smile.

As you were caught in his eyes, your hand rested on the door handle, delaying your entry into the apartment lobby.

"Thank you for always being there for me," you tell him as you watch him step closer to you, holding your breath in anticipation.

"No need to thank me. I'll always be here for you."

You both locked in for a split second as you stood there. Neither of the two wanted to be apart from the other just yet. Taking a chance, Nanami made a brave move and approached you. He held your hand, asking you to stay for a moment. Words escape you as you nod, letting him talk.

Nanami looked nervous, something you've never seen before, as he contemplated what to say. The air is electric in your shared silence, both of you feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Nanami broke the silence with a heartfelt confession that left you speechless.

"I've come to realize I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship." He declared. "Would you do me the honor of letting me take you out on a date? Friday, at 7 p.m., I'll pick you up for dinner. What do you say?"

As your heart raced with anticipation, you eagerly nodded, a wide smile lighting up your face. His face relaxed, and he was clearly relieved that you accepted his invitation for a date. Smiling with you, he let his emotions take hold.

He cupped your face, your lips connecting in a soft, tender kiss that left you breathless. The world around you seemed to fade away as you both embraced one another. You gladly returned the affection that the two of you had lost in the moment of a long-awaited kiss. Your lips locked together passionately, his hold tight as if he never wanted to let you go. He kissed you in a way that left you wanting more, his lips expertly moving against yours with a sense of longing and passion.

Just as your lungs burned for air, he broke the kiss, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked at your flushed face. Both of your lips are slightly pink and puffy from the intense kiss. His hands still cupped your face as he gazed at you with nothing but love in his eyes. His thumb rubbed on the bandage on your cheek, and his brows furrowed in concern.

"I apologize for the suddenness. I honestly believed I had lost you." He admitted it with a tenderness meant for you alone while gazing into your eyes. "I don't think... Should you disappear, I'm not sure what I would do. My world would fall apart, I fear."

His heartfelt words filled your heart with warmth and comfort. You tried to speak, but the weight of his confession in combination with the kiss left you speechless, with no words escaping your lips. Heat went to your face as your mind processed everything. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. In that moment, you knew that his feelings were genuine and that you meant more to him than you had ever realized.

"You have me, and I'm not going anywhere. Not without a fight."

His eyes softened at your reassurance, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Looking down, he wanted to kiss you once more.

"I don’t doubt about that, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in for another kiss, you felt a sense of security and love envelope you, knowing that you had someone by your side who would always be there for you. With his lips against yours, you felt safe. 

Gojo

Met you when you were a new teacher at Jujutsu Tech when he just became one. 

You both quickly became close friends, he jokingly called you his work wife. 

100% would hear about your breakup in person cause you went to him first. 

Talks with you with wine at his place, letting you ugly cry a bit, eventually sadness turns to anger, which he encourages. (ex broke up with you because of the distance and didn't want to move)

Would suggest hooking up to get back at him as a joke but the night escalates

Starts as a rebound relationship to both of you catching feelings, hard. 

He starts only seeing you, ditches his other hookups and booty calls. 

Treats you like a queen, spoils you when he could and takes you on dates. 

Other people were shocked to hear you weren’t together but spend time together like you are

In the dimly lit room of his apartment, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you lay on a bed under silk sheets, gazing out at the city below. The city lights twinkled in the night, offering a captivating view that evoked feelings of both insignificance and unity with the world around you. The soft sounds of traffic and distant chatter contributed to the serene atmosphere, easing you into a state of relaxation.

You were lost in thought until you felt the gentle touch of small kisses being peppered on your bare shoulder, drawing your attention to the culprit beside you. With a lazy grin, Satoru laid beside you, his eyes reflecting a mix of contentment and mischief as he propped his head up on his hands. He was just as bare under the sheets, flush next to you, love bites littering his pale chest, hair ruffled.

"What chu thinking of, gorgeous?" He asked, his tone as teasing as always, moving a strand of your hair from your face to behind your ear.

Sweat still covered your bodies in a sheen, proof of your intimate activities only moments ago. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, a reminder of the passion you both shared. Satoru's playful demeanor brought a genuine smile to your face, warming your heart with affection.

"Nothing much handsome." You leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. In that moment, all worries melted away as you basked in the afterglow of your time together.

The soft moonlight enveloped both of you, casting a gentle glow, while the stars above shimmered like distant diamonds in the night sky.

"Yeah, nothing, sure." He pouted, biting your shoulder, earning a yelp from you. Clingy as always.

"Stop it, Toru," you giggled, playfully swatting him away.

He only pressed himself more into your side, planting sloppy yet affectionate kisses along your face. The sound of his laughter filled the room—a sweet melody that you never wanted to end.

"Don't deny me! I know how much you can't get enough of me ," he teased, pulling you closer for another kiss.

Letting him kiss you, you couldn't help but smile at his playful antics. With the kiss over again, he begins to kiss down your neck. Your eyes look over to the side, seeing the time on the clock. With a groan of reluctance, you move to sit up, unknowingly missing the sad look in his eyes from your impending departure.

"I should start heading out; it's getting late."

Satoru's smile faltered for a moment before he masked it with a playful grin. Holding onto your wrist as you moved to get off the bed.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" he pleaded, his eyes reflecting a hint of disappointment. A childish pout on his lips, azure eyes pleading with you to stay a little while longer.

Satoru, along with you, had long developed feelings, which breached your agreement to keep things casual. This was a relationship that only started as a rebound from your ex, who broke your heart for a stupid reason. Now you both wished for something more.

In all honesty, he had been treating you like his lover in every way but title, from taking you on frequent dates to showering you with gifts and affection. For the past few months, he has even avoided seeing his other hookups in favor of you.

Recently, you have been staying the entire night with him, or vice versa. Something you both knew crossed the line you agreed upon. You had grown so accustomed to each other that you kept each other's toothbrushes in your bathrooms and your clothes in your respective places.

Even the sex had changed into something more intimate.

He would always check on you after, so much so that your aftercare had become a ritual. He took the time to cuddle with you or talk about your day, showing a level of care and consideration that went beyond just physical attraction. An arm was always wrapped around you as the two of you fell asleep.

It was a stark contrast to how things were in the beginning, with one of you leaving right after intimacy without a second thought. He clearly valued you as more than just a casual fling, but the conversation about defining the relationship had yet to happen.

Waiting for your response, Satoru gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. The unspoken question hung in the air, heavy with tension, creating a palpable sense of anticipation that neither of you seemed ready to address just yet.

"I would like that." You say, avoiding his gaze, feeling a bit shy at the admission. Your heart fluttering nervously in anticipation of his response.

Satoru's face breaks into a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with happiness as he pulls you into a tight, reassuring embrace, conveying his genuine joy. You melted in his arms for a moment, your brows furrowed as you thought of your relationship with him.

"Can we actually talk about something?" You ask, wanting to address the elephant in the room now rather than later.

Satoru nods, his expression turning serious as he leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes lock onto yours as he gives you his full attention. He was serious for a change, knowing the conversation was important to you from the tone of your voice.

After gaining courage, you finally speak. "I wanted to talk about us."

Satoru's eyes soften, a hint of concern crossing his features as he waits for you to continue. You take a deep breath, knowing that this conversation could change everything between you two.

"What… What are we, Satoru?" Looking up at him, your eyes wavered, scared of what his answer would be.

Satoru's gaze held yours, his silence weighing heavily in the air as he carefully chose his words. Finally, he spoke softly, "I care about you deeply, but I understand if you need more clarity on where we stand."

Your heart raced, waiting for his next words to determine the fate of your relationship.

"Do you mean that we're just friends, or is there something more between us?" You ask, your voice small yet determined, betraying a mix of apprehension and resolve.

"I want us to be more than friends, if you're willing to take that step with me." Satoru's expression softened, and he reached out to gently hold your hand.

You hold his hand back, a little tighter than his grip, shaking from your anxiety. Your heart swelled with hope and anticipation, realizing that this conversation was indeed a pivotal turning point for both of you, a moment that could change the course of your relationship forever.

"Really?" You ask, disbelief in your tone, thinking your ears are deceiving you.

Satoru smiles warmly, nodding in affirmation. Your fears begin to melt away as you feel a newfound sense of courage and excitement for what the future may hold for your relationship.

"I care about you lots, babe. I want to see where this could go," he said softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. Your fears began to melt away as you felt a sense of warmth and possibility enveloping you both. 

Kissing you once more, he crawls over you. One hand held your face, the other moving your legs around his waist. Feeling envigored after your talk, you eagerly reciprocate, feeling a newfound sense of connection and passion between you both. The future suddenly seemed brighter and more promising than ever before. 

Laying in bed, you couldn't be more happy to have him in your life, even with the rough beginnings. 

He slept peacefully beside you, tired after more rounds together, now as an official couple. His features made him look angelic in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for this man who had brought so much light into your life. As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand. 

Dividers by @rookthornesartistry

[slayfics]

Muichiro’s Mansion

Muichiro x Reader series

You have finally reached the rank to apply to be Muichiro’s Tsuguko. But will he accept you?

Chapter 1

As soon as you set eyes on Muichirio Tokito something happened. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt as though your stomach dropped and all the oxygen left your body. There was something about him, you didn’t know if it was the elegance in which he held himself or the careful way he spoke as though he carefully crafted each word. He never seemed to waste time on trivial things and in his presence, you felt as though you couldn’t think straight and you couldn't keep your eyes off him.

That’s why you knew you had to be his Tsuguko. No other Hashira would do. Your knees started to shake as you began to think of the day approaching. You had informed the master about your intention to apply to be Muichiros Tsuguko after he informed you that you had reached the rank to start applying. The master suggested at the end of the next Hashira meeting you could ask Master Tokito yourself. 

You knew it was something you must do with every fiber of your being, but the thought of addressing Muichiro made your stomach sick. Not only that but you had to address him in front of all the other Hashira no less. The master let you know a crow would fetch you when you were allowed to enter the meeting place of the Hashiras. You sat patiently in the courtyard of headquarters waiting. 

Finally, the master’s crow approached. 

“IT IS TIME! FOLLOW ME.” It yelled. 

You followed the crow to the meeting place, your heart beating faster with every moment. As the Hashiras came into view you tried to simply focus on your place to stand. You quickly bowed in front of the master and waited for him to address you. 

“Welcome.” He greeted you. “We have one final matter to attend to.” He said to everyone. It was as though you could feel all the Hashira's eyes on you. 

“First, I would like to give praise to this swordsman. They have trained hard and as such are now able to apply to become a Tsuguko. I have invited them here to express any interest in applying. Please tell us if there is a Hashira you’d like to ask to train under.”   

“Yes.” You felt your voice start to shake. “You focused your gaze on the ground, not daring to look back at any of the Hashira. “Master Tokito, would you please do me the honor and allow me to become your Tsuguko?” You asked, feeling your heart begin to beat faster than it ever had before. 

“No.” You heard the Hashira say simply. You felt all the air leave your lungs. You knew that it was a possibility for him to turn you down but hearing it now shattered your heart and it took all your strength not to run away. You stayed in place feeling frozen by embarrassment. In front of all the Hashira you were turned down. Why would the master have suggested this? Surely sending a crow to Muichiro would have saved you the embarrassment of being turned down in front of everyone.   

“Yikes.” You heard Obanai mutter. 

“Excuse me master.” You heard Tengen say. 

“Yes?” The master replied. 

“I believe this swordsman has a breathing style that derives from sound breathing. Is that correct?” 

“It is.” He responded. 

“There is a spot open from me if you would like to be my Tsuguko then.” Tengen responded. 

You remained frozen. Tengen was an admirable Hashira. All the Hashira are excellent with their talents, and you were grateful for his offer saving you from the pure embarrassment of being turned down so bluntly but... 

“Uzui please forgive me... but I... only wish to train under Tokito.” 

“Tokito said no, do you need to hear it again? You should feel honored and accept Uzui’s offer.” Obanai stated. 

You finally turned around taking in the sight of all the Hashira behind you. 

“I do not wish to become anyone else’s Tsuguko.” You said simply. 

“So be it.” Obanai shrugged. 

“Well, I suppose that concludes our meeting. You are all dismissed.” The master said and turned to leave. 

You dared to look at Muichiro who had his usual zoned out expression. He did not glance over at you but stood up and began to walk away. The other Hashira slowly began to go their own ways. Except one. 

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” Mitsuri asked you, smiling sweetly.  

The love you all have given my writings has been so overwhelming and inspiring to the point that I typed furiously and worked harder to get this out a week earlier than planned! Thank you everyone I hope you enjoy~

[mageknight14]

I made a whole Twitter thread about this a few months back but I figured that I might as well bring it here as well.

Today I want to take some time to make another NEO TWEWY analysis post on the Identity Crisis sidequest revolving around Eiru and how it actually provides extra insight into Nagi and Fret’s characters.

Basically, the main gist of the sidequest is that Nagi and Fret are debating on how to imprint confidence onto Eiru, who’s suffering with his physical insecurities, and this is where we see the differences with Nagi and Fret's philosophies on life.

Fret's response is to tell Eiru to ignore the haters and even more so, ignore confronting the insecurities; life is better when you don't have to concern yourself with anything or try; don't take anything seriously. Nagi, however, believes that insecurities should be understood and harnessed so that they can ultimately be turned into a strength that can be used as a tool for success; accept your weaknesses and come to terms with them so that you can weaponize your strengths better.

On a surface level, these might read to be the same thing. Fret’s advice can be read positively as "don't let others judge you for something you can't control" and Fret certainly thinks so, hence why he thinks that he and Nagi are on the same page even though she disagrees.

However, when you read between the lines and think about it some more, there are notable implications that Fret's advice is more of a dismissive approach to dealing with emotional struggles as opposed to Nagi's own methodology. It’s no coincidence that Fret used to be a fan of the Eiji "the Prince" Oji in his ennui/apathy phase. The Prince in the original TWEWY was beloved for his “don’t give a damn attitude” and how he expressed that both in person and in his blog “F Everything.” Fret claims to have grown out of it but with certain reveals about his character later on, there are some implications that Fret latched onto the Prince and aspired to his attitude due to his own struggles with feeling genuine and wanting to embracing apathy instead.

However, if you recall in the original game, Neku and Joshua came around and helped the Prince sort out his own issues and in the process, helped him to become more genuine and true to himself in the process. With all of this in mind, you can interpret Fret’s response as him seeing the process of the Prince’s reconciliation with his genuine emotions happening in front of him and didn’t want to confront the possibility of that happening to him as well so he "grows out of it." It also acts as a neat parallel to Neku and his own thing with CAT. Whereas Neku latched onto his misinterpretation of CAT’s words in order to cope with his trauma, Fret turned away from the Prince changing so that he wouldn’t have to deal with his own trauma just yet.

To get back to the quest, if player had decided to choose Fret's philosophy, Eiru ends up doing just that, spinning Fret's stance on the situation into self-motivating positivity. However, there's a element of emotional responsibility lacking in Fret's way of processing struggles in that he doesn't seem to have the awareness to recognize the difference between overcoming adversity and just ignoring it (or maybe he does but refuses to confront that truth). In order for someone to truly not care what other people think, they need to do what Nagi suggested first, which is to find acceptance with their insecurities and build a stronger foundation for their character through that acceptance.

If the player chose Fret's approach to solving Eiru's issue, his dialogue afterwards shows how he feels about not having to face issues head on, with Nagi lamenting that her approach was not used despite being glad that Eiru's mood was visibily improved.

I also really like this moment here for how it subtly foreshadows what caused Fret’s attitude and way of thinking to happen in the first place.

Stuff like this is why I always tend to roll my eyes whenever I hear the claim that "Nagi is mean to Fret for no reason" when moments like these show why she acts the way she does towards him: their philosophies on life are complete polar opposites.

In Nagi’s eyes, Fret acting the way he did screamed to her that he seemingly had no regard for how his attitude and actions towards others made other people feel in service of his own self-interest and she fundamentally cannot get along with other people of that nature, as shown with how she dismisses Motoi entirely off the bat when the crew first meets him because she could tell that there was something off about his attitude. However, once it was revealed that Fret’s attitude was due to him trying to unhealthily cope with his trauma and not because he was seemingly unconcerned for the feelings of others, she’s far more understandable towards him and empathizes with his grief.

That’s when Nagi learns to understand that she does not need to dismiss people right away and that they, like Fret, might be going through struggles of their own and trying to cope with it via other means, even if she doesn’t agree with it at first. Hence the friendship they start up at the end of the convo.

The characters in NEO have a lot of internal flaws they need to work through, some that might not be immediate obvious at first compared to the original, but when you look back at it all, the game goes through a lot of painstaking detail to flesh out their struggles and mindset and aspects like these is what makes the game a joy for me to replay whenever I go back to it.

[yoona-jnr]

Boyfriend - Ariana Grande & Social House

Pairing: (Jealous) Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Prompt: “You’re not my boyfriend.” You jokingly remind Gojo who stood behind you with an unreadable expression. “But I can be.”

His reaction to seeing you get so many attention on Valentines Day.

Tags: Fluff, humour, jealous Gojo, canon based plot with a slight change by the author.

Ever since your high school days, you and Gojo have shared a strong bond of friendship. While you were an ordinary human, Gojo revealed to you at the age of 17 that he was a jujutsu sorcerer, one with extraordinary abilities. Or so he would say, rolling your eyes whenever he would confidently state that he was the reason why you were so safe. Which was true to an extent.

Initially, you thought that it was a joke that Gojo led on to make you laugh. But the more you hung out with him, the easier it was to notice that he was definitely not lying. You found it challenging to perceive these malevolent entities, but lately, you have noticed a significant improvement in your ability to detect them. Instead of being completely invisible, they now manifest as indistinct blurs or blobs. Some even being more detailed than the others depending on their strength.

Among the many days that marked your enduring friendship, Valentine’s Day stood out as the most tumultuous. This particular day brought forth a whirlwind of chaos and commotion. Considering how popular Gojo was, it became a source of annoyance as you found yourself constantly grappling with his fervent fangirls who perceived you as a potential rival. However, what proved to be even more annoying for Gojo was the realization that you, too, had garnered your own fair share of admirers as you matured throughout the years.

Gojo vehemently rejected the idea of harboring any romantic feelings towards you. After all, how could someone as extraordinary as himself, possibly develop affection for an ordinary human like you? Impossible, was what he would always say when Geto asked him about the possibility of you guys being together.

Even now as the two of you near the age of 28, he continues to struggle with accepting this fact. His thoughts of being in love with ‘someone like you’ eventually turned into ‘do I like her?’ Given his reputation and his responsibilities, he shouldn’t entangle himself in any romantic relationships. Especially since it could potentially put you in danger. He wasn’t that selfish.

At least, he thought he wasn’t. But every time you flashed that same captivating smile he supposedly didn’t fall for prior to his teaching years, his carefully constructed facade weakens. Sometimes he doesn’t even notice the way he admires the way your eyes sparkle, or the way his eyes always land on you despite being in a crowded room. He wasn’t in love, he couldn’t be.

Carrying yet another bag of chocolate that had just been given to you, you approached him, struggling to balance the weight in your arms and ensuring that none of the delectable treats fell on the ground. God it annoyed him. Although he had faced a similar problem not too long ago, he didn’t keep them like you did. No. Instead, he disregarded them, offering the remaining few to Nobara, and Itadori who eagerly devoured every piece.

“Look at you, Ms. Popular. Where did you manage to get this this time, hmm?” He remarks, lifting the bag with a hint of disdain, seemingly unimpressed by the thought of someone else bestowing you a gift that he could easily one up. “Oh, actually,” you interject softly, reclaiming the bag and allowing it to rest atop the others in your embrace. “Nanami-” His mouth twitches. “-was kind enough to give it to me.” A faint blush spreads across your cheeks, and he can’t help the way his eyes flicker over to the chocolate, thoughts of throwing it away filling his head.

Reflecting on the past, Gojo reminisces about the time he initially introduced you to the rest of the school. He facepalms internally, regretting his decision. In hindsight, he realized that not only did he grant you the freedom to roam around the premises at your own will, but he also allowed you to come and go as you pleased for visits. Even though it wasn’t permitted for outsiders. But God why did the other male staff take interest in you too?

“Nanami, huh?” He muses, strolling over to your side and deftly reclaiming the bag. Just as you were about to voice your annoyance, he leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours. “You know,” his voice drops, sliding a finger beneath his blindfold and letting it fall around his neck. “I can give you something better than just chocolates.”

With a dismissive eye roll, you extend an open hand, motioning towards it with a slight tilt of your chin. “Give it back, Satoru. We’re what, 28 soon? We’re not 18 anymore. You need to stop joking around” Fuck, he regrets making this particular mistake. Ever since he noticed the possibility of liking you, he’s been playing it off as a joke, blaming it on the idea of him wanting to see you all flustered up.

“It’s not like he’s your boyfriend,” he dangles the gift bag in front of your face, shooting you a charming smile. “So why would you wanna keep it?” – “Well, for starters-” You take the bag, again, laughing at how he nearly pouts. “You aren’t my boyfriend either, so why do you care?”

As you were about to walk away, you hear a faint whisper escaping his lips. “What did you say?” You instinctively turn around, eyes widening the second you spot the unusual look on his face. For the first time, he didn’t wear the same smug smirk that you found yourself becoming fond of. It was a stark contrast to his usual self-assured demeanor.

Instead, he remained still, his gaze fixed on you, emanating a gentle warmth that tinged his cheeks with a subtle blush. “..I said,” he sucks a breath in, realizing that he’s about to crumble every wall that he built between you. Not like they were thick in the first place.

“I can be, if you want.”