#fucked up that you made someone call him that at all but the LEAST you could do is spell it 'nic'

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (7)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Best Friend

Warnings: Mentions of depression, heartbreak, lying etc

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @caught-in-the-afterglow @ana-marais98 @rylea08 @astraystayastayastray @partyparty-yah @skzswife @sillyhal @feellikecinderella @asphalstead @minh0scat @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @gabriellamariee @hyun-hwanj @zerefdragn33l @stelle-aka-simp @chanbahng29 @blackbluerose666 @mmarusa

@glitter-z @seungminsapuppy

Previous Chapters

Minho sits in his room, the silence was deafening. He tried anything and everything to distract himself, but there was only one thing his mind kept wandering to, and it was the conversation he had with Jisung after you had gone upstairs,yesterday. His stomach twisted with anxiety as his mind raced, he knew he needed to make a decision that was best for him, but he knew, whatever decision he made was going to hurt someone he loved. He gets up, walking downstairs into the kitchen, where he sees you and Jisung, and his heart hurts instantly.

“Are you going out tonight?” Jisung asks you.

“I'm not sure. I don't have any plans yet, but I might see what Hyunjin is doing.” You say, glancing over to Minho. He completely avoids eye contact with you, making your heart sink. He hadn't said a word to you since the whole confrontation yesterday, and to be completely honest, you had thought that he would have been groveling and begging on his knees for you right now. But he wasn't. He looked stressed and sad. It made you want to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay, but you couldn't. You needed to remain strong and if he wanted you then he would show you.

At least you hoped he would.

Day after day after day you waited for Minho to say something to you, to acknowledge you but day after day he left a room if you walked in, with his head down. If you called out for him, he'd give you a sympathetic half smile before walking away from you. It left you feeling confused and hurt, wondering what the fuck was actually happening.

“I don't get it.” You sigh to Jisung. “He said he loved me.”

Jisung looks at you, trying to be sympathetic but you could tell he wasn't sincere and it made you wonder if he had done something. But you didn't ask, you left it alone. You wanted to talk to Minho, but Jisung didn't seem to think that was such a good idea.

“If he's avoiding you, it might just be for the best, yeah?” He says. “Obviously he doesn't want to talk to you, I don't think he's going to do what you expected him to do, Y/N.”

“It just doesn't make sense. Why say all those things if he knew he wasn't gonna try? Why would he get my hopes up? I really think I should talk to him.” You decide, standing up from the couch.

“No, Y/N. I'm telling you right now, leave it alone.” Jisung snaps.

You're taken aback, why was he snapping at you?

“I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt more than you already have.” He says, pulling out his wallet. “Here, take this, go out with Hyunjin, or better yet, go out with Chan. On me.” He smiles.

You hesitantly take the money, where was your actual brother, cause this guy was not it.

“Okay..” you murmur, grabbing your phone.

“That's good. Chan is the better option, I think.” He smiles, turning back towards the TV continuing to watch his show.

You walk up the stairs replaying what Jisung said to you. He wouldn't do anything to keep you apart, right?

That night, you're sitting with Chan, laughing and smiling at his stories, trying to be fully invested but you cannot stop thinking about Minho. You felt like he owed you at least a little bit of an explanation. If he didn't want to be with you, then tell you so you could move on but it felt like he had played nothing but games with you for months. And there was a partial love confession, until you finally told Jisung, and then there was a full on love confession. But since then it's been radio silence.

“You okay?” Chan asks. You look at him, slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up in my head.” You laughed.

“Everything okay?” He asks. You nod your, smiling at him as you finish your drink. Chan slides two shots towards you, wiggling his eyebrows as he glances from the shots to you, back and forth. You laugh, taking them both back to back. “Now get out of your head, and come back to me.” He smiles.

“I'm just gonna go to the bathroom quick.” You tell him, grabbing your purse, stumbling away. You can feel the drinks hit you like a ton of bricks. You sit down on the toilet, fully clothed and pull out your phone.

[11:57pm To: Minho] Why are you doing this to me?

[11:59pm From: Minho] I'm not doing anything. Please Y/N, stop.

[12:00am To Minho] Stop what? Stop loving you? I can't. I need closure. Please.

[12:02am From: Minho] Y/N. I can't love you. Leave me alone. Move on. Be happy. Just stay away from me. Don't talk to me, don't text me, don't think about me, and please stop loving me.

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you read his text again, over and over. Why was life so fucking cruel? All you ever wanted was to be happy, and it seemed like you weren't even allowed to have that. But fine, if he wanted you to move on then that's what you would do, after you confronted him in person. You had too. You needed to hear him say those words to your face, you needed to watch him tell you to stay away from him, even if it ended up breaking you.

That night, Chan dropped you off and you drunkenly rushed into the house. You stomped up the stairs and stood in front of the door of Minho's room. You stood with your fist raised to bang on the door for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath while also trying to muster up the courage to actually knock. Part of you didn't want to hear him say those words because you really didn't want them to be true, but the other part of you, well you knew that you needed to hear them or you just wouldn't fully believe him.

Knock

Knock

Knock

You press your ear to the door, there's no sound of movement. Maybe he was sleeping? You place your hand on the door, twisting the knob before pushing the door open, only to find an empty room. The drawers in the dresser were open and empty, the closet where his clothes hung was empty. There were no sheets, pillows or blankets on his bed, all of his things were gone.

You rush out of the room, down to Jisung's room. You busted in, scared the shit out of him.

“He's gone.” You whisper.

“I know.” Jisung says.

“Why?” You ask.

“I don't know.” Jisung sighs. “He said it was time. He felt guilty for everything he did to you I guess.”

“No, I need to talk to him. He can't just move out without a word.” You whimper, fumbling with your phone.

“What did I say about talking to him, Y/N.” Jisung yells. “Christ, you don't listen. Don't make me tell you what he told me. Just believe me when I say, leave him alone.”

“What do you mean what he told you? What did he tell you?” You ask.

“You don't want to know.” Jisung says, avoiding your eyes.

“Tell me. Or I'll track him the fuck down.” You snap.

“He said you were nothing but a game to him. Just another notch on his belt. That you were just my little sister and nothing more.” Jisung tells you. You swore, in that moment, you could actually feel your heart shattering into a million little pieces.

“Oh.” Jisung watched as your face sank, the color completely draining from it. You said nothing else, just shuffled out of his room and went into yours. You closed the door quietly behind you, crawling into bed without the will to even get changed. Maybe if you slept, you'd feel better in the morning.

You didn't.

Over the next few weeks, It was like depression had fully taken over you. You looked in the mirror and saw a shell of the person you used to be. The bags under your eyes were heavy, your face was pale, hair was matted. You looked sick, and honestly you felt sick. You still couldn't get over the fact that he had said that about you. You'd never hurt this much over some man before and you hated yourself for letting him have this kind of effect on you but at this point you didn't know how to get out of it. You had charged your phone in weeks, not that you'd answer if anyone called or texted anyways. Hyunjin and Jisoo tried to see you, but you wouldn't even roll over to say hi. Instead you hid under your covers and silently wept until they left.

And Jisung. He tried to get you to eat anything, drink anything but you wouldn't. You had no interest in fueling your body. Until it had been just over a month and Jisoo and Hyunjin had enough. They busted into your room as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“Shower time!” Jisoo yells. Hyunjin marches past you, turning on your shower before throwing you over his shoulder and sitting you in the tub fully clothed, despite your weak protests.

“Why!” You yell out as Jisoo takes your hair from its bun. She sits with you, washing your hair, rinsing it, conditioning it and rinsing it again. She helps you brush your teeth before helping you into clean, dry clothes. And then she sits with you, brushing out your hair as you listen to her talk. A lot of what she was saying were things you knew were true and things you had told yourself, but it was different hearing it from someone else. A few hours later, she had fully brushed out your hair, took your hand and took you downstairs to make you something to eat. Luckily Hyunjin was already finishing up making some of your favorite food. You hadn't realized how hungry you actually were until you smelt it. Your stomach growled as your mouth drooled. You sat down, eating, talking and finally smiling for the first time in a while.

Every day after that, Jisoo and Hyunjin were over, and every day, you were becoming yourself a little bit more and more. You were finally starting to move on and move forward. It felt good. You were feeling good. You still missed Minho, and you honestly weren't sure if you would ever stop.

A few weeks later, you decided to meet up with Chan for coffee. He had you laughing until your stomach hurt, and it felt so fucking good to be out again and feel like yourself again, especially with someone who was genuinely interested in you and being with you. He had asked you out again that night, wanting to take you for dinner and out of drinks after. You accepted, excited for the night. You walked down the street after your coffee, telling Chan you had wanted to do a little window shopping before going home. Of course he offered to go with you but you politely declined, wanting to be alone and take your time. As you're walking down the street, you're looking at a beautiful silver ring in the window. You sigh before you continue walking, accidentally bumping into someone. You look up and your breath hitches. It was the last person you had expected to see out.

“Minho.” You whisper. He was thin, thinner than usual. The bags under his eyes looked almost exactly how yours had, along with his sunken face.

“Y/N.” He responds, staring at you, looking you up and down. “You look good.” He half smiles.

“You should have seen me a few weeks ago. I was a mess after you left.. after you said that shit about me.” You half yell, remembering you were in public.

“What?” He asks. “What stuff did I say?”

“Don't play dumb, Minho. I was just another notch on your belt. Just Jisung’s little sister. A game.” You say.

“Who said I said that about you? I never fucking said that.”

“Jisung. He kept telling me to stop talking to you because you didn't want to talk to me.” You explain.

“That motherfucker.” Minho snaps. “Don't go home for a while, unless you wanna see your brother's ass beat.” He yells, storming off. You follow him, sliding into the passenger seat of his car.

“I deserve to know what's going on.” You deadpan, buckling your belt. Good thing you did, because you and Minho managed to get to your house in record time.

“HAN FUCKING JISUNG.” Minho screams, storming into the house.

Jisung jumps up off the couch, looking absolutely fucking terrified.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, looking between Minho and you.

“I happened to run into Y/N on the street, where she started screaming at me about why I would say such shitty things about her. She doesn't know, does she?” Minho yells, pointing to you. “She doesn't know you told me that I had to choose between staying friends with you, or being with the one that I fucking fell in love with.”

“You did what?” You whisper, staring at your brother.

Jisung stands there, his eyes darting between you and Minho, unable to utter a sentence, not even a word. Turns out Jisung would do whatever he could to keep you apart.

[umbran-scribe]

haha. i’ve got a funny request. how do u feel about dentists and nanami.😕

Overtime Smiles (Nanami Kento x Gn Reader)

Heyy ♡ ︎ It took me a little while to get back to posting again because of life but I should be posting more soon. I know you wanted NSFW girlie so I've tried and this is the best I could do. I hope you enjoy❦︎

Summary: After waking up in Nanami's bed from a night of drinking, you plan on avoiding him until you find out you have an appointment with your dentist.. Who happens to be Nanami.

Tags: Dentist!Nanami Kento x Gn! Reader, Mentions of drinking, One night stand, Smut, PWP, Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing, Not proofread, WC: 4.5k

I’d been studying his sleeping face for about an hour. More and more sunlight was creeping through the window and my opportunity to make a clean escape was getting smaller and smaller. Fuck, why did I drink so much? Clubbing with Gojo never ends well, why did I think this time would be any different? And out of all people to hook up with, it was fucking Nanami Kento. An old highschool acquaintance that in recent years had become a shoulder for me to cry on, someone I hung out with nearly daily. 

From the corner of my eye I spot the hoodie I left here a few days ago. Damn, I either take it now, or leave it forever, cus there's no way I'm gonna be able to double back for that. Not when Kento wakes up and finds me gone. Fuck. Would he even remember last night? Again, how the fuck did last night even happen.

...Fuckkkkkk I really liked that hoodie…

He groaned as he adjusted his sleeping position, oblivious to the dilemma I was facing. Son of a bitch, what do you do when the friend you usually call to get you out of shit is the reason you're in deep shit to begin with? 

I’d been in his room so many times before, I've been in this bed countless times, I knew what made the bed springs squeal and what kept them quiet.

I slowly remove the blanket and awkwardly shuffle to the edge of the bed, which still creaked despite my most careful efforts. No sound from the slumbering hunk 3 feet away, so I figured I was probably safe.

I spotted my clothes thrown about near the door of the room, escaping so tantalisingly away, but I had to overcome the hardest part of this whole situation. Getting off the actual bed without the goddamn mattress announcing it to the whole apartment.

I grip the edges of the mattress.

I breathe in..

I tense my body as I press my feet to the floor.

And breathe out..

Despite my best efforts, I only managed to avoid the worst of it, the springs still wailed as I stood and I cursed Kento’s sleeping face for not getting memory foam like I suggested months ago. 

But his expression didn’t change. He laid there asleep and without any concern. What day was it, again? Did he have work or something? Maybe I should wake him up. 

No, focus, if luck is on my side he won't remember anything and I can worry myself with all that as soon as I get the hell out of here.

I tiptoed around his room, scooping what I could of last night’s outfit off the cold floor. I also find my phone with a now cracked screen, fortunately still charged and notifications cluttering the display. Worried texts and clustered missed calls from Gojo, while Shoko had only sent a few messages and called once. I’ll take care of that when I get at least halfway decent.

Shimmying out of the bedroom is an exercise in patience and caution, after which I nearly close the door behind me, leaving a small crack to stop the door from totally closing shut and making any more noise.

I made a mental note to Shoko for suggesting I wear flats instead of heels yesterday. Who knows what I’d do with myself if I had to walk with heels on Kento’s hard tile floor.

I got dressed and felt my heart jump into my throat when I closed the main door of the house too roughly behind me. Fuck it It’s far enough away from his room, I doubt he’d hear it. 

Was this elevator always so cold? Ugh. 

Ring ring…

Ring ring… You snow dusted ass, pick up I know you've got nothing else going on

Ring ri- “Hellooo~?” “How does it feel letting the phone ring so you feel a little less sad?”

I hear the choked chortle before he can mute himself, “You whore, you can’t talk to me like that! I’m not the one that disappeared from the club last night.”

I scoff and laugh a little before letting out a huge sigh, “Asshole, I’m not surprised you lost track of me, but where was Shokooo.. She usually gives me a talking to before I do something I regret.”

Gojo makes a low whistle, clearly enjoying himself, “Got yourself some fun huh? And you can’t just ask Shoko to keep you on a leash, last night was for her anyway.”

“She doesn't keep me on a leash- ugh you know what it’s fine, do you know if she’s free? I need you guys' help.” I run my hand through my messy hair.

“Mm, I’ll have to check my schedule..”

“Don’t lie to me, you've got nothing going on. Can you guys pick me up?”

He laughs aloud, and I can hear him kicking his feet over the phone, “Ohh a one night stand gone wrong?”

I huff and can't stop the weak smile that comes to the surface. “Pick me up and you’ll get all the details~"

“I’ll be there in 15, send your location. Want me to stay on the phone?”

I send the location and wait for the fallout. 

“I'm walking to my car now, and- oh, okay, just got the notification..”

“How are you already on your way? It’s practically the ass crack of dawn, are you even dres-”

“IS THAT NANAMI’S BUILDING?” He was so loud the mic peaked, I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

“I’m waiting!” And abruptly cut the line.

True to his word, a quarter hour passed and his familiar black car pulled up in front of the building, Gojo’s window already rolled down and he yelled out the window, “HOP IN! Now!”

I didn’t keep him waiting.

I hopped into the passenger seat and kept my eyes on the road ahead, not giving Gojo the satisfaction of acknowledging his grin, “Just drive, I don't care where, just anywhere other than here.”

“You're not even gonna tell us why you're in such a rush?”

I slump in my seat, leaning my head on the window and whine a little before answering Shoko, “Please, at least get me breakfast before you make me talk.”

Gojo whined and complained the entire way, but I wouldn’t let up, and Shoko got tired before long and managed to shut him up.

It hadn’t even been a minute after ordering a coffee to go that the pestering started up again.

“You disappear halfway through the night, we don’t hear from you for over twelve hours, and when you do call you're asking to be picked up from one Nanami Kento’s apartment building..”

“Just because I was at Kento’s building doesn't mean that I was with him.. It could've been anyone from any of those apartments.”

Sitting beside Gojo directly opposite to me, Shoko looks me in the eye and I turn away before she grabs my chin and forces me to meet her gaze. The way she saw straight through me.. I deflate with a sigh and bury my head in my hands as Gojo hollers.

“I don’t know how it happened.. I don’t remember anything that happened after Gojo started crying.”

That cut him off real quick as he scrambled to defend himself, “That was only for, like, five minutes! At least I didn’t end up in my best friend’s bed.”

“You're a bit too loud for someone that wants exactly that to happen to him.. Are you sure you aren’t just jealous?”

“I don’t know what youre talking about.”

“Hey Shoko, mind taking a peep at his call log for me?”

She didn’t even get the chance to raise her hand before his phone was off the table, powered off and slipped into his pocket, all with a straight and stony face.

Now it was my turn to snicker at him, at least that was before my phone started to ring. An unknown number?

“Hello..?”

“Hi, I’m calling to confirm your appointment with us at 4 pm?” Excuse me.

“I’m sorry, appointment? Who is this?” I don’t remember having anything planned today.. I put the call on speaker and opened the calendar on my phone. Nothing. Gojo and even Shoko were now listening in.

“Oh, it seems like there's a note here.. Seems like this appointment is complimentary, arranged by one of our dentists.” Gojo’s eyes light up with pure mischievous joy. Who the fuck do I know thats a denti-

Nanami.

Fucking.

Kento. 

The realisation hit me later than it did Gojo, who had his chin set on his intertwined hands as he quietly smiled at me.

“Ah.. okay, um- yeah I’ll be there. Is there any possibility I can change dentists..?”

“I apologise, but this was a free of charge appointment offered by one of our dentists of their own choice, no other dentists would be willing to do something like this.”

How thoughtfully inconvenient..

“Alright, I’ll be there at 4 then.”

The call ends shortly after that.

That blue eyed grinch was nearly giggling at this point, the shit eating jackass.

“Shut up.”

“I-” 

“No, no, shut up, now please, no.”

“I’m just-”

“Shoko, please..”

She sighed and put out her cigarette before lightly knocking Gojo on the back of the head, and that seemed to get him to knock it off. “What're you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know.. How do I even face him? After last night? What do you guys think?”

Shoko only shrugged, a clear ‘it’s up to you’. Gojo didn’t hesitate to voice his opinion though.

“I mean, you've already said yes to the appointment, so youre gonna have to figure it out.”

“Wow, thanks. Helpful.”

He only half heartedly shrugged, “Nanami’s a good guy. And whatever happens you can give us a call, anyways.”

A nonchalant way of showing support, because he can’t seem too soft. I can't help laughing a little before getting up and paying for my drink. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you guys later today, probably.”

Shoko tapped her second cigarette against an ashtray before looking up at me, “Going already? You don’t have to be there until 4.”

“Yeah, but I seriously need a shower. Sorry for troubling you guys so much.”

“Hey, no worries! You gave me a fun start to the day. Keep us updated, okay?”

I waved back at him as I walked away to find a cab back home.

A shower, a nap and a few hours later, I was sitting in the waiting room, the pit in my stomach growing with every minute that passes, along with the temptation to get up and make a run for it while I still could.

“You can head in now, second door on the right.”

I flash her a nervous, albeit thankful smile and get on with it, hesitating at the door, hand unsteady on the handle.

The choice is taken out of my hands when the kind man himself, Nanami Kento, opens the door from the other side.

It’s not an unfamiliar face, I know him well, but the recent context made the image of him in my mind slightly blurred, undefined and unclear. But still, I knew that smile, and that was reassuring enough to get me into the patient chair.

He was acting completely normally. He stood the same, walked the same, sat in silence with me just like he did before.

“So, I know I mentioned this to you before, but this’ll be a perfectly normal check up. You said you had a bit of tenderness on the bottom right?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, thanks for this, I could have just paid you know.”

He looked away from whatever was on his computer’s screen and to me with furrowed brows, “Is something wrong?”

It's a little embarrassing how that put me on edge. Was that weird to say? People pay their dentists, but that isn’t all he is. “Mm? Nothings wrong. What makes you ask?”

He swivels on his chair to face me completely and gets closer, eyes boring into me, “We've been friends for years, this isn't the first time I've offered to check a random tooth ache of yours and suddenly you're trying to pay?”

“I mean, that’s different, this is in the actual chair this time, I don't know. It just felt like maybe I should pay for your time.” 

“Just last week you called me three separate times in the early hours of the morning just to talk. We're way past conventional boundaries at this point. What aren’t you telling me?”

I picked at the skin on my thumbs as he kept on talking, because what do I say? He clearly doesn't remember what happened, so do I ignore it? Is it worth mentioning at that point?

“Are you acting like this because of what happened yesterday?”

“Huh? Yesterday?”

“When I ran into you at the nightclub last night.”

Son of a bitch, that rings a bell. “When do you even go to clubs?”

“Ino suggested I try something out of my comfort zone.”

“Oh. And that's when we..?”

“Do you not remember?”

“I mean.. Do you?”

“Admittedly, not much, but bits and pieces.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

The air was tense, and eye contact was nonexistent, on his part at least. It was equal parts funny and endearing, watching him be so uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hey, listen about last night, just forget about it.”

His head snapped to me, his gaze finally meeting mine after such an intense exercise in avoiding it.

“Forget about it?”

I wave him off, “Yeah, no worries, we’ll just forget it ever happened, y’know? Don’t stress about it. It’s just whatever.”

Not a word came from him for a long while as he studied my expression, though what he was looking for was a mystery to me. Did he think I was kidding..?

“What if I said I don’t want to forget last night?”

Heat rushed to my face as I struggled to find something to say, the words on my tongue hiding from my grasp. “I’m- um. Huh?”

He takes a deep breath and sighs lightly before he reaches forward and brings his hand closer to my own, fingers nearly making contact before shying away at the last possible centimeter. 

“I speak for myself, but I do not regret it. Even though I do wish that it was in a more- uh, ideal circumstance.”

The rush of emotions choke me, my words barely making it out of my throat.

“Sounds like you put some thought into it.”

He averts his gaze to the floor, a mild flush gracing his complexion. Kento’s never been one to shy away from anything, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. He was being too adorable, and I was feeling a little emboldened.

“How would you have wanted it to happen then?”

His gaze flits back to me and I get to see his usual little non-frown, the expression between a glare and annoyed grimace. “You're being cruel.”

“No! No, no Kento, really. Come on man, talk to me.” I try not to laugh as I sit up to face him properly.

He huffs and his expression shifts into something more alive. “I don’t know how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought of possibly taking you for a nice dinner, but that seemed too formal, but you deserve more than just lounging about and watching shows together.” His eyes are alright, and I don’t remember when it was that our hands intertwined, but I don’t think I mind at all. “...But I do know that I would have wanted to be able to at least remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Our, ah… first time. Us. You.”

“You make it sound like you're some kind of virgin. Ha, you haven’t been saving yourself for me, have you Kento?” I can’t suppress the small grin or the faint tingle I felt in my gut with every exchanged word, with every letter that makes it to the open air.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He huffs before showing me his own little smile, bringing our intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand and sending cascading fire down every nerve from my hand to every part of me. “But everything is different with you. Everything has meaning with you.”

I feel clouds form in my lungs and rising to my eyes, a raindrop of a tear or two slipping past before I attempt and fail to discreetly wipe them away with my free hand. Kento freezes, his hand stiffening around my own.

His grip loosens slightly, my own grip strengthening in turn.

“I’m sorry, I overdid it. I shouldn’t have-” 

“It’s not that, fuck, Kento that might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever told me.”

His frown eases and he pressed more kisses to the back of my hand, his smile felt even when I can’t see it clearly.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t come on too strongly, then.”

I sigh and he looks up at me, our gazes locked for seconds that felt like they dragged on for infinitely longer.

“How come you never mentioned any of that?”

He closes his eyes and ponders for an answer that did not need any thinking on his part.

“It never felt like the right time.”

“Really? Come on, I haven’t had a serious relationship in ages. Sounds like you've gotten in the habit of making excuses for yourself.” I playfully scoff.

“You know me better than that.”

I do, don’t I? 

I take both his hands into my own and bring them to my waist. He gives me a look I can’t read, so many different feelings in his eyes, a maelstrom of emotion.

“Nothing’s stopping us from having another first time. One that we can actually remember this time.”

His face remained unreadable, but his hands were now shaking under my own.

“But- last night..?”

“I won’t count it if you don’t?”

His expression breaks as he laughs, laughter and noises of joy spilling from him even as he kisses me again, for the first time.

I wrap my arms around his neck, relishing in the sensation of his lips on my own.

His arms hold me close to him, our bodies pressed together, a level of closeness in regards to one another that had never before experienced by our sober minds.

He pulled away from me, my lips following him in a daze before he brought a hand to my face, caressing with his thumb.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” The words tumble out of me in a near-incoherent mess.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. Absolutely nothing.” He whispers before coming back to me, lips to lips, in each other's arms.

The feeling of his tongue sliding against mine, of his hands on my hips and bringing me closer to him, our bodies nearly flush together. All the sensations had me flushed and in a daze, heat in the bottom of my stomach, every inch of contact sending waves upon waves of jolts that traveled up my spine.

A hand comes from behind and pulls my head back by the hair, the surprise and pain mellow into sweet sensitivity as he kisses and nips against my neck, taking his time to make sure there wasn't a single spot of skin he hadn’t left untainted.

“You know that’s gonna leave more than a few marks, right?”

His response is muffled, what with his continuing abuse of my neck, but the sentiment is clear when I suck in a sharp gasp, weakly restraining myself from making any noise as his sneaky fingers continue pinching at my chest.

After too long spent grinding against the other, I pulled away from him, a hand on his chest as my mind came down from the heights of euphoria.

After a moment, I came to enough sense to form words again.

“Hey, hey maybe we should go a bit slower. This is still your workplace, you know.”

Kento looked at me like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying before he completely pulled away.

“Right. Yes, you're right.” He went to stand and walk away before I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, his look of mild bewilderment entertaining enough to make the time without him on me or vice versa almost worth it.

“I said slower, not slow. I can't let you go through the rest of the business day after putting you through that.” I smile up at him as my hand trails down to his belt.

His hands stop my own, a weak grip keeping them in place. “As much as I appreciate that, you don’t have to feel obligated to do that for me. It’s near the end of the work day anyways-” His concern was clear and it was so incredibly sweet, but I needed him so bad right now I was getting dizzy.

“Kento, I appreciate that, and you're such a sweetheart but if I don’t have you in my mouth in the next minute I might lose my mind.” The bluntness of my words struck true, the concern exchanged for a wild blush as his hands let go of mine and instead found a place at his side, hanging lazily.

The belt was easy to get out of the way, and the pants zipper and button were even easier, the air seemed to get heavier with every breath as everything seemed so surreal, a little smidge of lightheadedness painting the world away as my eyes tunnel visioned on Kento Nanami and absolutely nothing else.

With a breath to steady myself, I pull down his pants, the grey boxers now in view. The impressive tent was breathtaking, a slight dampness at the tip from the leaking pre.

I ran a hand over his clothed cock, peppering it in little kisses and enjoying the little groans that came from Kento, a hand in my hair but went out of his way to be more gentle, only tugging slightly when I lingered for too long on one spot.

My hands brought down the boxers slowly, enjoying the gradual reveal of his cock before it sprung out.

I wrap my hand around his warm cock, taking a moment to caress the tip with my thumb, pre-cum gradually lubing up my hand as I stroked from tip to base, taking my time and going at what must have been to him a grueling pace, considering the way he groaned almost in pain, impatience clear in his voice, but he was polite, and he never sounded a single complaint. 

I planted a kiss on the tip, at which Kento grabbed a fistful of my hair, but still refrained from tugging, like the gentleman he is. 

I ran my tongue across the length, from the base along the shaft and right to the tip before taking it whole in my mouth, nearly startled at the overly loud and sudden moan from Kento that he quickly muffled, hopefully fast enough for no one to step in.

I swirl my tongue around the tip, the salty taste of the pre cum filling my mouth as I took more and more of his cock into my mouth, making sure to breathe and not suffocate on the utter mouthful that was Kento, working my tongue as I went while my hands wander along Kento’s body, with one hand caressing his thighs as the other goes under his scrubs and feeling along his chest, pinching his nipple to hear a strangled noise from him.

I bobbed my head up and down, taking my time with the pace, spit running down his cock as I went, lubricating it thoroughly. The feeling of him in my mouth, the way his breath shuddered under my touch, it was almost euphoric.

He abruptly pulls me off of his cock roughly by my hair, throwing me into a spinning state of confusion at the sudden change, my mind grappling at the surroundings.

Leaning down, he gave me a kiss before grabbing me by the arms and laying me on the patient chair, reclining it completely to be flat and standing behind me, his cock right above my face.

“I hope you don’t mind me changing plans?”

“Straying from vanilla so soon, Kento? I’m not boring you am I?”

“You could never. Hit my leg twice if you need me to stop.”

It gave me whiplash, how we would go from being sickeningly sweet to instructing me on how to not get myself killed by his cock.

He took a step, his cock getting closer and my mouth opening in eager reception. That did not save me from the shock of having it slammed down my throat with the force of Kento’s own body weight before staying still.

In my attempt to breathe, I noticed his muskiness, almost unable to pinpoint what it was with the constant airway blocker.

He seemed to have had enough of torturing me, instead alternating between withdrawing his cock and choking me with it rapidly, the assault a constant over stimulating rush of white and force, of taste and smell and warmth.

His hands wrap around my throat to steady me, his pace constant as he fucks my throat raw, and I don’t even have the awareness necessary t pray that noone walked in on us, especially in such a compromising situation.

Groans grew louder and more frequent, the grip on my throat was getting stronger, and by now i was starting to lose consciousness, the lack of airflow making it difficult to even stay aware for long before I felt the stutter in his thrusts growing more and more frequent until he rammed as much as he could of his cock into my throat, and I could faintly register the pulsing of his cock or the warmth of his cum before he pulls out and I can catch a genuine breath.

I sat up, supported by Kento, who had already tucked himself away back into the boxers and managed to make himself look presentable as ever, once again, while I looked like an absolute mess.

I hear him clear his throat before looking at me sheepishly.

“Thank you. That was definitely more memorable than I could have imagined.”

I smile at him as I try to manage my messy hair, “Positively, I hope.”

“Of course.” He looked serious, as though any other possibility did not even register to him. “Now, about dinner tonight…”

I was already on my feet, giving him a kiss and on my way out the door before he even finished the sentence, “I’ll leave it up to you, Kento, I have some updates to give. See you at home!”

He calls out my name, but I was already dialing that snow dusted twink’s number.

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 4 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, recreational drinking, depiction of a panic attack, there is a quick moment where you can infer that reader thinks vernon might be actively su*cidal but that is not the case and this is not outright stated, nip stim, dirty talk, piv sex, reader has a high fever but no specific illness is mentioned, a (verbal) fight with some yelling

wc: 6700

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

5 months ago

Five texts went unanswered.

I’m sorry.

I was so fucked up, I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Call me so I can explain.

I’m really sorry.

Please, Vernon.

Each time, they delivered, but no response came. You thought you might feel better if he told you to go away. The silence felt too open, like nothing was settled. Like maybe you just hadn’t said the right thing yet. Like maybe you could - or should - keep trying.

Four weeks passed; you tried not to let it drown you, tried to tread above the rising water of the situation. You swam through guilt, your own anger, guilt again. The knowledge of what had upset him nibbled at your toes like fish you couldn’t see in the murky depths. You tried to pretend it wasn’t there, that it was only seaweed underfoot.

You tried to reason with yourself; you hadn’t done anything that bad. He’d been upset because you’d implied he’d get bored of you someday - even though of course he would - and he thought… you didn’t know, he thought that was an attack on his character?

(You knew that wasn’t why he was mad.)

Or, because you’d implied that he would leave, when you were the one who’d gone silent before? That was valid, you thought. You had been the one to make him chase, when your grey days swallowed you up.

(You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, either.)

You kicked at the fish, kept swimming on.

Three times, you found yourself on the brink of coming clean to Chan. The first time, it had almost escaped from your mouth, prompted by nothing but your own need to hear someone absolve you; you wanted to tell Chan I think I hurt him, so he could say, it doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.

Chan didn’t lie to you, though, even when you wanted him to. He wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, because it was. So, you tucked the words back in, zipped them up safely.

The next time, he’d asked - “You still… with that guy?” He’d made a vague hand motion that must have meant still seeing, or still sleeping with.

I messed it up again.

I think I liked him too much.

“It’s been like a month,” you said lightly, like it was no big deal. “We’ve been busy.”

His sideways look was scalding. Chan didn’t lie to you; Chan was used to you lying to him, knew all the signs.

He let it go anyway.

Maybe he knew those signs, too. Maybe he knew without you telling him that you’d let the bunny rabbit instincts win - that you’d hid, scared, the second your fragile, broken brain told you to.

The third time, you almost told him all of it, even that it was Vernon. Chan was having dinner at your apartment, helping you clean up after, when his phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, hyung,” he’d answered, tilting his head to grip the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he ran water in the sink and started rinsing the plates. “Yeah, I’m in. I don’t know, probably in like twenty minutes? Fifteen if I make all the green lights.”

You listened absently as you picked up the rest of the table - napkins in the trash, utensils tight in one hand, now-empty wine glasses in the other.

“Oh,” Chan said, surprised. “Vernon, too? Nice. Should I stop for beer since there’ll be more of us?”

You dropped a wine glass. Chan helped you sweep, and then you ran the vacuum cleaner. Still, you kept finding errant pieces of glass for days. You carried them carefully to the garbage.

It felt fitting, that hearing his name had caused this.

Twice, you called and left voicemails.

Two days after the argument, you’d called on your lunch break. It had rang six times and then his voicemail picked up.

“Vernon… listen, I know I pissed you off. I’d really like the chance to explain myself when I’m not… you know. I didn’t say it how I meant it. Text me. Or call me, whichever.”

After the four weeks crept by and the rest of your texts went unanswered as well, you tried again.

It took almost a whole bottle of wine by yourself to work up the courage, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the slur in your voice when you told him, “I don’t know why I’m even calling. It’s been a month. I hate that this is just… unresolved. I hate making people mad. I want to know that you know I’m sorry. I want to know that… well. I just… wish we were talking again. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m calling.”

You sat at the stool by your easel for the first time in years, tested your balance, tucked one foot underneath the way you used to. Your hands shook a little as you mixed a purple so dark it was probably actually just black. You covered the canvas, the color of nine at night in the summertime, and stared at it, watching it dry.

When you could, you switched brushes, used a rounder texture to form something that might pass as clouds along the mottled sky. Then, you painted a full moon; it cracked like an egg.

You liked this, you followed the idea, paintbrush hurrying to chase the inspiration, whites and yellows coloring in whatever it was that might leak from the moon like marrow.

The bottom half of the canvas became a moving, living ocean; the blues were eight at night in the summertime but they looked good together with the hour after. You finished with the moon’s reflective path, a jagged yellow streak that dipped and bobbed through the waves.

You walked to the bathroom and washed your brushes, leaving them somewhere to dry where the cat couldn’t mess with them. Then you went back to the canvas, staring at it from a few feet away, your hands on your hips.

You’d done it - you’d painted something you didn’t want to burn.

One painting, one tiny step back towards the life you’d lost - that you’d let yourself lose, that you’d definitively pushed away.

4 months ago

It rained for three days. You lit lamps during the day, suddenly craved soups even though it was the height of spring and the weather had been consistently warm for weeks. The rain just called for it.

It called for you to sleep, too, luring you into bed with a steady patter against the windows. You slept early, and deeply, the cat curled up near your head. The rain beat against the windows like a metronome, helped your heart rate steady, helped your thoughts slow and settle.

You slept deeply, the sounds of the rain pulling you under, and when you were startled awake a few hours in, it was with no concept of where or who you were.

Your phone was still vibrating, jarring; you scrambled to grab it from the nightstand and the cat scrambled out of the room.

Your mom, you thought wildly. Or Chan.

What else could it be, but an emergency? No one else called at three in the morning. Someone used to, but only on the weekend, and that person hadn’t answered you in over a month.

“H’lo?” you mumbled, eyes too blurry to see the screen. You closed them, pressed the phone tighter to your ear to hear better.

No one spoke, but you could hear breathing - ragged and unsteady.

“Hello?” you repeated, more clearly, starting to wake up a bit, starting to worry. You rubbed at your eyes, then pulled the phone away so you could see the name on the screen.

Of course it was him.

“Vernon?” you asked, like you didn’t believe the word on the screen, but you were met with only silence - even his breathing went quiet for a second, like hearing his name had caused him to hold it. Like he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted you to know he was there.

You said his name again, like a question, and it sounded like maybe he tried to speak but the noise - choked and quick - faded quickly. Your heart started to race, and certainty settled into your bones: something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, a little sharply, like maybe he needed to snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

Finally, a word. “Dunno,” he managed, his voice thick.

“I’m coming there,” you said, already throwing the blankets off your legs and staggering to your closet to pull at some sweatpants. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“No,” he protested, but the way he gasped the breath after it cemented what you already knew - he needed you.

Or, he needed someone, and you were someone, and you would have to do.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, okay? Wait for me.” You were hopping on one foot as you said this, pulling clothes and shoes on, frantically reaching around in the dark for things like deodorant and car keys.

When he didn’t answer, you stopped moving, stopped trying to find your things. When you spoke again, your voice came out softer, a gentle plea instead of sharp instruction. “Hansol,” you said, quiet. “Wait for me. Okay?”

He ended the call without promising.

You stayed tucked into the building’s doorframe until you saw the Uber pull up; the rain was coming down in sheets, and you had to run to the car, splashing through still water until you could slide into the backseat. Your feet were soaked.

You spent the first five minutes of the ride wiping rain out of your eyes and trying to wring out the ends of your sleeves; the fabric clung to your hands, wet and cold. Outside the car, the rain water ran down the windows and the windshield wipers ran on the fastest setting.

im on my way, okay?

[ ]

vernon you’re scaring me

When the car pulled to a stop, you jumped out as soon as it was safe, bolting through the rain a second time and letting yourself into the building with the code you knew by heart. You took the stairs two at a time, heart flying. You were at once both scared to death of what you’d find when you got there, and refusing to put the specific fear to words, refusing to consider that it could be an option.

“Where are you?” you called, as soon as you got his door open. The apartment was mostly unlit, but for the light above the sink, and a dim light from the direction of his bedroom. “Vernon?”

You were met with silence and you almost choked on your heart as it climbed up your throat. You slipped off your shoes and made your way inside, heading for his bedroom.

You almost threw up with relief when you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The light you saw came from his bathroom - the door was closed almost completely, but light spilled out through the crack.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” you asked, inching closer. His hands were clenched into fists and bent back at an angle, veins raised along his tensed forearms. His breath went in raspy and came out in huffs, too quick to be productive.

You were pretty sure you knew what this was. You knelt in front of him, ran your hands over his tensed-up arms once, and then nudged under his chin gently with your forefinger, urging him to lift up and look at you.

He let you, his eyes faraway.

“Panic attack?” you guessed quietly. He nodded once, trying to tuck his chin back down, to look away and hide from the shame of this moment being witnessed - being recognized.

“If I put on my breathing app, will you do it?” you asked.

The sound he made was almost like a laugh. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

You opened your phone and set the app up, placing it on the bed beside him, the light from the screen tinting him pink. You heard the familiar, soothing voice begin to recite the directions, and you rocked back on your heels.

“I’m going to your kitchen real quick,” you told him, putting your hands on his knees to push yourself to standing. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll do the breathing with you in a sec.”

You shivered once as you stood with his fridge open; you’d been in his kitchen plenty of times, but never really perused on your own. Your gaze moved over beer and energy drinks, finally landing on juice. You slapped the bottle on the counter and rummaged in the closest cabinets until you found a glass.

Returning to his bedroom, you could hear your breathing app intoning hold… two… three… four… exhale slowly… two… three… four. It was hard to tell if Vernon was following - his head was still tucked, but his hands clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to return circulation after they’d fallen asleep.

You waited patiently until the breathing cycle ended, then nudged the glass into his hand. When he took it, you sat gently next to him, watching silently until he drank some.

“Where are you at?” you asked, and then started to explain what you meant.

Vernon interrupted; he’d understood the first time.

He usually did.

“Better,” he said, then added, “Not, like, better. But, better. Still buzzing.”

You knew the feeling - you tended to get buzzing in your legs first, then hands, and then it would crawl up your arms and into your chest if you didn’t shake it. When the attack receded, you usually felt it leave your chest first and then work its way slowly back down your arms.

“What usually helps?” you asked. “Is the breathing cycle better, or grounding?”

“Grounding, probably,” he said.

“Start by drinking some juice,” you instructed. “Then, can you tell me five things you see?”

“It’s dark,” he grumbled, but he brought the glass to his lips as requested. You rolled your eyes at his sass and walked over to turn on the lamp he kept on his desk. It cast the room in yellow, all the raindrops on the window suddenly catching the light.

“Now do it,” you said, coming back to sit by him again.

You heard him take a breath. He was better already - hands unclenched now, breathing still a bit quick but not raspy or gasped. “It feels silly to do out loud.”

“I’ll do it, too,” you said. “I see your laptop, your lamp, your cell phone, your dresser, and your very old and embarrassing Blink-182 poster. Literally, Vernon, is it 2003?”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re roasting me right now,” he said, voice still a little thin and breathy.

“Five things you see,” you reminded him firmly.

He huffed in mild irritation. “Hamper,” he recited, finally. “Shoes. Empty Red Bull can.”

You laughed.

“Cologne bottle,” he finished, then looked up at you. “Girl who came out at three in the morning, in the rain, after a month of not speaking, because she was worried about me.”

You spluttered. “I was not.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I have it in writing.”

You let out an indignant breath. “I should have let you suffer alone,” you muttered.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, then dutifully drank some more juice.

“Okay,” you said, remembering what you were doing. “Four things you can hear.”

He sighed. “Bossy girl,” he listed, and you whacked at his knee. “Rain. Aircon. Traffic outside.”

You finished the exercise together.

“Now how is it?” you asked, reaching to take his empty glass.

He flexed his hands in front of him. “Buzzing’s down to my hands,” he reported. “Think I’m past the worst.”

“How do you feel, otherwise?”

He grimaced. “Exhausted, honestly.”

You looked at the clock - it was after 4:30 in the morning, almost time for sunrise to begin.

“You should try and sleep more,” you said, starting to rise.

“Stay?” he asked, and you thought you heard a note of, well, panic in it. Like he was scared to be alone again.

Something inside you screamed and beat its fists against your insides, furious and terrified as it felt you melt into goo at his request. Something inside you knew that you were walking into a building on fire. But there was no way you’d stay outside, not now, not if he was in there.

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious, as if you stayed over all the time - as if this weren’t, in fact, a first.

He seemed to take in your appearance for the first time, the still-drying patches on your clothes, the goosebumps on your damp skin. “You’re cold,” he said, frowning, like you should have led with that as soon as you came in, handled your needs first.

“I’m okay,” you denied, but he rolled his eyes and leaned over the other side of his bed, coming up with a rumpled black hoodie.

“I promise it’s clean,” he said, a little sheepishly, and you pulled off your damp tshirt and tugged the hoodie over your head, instantly warmer and surrounded by his smell. He left for the bathroom, and when you heard the sink run and the telltale buzzing from his electric toothbrush, you got up and turned his lamp back off. When he emerged, you were under the blankets, huddled warm and cozy inside his hoodie.

When he climbed into bed, you draped yourself over him, a leg over his legs, an arm over his torso, your face pressing against his t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you lay in silence for a while, listening to the rain, awash in relief that he was okay - that you two were okay, that he’d let you back in even after you’d fucked it up.

Just as you were starting to drift a little, you felt his chest move under you, and he said, quietly, “I’m sorry for making you come out in the storm. In the middle of the night, too.”

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head but not lifting it up to look at him. Your words carried out into the dark of the room. “You can call me. You can call me when you need me. I don’t care if it’s late. I don’t care if it’s… a hurricane, or whatever.”

It was too honest. It was too close to the truth. You shivered in the dark again, and you felt him hold you tighter for a second, as if to chase the chill away.

He let the moment go, didn’t chase it down and shine a light on it. But you know he heard you - you think, probably, he heard the whole thing, all the parts you didn’t say.

You waited in silence again, let the moment go, let the rain wash this away, too. Then, you ventured, “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last month. Really.”

You felt him nod above you. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.”

Is it? you wondered. But you didn’t push it - because you were scared that his forgiveness was fragile and might shatter if pressed, because you’d already admitted something you weren’t sure you’d meant to tonight, because saying anything seemed wrong while you were between his arms with the rain serenading you both from outside.

You drifted off; you woke up with his hands on your skin beneath his hoodie. You sighed, eyes still closed, as he refamiliarized himself with your body. You breathed in deeply when his fingers brushed up your stomach and found your breasts, teased over your nipples so lightly that it almost tickled, made you shudder in place.

You felt his lips at the nape of your neck, and that made you shiver, too. He pressed kisses along the tops of your shoulder as he teased one peak and then the other, finally giving in to your tiny, needy noises and rolling both buds between firm fingers. You moaned, long, feeling it pulled from deep within you until he let go, soothing over the spots with warm palms.

“Missed that sound,” he murmured against your back, and you pressed back against him desperately, suddenly sure that if he wasn’t inside you this instant you would completely lose it. You reached backwards, grabbing at his hips, trying to pull him closer.

“Need you,” you whined, hating it but knowing it was true anyway, the need larger than the embarrassment. You could feel him pressing against your ass, too many layers between you, and you shifted against him, hoping to spur him into action.

He hummed, pleased, and slid a clever hand back down over your stomach and past the waistbands of your sweats and panties, groaning low in his throat when he found arousal pooling between your legs. He barely bothered to work you open, likely feeling the same desperation you were after the time apart. You felt him shimmy out of his shorts, then his hands back on your skin as he peeled away your bottoms as well.

You kicked them off of your ankles and inhaled as you felt him slide along your slit, teasing at your entrance. He kept one hand up your hoodie, pressed against your chest to hold you tight against him, as he pushed into your heat one inch at a time. You heard yourself make a sound you couldn’t name, somewhere close to a whine, as you felt each bit of him rub against your walls as they struggled to adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth close to your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He bottomed out and stilled, that one hand still holding you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and felt the moment: his heart beating against your back, your own pulse thundering through your limbs, your pussy pulsing around him as it adjusted and fluttered, his breath warm and steady on your skin, his hands soothing and grounding as they held you tight, the rain still falling steadily outside. You stayed still, eyes closed, as he caressed your hips, your lower belly, your thighs, as he pressed chaste and feather-light kisses along your shoulder.

Finally, he shifted, fucking into you in small movements, barely withdrawing at all before tilting his hips to push back in. You rocked back against him, silently begging for more.

He pulled out almost completely, and then slid back in; the sound you let out bordered on a sob, your nerves alight and sizzling as he began repeating the motion, each stroke slow and long, unhurried, burying himself as completely as he could. You floated like this, completely enveloped by him, still wearing his hoodie, as he took his time with you, until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“More, Vernon,” you begged, “please.”

“As you wish,” he teased, and used his knee to move yours, bending your leg and hooking it up around his to open you up more, to give himself more room as he set a quicker, steady pace. Relieved, you matched his strokes, half-tempted to roll over so you could kiss him, but not wanting to lose even a second of the delicious feeling of him stretching you, of the friction that made your eyes want to roll back and your toes curl up.

It took you completely by surprise when he began pistoning into you, holding you in place by your waist, and a gasp flew from your mouth, morphing into a series of moans and cries as his hips battered at yours. Even more so when he grabbed at your thigh and tugged, rolling you onto your back and readjusting himself over you, slipping right back in as you wrapped your legs around him and tried to pull him closer.

His pace slowed only marginally as he grabbed at your hands and raised them above your head. Bent close over you, you finally got what you’d wanted the whole time - his lips finally found yours and you kissed hungrily as he fucked you deep. Above your head, you felt your fingers curl against his, lacing together. You squeezed his fingers tight when you came, his name slipping from your lips as your legs shook and your world went white. Vernon came with a cry, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he emptied himself in your still-pulsing heat, and then collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

“Shower?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath.

You tilted your phone so you could see the time. “I should probably just go home,” you admitted. “I have work.” This realization hit you - you’d gotten maybe four and a half hours of sleep, and not even all at once. Thank god it was Friday and you only had one day to struggle through.

He nodded, understanding. After you dressed, he wandered after you like a shadow. “You around tomorrow night?” he asked, and you could hear the effort to sound off-handed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking to his for a second. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

When your ride pulled up and you stepped outside, you shielded your eyes from how bright everything was in the early morning light after days of gloom and clouds. Around you, everything glistened and sparkled, still wet from the days of incessant rain, as if everything you could see had been washed clean.

3 months ago

hi :]

what’s wrong with your face?

are you insulting my smiley?

again i ask you: is it 2003?

im gonna ignore that. come over?

can’t, sorry. i’m sick

whats wrong with u?

should i start listing?

ha ha. girl stuff?

vernon!!!!

lmao i mean if its not that i figured youd just tell me whats wrong

i have a fever, you ass

It was true - you’d carried your comforter from your bed to your couch that morning and had barely moved since. The cat was on top of your legs and you didn’t have the strength or energy to move him. Through the day, your fever had risen; you hadn’t helped things by refusing to get up, which meant you were probably dehydrated. As Vernon texted you, you took mental inventory of how badly everything on your body hurt - your limbs, your hips, everything ached. The pain in your head was sharp and bloody, and you felt like you were sweltering even though your feet were ice cold.

You felt too miserable to even watch a show; instead, you looked around your living room absently. You were pretty sure you were seeing colors off to the side, hazy swatches of red and blue.

Well, you thought dryly, that’s not good.

Then, your hallucinations took form, because the couch was dipping under you and someone was placing a cool hand against your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch just because the coolness felt nice.

“You need to drink something,” someone told you.

“I had the lemonade,” you said.

There was a pause. “I don’t… think there’s lemonade here. Hey - wake up and look at me.”

You blinked, and looked towards the voice. The world’s most beautiful man looked down at you, frowning.

“Wow,” you heard yourself. “You’re so handsome. What are you here for?”

He laughed. “I’m here to take care of you,” he said. “I’m bringing you water, okay?”

You frowned. “I don’t want water. My throat hurts. I want juice.”

There was another pause, and then the voice came again, from further away. “I’ll bring you juice, but you need to drink water now.”

Then he was back, snapping in front of your face. “Hey, look at me again. This is serious. Have you taken any medicine? I don’t want to give you double of something and overdose you.”

“I don’t think I’ve left the couch today,” you told him honestly.

“Okay,” he said, and you didn’t remember him moving or leaving but he was somehow pressing pills into your hand, waiting for you to place them on your tongue before handing you a plastic cup full of water.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed.

“You’re too pretty to be so bossy,” you grumbled around the mouthful of pills.

He waited until you drained the cup. “I’m going to go to the store,” he told you. “Can you think of anything else you need besides juice?”

You didn’t remember if you answered him, or even him leaving. You think you slept. When you woke, someone was rummaging around your kitchen.

“Chan?” you called, blearily.

Instead, Vernon poked his head around the corner of your kitchen, a grocery store bag hanging off his arm.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you feel?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

His smile widened. “Your fever must be down a little. You need anything? You still want juice?”

You just stared at him, bewildered. He finished putting away a few more things and then came back out to you, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Definitely lower,” he said. “Do you have an actual thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah,” you said, still confused. “In my bathroom. Vernon, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said. “You should shower and put on clean pajamas and then maybe try to eat some of the soup I got.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can shower,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can stand up that long.”

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you. Just a quick rinse.”

He helped you off the couch and into the bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet while he started the water and got it running warm, but not hot. You kept silent as he helped you undress, as he held your hand while you gingerly stepped over the bathtub’s lip, your legs aching.

“You okay?” he checked, once you were behind the shower curtain.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m going in your room to get you clean clothes to put on.”

“Hurry.”

“I’m right outside. If you feel weird, just call me.”

You did okay, though, washing up and turning the water off on your own, reaching for the towel you kept on a hook. He came in when he heard the water change, and helped you dry off, his hands firm and his gaze gentle. Then he led you back to your bed, guiding you under the blankets.

“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asked. “I bet you didn’t eat all day.”

You scrunched your nose. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s pre-made. I’ll heat some up.”

You tried to eat as much of the soup as you could, and then floated absently as Vernon cleaned up.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t think I fed the cat tonight.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, pushing on your shoulder to keep you from climbing out of bed.

“You can’t just- he’s particular - there’s a process -”

“Tell me the process, then,” Vernon said firmly.

Later, after he’d turned out all the lights, he came to the side of the bed and checked your temperature again - this time with your actual thermometer.

“I’m waking you up in three hours to take another fever-reducer,” he warned you, walking to set the thermometer down on your dresser.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue. You were already half-asleep as it was - you had no idea what time it was.

You barely registered it when he climbed into the bed next to you, just rolled over and buried your face in his chest, one arm reaching around his middle, already back under.

His alarm startled you both. You felt him pull away - you were sleeping in the same position, neither of you had moved - and then the alarm fell quiet.

“Medicine,” he said, starting to extract himself. You whined; you were comfy, and warm, and didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t,” you whined. “Don’t leave.”

He laughed a little, a quiet huff of amusement. “I’m just going to the kitchen. Then I’ll be back.”

He watched you take another round of pills and drink half the water, leaving the glass on your nightstand. Then, as promised, he got right back in bed.

When you woke again, your bed was empty. And, impossibly, you felt both relief and disappointment. Then, from the living room, you heard a clatter and then a curse.

“Vernon?” you called.

Your bedroom door cracked open. Like a flash of lightning, the cat streaked into the room and under the bed.

“Sorry,” Vernon said from the doorway. “He was pissed that I wouldn’t let him in there with you. I wanted you to sleep. He was mutinying.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You didn’t go home?”

“Wanted to see how you were before I left,” he said. “You sound better. You look better, too - I mean, you looked really off yesterday. It was kind of scary.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “Okay enough that I can keep my fever down by myself. I shouldn’t have let it get that high yesterday, I should have stayed on top of it.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then, he clapped his hand against your doorframe, as if he’d made a decision. “Okay. I’ll go home, I guess. Just… let me know if it gets bad, okay? And eat something. I bought stuff for you yesterday - it’s all in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a little sheepishly.

“It was nothing,” he promised.

After he left, you stayed in the bed, rolling onto your side so you could smell the blankets where he’d slept. It helped you feel safer, like you weren’t actually alone.

It occurred to you that you’d spent the night together twice in a row, now. The rules were breaking - the rules were changing.

Your head pounded, and so did your heart. Nothing had ever been this frightening in your life, you thought.

2 months ago

Vernon saw you as sunshine - not like it was your demeanor, because that wasn’t true. More like - something he needed without realizing he needed it, something he realized he needed only in its absence. Something that made things better and brighter, something that could sometimes be too bright. Something that made the grey days feel greyer in a can you understand happiness if you never feel sadness kind of way.

He tipped your head back to kiss you, caught your bottom lip between his teeth, rolled his hips into yours, watched your hands clench into fists in his sheets.

He forgot himself a little; or maybe he just gave in to something he’d been holding back for months - maybe even a year. Something cracked, marrow slipped out of him, sluiced into the rocky ocean below.

After, he held you close, whispered, “Don’t go home. Stay. Jagi, stay here.”

And, he had to give you credit - you were at least honest. You at least told him your truth, in your own way.

“I can’t,” you said, and he knew you, knew how you meant it. He didn’t argue or call you back when you dressed, when you left again, just how you’d done things almost every time over the last two years.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t want you, maybe even love you, and only have parts of you. It was too hard, it wasn’t fair. Two years, and he had nothing to show for it. Maybe he’d find someone, if he wasn’t spinning his wheels with you.

He saw you like sunshine. Something that was missed when it was gone. Something that couldn’t be forced to stay, something that didn’t come when it was called.

1 month ago

You could tell that something was different. You’d been around Vernon plenty when he was low - this was different.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you observed.

His eyes cut sideways at you. He’d never looked at you like that - this was another clue. Then his face went flat again.

“I’m not,” he said, and you frowned.

“You are,” you insisted. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he said, tone hollow.

“I’m not playing this game with you, Vernon!” you said, temper flaring. “If there’s a problem, you’re going to have to use your words and tell me.”

“I said there’s no problem,” he repeated, cool and even. Something inside you snapped tight, painful. You could feel it all coming to a boil right before your eyes - the way the boundaries had been shifting, the way he’d called you jagi, the way he’d looked when you’d walked away. It terrified you, made you want to show your claws, and it was infuriating that he was icing you out when you were ready to draw blood.

“Vernon!” you cried. “I cannot deal with this little apathy game anymore! I need you to engage here. I need you to care about something, and not just give me this expressionless, emotionless -”

“Care about something?” he thundered, wheeling on you. It startled you into silence. “That’s bullshit. Because I have been caring about you way more than I should, for ages now, and look what fucking good it’s done for me.”

Stunned, you blinked at him. Your heart pounded painfully, and your thoughts felt staticky and unclear. You needed to get away from him; you needed to process this in silence.

Finally, you spoke, your voice coming out tiny. “I’m going home.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, slapped his hand down to grab at his phone. “I’ll take you.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to.”

He ignored this, picking up his keys. “I said I’ll take you. It’s fine.”

You shouldn’t have followed him to the car. You shouldn’t have assumed he’d be mad for a few weeks and then get over it again, just like you two had done more than once now.

He drove you in silence, his face coming in fragmented pieces as he passed under streetlights. You were watching him, silently, when he finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, still perfectly even.

Tears sprang to your eyes before you’d even processed the sentence, something inside you reacting before your brain really knew what you were reacting to.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

You knew why.

He just kept driving.

“Pull over,” you demanded, suddenly furious, suddenly terrified, suddenly realizing you were losing him, right now, in real time.

He ignored you, didn’t even glance over at you.

“Vernon, I want to talk about this, pull over!” you cried, leaning forward in your seat, the seat belt tightening on your shoulder. “Pull over!”

Eventually, he listened, flicking on his turn signal and slowing as the car bumped off the pavement and onto the dirt shoulder.

“What?” he asked flatly, finally turning to face you.

“I asked why,” you said, heat laced through your voice.

He shook his head. “I’ve wasted two years with you -”

“Wasted?” you echoed, feeling the word like a punch to the gut. You felt like you couldn’t inhale.

“Well?” he asked, as if to say, well, wasn’t it?

“Fuck you, Vernon,” you spat.

“Fuck me is right!” he yelled, loud in the enclosed space of the sedan. “What are we doing? Just fucking, for eternity?”

You blinked at him. “You never asked me for anything else!”

“I tried,” he growled.

“Like hell you tried!”

“I did,” he asserted. “You ran, scared, every time.”

“Of course I was scared,” you snapped, because you couldn’t deny that one for a second. Your voice comes out choked. “I was right to be scared, and you know it!”

“Why?” he asked, the question falling between you, a landmine.

“Because,” you said seriously, the first tear finally falling. “This only ends one way.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, out the windshield again. Then, he clicked on his turn signal again, shifted the car back into drive, and pulled back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, as the car met even pavement again. “You’re making sure of that, aren’t you?”

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thank you so much for reading! one chapter left to go!

[poppitron360]

I’m trying to branch out from my usual angst by writing a happy(ish) fic.

Summary: Jason goes back to Camp Jupiter after the war and reveals that he and Leo are dating. He struggles so deal with the backlash from that while simultaneously having to cope with being long-distance.

CW: Swearing, Octavian

Word Count: 2,423

VALGRACE FANFICTION- “Fuck ‘em”

When Jason had announced to Camp Jupiter that he was seeing someone, he wasn’t sure what had been more appalling. That the someone in question was a boy, or that he was Greek.

Octavian had, of course, been outraged on both accounts: “We let a man like this become Praetor! He is fraternising with the enemy in a very un-Roman-like fashion!”

That’s what he called it. “Un-Roman”- like for some reason Jason was any less Roman because he was bisexual.

But it wasn’t just Octavian spouting bullshit. There was a shift in the way people acted under his command- they seemed less trusting, like Jason had become some foreign invader. Even though he had stepped down as Praetor and given his powers to Frank, he still held the newly-created title of “honorary Praetor”, alongside Percy, to commemorate all the work he had done defeating Gaia. People should still listen to him, respect him. But it was different now. His boyfriend was a Greek.

He didn’t dare tell them it was the same Greek that had fired on New Rome, albeit under the influence of evil spirits.

Some of them had been supportive, especially those in the fifth cohort. They were used to being outcasts.

“Children of Vul- I mean, Hephaestus, though?” His friend, Dakota, had said, “They’re good to have around. Large, beefy, big muscles. Good fit for a son of Jupiter like you.”

Jason laughed nervously, “Uh-huh. Yeah… large… muscles… right.”

Oh my gods, Praetor Grace had a twink. That was another thing he didn’t dare tell them. He let them imagine their leader with a powerful hunk for a boyfriend- at least that way he could keep some dignity.

He felt bad being embarrassed by Leo. He was awesome. He had a badass flying dragon. He told cool jokes and made Jason laugh. Jason was proud to call him his boyfriend. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself every morning. Then he’d step outside, and be faced with the weird looks and behind-the-hand whispers, and suddenly he didn’t feel so proud. He didn’t hold it against Leo, though. He loved how the kid acted so unapologetically himself- unlike Jason, who needed everyone to like him so much.

Jason didn’t care about the stares when he was with him. The asshole comments from Octavian seemed like distant memories when he looked into those big, dark eyes, complete with the playful little twinkle and mischievous smile. But when he was without Leo, he was a nervous wreck. The only thing that kept him going were Leo’s monthly visits. That was the one thing they couldn’t take away from him. He counted the days in his head to when he was gonna see him again. When Octavian was being shitty, he’d just think “twenty more days”, “ten more days”, “five more days”, “one more day”.

He met Leo and Festus outside the New Rome border. He picked the tiny guy up in his arms and twirled him around, and then kissed him. Leo’s skin was warm to the touch, like it always was when he was nervous.

“I missed you so much,” Jason whispered, although there was no-one around to overhear.

“I missed you too, Sparky. Camp isn’t the same without you.”

“Are they treating you well there? Anyone still giving you shit for your powers?”

“I’m fine Jason, everyone’s super nice,” Leo replied, although Jason could tell it was probably exaggerated. Not a lie- just a projection. What Jason wanted to hear. He decided not to call him out on it- Leo just didn’t want Jason to worry, that’s all.

“You’ve not been spending too much time in the workshop, I hope? Actually go outside once in a while.”

“I’m outside now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You worry too much,” Leo said, standing on his tiptoes to kiss him.

But Leo had worries of his own. They talked causally for a while, before Leo interrupted him with a question that Jason had been dreading.

“Why do you always ask me to meet you outside the border?” Leo asked.

Jason had a pre-planned response for this, “I just wanna keep you separate from my work. At Camp, I’m a leader. A soldier. Praetor Grace. With you, I can be myself. I can be Jason. I want it to stay that way.”

Leo’s eyes held so many different emotions, it was hard for Jason to tell what one was most prominent- sadness, resolution, hope- Jason had spent many hours searching those eyes for the secrets that they contained, and he still had not found them all. Leo sighed.

“They… they don’t know about me, do they?”

Jason hesitated- but he couldn’t lie to Leo.

“They know I’m dating a son of Hephaestus… they don’t know it was the same son of Hephaestus that fired on New Rome,” he admitted.

“You’re embarrassed.”

“No, I’m not!” Jason said, which wasn’t entirely true.

“You are! You’re worried about being seen with me! That’s why you meet me out here- you don’t want people to know you have a dangerous freak for a boyfriend. Praetor Grace and the scrappy little street rat he took pity on,” Leo looked down and kicked the dirt.

“I think you’re a pretty cute street rat,” Jason said, ruffling Leo’s messy, greasy hair. Then his smile turned serious, “Leo, I don’t want you to think that I think of you that way. I’m not embarrassed by you, it’s just…” he looked at the sky and sighed, “There’s a lot of expectations that I have to live up to. And when I’m with you I get to say “fuck ‘em”, but when I’m there…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Leo said. He looked up at Jason with those big, busy eyes- drawing ordinance survey maps of Jason’s face in his mind, “I really do, Jason. I understand feeling like you need to be someone else to get people to like you. I get it.”

Jason smiled and hugged him.

“We can stay like this. You don’t have to let me inside the border. We can just say “fuck ‘em” out here,” Leo mumbled, his voice muffled in the fabric of Jason’s hoodie.

“One day,” Jason assured him, “One day I wanna say “fuck ‘em” to their faces. There’s a really nice café in New Rome I wanna take you to.“

“But we don’t have to say “fuck ‘em” today.”

“No.”

His time with Leo came and went. Jason went back to his duties, to the stares and the whispers.

He sat on the lunch table with the rest of the fifth cohort, chatting idly about the local gossip.

“Heard we got some exchange students from Camp Half-Blood,” one of them remarked, “Because we’re doing that now, apparently.”

“They have all these freaky little behaviours- it’s not sitting right with the other cohorts.”

“Yeah, Greeks are weird,” Jason remarked, leaning back in his chair, “And I should know- I’m in love with one.”

The whole table went quiet. Jason seemed to realise what he’d just said.

“Oh,” was all he could manage in response.

Dakota broke the silence, “Man, I thought you were just his sugar daddy, I didn’t know you guys were actually in love!”

“I-I didn’t know either, ‘til I just said it,” Jason stuttered, still in shock, “But… yeah. Yeah, I love him.”

“So when do we get to meet him?” One of the other members of the fifth asked.

“Well,” Jason leaned forward, contemplating, “He comes to visit me every month. He’s coming again in thirteen days. I could…”

He looked around the dining hall. He took in the sneers as people caught his eye. The whispers and snickers and pointing. He realised that that would never change. As long as he was open about who he was, there would always be backlash. The only thing he could do was to not let it get to him. To say “fuck ‘em”. And as terrifying a prospect as that was, Jason was ready. He was ready to rise above the snide remarks and disrespect and yell “I’m in love with Leo Valdez!”

Because he was. He loved that tiny imp of a kid. He loved his loud mouth and weird quirks. He loved how Leo would hold his hand and tap out little morse code messages that Jason didn’t understand, but would speculate for days what they meant. He could look it up, or ask Annabeth, but he loved to fantasise.

Leo was leaning against Festus in their usual spot outside the border. When Jason saw him, he tackled him with such force that Leo’s hair caught fire in surprise. Luckily, Jason pulled away before it could burn him.

“You’re in a good mood,” Leo observed, patting out the flames on his head.

“Yeah, well… I’ve decided,” Jason told him, “I’m ready. I wanna take you inside the border.”

Leo stopped fussing with his hair and looked up at Jason, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Jason assured him, holding out his hand, “Come on!”

Leo grinned and took Jason’s hand. A little spark of electricity ran along Jason’s spine. He took off for the city, pulling Leo behind him. Leo was giggling in that cute way he did when he got exited and thought no-one could hear him. They ran like the wind- literally. As Jason yanked him along, he summoned the winds to push them faster, lifting them up into the air slightly. They were inside New Rome now, Jason dragging him through winding streets and bustling crowds. Jason felt truly free, running along with Leo. He was overjoyed. For once, he didn’t care about expectations or who he should be. They were just two kids having fun.

They stopped outside a sidewalk café with Romanesque architecture, like the rest of the city. There was one of those classic red-and-white-striped awnings over the front, and clusters of tables and chairs littered the pavement outside.

“Lunch?” Jason asked, turning to Leo, “They do paninis and toasted sandwiches.”

“I would kill for a panini right now.”

“What about drinks?”

“Diet coke?”

“Gods, no. You’re not having any more caffeine, Mr Hyper. I’ll get you a lime soda,” the conversation was dull and mundane, but Jason found it comforting. They had spent so much of their time together with the weight of the world resting on their shoulders. Now that that was finally over (and Jason rapped on the wooden café table at the thought, praying he wouldn’t jinx it), they could finally settle into a monotonous rhythm, like and old married couple.

Wow. That image took him by surprise- him and Leo growing old together- but it was a good sort of surprise. Jason didn’t push the thought away, instead, he let it wash over him, clinging to the notion that they had hope. A future in the making.

Lunch was going awesome- until Octavian showed up.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Praetor Grace- sorry, former Praetor Grace.”

“Honorary Praetor,” Jason corrected, not looking up from the menu he was reading, “Still ranked above you, Octavian, so a position you should treat with respect.”

Jason didn’t bother looking up to see Octavian’s reaction. He continued to ignore the kid, until he saw him turn to face Leo.

“Hey! Isn’t that the Greek Scum who destroyed half the city?!” He yelled, “Guards! Guards!”

“Octavian, no,” Jason commanded, looking him directly in the eyes, “I saw to it that Leo was pardoned. That incident was not through his actions.”

“It very much looked like it was through his actions, from where I was standing!” Octavian replied, angrily.

Jason stood up. He grabbed Leo’s hand, partially for reassurance, partially as a way of telling Octavian to suck on a cavalry sword- a way of saying “Fuck ‘em”.

“Oh… oh my gods! That is your little pet?!” He pointed at Leo like he was a disgusting patch of mould.

“Uh-huh. And what’re you gonna do about it, Octavian? Run and tell? I am fucking fine with everyone knowing. In fact-“ Jason leapt up onto the café table, still holding onto Leo’s hand, “Listen up, motherfuckers!”

“Jason, what’re you-“

Jason squeezed Leo’s hand to reassure him and Leo stopped protesting, but he still looked worried.

“I’m in love with Leo Valdez!” Jason yelled, “He’s tiny and Greek and he’s awesome. You motherfuckers might look down on him. You might think he’s dangerous, or that he’s a freak. But I see how awesome he is. And sweet. And badass. And cute. And funny. And none of you-“ he pointed a finger at the crowd of passers-by, who were giving him annoyed and disgruntled looks, “Get to say a fucking WORD against him!” He turned towards Octavian, looking down at him and jabbing a finger in his face, “Especially a slimy little piece of shit like you, Octavian.” Jason jumped down from the table, reclined in his seat, picked up the menu, and studied it with his glasses at the end of his nose much like how an old man would study a newspaper.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.”

Octavian scoffed, and left.

“Jason…” Leo was staring at him with those eyes of many feelings. Jason counted wonder, shock, horror, pride, lust, reverence and a seventh emotion he couldn’t quite describe.

“I’m sorry if that was too… loud, Leo. I don’t wanna make you feel-“

“Y-You’re in love with me?”

“…Yeah. Yes. I am,” Jason searched for what emotion was the brightest in those eyes, but there were too many and it was too confusing. He could never pick just one, “Is it too soon? Should I have waited? Should I have asked you first before yelling it in the street-“

“No! No, it’s fine. It’s… amazing, actually. And I love you too, Jason, I really do.”

Jason squeezed Leo’s hand again. Now that Leo had said it, Jason saw the love surface above the mess of other feelings in those eyes. He saw it bud and bloom like blossoms in springtime across Leo’s fiery irises. He wanted to get lost in those meadows of brown and gold, and when Leo closed those eyes to lean in to kiss him, Jason was slightly crestfallen at the fact that he couldn’t keep staring at them. Soon, though, Leo’s lips were against his, and his disappointment melted away. He had plenty of time to stare into those eyes later. They had their whole future ahead of them, and nobody was gonna stand in their way.

[tgmsunmontue]

From the top 1/? (WIP)

IceMav, (eventual) Explicit, (background Hangster who are already established). Set post-TGM. (No dead Ice obviously).

Featuring not-mistaken identities (where they (Ice and Mav) pretend to be in the dark for REASONS), Ice is Jake's Uncle Tom, Mav is Bradley's Dad, everyone knows everyone, (un)requited love, coming out as an older person, and a little bit of a circus-vibe where Ice has a horrible realization that this is indeed his circus and these are also his monkeys.

An AU where Mav married Carole and adopted Bradley to make things easier legally. A USNA Bradley who has been very careful to separate Dad/Pete from godfather/Maverick. They had an argument prior to TGM, but it was around Maverick being careless with his life (RE: Darkstar because Bradley got the call that Maverick was missing, presumed dead). So it was about risk taking and thinking while flying, so that was happening and Bradley admits to the Dagger Squadron that Maverick is his godfather and they have a ‘complicated relationship’ which isn’t a lie per se, however it’s… complicated.

                He and Bradley haven’t reached the stage yet where they’ve met any of each other’s family. They haven’t even introduced each other to their friends as boyfriends yet, and their circle of friends overlap. And he’s okay with that. More than okay actually. Doesn’t quite know how he’d broach the whole by the way I’m sort of related to the COMPACFLT through my mom conversation. He’s close with Tom now, closer than he is to any of his mom’s other cousins that’s for sure. Idolized him when he was young, and now also holds a deep-rooted respect and affection for the man. It had also helped knowing he had someone to look to as a role model, someone who was gay in the Navy and got so high up no-one could do anything to him now. Jake wanted that. Badly.

                But he also kind of wants his Uncle Tom to be happy. Although, hell, for all he knew he could have had a secret lover all these years. If anyone could keep it hidden it’s Uncle Tom, face quiet and impassive, unmoving and unflinching. He’d really hoped for a callsign half as cool as Iceman, and even if Uncle Tom jokes that he does have a literal half with man, he wishes he didn’t have the connotations of Hangman, even if it’s because of fucking song lyrics he was forever quoting and now twisted into something that make people assume things before they even know him.

                Not that he really has that problem now, with the Dagger Squadron being made a permanent detachment and with them all knowing each other so well now. They know he’s got their backs when it actually comes down to it. And he likes being based where his Uncle Tom is, because while he’s meant to be based in Hawaii they’ve made some concessions due to his cancer treatment. He knows their entire family is grateful, not least his Aunty Sarah. God, he knows it’s the high of surviving a literal suicide mission but life feels so good right now. He’s expecting Bradley to turn up any minute, they’ve got plans for dinner and a movie and then sex, not necessarily in that order.

                When he opens his door and Rooster is there, he can’t help the little happy swoop his insides do and he lets Bradley kiss him hello.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi. How are you?”

                “Good. Little annoyed… my dad is talking about getting back together with an ex…”

                “Is this the ex you like, or don’t like?”

                “You can safely bet money that it’s nearly always an ex I don’t like. I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship with anyone I’ve actually liked… shit that’s depressing.”

                “Maybe you just have really high standards for him?”

                “You mean unlike for myself, where my standards are really low?”

                “Hey!”

                They end up play-wrestling which quickly morphs into not-play making-out and yeah, the sex comes before dinner but he was sort of banking on that, making food that would be perfectly fine just staying warm in the oven. They end up curled around each other on the sofa, queuing up a movie and Jake asks about his day. Listens as Bradley talks about going out to Maverick’s hangar to work on the plane, having lunch with his dad and he wonders if Maverick has met Bradley’s step-dad. Obviously he must have, he’s been around even longer, although it must be weird to have two people called Pete wandering around, he guesses that’s why Bradley calls Maverick Maverick, and his step-dad dad. Stops the confusion.

                He knows Maverick and Bradley had a falling out of some sort, they’d been very angry with each other. He figured out that Maverick flew with Bradley’s dad, was the pilot when his dad died, and he’d thought it had been that. But then Bradley had dropped the bombshell that Maverick was his godfather and they’d had a fight over something he can’t talk about, but they would be fine. So Jake hasn’t pushed wanting to also hang out with Maverick, because when Bradley talks about the P-51 and the hangar his fingers itch but he gets Bradley wanting to mend bridges with his godfather.

                More than that though he wants to meet Bradley’s step-dad, doesn’t understand Bradley’s reticence about introducing them. It’s not like he’s going to care. But they’ve only been doing this, whatever it is, for a couple of weeks, which he guesses is early days, but with everything they’ve gone through in the last couple of months it also feels like several lifetimes. Then again, he’s in no rush to introduce Bradley to Uncle Tom, so maybe it’s for the best they wait a few weeks. Or months.

                “You still thinking about your dad?”

                “Yeah. I just need to get him seeing someone else. Anyone to take his mind off getting back with Georgia. Or any of his exes for that matter. Georgia especially is… well. I have no idea what she gets out of sleeping with Dad. She’s anti military for a start.”

                “The fact that she gets to sleep with him?”

                “Ew, gross…”

                “Maybe she thinks she can convert him to a non-military life one blowjob at a time…”

                “You could try that on me you know, see if you can convince me to do something with a blowjob…”

                “Don’t think I need the promise of a bj to convince you to do anything,” Jake says with a grin. “You know, my uncle Tom is gay, maybe we could set them up? Well, assuming your dad swings both ways?”

                “Huh. Yeah… He does. Keeps that pretty much on the down-low, very much on a need to know basis. Pretty sure I only know because I saw him trying to sneak a guy out when I was seventeen. Did make me feel safer about coming out to him myself though.”

…            …            …

                “Jake, I am not installing Grindr on my phone, work, personal or otherwise.”

                “Thought you might say that, so I bought you a burner. Well, please don’t actually burn it, but you know what I mean.”

                “Jake…” Tom lets out an exasperated sigh. “I wouldn’t burn it. I know what a burner is. I’m not an idiot. I just don’t want to go on a date…”

                “Okay, so you don’t actually have to go on a date. All my cards on the table. I’m using the app to introduce you to the step-dad of my… uh, a friend.”

                “A friend huh? Is this the same friend you won’t introduce to the family?”

                “Yes. The exact one. Anyway, I just want you to send him a couple of messages. Let’s say ten messages. After that you can go back to ignoring it, remove the battery from the phone and pretend it never happened. Okay?”

                “Will you let it go if I do this?”

                “I mean… yeah. I hope you make a friend or something, but he’s military as well, so you guys have something in common at least…”

                “Fine. But I want the name of your friend.”

                “No! You’ll just look him up.”

                “He’s Navy?”

                “No!”

                “He is! Good job.”

…            …            …

                “Bradley! Why is Grindr amongst my recently installed apps!”

                “I’m setting you up!” Bradley calls out, grabbing two beers to go with their takeout Chinese.

                “I don’t need setting up. I can find my own dates. I don’t need an app!”

                “Yes, you do. You can’t get back with Georgia just because you’re lonely. Look, I’m not going to make you swipe through dick-pics…”

                “Maybe I want to swipe through dick-pics!”

                “Mav, be serious! You just said you didn’t want the app!”

                “Seriously? You’re the one that installed Grindr on my phone.”

                “God, maybe this was an awful idea.”

                “Yeah, you think?”

                “Okay, give me a second,” Bradley mutters, rolling his eyes and pulling his own from his pocket and thumbing into his contacts.

                “Hi… how’s it going?” Jake asks, voice quiet, and he must still be at his Uncle’s house.

                “Not well. You think we can maybe just set them up with an app that blocks their numbers and then just let them talk that way?”

                “Can’t hurt to try… your dad resisting the Grindr approach too huh?”

                “So much. And I get it, HE’S REALLY OLD,” Bradley says, raising his voice while looking Mav dead in the eye.

                “Hey! I heard that!”

                “You were meant to!”

                He ignores the glare Mav shoots him and pokes his tongue out at the back of his head as he walks away.

                “Okay, let’s see what we can find. I’ll message you and let you know.”

                “Sure thing.”

                Fifteen minutes later Jake has sent him the information, an end-to-end encrypted messaging app, one which hides the number of the phone sending the message. It’s silent and has to be manually opened to check for notifications, which is very old-school but means there’s no potential odd sounding pings. The icon is a mundane looking tower symbol and he guesses that could mean anything.

                “Okay Mav – you need to give this guy a chance okay? Please?”

                “What’s in it for me?”

                “I will stop bothering you about… uh… your love life for six months?”

                “No deal. I want to meet the guy you just rang. Who’s he in all this?”

                “Uh… I guess he’s my boyfriend.”

                “Ooohhh… it’s new huh? You’re in that new loved-up stage where you want everyone around you to be in the same stage.”

                “Uh, I mean we’ve known each other for years, but we’ve recently… come to an arrangement.”

                “Is it boyfriends or friends with benefits?”

                “Well, we weren’t exactly friends before, so definitely closer to boyfriends I guess,” Bradley says, carefully skirting the fact that Mav actually already knows Jake quite well.

                “Great. I’ll send what, ten messages to this guy and then I get to meet your guy in two weeks.”

                “No! Three months. And twenty messages.”

                “You realize you can’t force me to do anything right? You have no bargaining power here?”

                “I know, but… for me?”

                “Ugh… sad cow eyes. Fine fine, put them away. I’ll message the guy. But I do want to meet your guy when you feel the timing is right.”

                “Yeah, of course.”

                God he hopes this works because he has no idea if Mav will like the fact he’s with Jake or not.

…            …            …

                They meet up every week when they’re both in the same place, and it’s been a treat these last few months, but also a trial. Usually the distance has been a unintended blessing, making his unfortunate case of unrequited love easier to ignore. When he was younger he’d thought it was just a crush, that it would just… fade away. Instead the opposite has happened, time and distance have hardened and solidified similar to how pressure and temperature turn limestone into marble his love for Maverick is a solid and unmoving object that is ever present. Every time Mav walks through his front door he has to fight the urge to enfold him in his arms and just hold him. Every time.

                “Did you ever want kids of your own?” Pete asks and Tom startles, looks across at him.

                “No. I have nieces and nephews and cousin’s kids coming out my ears. They’re enough trouble to be getting on with, without adding my own genes to the mix. Wasn’t ever going to happen anyway,” he tacks on, and he wonders if this, today, this moment, will be the time it twigs and Mav will ask what he means.

                “Too much trouble by half. Do you know what Bradley did the other day? Installed a dating app on my phone.”

                “What? Why would he do that?”

                “He thought I was considering getting back with Georgia for some reason.”

                “And you’re not?”

                “No. Anyway, he’s trying to set me up with someone. At least you don’t have to worry about that.”

                “You’d be surprised. My cousins kid bought me a phone, a burner phone, with a dating app installed on it.”

                “Oh yeah? Which one?”

                Tom swallows.

                Okay.

                No more subtle hints.

                It’s now or never.

                “Grindr.”

                He didn’t purposely wait for Mav to have a sip of his drink, but he still sprays it out across the coffee table, eyes bugging out and he can’t seem to look Tom in the eye and he feels his stomach start to sink.

                “You… ah… you know that app is for gay guys right?”

                “I’m aware.”

                Pete just stares at him and he wonders if this is it. The moment his best friend just gets up and walks out of his life.

                “You never told me.”

                “You never asked.”

                “Yeah well, there was a whole thing about not asking and not telling until about ten years ago so… sorry if I thought you’d have maybe mentioned it. Or at least… alluded to it.”

                “I did Pete. With something called subtlety. I know it’s not your strong suit, but I tried to leave it there in the open for you to pick up on. I’m only just… getting to the grips with the idea of being more out.”

                “Okay. Uh. Does anyone else know?”

                Tom snorts.

                “Yeah, my whole family for a start. Had to get them to stop trying to marry me off. Slider of course.”

                “Why of course? Why Slider?”

                “He’s known me for a very long time.”

                “I’ve known you for a long time.”

                He doesn’t want to mention that Slider figured it out, because he’s had to learn to be subtle, and his weak point has and will always be the man in front of him. And he can never let him know. Still, Mav sounds annoyed.

                “Slider figured it out. He’s too perceptive for his own good,” Tom mutters, because he’s also the one person who knows about his lifelong torch bearing.

                “Huh. Okay.”

…            …            …

                Tom locks the house up, Mav having left to go home after Tom had soundly beaten him at chess. He knows it isn’t one of Mav’s favorite games, that he really only plays to humor Tom and give them something to do while they talk… his brain is catching on something and it’s going to bother him until he figures it out. Pete. Playing chess simply to spend more time with him...

                He stops.

                Blinks.

                Pete had said Bradley had installed a dating app on his phone.

                Within a day of Jake giving him a phone with Grindr installed, which quickly morphed to a simple encrypted messaging service.

                He’s learnt to not ignore his gut and this is deeply suspicious with the coincidence.

                He wonders if Jake and Bradley are dating. The idea of that makes him smile, even if it’ll cause an administrative nightmare. He knows they know each other, they’re part of the same squadron and there are rules, however it wouldn’t surprise him at all if both Bradley and Jake decided that that particular rule was for other people.

                Wait.

                He suddenly needs to know which app it is exactly that Bradley installed and he has his phone in his hand ringing him before he even considers the time of night, or where Bradley might be right now.

                “Hey Uncle Ice… Everything okay?”

                “Hey Bradley. Sorry for the late call, Just, uh, Mav mentioned you installed a dating app on his phone. You mind telling me which one it was?”

                “Uh… Grindr. Why?”

                “Oh. No reason. Just curious Thanks. Have a good night.”

                Why would Bradley install Grindr.

                Maverick’s not gay.

                To his knowledge Maverick isn’t even bisexual. Or anything else that might imply he’s anything other than overwhelmingly heterosexual.

                Maverick didn’t say anything tonight when he learnt about Tom’s own sexuality.

                Maybe Bradley knows something Tom doesn’t.

                Scratch that.

                Bradley definitely knows something Tom doesn’t.

[jjkilll]

——-----✫ ROS | JJK ✫----——

— pairing | CEO jk x Y/n

— summary | Jungkook is obsessed with you in every way possible and would take the moon and the stars out of the sky and gift them to you if he could.

— warning | smut, fluff, mentions of rough sex, hair pulling, jk proposes to y/n, idk some cute shit I was thinking of.

— word count | 1.8K

— song | ROS - Mac Miller

Jungkook met you when you came in to interview as his secretary. Ever since then, he's craved you. He knew he had to have you. So, he asked you on dates, which at first you declined. You tried the workplace romance thing and dating your boss didn't seem like the smartest idea. But after he asked the fifth time, you figured why not? Hot rich boss buying you food? Deal. He charmed you, he was funny and smart. He talked so dearly of his mother and he really made you fall for him. What you didn't know is that he fell harder. Your smile that night is burned into his brain. Your giggle made it easier to breathe. You smelled of flowers and fresh air, your voice was soft like honey and you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

After a few months of dating, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes. He made it his top priority to find out everything you've ever loved or hated. He watched and listened being the most caring boyfriend in the world. Anything you wanted he'd find a way to get it. Anything you'd touch in the store he'd take a picture of and surprise you with something special every other night. He made you feel like a princess. "My love" he'd call you. He was always so gentle with you.

Except when he was fucking you. He didn't have an aggressive personality, but he loved fucking you until you couldn't take it. Jungkook was hands down the best dick you ever had. He had a huge dick and knew how to use it. He'd never seriously hurt or make you do something you couldn't handle. You and your safety were always his top priority. After a rough round, he'd kiss your face and ask "Was I too rough my love, I'm sorry if I was, I will be more gentle." He had never hurt you and you loved it when he fucked you like you were a little ragdoll, but you loved that he always considered you. Jungkook never came first. NEVER. You were always the first to come, and he made sure of it. You were sure if Jungkook looked at you and told you to come you could. He knew you just that well.

Jungkook was never the type to get nervous around you. You always made him feel comfortable enough to be himself. So why was he shaking right now? Oh, he was gripping a small ring box in his hand and was praying you'd say yes to marrying him. He didn't really think you'd say no, but maybe you saw someone hotter than him yesterday and wanted to leave him. You didn't and you don't, but what if you did? He stood behind you with his hand in his pants pocket gripping that box like it was your ass while you rode him.

You were in the Louvre, one of your favorite places to be in the world. He rented it out, which cost a shit ton of money but no amount of money would be worth your reaction, well at least he hoped.

Your back faced him are you admired the piece you loved so much. Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, reminded you of you and Jungkook. Your love always felt fresh and new, it felt soft and sweet, and it was something you knew you wanted to feel forever. So when you turned to face him and he knelt before you with a ring in his shaking hands you felt like the world stopped spinning and you two were the only people on earth.

"Please..." He started. Suddenly the long speech he had talked himself through slipped his mind. All he knew was that the girl he wanted forever stood before him and he wanted more than anything for you to say yes.

"I knew the moment I met you that I wanted to marry you. I never shut up about you. I could write so many books about you and our love because our story is one that is so beautiful that it has to be shared. I'd rather die than not be with you because loving you is like breathing air. I need you and more than anything, I want you Y/n. Will you marry me?" He said everything his heart felt, it was like his heart spoke for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him. Your eyes brimmed with tears and you began to sob. He was quick to grab and hold you as you cried. "Are you okay my love?" All you could do was nod. You look at him and he smiled, he couldn't help it. "What did I do in my past life to deserve someone like you?" you sniffled and all he could do was pout, "If I could take the moon and all the stars in the sky and give it to you, I would," Jungkook responded. You kissed him softly but deeply. "I would marry you a million times over." You say kissing him again. He felt like his heart was doing jumping jacks. You said yes, those three letters sounded like the sweetest coming from your lips. He pecked your lips one last time before showing you the ring. Holy shit it was beautiful, you couldn't even imagine what it could be worth. He slipped in on your finger and you held your hand up to watch it sparkle. "Pretty right? It's custom. I had some jewelers in France make it for me, well for you." He smiled watching you.

"I'm going to give you the best head of your life," you say so suddenly. Jungkook laughs at your statement his eyes never leaving you. He stood and reached for your hand to help you up. You took his hand and stood. You kissed him again. "Thank you Jungkook," you said. "Anything for you my love." He spoke softly.

"Anything?" You look up at him. He nods surely. "Absolutely anything." You smiled. "Okay, then can we go home?" You ask. "Are you sure you don't want to look more? It's just us here." You looked at him with your fuck me eyes. "No, because what I really want to do is have you fuck me until I can't stand." You whisper lowly to him. He stiffened, "Let's go," He said simply grabbing your hand and nearly started running out with you.

It was something about the sex you and Jungkook have. It was like you were made for each other. So when his girl wanted to fuck, he was going to dick you down like he had to start a journey of celibacy the next day. Whatever you say goes.

✫ -----------------------✫

You arrived at the vacation home Jungkook surprised you with a month prior. Sloppily you shuffle through the door shedding each other of your clothes. Making out passionately you back him up the wall in your foyer. His eyes are dark and hungry. He needed you so desperately. You suck his neck while your hands undo his pants. His hand grabs at your waist. You stroke him over his clothed cock. He groans kissing your lips again. You break the kiss, "Let me suck your cock, please." You say it almost begging him. He nods quickly and surely. You grab his hand and drag him onto the couch.

He sits and you kneel before him. He watched your every move. You shuffle his pants and boxers down to his ankles, watching his cock spring free. You bite your bottom lip which turns him on to no extent. You pump him a few times before making eye contact with him and you put him in your mouth. His breath hitches and he groans as you bob your head your hand resting on his pelvis he glances at the ring and then back to your eyes. You're driving him crazy you take your mouth off him, still looking at him you collect the spit in your mouth and let it slowly drip on the tip of his cock. You are the hottest sight he's ever seen. You stroke him again before taking all of him in your mouth. "Fuck baby, just like that." He tosses his head back uncontrollably. He quickly sits his head up and he can feel the tip of his cock touch the back of your throat, he grabs a handful of your hair pulling it gently. You moan on his cock and it sends him into a spiral. "Fuck stop I'm going to come." He says breathily. "Come in my mouth," you say simply.

"My love you know you always come first," he moans struggling through his words as you stroke him. "This one time? Please? I thought you'd give me anything I want." You pout. He smirks at your cheekiness, using his own words against him. He nods for you to continue. You smile putting him back into your mouth. You suck him a little more and you hear his breath quicken. "Fuck I'm coming baby, fuck fuck" He moans before he empties his load into your mouth. You keep your lips wrapped around his tip making sure you get every last drop. You open your mouth to show him his mess. You look him in the eyes as you swallow.

"God, you are so fucking hot," he says with a chuckle. "Take your panties off and get up here." He demands. You stand take off your panties discard them and straddle him. He strokes your pussy with his index and middle fingers. "Sucking me off got you this wet, Jesus?" You smile kissing him once. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slowly you sat on his cock. You moaned as he stretched you out. You never really got used to his cock, he was so thick and long it drove you crazy every time. He grabbed your ass, slapping your left cheek before gripping it once more. "Shit, baby." You moan. "Fuck me, baby," You say softly. He grabs the underside of your ass and helps you bounce on his cock. He is losing his mind in you. He slides down a bit so he could fuck you a little deeper. Good call on his part because as soon as he starts fucking into you he hits that spot that drives to you nuts. You moan as he fucks into at the same pace, "Fuck there, Kook, right there!" you scream out. "God, I'm coming." You shake as you come undone on him and he empties himself into you.

"Thank you...Thank you." you shutter coming down from your high. He smiles when he looks up at you. He kisses your nose lightly. "You okay my love? I wasn't too rough right?" you nod. "You were perfect baby" you say looking at him lovingly.

"My pretty fiancée coming on my cock, You're so perfect." you blush. "Come on baby, Let's get you cleaned up." He said sweetly. He got his dream girl and couldn't be happier. “I was thinking round 2 in the shower?” You suggest. “If you can handle it.” he teases. Him and his pretty fiancée had the brightest of futures ahead.

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: just a lil something something hehe. thanks for reading if you made it this far. feed and request are appreciated!! mwah!!

[satoruko]

when we're alone ‐ simon "ghost" riley x oc

this fic is dedicated to @theolovesmen :)

to other people in task force 141, ghost was a fucking mystery. to vincent, he was a puzzle. a puzzle that he was figuring out bit by bit.

when he first joined the task force as a medic, he was welcomed warmly by most of the team. yet the gloomy figure looming near the door didn't make a move.

vincent soon figured out the dynamic between the squad. soap was the little brother of the group, always making jabs at the others and joking around. they got along well together, soap always finding a way to make the boy smile while he was getting treated for injury.

captain price was a more serious type. he made small talk when getting treated, telling vince about their latest mission or some funny but stupid thing the squad had done. sometimes he wouldn't talk at all, taking the time to doze off.

gaz was a sweetheart, always saying thank you after getting patched up. most of the time, they stayed in a comfortable silence, occasionally swapping stories or small talk.

ghost was, well.

it was when vincent was eating his lunch that the six foot two man hauled himself into the room so quietly it took vince a second to realise he was there.

"oh," he said, placing his sandwich down and getting up. "what can i help you with, ghost?"

the man grunted. "m' shoulder."

after taking him to a bed and getting his shirt off, vincent's eyes moved to his shoulder, and sure enough, a nasty bruise was blooming around a cut that looked at least a few days old.

"what the - how long ago did this happen?" he huffed, immediately inspecting the probably infected cut.

"few days ago." was the reply. " 's nothing really."

"ghost you can't call this nothing. at all." vincent said, grabbing his sanitising equipment. "this might hurt," he warned, pouring alcohol onto a cotton pad. he pressed the pad onto the cut, but of course ghost didn't flinch at all.

his greyish blue eyes were trained on vincent, inspecting every aspect of the boy. the way his dusty blonde hair never managed to sit perfectly, or how his oak brown eyes had a dark ring around the pupils.

"uh," vincent's voice broke ghost out of his trance. "you need to sit up so i can put the bandage on."

ghost sat up with a wince. they sat in silence while vincent patched him up, not a comfortable silence like with gaz, a thick silence that made it hard to breathe.

"all done!" the blonde's hands were shaking as he packed away his medical equipment. "you need to rest for a bit, and don't put strain on your shoulder." ghost stared some more, and vincent could almost feel his gaze from the hole in his ragged skull mask.

"anything else, doc?" his voice was rugged, his thick english accent coming through.

"u-uh," vince replied. he refused to meet the eyes of the elder man, instead choosing to burn a hole into the floor. "you need to come back in three days so i can replace the bandages."

vincent didn't know if he was hallucinating, but he thought he heard a low chuckle. "y'sure that's not an excuse to see me again, doc?"

an actual joke. ghost had made an actual joke. vincent found himself smiling, glad that the nervous tension in the air had been broken. "it's so your wound doesn't get infected and you don't die."

"rightt," ghost nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. vincent hadn't moved from his spot next to the bed, so ghost ended up with the boy standing between his legs. neither party seemed to notice. "where'd you put my shirt, doc?"

"oh," vince looked around and grabbed the dirty shirt of a chair. "you can't wear this right now because it was in direct contact with the cut."

"can't walk around without a shirt, can i?"

vincent looked around. he had spare scrubs, but they were all in his size, so he doubted they'd fit someone with a good seven and a half inches on him.

his eyes landed on a jumper a friend had sent him a while back. it was an oversized pastel jumper with a picture of a narwhal on it. if it was big on him, then it would fit ghost, right?

"no," a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. "m' not wearin' that thing."

"you can't walk around shirtless," vincent replied, moving towards the jumper that was slung carelessly over his desk chair.

after a lifetime of grumbling, they'd finally managed to put the jumper on ghost, much to his displeasure.

"it. looks good on you!" vincent managed while holding in a laugh.

"if the guys see me, m' never gonna hear the end of it."

"then you better get to your room quick." came the doctors reply.

a hum escaped ghosts lips. "thank you doc."

"it's my job, but you're welcome."

[toytulini]

if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.

[todayisafridaynight]

Especially because in the end... Arakawa loses his son in small ways that just Accumulate... but Jo's the one who even gets to outlive his son... AUGH. THROWING MYSELF INTO A WOODCHIPPER

Also while going through old messages, I saw I actually had a dream back in 2021 that Jo came back in LaD8. I mean sure he had "longer hair" and "a new outfit NOBODY liked except me" and was Unserious like RGGJo whereas in the actual teaser he sounds more depressed than ever but I'm still taking credit alright... the vision came to me...

And in a Hell Will Freeze Over Before This Happens I Just Like To Think About It way. I want him in my goddamn party and I have for all of Y7 so it's not related to the new game. I don't care. I want to find out what his favorite flowers are I want to take him to Every Movie and get his commentary on all of it I want to take him out to eat and watch his little itadakimasu animation play out I want to have the most light-hearted and inconsequential conversations and I want him to chime in I want to exhaust every option on his Drink Link I want to unlock his sickass tag-team moves I want to wear True Hero and fight by his side I want to shower him with so much love and affection he won't know what hit him (<- channeling Arakawa tbh)

its just insane because from a metaphorical sense arakawa 'outlives' masato in that he becomes aoki and like. That's One Thing, but then Of Course. There's Jo. //stuffing my mouth with wet cement// like OHHHH the pain never stops it never ends,,

mate i think your brain was just tryna manifest RGGJo to make a come back through y7 ☠️☠️ CREDIT WHERE CREDITS DUE THO BUT DAMN would have been. THE MOST interesting change to his character though.... on the real.... because yeah he just sounds so tired from the trailer so far （；´д｀）would be hilarious if instead of entering a Super Depression arc bro's just. Yeah Alright Fuck It. What Can We Do Now Amirite. walk right out the cell with the white suit and snake-patterned lapels and all ☠️☠️

OK BUT MOST VALID RANT EVER. MOST VALID WANT EVER. would really just have the vibe of dragging your jaded uncle around the city i would died to have that,,, 😭😭

[space-coupe]

-

[elftwink]

been reading fanfiction at the front counter at work as of late because our fiction selection that's available to read online is sparse, there's only so much academic non-fiction a man can read especially when he's just blindly in the catalogue looking up random keywords in the hope of finding something even mildly interesting, and i haven't been able to get out to my local library to fix my library card that doesn't let me log in and possibly has no associated email to access their ebook collections. and i can't do anything at the front desk that doesn't look work-related so i've been downloading pdfs of fics and emailing them to myself to pass the yawning void of hours between the 3 whole patrons who are there during the semester break.

anyway im telling you all this because i sent a few to myself and all but one (1) fic i was like oh my GOD he Would Not Fucking Say That. but i had nothing else to do not even work related tasks so i read them anyway. woe is me. i will learn nothing from this and do the exact same thing tomorrow probably

[chuluoyi]

✎ heaven's fury

- gojo satoru x reader

sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again

genre: angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭

note: i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”

“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”

“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”

Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.

The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.

Apparently not.

“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”

Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.

. . .

“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”

At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.

“Satoru...?”

And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—

“Satoru, are you—?”

“Just fucking shut it!”

And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.

“Huh…?”

Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?

If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”

Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.

There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.

But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.

Damn it. Damn it all!

In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.

Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.

You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.

Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.

After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.

“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”

“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.

“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.

“…” This shithead. That's it.

“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”

“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”

Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.

“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.

“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”

Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.

You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.

“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”

He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.

And after a while...

“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”

The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.

“Mm-hmm, I know.”

“Really.”

“Mmm, really, really.”

He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”

Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.

“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”

And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.

“They're just some paranoid old fools—”

“Mm-hmm.”

“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”

“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”

“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”

...oh.

And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.

First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.

And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.

It made something inside you flutter.

“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”

“Huh?”

“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”

Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.

But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—

“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”

The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.

The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.

“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”

You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.

Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.

“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—

But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.

And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.

“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”

And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.

“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.

“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”

“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”

At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.

“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”

Epilogue

Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Satoru... what are you...?"

He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."

However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.

"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."

When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.

"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"

"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."

Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered over your baby—

"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"

...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will. 

Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.

Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…

But, semantics.

And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?

Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin. 

And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this. 

You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.

“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.

“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.

You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.

“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours. 

“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”

“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”

“It’s also the punchline.”

“At least my punchlines make sense.”

He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”

“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”

“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.

And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.

“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”

“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”

“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”

It might never have been about physics.

It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-

“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”

Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.

“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.

“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”

“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”

“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”

A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-

“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.

Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside. 

And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall. 

Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-

And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste. 

Shit, you really were his favorite taste. 

Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst. 

Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.

Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 

Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.

“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.

He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.

“Please.” 

Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge. 

Almost there.

You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.

Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.

Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-

As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you. 

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,

Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.

Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.

As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up. 

Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.

A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.

“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”

Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.

And you don’t know why it hurt. 

It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible. 

As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.

Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.

Pulling back, “Satoru…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.” 

Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette. 

His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.

It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.

He wasn’t yours.

And he probably might never be.

Somehow that terrified you. 

Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?

But why did that hurt so much?

“Gojo, I’m going home.”

Fear.

---

There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it. 

The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.

And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.

No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.  

Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.

So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified. 

But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.

Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed. 

Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…

Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face. 

Have you finally gotten sick of him?

…

Nahhh.

He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.

It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.

Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him. 

Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”

You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”

“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”

“Satoru. I swear to-”

A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”

Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”

“Out, both of you.”

Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces. 

“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.” 

Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. 

Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”

Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”

“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”

A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land. 

Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”

“It wasn’t a joke.” 

Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-” 

At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”

You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty. 

And that’s exactly what scared you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes. 

Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”

Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.

It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.

“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations. 

Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”

“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”

“Mr. Gojo.”

“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”

“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”

---

The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.

The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.

Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.

You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him. 

It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.

Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Speak of the devil.

Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork. 

Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.

“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”

Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.” 

“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”

“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”

Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration. 

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”

A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.

The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping. 

And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear. 

You missed him.

Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.

“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”

Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?” 

Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.

At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”

A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”

Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone. 

Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”

A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”

He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”

But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.” 

It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-

“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”

“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.” 

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”

She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.” 

Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.” 

He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.

Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency. 

“Hey, granny, I have a question.”

“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”

“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”

Ah, you think you’re dying. 

Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…

It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck. 

What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.

You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.

God, was the heater on too high?

The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos. 

Stop it.  

An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears. 

You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos. 

The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder.  Urgent and insistent. Chaos.

“Open up! It’s Satoru!”

Satoru.

Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.

Satoru?

Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.

Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-

“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”

His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.

“Sweetheart?”

A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?

A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.

Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.

“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”

His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”

Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”

A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”

Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”

“Spill.”

“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”

“Deal!”

With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.

In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest. 

Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”

Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard. 

The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”

His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.

“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”

Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”

You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”

Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”

Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from. 

But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him. 

Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.

A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry. 

And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name. 

Oh. 

Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”

But Satoru has never seen you like this. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.

His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.

“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”

His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.

Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”

A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.

“I know.”

“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”

“Absolutely.”

“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”

“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”

A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.

“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.

“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”

“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.

Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”

Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer. 

“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.

“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.

“Insurance policy against what?”

“A promise.”

A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”

The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full. 

Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise. 

When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”

Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Satoru, I love you.”

And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.

“And I love you, in every universe.”

---

The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.

And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.

He…finished all of it?

Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body. 

As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”

Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”

“And my charm, of course.”

“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”

“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”

“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”

A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.

Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”

“Mhm~”

A beat of silence. One. Two. 

“Satoru?”

He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them. 

You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly. 

Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours. 

His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest. 

You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-

A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.

You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.

“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust. 

“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”

And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.

Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless. 

Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.

“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.

“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”

He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this. 

But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water. 

Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.

“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.

It’s a close tie.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-” 

And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.

“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.

A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”

“Always knew you were a sore loser.”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“You’re on.”

Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.

His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive. 

Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.

And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow. 

Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more. 

A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.

Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-

It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”

“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket. 

You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you. 

Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.

Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets. 

Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”

Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit. 

You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.

A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix. 

It drives you insane. He drives you insane. 

“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes. 

“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.” 

“Idiot.”

“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.

As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.

Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.

“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”

“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”

He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth. 

Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”

But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.

Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.

The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-

Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.

Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.

Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows. 

Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.

With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.

You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence. 

Because right now, no words were needed.

“I love you.”

“And, I love you. In every universe.”

Except maybe those. 

It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air. 

“I win.”

An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.

You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”

A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.

“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”

“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”

“Jokes on you I’m into that.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers. 

So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?! 

His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?

Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange. 

Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” 

“...”

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?

You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his. 

Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more. 

He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next? 

“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well? 

Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced. 

“The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Oh. This was going to be interesting.

Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart. 

He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous. 

It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?

Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate. 

Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.

The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed. 

Was that…a dream? 

It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity. 

You tasted so sweet.

Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination. 

Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.

“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.” 

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.

A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.

“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”

Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”

You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his. 

Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.

“T-told you I was irresistible.” 

Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.

“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.

“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you. 

“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?

Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!

Plagiarism not authorized. 

Taglist:

@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch

[selineram3421]

can I make a request for an Alastor x reader? Where y/n is Husk's sibling and Alastor won't stop flirting with y/n and Husk is just not having it? (And the rest of the HH crew are just in the background shipping Alastor and y/n)

*swipes up* Cat Demon Reader!!!! FUCK YEAH!

Hissy Kitty

Prologue

Alastor X Reader

Warnings⚠

⚠ cussing, protective older brother Husk, Alastor loves annoying your brother, italics = thoughts ⚠

Husk was very protective of you and made sure you were taken care of. In Living and afterlife, he kept you out of his "business" to keep you safe.

Of course you surprise him by showing up at the hotel.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?"

"Surprise!", you cheered and gave your older brother a hug.

He didn't want you anywhere near his work. It was too risky. You would have been made a target. He didn't want HIM to know about you.

"Answer the question.", he grumbled but hugged you back.

"I haven't seen you in a while and I just wanted to-", you began, pulling back a bit from the hug, taking a look around the hotel lobby that was behind him.

"Look, I'll call you and tell you all about it but you need to go before-", he tried to get you to leave quickly.

"Husker!"

Shit.

He was pissed that he was too late.

"What are you doing trying to chase a guest out?", the demon in red walked over and pulled you into the hotel. "We are trying to invite them in."

"This one ain't looking to stay in the hotel!", your brother hissed and tried to pull you away from the red dressed demon.

You were suddenly spun and dipped by the man in red. It shocked you so much that you held onto the red demon tightly.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I am Alastor the facility manager.", Alastor grinned as he gazed down at you. "And who might you be?"

Such an adorable thing. He thought when seeing your ears pinned back and eyes having turned into slits, his grin widening when he noticed Husk getting angrier.

"Um..can you let me up now? This is a very weird way of greeting..", you squirmed, your tail flicking in annoyance.

After letting you go, Alastor took note of how bristled up the fur of his acquaintance was.

How interesting..

"Forgive me dear, I can get quite theatrical.", he laughed and fixed his bowtie. "And your name?"

"I'm-"

"Not staying.", Husk cut in. "They only came to see me, now back off."

"What the hell, can't I greet a demon?", you huffed.

Your brother pulls you away to speak in private.

"Not this one! This prick is someone I don't want you hanging around with.", he whispered growled, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Go home, put some wards or some shit for protection and don't come back here again!"

"Damn it Husk!", you slapped his hands away. "I came here to check up on you!"

Alastor stays where he is to enjoy the show. Glancing to the side when seeing Angel step into the lobby.

"Its been years! I haven't heard from you until two weeks ago about this place. Where have you been!? Do you know how worried I was!?"

"Psst! Smiles! Who the fuck is kitty whiskers?", the spider asks.

"Haven't the faintest idea but this argument is getting amusing.", he responds.

"I told you that I moved! That should be enough!", Husk gestured to the hotel.

"Yeah, its nice to know you're alive but you could have at least told me how you've been! Did you make any new friends? Did you drink until you blacked out again? Something else for fucks sake!", you yelled.

"I'm alive!", your brother yelled back. "I drank yesterday!", he pushed you towards the door. "I don't have friends!", he opened the door. "Now leave!"

"Tsk tsk!", Alastor tutted and used his shadows to pull you away from the door, moving you into his hold. "They are our guest, even if they are just visiting Husker~"

The Radio Demon's smile growing bigger when he saw the cat clench his fists.

"You are welcome to visit anytime to see this-", the red demon gestures to your brother. "-hissy kitty that you know."

"Ha!", you quickly covered your mouth to keep your laugh silent.

"A smile! Finally!", Alastor leaned closer to you. "I'd like to see it if you don't mind."

"Back off!", Husk pushed the red dressed demon away and took your hand. "Come on, I'll show you around."

"I can stay!?", you asked your brother.

"Only for a few hours!", he replied.

You stayed longer than a few hours.

Charlie had caught wind and was excited to meet you.

Husk drank from his bottle, watching as you talked to the Princess and Vaggie. The two were hooked on whatever story you were telling.

"So Husky~", Angel slid over.

"Don't you fucking call me that ever again.", the cat grumbled before continuing to drink.

"Who's the new cat strolling about?", the spider asked. "I've never seen you so pushy with someone before~ Are they an ex?"

"None of your business and ew. Fuck no.", Husk wiped his mouth after he finished the bottle. "Forget about them. They need to leave anyway.", he said before walking over to you.

.

"Hi Husk!", you waved as you entered the hotel.

"Fucking shit. What did you not understand about staying away!?"

You had a smug grin and pranced over to him.

"Can't really stay away from where I work~", you said and showed your employment papers.

"What.", your brother growled.

"While I was talking to the Princess during the tour, you stepped out for a bit and I told her I wanted to work here!", you beamed, cat tail swaying calmly. "So now I can't leave! Yay!"

"Are you fucking stupid!?", Husk yelled.

"Now Husker.", Alastor appeared from the shadows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "That is no way to talk to your fellow coworker."

The Radio Demon smiled cheekily when seeing the cat demon's fur bristle in anger.

"Let's show you all of the staff rooms!", he said suddenly and turned you towards the stairs. "There are quite a few closets littered about for cleaning supplies! For now that is what you'll do with Niffty until the Princess can think of where to put you."

"Is there any cleaning supplies?", you asked a little suspicious.

"Haven't a clue! But let's find out!"

You were near Alastor most of the day.

Husk actually followed you both until the "tour" ended.

"And that is all of the cleaning closets so far!", the red man grinned.

All of you were now standing in one of the many hallways. The fourth floor if you remember.

"Thank you for pointing them out.", you removed his hand from your shoulder. "Little less of that if you don't mind."

"Oh! I didn't even notice.", Alastor held his hands behind his back. "Do remind me if I slip again."

Husk quickly took you away from the red demon and walked you towards the lobby.

"Look, I'm glad you're here. Really. But its not safe for you to be around that smiling asshole.", your brother hissed.

"Husk, I'm not as clueless as you think I am.", you sigh and shook his arm off. "I'll keep myself safe.", you finish and walk away.

The cat demon stayed behind, groaning as he slides his hand down his face, feeling on edge, tired, and annoyed all at once.

"I've never seen you around a demon like them~", Alastor appears from the shadows. "And you're so protective!", he walks in front of the cat demon. "What a good older brother you are.", he leans back and spins his head to look at the demon.

"Don't you fucking try anything!", Husk threatens.

The Radio Demon laughs and stands up straight. "We'll have to go over our deal again!", he says while fixing his coat. "I hope you added their protection in."

"You piece of shit-!", Husk extends his claws and opens his wings up.

"I must be off! Who knows what trouble the guests have gotten into already!", Alastor walks away from the angry cat.

The Radio Demon hummed as he walked down the hallway, a slight skip in his step as his smile grew wider.

Oh how entertaining~

I love cats💕 Also this is turning into a short story because Husk is gonna be hella pissed.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

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