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starsofang · 2 months

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

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alygator77 · 2 months

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 4 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains extreme emotional manipulation from naoya, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 9.3k

ꨄ a/n. okaaaay time for some angst ya'll. this series is taking a serious turn 🥲 also, as i said earlier, originally this chapter was 20k words buuuut i decided to split it up. i know ya'll said you wouldn't mind one long chapter but it's just, there are moments that i really want to give more time to breathe. you'll get ch 5 soon though, enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 4 // shadows of doubt

“…you sure you’re okay watching Haru?” you ask, hovering by the doorway, your fingers lightly brushing the doorframe as you steal one last glance into the living room.

The television screen casts a soft glow over Satoru and Haru, nestled together on the couch.

Satoru’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he fumbles with the TV remote, cycling through the menu. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his tongue peeking out slightly at the corner in a classic expression of someone deeply focused.

His usually tousled white hair is messier than usual, as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times in frustration, and his sweater hangs loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

It’s a stark contrast to the sharp, tailored suits you’re used to seeing him in.

But that’s because right now, he’s just Satoru—the guy who’s clearly struggling with something as simple as setting up a kid’s TV show, and yet, there’s something incredibly endearing about it.

Haru, oblivious to his difficulties, swings her tiny legs back and forth in a rhythm of excitement as she sits beside him.

It’s a picture of domesticity that feels almost too perfect to disrupt—a scene that brings warmth, but also a sharp pang of guilt.

Guilt—of what you are about to do.

“Yes, of course,” he replies without missing a beat, light yet reassuring. He glances up at you briefly, offering a warm smile. “Do what you need to do, it’s important to have time to yourself.”

Right now, it feels like you don’t deserve that smile.

The ache in your chest intensifies at the sincerity in his words, making the lie you’re carrying out feel even heavier.

Finally, after a few more clicks, the TV springs to life, and a triumphant grin spreads across Satoru’s face as the familiar Digimon theme song bursts through the speakers.

The sound seems to ignite a spark of joy in Haru, her face wide eyed as she turns her full attention to the screen.

“Besides, I promised her we’d watch Digimon together,” Satoru says, his voice laced with affection as he glances at Haru. “Now’s the perfect time. Right, Haru?”

Haru beams, her small body practically vibrating with excitement as she snuggles closer to him.

“Wow, look ‘toru, look!” she exclaims gleefully, her voice high-pitched with exhilaration as she points at the screen.

Her eyes sparkle with wonder, completely captivated by the vibrant colors and lively characters dancing across the television.

“Yay!” she claps her hands together.

A tender smile curls upon Satoru’s lips as he shifts his gaze from Haru to you. His blue eyes, always so vibrant and full of life, are soft and inviting, radiating a sense of calm—a calm that should put you at ease, but why does it fill you with more guilt?

“See? We’ve got it all under control. Go do what you need to do, and don’t worry about a thing.”

His words are spoken with such warmth and trust—it should comfort you, but instead your unease twists further in your gut.

You force a smile, trying to push away the shame that threatens to rise to the surface.

“Alright,” you murmur, “I won’t be long.”

But you linger for just a moment longer, unable to tear your eyes away from the heartwarming sight before you.

The way Satoru drapes an arm around Haru, pulling her closer as they both become engrossed in the show—you realize something profound.

It’s in the subtle details—the way he listens intently to her excited chatter, how he nods along, genuinely interested in every little thing she points out, even if it’s something as simple as a colorful character on the screen.

Satoru isn’t just watching Digimon with Haru; he’s immersing himself in her world.

He’s someone who takes the time to enjoy the things she loves, someone who listens to her with the patience and attentiveness she deserves. He’s supporting her curiosity, encouraging her to explore and express herself, making her feel valued in a way that is both gentle and profound.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Haru—a stable, loving figure in her life, someone she can depend on, someone who can always be there for her. Someone who makes her feel safe, cherished, and free to be her true self.

Someone Naoya never was.

But this relationship is a contract, a charade—a lie.

And now, this new lie you’re about to bring to the table, casts an even darker shadow over this picture of domestic bliss.

There is a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment—to drench you in an unforgiving rain. And that storm cloud is your reality.

The reality that this relationship has always been a lie, hasn’t it?

So... is what you’re doing really any different?

As you turn to leave, your body feels heavy, burdened by the deception you’re carrying with you.

Closing the door behind you, the soft click echoes in your ears as you begin to walk down the hallway, away from the warmth of the living room and into the cold reality of the decision you’ve made.

ꨄ

A soft jingle rings above your head as you push open the glass door to the coffee shop—a sound almost too cheerful considering what’s to come. Once the door closes behind you with a muted thud, your fate is sealed.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee hits you first, rich and earthy, mingling with the sweet, buttery aroma of pastries that line the display case. It’s a combination that would normally invite comfort, a location for quiet relaxation.

Today, however, that feels entirely out of reach.

Only a few patrons are scattered about, each lost in their own world—reading books, typing away on laptops, or simply enjoying company. The soft murmur of conversation barely registers in your ears as your eyes sweep across the room.

Within moments you spot Naoya, seated at a corner table in the back, a place where the dimness nearly swallows him whole, casting long shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin.

His chosen spot is strategic, offering both a sense of privacy and an air of intimidation.

It’s a stage he’s set perfectly.

The way he sits—one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, the other cradling a coffee cup—exudes an unsettling confidence, as if he’s already decided the outcome of this meeting.

His minacious eyes rake over you and he registers the trepidation in your step, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his lips slowly curl into a predatory smirk.

Setting down his cup of coffee with a practiced ease, the porcelain clinks softly against the saucer. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he waves you over, the gesture so casual it’s almost insulting, as if he were summoning a servant rather than inviting a conversation.

You lower yourself into the chair across from him with measured deliberation, desperately trying to project a façade of composure even as anxiety, anger, and guilt roil within you like a brewing storm.

Unfortunately, the table between you and Naoya feels woefully insufficient, a flimsy barrier against the man who once wielded a terrifying influence over your life—a man who now threatens to shatter the fragile peace you’ve painstakingly pieced together.

“y/n,” he begins, his voice smooth and slick, like oil spilling over water, spreading tendrils of unease. “I’m glad you decided to show up.”

You force a tight smile, though it feels more like a grimace.

“You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?”

A low insidious chuckle leaves Naoya’s lips, the noise grating on your nerves. His cold calculating eyes hold your gaze as he tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you feel like a mouse caught in a trap, every avenue of escape cut off, leaving you with nowhere to run.

“Tch. What else am I supposed to do?” his tone drips with mock innocence, as if he’s genuinely puzzled. “You don’t answer any of my calls. It’s almost like you’re trying to avoid me.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through them.

“You look well, though. I’ve missed you.”

The casual cruelty in his tone, the way he throws out those words—words that should carry weight—as if they mean nothing, as if he hasn’t been tormenting you.

It makes your skin crawl.

“I didn’t come here to chat, Naoya,” you say firmly. “What do you want?”

You catch a flash of his white teeth in the dim light of the coffee shop, but there’s a cruel twist to his lips, a smugness that makes your stomach churn with unease.

“Straight to the point, I see. I always loved that about you,” he drawls, his tone almost affectionate.

He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a posture of relaxed arrogance.

There is a beat of silence as he pauses, as if savoring each moment of your discomfort, drawing it out and relishing the control he has over the situation.

The control he has over you.

“I think you know what I want, y/n,” he continues, tone almost patronizing, as if speaking to a child who just doesn’t understand. “I want what’s best for Haru. I’m sure you do too.”

“You’re threatening to take her away from me. How is that what’s best for her?” you scoff, though the defiance in your voice barely masks the trembling fear underneath.

His gaze roams over you, assessing, calculating, and it takes everything in you not to shrink under the weight of his scrutiny.

When he speaks again, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, cold as ice and sharp as a blade.

“Because,” he hisses, the word dripping with venom, “you’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Haru deserves stability, a future where she’s not dragged into whatever mess you and Satoru are involved in.”

The accusation cuts deep, and despite your best efforts, you flinch slightly at his words, the reaction small but not unnoticed.

Naoya’s eyes glint with satisfaction, feeding off the fear and uncertainty he’s managed to briefly instill within you.

Before you can muster a response, he leans in closer, his tone shifting, becoming smooth and insidious, like poison seeping through the cracks of your resolve.

“Oh y/n,” he sighs, voice dripping with false sympathy, “I know this thing with Satoru is just a charade. You may think you’re merely playing house, but what you’re actually doing is setting Haru up for confusion and heartache. What kind of future is that for her?”

It’s like he’s pulled the rug out from under your feet. The air around you seems to thicken, making it hard to breathe. Because deep down, a part of you has feared how this arrangement may affect Haru.

The doubt that Naoya is sowing isn’t new—it’s something you’ve deliberately tried to ignore.

The connection Haru is forming with Satoru, the bond that’s growing stronger every day—isn’t it built on a foundation of lies?

What happens when it all crumbles—what happens to Haru then?

What if you’re setting her up for a heartbreak that she’s too young to understand?

Ah…but that’s what Naoya is good at, isn’t it?

He thrives on stirring a visceral reaction within you, on playing your emotions like a finely tuned instrument. And you know better—you know better than to believe that his actions have anything to do with Haru’s well-being.

After all, Naoya has only ever used Haru as a tool to control you, to manipulate you into doing his bidding.

He doesn’t truly want Haru—he never has.

This is just a twisted game, another attempt to bend you to his will.

“Naoya,” you begin, voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “this isn’t about what’s best for Haru. Cut the crap,” you snap, the frustration seeping through your words, giving you a fleeting sense of strength. “Don’t play games with me. What are you really after?”

Naoya’s response is a soft, chilling chuckle, a sound so unnerving that it slithers around you, making your skin prickle with unease.

He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that’s as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“You’re not as naïve as you look,” he murmurs.

With a deliberate elegance, he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and straightening his posture as if ready to present himself for something significant. He then leans forward, fixing you with a gaze that feels like a vise tightening around your heart.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

You swallow hard, forcing the question past the lump in your throat.

“What kind of deal?”

His eyes glisten with satisfaction, a spark of triumph lighting them up as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for all along.

“Do you remember the case that was quietly swept under the rug a few years back?” he begins, tone almost conversational. “The one that could have destroyed the Gojo family? Well of course, you don’t—because the Gojos made sure no one remembered.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of what he’s saying begins to sink in. You try to piece together what he could possibly mean, but the implications are too terrifying to fully grasp.

“…what are you saying?”

Naoya’s smirk widens, a cruel light flickering in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe. That closed case—it’s a time bomb waiting to go off, and I’m the one holding the detonator.”

With a casual elegance, Naoya places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you to help me reopen the case,” his voice now a silky, dangerous murmur. “I need inside information, something to poke holes in the Gojo family’s defense. Satoru trusts you, doesn’t he? He’s practically handed you the keys to the kingdom.”

Your blood runs cold as you grapple with the enormity of what he’s asking.

“You want me to spy on Satoru? To dig up dirt on his family?”

Naoya shrugs, the gesture so casual, so dismissive, as if the request is the most natural thing in the world.

“Spy is such an ugly word. Let’s call it… protecting your daughter’s future. You help me get the information I need, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

You feel sick to your stomach as the full impact of his ultimatum crashes down on you.

Your skin crawls at the way he frames it—to him it’s as if he’s offering you a lifeline, a way out of an impossible situation. But the reality is, he’s trapping you, coercing you into betraying the one person who has given you a chance at a new life.

Betray Satoru?

The very thought twists like a knife in your gut.

Satoru—the man who has shown you nothing but kindness, who has gone out of his way to make you feel safe, to make you feel valued. The man who has opened his home to you and Haru, who has treated your daughter with a warmth and love that you never thought she would receive.

How could you possibly betray him? Be his downfall? The mere thought of it makes your chest tighten, your heart aching with the weight of the impossible decision that Naoya is forcing upon you.

But then, the other side of the coin looms large and terrifying: the risk of losing Haru forever. The thought of her being taken from you, of her being dragged into Naoya’s world, is a nightmare you can’t bear to even consider.

The two most important people in your life, and Naoya is forcing you to choose between them.

How can you possibly make such a choice?

“I…I can’t do that, Naoya. Satoru—he’s done nothing wrong,”

The words feel hollow, desperate, as if you’re grasping for some semblance of control in a situation where you have none.

Naoya’s expression darkens, the cold veneer of civility slipping as a more menacing presence takes over. He leans in closer, the air around him growing colder, heavier with the weight of his intentions.

“Satoru and his family deserve whatever’s coming to them,” he hisses. “You just have to decide whose side you’re on. Corporate malpractice, insider trading, possibly even a cover-up. The Gojo family has skeletons in their closet, and I intend to expose them. But to do that, I need information. Inside information.”

“No, Naoya,” you say more forcefully, your voice trembling slightly but growing steadier as your resolve hardens. “That would destroy Satoru.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in Naoya’s eyes—frustration, perhaps, or irritation at your defiance. But it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by a darker, more calculating expression.

“You think this is a game, y/n?” his voice drips with disdain. “You think Satoru won’t throw you to the wolves the moment things get tough? He’s a Gojo, through and through. They protect their own, and you’re not one of them.”

A cold dread washes over you as his words echo in your mind, sinking into the darkest corners of your thoughts.

Wait…is he actually, right?

No—you push back against the rising tide of doubt. Satoru wouldn’t do that. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding. He’s given you no reason to believe he would ever abandon you, especially not in a moment of crisis.

But… then there’s the stipulation in your contract. The one that states any poor publicity to his name would result in being cut off from all financial support.

The words of the contract flash in your mind, stark and unforgiving.

You had brushed it off as a mere formality when you first signed it, a precautionary clause meant to protect his reputation. But now, under the weight of Naoya’s words, it feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off the moment anything goes wrong.

Doubt seeps into your veins, intertwining with the fear that Naoya’s threat might have more truth to it than you’d like to admit.

Could Satoru really turn his back on you if the situation spiraled out of control? Would he prioritize his family name, his legacy, over you and Haru?

Seeing the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, Naoya’s expression softens, adopting a mask of concern. His voice lowers, becoming almost gentle, as if he’s offering you a lifeline.

“But if you help me,” he continues, silky and persuasive, “you’ll have leverage—real power. You’ll be in control. Think about Haru. Think about what’s best for her.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it,” the words escape your lips in a trembling whisper.

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and his voice hardens.

“You don’t have much of a choice, y/n. You’re in this mess because of your own decisions. Instead of relying on me you chose him. But lucky for you, I’m offering you a way out—a way to keep Haru safe. But if you refuse, I will use every legal trick in the book to take her from you. And believe me, I will win. I always do.”

The finality in his words leaves no room for doubt—Naoya isn’t bluffing.

He’s a man who gets what he wants, no matter the cost, and the ruthless determination in his eyes tells you that he’s more than willing to destroy your life to achieve his goals.

“You’re a monster,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Naoya’s response is immediate, his smirk widening with satisfaction.

“I’m a lawyer,” he corrects, his tone dripping with smugness. “And I’m very good at what I do.”

You look down, unable to meet his gaze.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” you whisper.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with triumph as a victorious smirk curls upon his lips. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a slim envelope.

With a deliberate slowness, he slides it across the table, the paper making a soft, ominous rustle as it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Inside this is everything you need to help me. I want information, y/n. Information on Satoru. His business dealings, his vulnerabilities—anything I can use to gain leverage over him.”

The envelope sits there between you, a tangible representation of the impossible choice you’re being forced to make.

Your hands twitch at your sides, but you can’t bring yourself to reach for it—the burden of its contents is far too heavy.

Naoya leans back in his chair, watching intently for any sign of hesitation, his gaze unyielding. He presses you again, his voice a smooth, sinister whisper.

“You help me, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

Your hand trembles as you extend it, hovering over the envelope. Naoya’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph, anticipating your surrender.

But just as your fingertips brush the envelope, you stop.

The smile slips from Naoya’s face, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then annoyance, as you push the envelope back across the table. The cold edge of the paper scrapes against your skin, the sound eerily loud in the tense silence between you.

“I’ll need some time,” you say finally, your voice quieter now, more controlled, though it takes everything in you to keep it steady. “This isn’t a decision I can make lightly.”

Naoya’s expression darkens, his patience clearly waning. With a swift, almost irritated motion, he snatches the envelope and tucks it back into his coat pocket.

“I’m not a patient man, y/n, you know this,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone. “You have one week. If I don’t get an answer by then, the custody battle begins. And trust me,” his tone drops to a menacing whisper, “you don’t want to fight me in court.”

“I’ll let you know,” you murmur, unable to meet his gaze as your eyes are fixed on the table between you.

Naoya’s smirk returns, a slow, victorious curve of his lips.

It’s a look that says he’s already won, that he’s confident you’ll bend to his will.

“Good girl. I know you’ll see reason. I’ll expect your call soon.”

He stands with a deliberate calmness, smoothing the front of his jacket before tossing a few bills onto the table as if this entire conversation has been nothing more than a routine business transaction.

The casualness of his movements, the ease with which he holds your fate in his hands, only serves to deepen the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

“Think it over, love. I’ll be in touch.”

With those final words, Naoya turns and strides out of the coffee shop, leaving you sitting there, feeling as though the walls are closing in around you.

You can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you decide, something precious will be lost.

ꨄ

It’s much later than you intended—a few hours past the time you told Satoru you’d be home. But after your meeting with Naoya, you simply couldn’t summon the strength to face him.

How could you possibly stand before him now?

The very thought of looking into his eyes feels like a betrayal in itself, as if the truth you’re hiding might spill out just from his gaze alone.

Naoya’s words continue to echo in your mind, twisting around your thoughts like a serpent coiling tighter with each passing moment.

You can almost hear the whispers of scandal creeping through the corridors of the Gojo Corporation.

Surely this custody battle would bring poor publicity to Satoru’s name… knowing Naoya, it would be a spectacle—a media circus designed to tarnish every aspect of Satoru’s life.

Your heart races as you picture the headlines splashed across every tabloid, the relentless swarm of reporters, cameras flashing like a thousand tiny daggers aimed at your very soul.

They’d dig into every corner of your lives, twisting facts and fabricating lies until the truth is buried beneath layers of sensationalism.

You’ve seen Satoru’s world—perfectly organized, meticulously maintained, a reflection of the man himself. But Naoya has the power to create cracks in that perfect image, to expose the vulnerabilities hidden beneath the surface.

He would ensure it—he’d savor every moment of watching Satoru’s pristine reputation crumble, brick by brick.

What would Satoru do if you told him Naoya’s intentions?

Would he support you, or would he choose to protect himself, his legacy, over you and Haru?

The very thought makes your heart ache, a sharp pang of fear twisting through your chest—fear of losing the delicate balance you’ve found with Satoru, of watching it all unravel because of Naoya’s malice.

What is the right choice to make?

The question loops endlessly in your mind, a never-ending cycle of doubt that gnaws at your resolve.

You don’t know what to believe any more.

You need time—something you don’t have an abundance of right now. After all, you can’t avoid Satoru forever—he’ll wonder where you’ve been, what’s kept you away for so long.

And so, reluctantly, with a heart heavy and unresolved emotions, you return home.

ꨄ

The faint ticking of the grand clock echoes in the house as you creak open the door and re-enter. The sound, which usually blends into the background of your day, now feels loud—almost deafening in the silence of the home.

Rounding your way to the living room, the dim glow of the television casts flickering shadows on the walls—the only thing that seems alive in the stillness.

But the sight you are met with is something entirely unexpected—something that pushes away the darkness inside of you, if only for a moment.

Satoru sits on the couch, his posture relaxed but his expression one of bemused helplessness, as though he’s found himself in a situation that he’s not quite sure how to navigate.

His long legs are stretched out in front of him, but there’s a tenderness in the way he holds his arms around the small figure resting against him.

Haru, curled up on his lap, is nestled against his chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seems to lull her deeper into sleep. One of her small hands clutches the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort even in her dreams, while the other is tucked close to her body, holding her favorite plush toy—Pikachu.

The TV is on, but the volume is muted, playing some late-night rerun that neither of them are paying attention to as the soft flickering light illuminates against them.

Satoru glances up as you enter the room, eyes brightening as he spots you. A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a mixture of relief and quiet joy at your return.

“Hey, welcome back,” he says softly, careful not to disturb Haru.

It’s moments like this, that make it impossible to doubt him. The warmth in his voice makes the knot of tension in your chest loosen, if only a little.

You manage a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

As you begin to set your things down—your bag, your coat—Satoru’s gaze follows you, soft and attentive.

“Did you enjoy your time to yourself?”

It’s such a simple question, yet it’s loaded with the weight of the lie you’re living.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels, and nod, trying to keep your voice steady and light.

“Yeah…it was nice to have a little break.”

A tender smile curls upon his lips, his relief evident as he nods back.

“Good. You deserve some time for yourself.”

The words are filled with such warmth and care that it almost breaks you. But you swallow down the guilt, knowing you can’t afford to let it show. Not now.

As you make your way towards him, your gaze softens, drawn irresistibly to the sight of Haru. You kneel down beside the couch, your eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, so peaceful and content as she rests in Satoru's lap.

“She fell asleep?” your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, shifting slightly but careful not to wake her.

“Yeah. We were watching Digimon like I promised, but she conked out halfway through. I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just been sitting here for the past two hours.”

Your heart swells at his words—the thought of Satoru sitting there, his world seemingly paused just to let her sleep undisturbed, truly that is real… right?

You reach out and gently brush a strand of hair from Haru’s face, your fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek.

Her skin warm and smooth, her breathing steady and calm, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—each element is a testament to the trust she’s placed in this space that Satoru has helped create.

She looks so at peace, so completely untroubled and…it’s all thanks to Satoru.

You can’t stop the words from slipping out, even though they’re laced with the bittersweet ache of everything that’s happened.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his. “For everything.”

He smiles at you, that soft, understanding smile that always seems to reach his eyes.

“Of course. She’s a wonderful kid. It’s my pleasure.”

Leaning down, you gently scoop Haru into your arms, cradling her small body against you. She stirs slightly, her little face scrunching up in sleep, but she doesn’t wake, simply burrowing closer to you as you hold her, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

“I’ll put her to bed,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile, his eyes following you as you move towards the stairway.

“y/n,” he calls after you, his tone a little hesitant.

You turn back to face him, noticing the subtle way his expression has shifted—an unspoken concern lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing uncertainty. “It’s kind of short notice, but we were invited to a big charity gala tomorrow night. It’s a pretty important event, and they’re expecting us to attend. And, well… we’re anticipated to do an interview this time.”

Ah—the discomfort returns in an instant, like a cold shiver racing down your spine.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your shoulders, adding yet another layer of complexity to the tangled web you find yourself ensnared in.

The thought of standing in front of cameras, of answering questions about a relationship that is already so fraught with secrets and lies, sends your mind spiraling into a storm of anxiety.

But you can’t let any of that show. Not now.

Not when Satoru is looking at you with such sincerity, his blue eyes filled with a quiet expectation, clearly relying on you to be by his side through this.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

“Another gala, huh?”

He nods, his expression softening slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his eyes.

“Yeah, this one’s for a good cause, and, well, appearances matter. It’s important that we present a united front.”

Appearances matter. A bitter reminder of Naoya’s taunting words.

Satoru is a Gojo after all—and for a Gojo, appearances are everything. The pristine image he maintains is not just for show; it’s a fundamental part of who he is, of the world he navigates with such ease.

But where does that leave you? What happens the moment you mess up?

You’ve always been terrible at public speaking, and now you’re expected to partake in an interview?

Will his soft expression turn cold the moment you fail to meet his expectations?

Your heart races, but you push the fear down, locking it away behind a carefully constructed mask of composure.

“Okay,” you swallow. “We’ll figure it out.”

Satoru’s expression softens with visible relief, and he stands up, stretching slightly after having sat in the same position for so long. As his arms extend above his head, the hem of his shirt lifts, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned abs.

“Thanks, y/n. I know this whole public thing isn’t easy, but… I really appreciate you doing this with me.”

“Of course,” you manage to say, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “…we’re in this together, right?”

“Yeah. Together.”

The words feel like a betrayal, a dagger of guilt twisting in your chest.

How can you say that when you know what you’re hiding?

How can you say that when you doubt the very man in front of you?

Pushing those thoughts away, you try to focus on the moment, on Satoru’s gentle, almost boyish grin. Despite it all, it’s the kind of smile that makes you want to believe everything will be okay, that makes you want to cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you will get through this.

There is a beat of silence as you shift Haru’s weight slightly in your arms.

You study his face—the subtle vulnerability there, the softness, it makes you think—maybe, just maybe, you can open up to him. Test the waters, gauge his understanding.

Let’s start small… what if you told him your fear of public speaking?

The words hover on the tip of your tongue, a confession that feels both terrifying and necessary.

Would he laugh? Would he brush it off with one of his easy, confident smiles?

Or would he understand, see the anxiety that lies beneath the surface, and offer the reassurance you so desperately need?

Your heart races as you weigh the options, the fear of rejection battling with the desire for connection.

Finally, you take a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. It’s a small step, but it feels monumental in the moment.

“I’m… I’m not really good with public speaking,” you admit quietly, your gaze lowering to the floor. “Maybe we could practice a little? Just so I don’t mess up.”

For a moment, there’s silence.

When you finally dare to look up, you see Satoru’s expression softening even further, a gentle warmth radiating from his eyes as he gazes at you.

The way he looks at you, so full of understanding, so free of judgment—it makes your chest tighten.

“Of course, we can. I actually prepared a script earlier today, just in case you may need it. We can go over it together after you put Haru to bed.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Thank you, Satoru… that would really help.”

Why did you doubt him?

Did Naoya instill that doubt? Or has it always been there, lurking in the shadows of your mind, waiting for the right moment to surface?

The question lingers, a quiet whisper that carries both regret and self-reproach.

He had anticipated your need, had prepared for it without you even asking.

On one hand you feel relief that he’s so understanding, but guilt practically consumes it because now his trust feels like a weight you can’t bear.

It seems at this point, there is no winning for you.

No matter which way you turn, you’re trapped—caught between the desire to commit to him completely and the fear that you’ll inevitably fall short of his expectations.

Your mind is at a constant battle.

“No problem,” he says, his voice pulling you back to the present. He reaches for the remote, turning off the TV, the screen fading to black as the room is cast into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

He glances back at you, his expression warm but focused.

“Meet you in the study after you put Haru down?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod, and turn, heading up the stairs towards Haru’s bedroom.

In the quiet of Haru’s room, you smooth the covers around her small, peaceful form and press a soft kiss on her forehead.

You take a moment to just sit there, watching her sleep—a moment to collect yourself before you return to Satoru.

The soft rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreams, it all serves as a reminder of the innocence you’re trying so desperately to protect.

You can’t risk losing her. Haru is everything to you.

But how long can you maintain this lie, this pretense that everything is okay, when the truth threatens to tear it all apart?

The mere thought of Haru being taken away, of Naoya sinking his claws into her life, makes your blood run cold.

Right now, you want nothing more than to break down, to cry, to let the tears that have been welling up inside you finally fall.

But you can’t afford to do that. Not now.

Sometimes the difficult thing about being a parent is putting on a front that everything is okay... that everything will be okay, even when it feels like it will not be.

You have to be strong, not just for yourself, but for Haru. She needs you to be her rock, her anchor in the storm, even if you feel like you’re barely holding on.

You pull back, your hand lingering on the edge of her bed for just a moment longer, savoring the last bit of peace before you straighten up, steeling yourself for the next challenge that you must face.

ꨄ

As you enter the study, the door closes behind you with a soft click.

Satoru looks up, sitting at the large mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him as he offers you a small, reassuring smile. He gestures to the chair beside him.

“Ready?”

You nod, pulling out the chair and sitting down, the leather cushion sinking slightly under your weight.

Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbow on the table as he studies you with soft, focused eyes.

“So, let’s start with the basics. They’ll probably ask how we met, what drew us together... you know, easy stuff.”

He slides the script over to you.

You take the paper, your eyes skimming over the questions—questions that are so casual on the surface.

They’re questions that, for most couples, would evoke warm memories and easy smiles. But the simplicity of these questions only highlights the complexity of the situation.

They should feel easy to answer—answers that would roll off the tongue naturally if your relationship was carved from normal circumstances.

But, that’s not the situation you find yourself in.

The reality of your arrangement makes each question feel like a test—a hurdle you need to clear without revealing too much.

If only it were different—if only the answers could come from a place of truth rather than a carefully constructed narrative.

But it’s not.

This relationship is a contract, a charade—a web of lies.

You nod again, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Alright,” Satoru says, his tone encouraging. “Let’s give it a go. I’ll ask, you answer.”

He clears his throat and starts with the first question.

“So, y/n, how did you and Satoru first meet?”

You take a deep breath, the familiar answer already on the tip of your tongue.

This one is easy because it’s part of the story you’ve both been telling from the beginning. Still, your fingers fidget with the corner of the script, as if grounding yourself in the words.

“I was looking for a new job, and Satoru needed someone with my expertise. It was professional at first, but we just… clicked. Like it was meant to be.”

“Perfect,” he says, tone approving.

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Now…what drew you to each other?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the script in your hands. The paper crinkles slightly under your fingers as you try to commit the answer to memory, but the words feel heavy, loaded with the pressure to say the right thing.

Satoru notices your pause and tilts his head, a gentle smile lingering on his lips.

“I was thinking we keep it simple,” he suggests, his eyes locking onto yours with a reassuring calm. “I’ll talk about how I admire how you always put Haru first. People eat that stuff up.”

“Right,” you nod, your voice a little lighter now. “Then how about I talk about how you’re always so supportive and how you’ve made Haru and me feel safe.”

Satoru’s grin broadens, the corners of his mouth curling into a familiar, playful expression. He lets out a contemplative hum, as if considering your words carefully, and then reaches over to tap the tip of your nose playfully.

The touch is light, almost teasing, but it carries with it a sense of warmth, of genuine affection.

“And you can say something about how I’m the most charming, good-looking guy you’ve ever met.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, the sound carrying with it a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed—like exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your heaviness lifts, replaced by a lightness that feels almost foreign in the midst of all the pressure.

Satoru always seems to know how to break through your tension.

It’s one of the things you’ve come to appreciate about him during this arrangement—the way he can make you laugh, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

“Of course, because modesty is your best trait,” you grin, and without thinking, you poke his side gently, eliciting a small chuckle from him. “If I say that, I’m certain it would only go straight to your head.”

“Hmm, what can I say? Confidence is key,” he grins, eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark you’ve come to recognize.

You lean back and fold your arms across your chest in a mock gesture of contemplation, your eyes narrowing slightly as you consider his words.

“Confidence? Or arrogance?” you retort, a smirk playing on your lips. “It’s a fine line, Satoru.”

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve struck a mortal blow.

“Arrogance? Me? I’m wounded, truly,” he declares, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays the act.

“Right…I think I might have to bring you back down to earth,” your voice carries a note of a playful challenge.

“Glad to know I can count on you,” he replies, leaning back slightly as he comfortably puts his hands behind his neck in a relaxed confidence. “But let’s not forget—you’re the one who’s supposed to be singing my praises. Remember? Charming, good-looking…”

“And don’t forget humble,” you add, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ah, yes, the humblest,” he agrees, nodding solemnly as if he’s just imparted some great wisdom.

But the solemnity only lasts a moment before he breaks into another grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ve always been known for my humility.”

You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief at his antics. This fleeting sense of normalcy was everything you needed. It almost makes you forget the storm of emotions raging inside you.

“Wow. At this point, I think your ego has its own zip code,” you quip, rolling your eyes.

He grins, but then, with a small, exaggerated sigh, he drops his head down onto the table, resting it on his folded arms as he pouts dramatically.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to keep my ego in check,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled.

Here is a man who commands boardrooms and makes decisions that influence entire industries, pouting like a child in front of you.

It’s kind of cute, actually, that the powerful CEO can be this… unguarded, this silly, this human.

In these moments, all the layers he wears—of strength, of authority, of responsibility—seem to peel away, leaving behind just… Satoru.

After a moment, he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

“You know… people tell me I’m charming and good-looking all the time, but… I think it’d feel different coming from you. I wouldn’t mind hearing it… just once.”

Your breath catches for a fleeting moment as you observe a glimpse of something in his eyes, something deeper than the usual teasing.

The way he says it, with that mix of playfulness and sincerity, makes your heart flutter in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

Would it be so bad to indulge him?

“You’re… easy on the eyes,” you say, your voice softer, almost shy.

It’s not quite the grand compliment he was fishing for, but it’s enough to make him smile—the kind of smile that lights up his entire face, making it impossible not to smile back.

“Well, I’ll take that,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, and for just a moment, everything else falls away.

But then, as if unable to resist, Satoru props his head up in the palm of his hand and leans in just a little closer, his smile turning slightly smug.

“You know, you could say it again if you really wanted to. I mean, I’m all ears.”

You raise an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips as you catch onto his game.

“Don’t push your luck, Satoru,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than serious. “Let’s get back to work.”

Satoru chuckles, leaning back with a mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Back to work it is.”

The world outside fades away—the complications, the secrets, the uncertainty of what tomorrow holds—all of it dissolves into the background as you share this brief moment of connection with Satoru.

It’s as if time itself has slowed, allowing you to bask in the warmth of this exchange, to let the comfort of Satoru’s presence ease the weight of your worries.

But the moment can’t last forever.

The reality of your situation looms just beyond the edges of this moment, reminding you of the stakes, of the careful balance you’re trying to maintain.

After all, there’s still work to be done, and as much as you’d like to linger here, in this bubble of lightheartedness, you know you need to keep moving forward.

ꨄ

The hours slip by, and you go over each possible scenario, each potential curveball the interviewers might throw your way.

The script between you becomes both a shield and a lifeline, something to cling to as you navigate the complexities of everything.

Satoru’s voice is steady and reassuring as he guides you through your responses. When you stumble—when the nerves threaten to get the better of you—he’s there with gentle corrections.

His words never harsh or critical, but rather encouraging, help you find your footing again. And whenever he senses the tension rising—the anxiety creeping into your expression—he cracks a joke, designed to draw you back from the edge of your worry.

You find yourself leaning on him more than you expected, his confidence bolstering your own, his belief in you seeping into the cracks of your self-doubt, and with each passing hour, the fear that had settled in your chest begins to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to pull this off.

After running through the script for what feels like the hundredth time, Satoru leans back in his chair—the soft smile tugging at his lips telling you that he’s genuinely pleased with your progress.

“I think you’re ready,” his voice is filled with a quiet confidence. “You’ve got this. Now, you should probably get some rest... it's getting late.”

His words are a welcome relief, washing over you like a balm after the tension of the evening. You nod, feeling the exhaustion from the long day finally catching up to you—all you can think about is the comfort of your bed.

But as you begin to stand, you notice that Satoru remains seated. His posture, which had been so relaxed just moments before, now seems slightly more tense as he appears to be focused on something distant, something you can’t quite place.

The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to give you pause.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask mid-step, your voice tentative, a hint of concern creeping in.

Satoru looks up at your question, the distant look in his eyes fading as his focus returns to you. His expression softens, the edges of his smile returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” he replies, tone gentle but firm. “I’ve got some other business I need to take care of. But don’t worry about it,” he adds quickly, as if sensing your concern. “You should get some rest. You’ve done more than enough for tonight.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way he brushes off your concern so easily, that makes you hesitate.

Is there something he’s not telling you? Or perhaps, choosing to handle on his own?

There’s a slight droop of his shoulders and his fingers absently drum against the armrest of his chair—a silent rhythm betraying the thoughts running through his mind.

You want to push, to ask him what’s really going on, but something holds you back.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to plead with you to let it go, to trust him when he says it’s nothing you need to worry about.

Or maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s finally settling into your bones, making it harder to think clearly, to muster the energy for another round of questions.

So, instead, you nod again, offering him a small, understanding smile.

“Alright. Just… don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and though it eases some of your worry, it doesn’t completely dispel it.

“I’ll try not to,” he promises, though you’re not entirely convinced. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Making your way down the hallway, the soft light of the bedroom is a welcoming beacon at the end.

The prospect of finally getting rest is almost too tempting to resist, but as you near the door, something tugs at you—a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that refuses to be ignored.

It’s not fair, you think to yourself—pausing just before the threshold of your bedroom.

Satoru stayed up late, helping you with the interview questions, guiding you through each potential challenge with patience and care...and now, he’s left alone to handle his own business needs while you get to sleep.

There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a quiet weight that he seemed determined to hide from you.

Why is he shouldering the responsibility when you agreed you would lead Gojo Corporation together?

The thought gnaws at you, making it hard to turn away.

You sigh, torn between the exhaustion weighing you down and the guilt pushing you forward.

Finally, you decide it’s only right to offer your help, even if just to make sure he’s not taking on too much by himself—and so, with renewed determination, you turn on your heel and quietly make your way back down the hall.

As you approach the door to the study, you’re about to knock when you hear his voice, low and serious, coming from inside. You pause, your hand hovering just inches from the wood, and listen.

“No. That’s not an option. We can’t afford any negative press right now, especially with everything that’s happening.”

Satoru’s voice is firm, almost biting, a tone you’re not used to hearing from him. The usual warmth that so often laces his words is gone, stripped away and replaced by something colder, more calculating.

There’s a pause, and you can faintly hear the murmur of someone on the other end of the line, though their words are indistinct through the phone.

Whatever they’re saying seems to only harden Satoru’s resolve.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Satoru continues, his voice dropping lower, the words coming out with an icy sharpness that feels almost like a threat. “Take care of it. Make sure this stays under wraps. My image can’t take a hit like that, not now.”

Your heart skips a beat, an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine—the warmth of the moment you shared earlier evaporating in an instant.

He sounds different—distant, devoid of the tenderness you’ve come to know… cold.

The man who just hours ago was patient and supportive, who made you feel safe and cared for, now seems like someone else entirely—replaced with this man who seems to care more about maintaining an image than anything else.

Whatever the voice on the other end of the phone says next makes Satoru sigh, a tired, almost frustrated sound.

You inch closer to the door, your breath shallow as you strain to hear more, but his voice drops lower, slipping into a tone that’s more guarded, more secretive.

“Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary,” Satoru says, his words clipped, as if he’s weighing each one carefully before letting it fall. “We have to protect the Gojo name at all costs. And that includes… well, you know what it includes. Just handle it.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

…what does that include? The vague words hang in the air and you feel a sharp stab of anxiety.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you back away from the door, the doubts you’d tried so hard to push aside earlier now crashing back with full force, overwhelming you.

What is he talking about? What could be so important that it needs to be kept under wraps at all costs?

Questions race through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

And what did he mean by “protecting the Gojo name”? Is that all this is to him—just a carefully crafted image that needs to be maintained, no matter the cost?

The thought stings, a sharp pain that cuts deeper the more you dwell on it.

You can’t help but wonder, as you stand there in the dimly lit hallway, if you’ll ever truly know where his priorities lie.

The man who once seemed so open, so transparent with you, now feels like a stranger—someone who might not be as trustworthy as you’d hoped.

Will he choose to protect you and Haru, or will he always put his image, his family name, first?

The doubt gnaws at you, growing with each passing second, until it feels like a weight you can barely carry.

You retreat further, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it almost drowning out the murmured conversation from the study.

The light at the end of the hallway seems so far away now, the warmth and safety you’d felt earlier slipping through your fingers like sand.

As you finally turn and make your way back to your bedroom, each step is heavier than the last—a shadow cast on everything you thought you knew.

The warmth of the bed offers you little comfort as you slip under the covers, and your mind replays the conversation over and over again.

As much as you want to believe in him, in the connection you share, the seeds of doubt have been planted.

You're uncertain if you're ready for what's to come—the interview, the public scrutiny, or the complicated feelings that have begun to tangle between you and Satoru.

But throughout all this uncertainty, there is one thing that is without a doubt evident.

You still have a decision to make.

poor y/n can't catch a break...girl is going through it. man i cannot tell you how much i enjoyed writing the coffee shop scene with naoya though, idk it was just so satisfying to write, i literally despise naoya so much lol. and satoru being so clueless with haru 🥲 he sat there for two hours 🤭 he's such a goof. anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and i hope you're ready for what's to come! thanks so much for reading 🥺 seriously, your comments make my day. much love 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapterꨄ

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ja3hwa · 8 months

Text

♡ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐭.𝟏 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : He couldn't help but think such filth when you were innocently fast asleep only merely a couple of feet away from him.

『Word count』 : 1.12k

-> Genre: Pure smut. Little plot. DBF.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader [Hwa's Daughter]

[Warnings] : Slightly Noncon (Reader is asleep at first). Masturbation. Cum play. Thoughts and fantasies. Pet names. Sir kinkish. Hongjoong is nasty. Also, Joong is like in his late 30s and tatted while the reader is only 23. Whoops.

Note: No one asked for this, but for some reason, I was hooked on the thought of the Dad's best friend trope, and Hongjoong is really coming for my heart. So, It was a perfect match in my eyes.

Masterlist | Navigation | Buy Me A Ko-Fi

You didn't know what came over yourself. It felt like the heating was turned up tenfold. Your nose scrunched as you began to move more and more in your sleep. Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch your discomfort in curiosity. Were you having a nightmare? No, you weren’t one to have them. But then again, maybe you just didn’t tell anyone. And being on a family trip in the middle of nowhere would cause distress.

Maybe I should wake her?… He thought, now sitting fully up on the pull-out couch bed. You were no longer tucked under the big fluffy covers on the single bed. No, you had thrown them off moments ago, revealing your mid-drift slightly from your short sleep top and the fact you weren't wearing any pants. God, you looked so cute in your black frilly panties…No, he couldn’t think of such a thing. Not when you were his best friend's daughter.

But oh how you looked delicious. When he met Seonghwa, he had no clue he had a daughter, let alone one that was twenty-two. And when he agreed to go on this camping trip─more like staying in this large cabin on Seonghwa family’s land─he didn’t expect to see you tag along. You were stunning the moment he saw you hop out of your car. You were everything he would want in a woman and after spending hours of the day chatting and getting to know you he knew he was fucked. Anyone outside your conversations, like Seonghwa or his other friends and their kids, would see it as some harmless banter. But in reality, Hongjoong was shamelessly flirting. He didn’t mean it at first, but it just kept going, and you kept egging him on. So what was he supposed to do?

Since there were quite a lot of people that had come on the getaway, rooms were tight. And you had begged your father not to let you sleep in the rooms where the kids were cause you were certain one of San’s boys wanted more than innocent late-night chats… He ended up putting you in the same small study-turned-bedroom where there was a single bed and a double pull-out with Hongjoong. He originally offered to take the single, but you argued, saying his ‘old man back’ wouldn’t like it. He let you take it after that comment.

“J-joong…” you mumbled, almost inaudible. The older man's eyes snapped to your parted lips in a millisecond. Did you just say his name? No, he was definitely hearing things. “Joong, please.”

No, he definitely heard you that time. Your little panting, knitted brow, and soft moans. You weren’t having a nightmare. You were having a sex dream. And it was about him. God, did he wake up in another universe where everything went his way?! He ruffled his hair before rubbing his face in disbelief. He needed to hear you again, but as he took in your figure, he noticed you were now biting your lip, and your hips were jerking slowly. The pillow you were cuddling was tightly pressed up against your covered cunt in between your legs, and every little movement of your hips sent a shock of pleasure through your body.

You were humping your pillow at the thought of them while fast asleep.

He knew it was bad, but as his cock twitched for the millionth time he knew he needed to give himself some relief. And besides, you were sleeping, so you wouldn’t catch him only a couple of feet away from you, fucking his fists in time with your thrusts as your little moans carried out the nastiest fantasies his mind could conjure.... Right?

The thought of you laying out on his bed back at his penthouse. You're soaking on complete display as you beg him to hurry and touch you. He questions if you are a virgin, and if you were would you let him fuck you raw? Just the thought of slipping inside your tight virgin pussy while you tear up at his girth. He squeezed his cock tighter, staring at you intensely, he moved the sheets off himself, hissing slightly at the cool air hitting his hot angry tip. He needed more, he needed to hear his name spill from your mouth again. And it was as if the gods answered his prayers hearing you whimper, “P-please H-hongjoong.”

That was enough to tip him over the edge, speeding up his movements. He noticed the stutter in your hips. You were close to. He’d whisper to himself, “Let’s cum together baby. Cum all over my cock, fuuck.”

He wouldn’t be able to catch himself in time, splurting all over his hand, chest, and some dripping on his thigh. Fuck, he came so much. His eyes were shut, head leaning back against the backing of the couch. His heart was thumping in his ears so loudly he couldn’t even hear anything more. He was in complete ecstasy and peace. That was until he felt the bed dip, making his heart stop and eyes widen. “oh uh..I. um..” fuck, he was so fucked. You were sitting on the end of his bed, half asleep with the haziest expression while staring at his cock still tightly in his hand. His dick twitched, causing a groan, mostly from annoyance as he had been caught and he does even feel an ounce of guilt.

“D-did I cause t-that…” You said sweetly, so innocently. Could you get any more perfect?!

“I’m sorry angel, just go back to sleep, yeah…” He tucks himself back into his boxers, feeling his cum stick to the fabric which caused him to gag. He’s gonna have to slip out for a shower. But you didn’t budge as you took in his words. Instead, you pushed past any anxiety you had over the past days wondering whether Hongjoong liked you the same way, and moved closer to grab his hand that still had some of his cum on. You had woken up over five minutes ago before Hongjoong had creamed himself. His head was thrown back and he was in complete bliss and it caused you to cum just from the sight alone. “A-Angel…”

You didn’t let him speak another word as you placed two of his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. Soaking them. And once they were wet enough, you pulled them out with an audible pop. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the older male, you moved his hand down until those two wet fingers dipped into your completely ruined panties, letting him feel exactly how wet you were for him. They would slip so perfectly into your cunt causing you to sigh in relief, feeling so full just from his fingers alone. “Aren’t you gonna help me, sir.”

Hongjoong was done for.

—♡

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invisible-friend-system · 29 days

Text

So I decided to make a drawing challenge for systems and plural people (aka, me explaining Systember)

Systember is a lot like other drawing challenges, except instead of taking place in October like a lot of other ones, it takes place in September, and is focused on plurality and systems. (Why September? Purely because of the name. That's literally the only reason.)

If you decide to participate, please tag your works with "systember" so I can look at them all cause I'm a curious little goober :33 And please reblog this post to get the word out!

List and questions under the cut

Prompt list:

Together

Protective

Animal

Peaceful

Love

Family

Introject

Memory

Blurry

Switch

Spectator

Nonhuman

Self

Friends

Body

Sadness

Little

Happy

Glass

Headcanon

Gaming

Art

Relax

Hobby

Nature

Colors

Anger

Parent

Shiny

Your choice!

Questions you might have (and answers you might need):

"Do I have to follow the prompts?" Absolutely not, they're just a suggestion. I tried to keep them vague enough to allow anyone to participate. The plural experience is wide and varied, and this challenge hopes to celebrate that.

"Can I participate if I'm ____?" This challenge is open to all systems/plurals/multiples, no matter their origins or beliefs. If you share a body with other people in some way, this challenge is open to you. While I can't exactly stop singlets from participating in this challenge, it's not exactly meant for them. That being said, I want no syscourse to interfere with this challenge. We're here to draw, not to argue.

"What if I don't draw everyday?" That's fine! Do what you can! You don't have to make fully fleshed out pieces, you don't have to draw every single day, you don't have to participate at all, no one's holding you at gunpoint to draw these. Just have fun to the best of your ability.

"This was posted too late! I have no time to prepare!" Yeah, uh... I forgor. Sorry.

"Are you going to be doing this?" I'm gonna fuckin try! Although most of my art will probably be posted to @somewhatdailyanthrostuck since we have a lot of Homestuck introjects and I need ideas for my "daily" drawing blog.

#systember #plural #actually plural #plurality #drawing challenge #system #plural system

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wholoveseggs · 3 months

Text

Sitting Pretty

this gif is......whewwwwwww.... bless you Daniel.

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Pure filth, zero plot.

♡♡ Just something I wrote originally for Princess {which is my unexpectedly most popular fic...} I decided its too good not to share... enjoy! ♡♡

1.7k words - Warnings: pure smut, dom!Elijah, sex in front of a mirror, fingering, lots of praise, anal sex, riding & aftercare...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top! If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

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Elijah moved his finger back and forth over the damp fabric, just light little touches over the swollen nub peeking through. He could see you were biting down on your lower lip, trying not to make any noise.

"lijah..." you moaned, your legs were shaking, your whole body wanted him to move faster or harder but he was set on bringing you to release with soft and teasing touches over your drenched panties. Your breathing had increased and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Eyes on the mirror, sweetheart. I want you to watch yourself come undone for me."

You whimpered at his words but obeyed, eyes flicking up to the mirror that you both sat in front of, his hard chest pressed against your back and his lips on your neck. Your legs wide open and resting over his knees, allowing him the space he needed to continue his soft torture on your pussy.

"You look so beautiful like this. All worked up, flushed and needy, such a pretty picture." He nipped at your ear, moving the pad of his index finger in slow circles.

You groaned and tried to buck your hips into his hand, desperately wanting more friction but Elijah wouldn't allow it.

"Patience, my sweet girl." His voice was low and rumbling through your chest.

He felt your little nub swell against his touches, pushing forward under the fabric, begging for more friction from his experienced hands.

"You're close, aren't you my darling? All hot and wet for me. I love how you blush, it goes all the way down your pretty neck, and makes your nipples so hard and perfect..."

"Please Elijah..." You pleaded out, lifting your hips against his hand, grinding into his fingers, grabbing on to the blankets on the bed. Your eyes fluttered as he responded to your plea by upping his speed, still taking his time, but working hard over your swollen little clit.

"I love your pretty little pussy, all pink and creamy." Elijah said as he circled your opening and felt how slick it was under the cotton, he could feel the heat of it just radiating outward, your sweet little pussy was drenched and open for him to do with whatever he wished.

He pushed the fabric aside, his long middle finger slowly sinking into your soaked cunt, feeling you flutter and grip down on his digit.

"Watch how beautifully you swallow my finger, so wet and tight." Elijah whispered as his lips moved from your ear to your neck. His finger moving firmly, yet slowly in and out, letting you feel every single inch.

You panted, the sensation building as he curled his finger in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing in small circles. Your legs shook, your mouth dropped open, and your back arched as you tried to stop from falling apart.

"Such a good girl, waiting for my permission," Elijah murmured into your ear, watching your expression through the mirror.

He moved his thumb faster, feeling you swell and tighten around his finger, he pushed in a second finger, stretching you, and curled his fingers inside you, pressing and massaging your g-spot as he rubbed your clit.

"Come for me,"

The moment the command left his mouth, you came undone. A sudden gush of wetness soaked his hand and wrist, dripping down to the sheets underneath. Your whole body trembled, his name leaving your lips repeatedly as your release shook your whole body

"Perfect angel," Elijah praised you, holding you to him with one strong arm as his fingers kept massaging and stroking you through the waves of pleasure.

After the final tremors had subsided, you lay back against his chest, panting and exhausted. He pulled his fingers out and tapped your pussy, cupping it and squeezing the lips with his fingers.

"Do you want to try what we talked about?" He whispered in your ear, his fingers dipping lower, circling your other entrance, teasingly.

You bit down on your lower lip, thinking it over. You looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting. "Okay,” you said softly.

He grinned and kissed your neck, his fingers still rubbing and pressing on your puckered hole, not pressing in, just teasing. He reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube, warming it between his hands before pressing his finger against your tight little hole.

"Push out, let me in," Elijah commanded, his voice low and firm, but not lacking the usual kindness he spoke to you with.

You obeyed, feeling him slip inside, the ring of muscle stretching and giving way, allowing him access. He pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust and relax, his lips and teeth working on your neck and jaw.

"Look in the mirror, see how beautiful you are when you take my finger."

Your head tilted to the side, looking into the mirror and seeing him with his finger halfway inside you. You felt him curl his finger, pushing deeper until his entire digit was inside, his palm flush against you.

"Oh fuck," You gasped, feeling a mixture of discomfort and pleasure as he began pumping his finger in and out, adding a second and scissoring them, stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

"I'm going to take such good care of you," Elijah whispered as his fingers pushed deeper.

You moaned and leaned back, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his fingers pumping in and out of your asshole. The pressure was intense, his thick fingers stretching the tight muscles, but the pain was fading and was being replaced with a pleasant, full feeling.

He slowly removed his fingers, his hands moving underneath your knees, lifting up your legs and planting your feet on his thighs.

"Are you ready sweetheart?" He asked, kissing along your neck and shoulders.

You nodded and reached back to hold on to him, his arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly. You could feel his thick, heavy cock press against your back. He cupped your ass and gently lifted you, guiding his cock towards your little hole, the thick head pressing against you, the tip slipping past the tight ring of muscle and pushing into you.

He stopped, allowing you to adjust to his size. His cock was so big, it felt like it was splitting you in half. He gently lowered you down, until you were sitting on his thighs, his cock fully inside you.

"So tight, so perfect." Elijah said, his voice rough and strained. "Look at yourself, sitting all pretty on my cock,"

Your eyes flicked to the mirror and you bit down on your lip at the sight. Your legs were spread open, your pussy was exposed and glistening. His cock was buried deep inside you, his balls pressing against your ass.

You could feel the fullness of his cock, the way it stretched and filled you. It was a strange feeling, but a good one.

You were trembling slightly, one of his hands moved to your clit and began to stroke it softly, making you gasp and buck your hips.

"It's okay sweetheart, I've got you." He cooed, his voice soft and calming, his fingers slowly working over the swollen nub.

You could feel yourself loosening up and relaxing, allowing his cock to sink even deeper. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through his chest, his hips moving a little and pushing himself in and out of you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, watching as his cock slid in and out, stretching and filling you. You could see the muscles in his arm flexing and his jaw clenching as he lifted you up and down.

Your hands held on to his thighs, lifting yourself up and down, chasing the feeling of him filling you. You were lost in the feeling of his thick cock inside you, the way it made you feel full and complete.

"That's it, sweetheart, ride my cock." Elijah groaned, his voice thick with desire.

You watched him press two fingers inside your pussy, feeling the stretch of his cock and fingers inside you. He began pumping his fingers in and out, curling them, searching for that spongy spot that made you scream his name.

You felt so full, so stretched. The sensation was almost too much, but you loved it. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, your entire body was trembling. You were close, so close.

"Look at me," Elijah said, his voice low and commanding.

You looked into the mirror, your eyes locking with his. His dark, intense gaze was full of hunger and desire. His hips were moving faster now, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his fingers pushing deeper and harder inside your pussy.

"I can feel your pussy gripping down on my fingers, are you going to come for me, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice raspy and strained.

You nodded, your lips parted and your eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Come for me. Come all over my fingers," He whispered, his fingers pressing and rubbing that spot inside you that drove you crazy.

Your nails dug into him, your head falling back, a strangled cry leaving your lips. Your legs were shaking, and your thighs tried to close, but he held them open. You felt him buck his hips, pushing himself even deeper, his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt.

The pleasure washed over you, your whole body convulsing and trembling. You felt him press his lips to your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

Your muscles tightened around him, and he let out a strangled groan. You felt his cock twitch, and a warm flood of his cum filled you. He held you tight, his fingers still pumping in and out of your pussy.

Your whole body relaxed into his arms, feeling limp and exhausted. You were breathing hard, your heart was pounding, and your head was spinning.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing the inside of your thigh, his cock still buried deep.

You nodded, unable to speak, completely spent and overwhelmed. He lifted you slowly off his cock, the emptiness was intense, but you felt satisfied.

He carried you to the bathroom, gently setting you down and running a warm bath. He picked you up and lowered you into the water, his arms wrapped around you, and his chest pressed against your back.

He held you like that, the warm water soothing your aching muscles. You closed your eyes, the exhaustion finally taking over. You drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and content in his arms.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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weirdmarioenemies · 5 months

Text

Name: Baboom

Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

Baboom is my number one favorite new enemy from Wonder! In the days after the game's release, I was extra careful during what felt like the eternity before I got to play it myself (it was a week at most.) to not spoil anything for myself, and I succeeded, mostly! Yippee! And while I was playing through the beginning of the game, at least three friends all individually told me there was one enemy that they felt I would absolutely love. And they were right!

Let me tell you. I gasped when I saw it. I gasped when I saw this little waddling plastic tube. You know me! I do things like that. Its pure white eyes. Its adorable little trot. Its use of primary colors like some kind of baby's toy. But don't give it to a baby! This is explosive! You also shouldn't give any living creature to a baby! Why would you do that? You should be giving it some mashed carrots instead.

Speaking of babies though, it is Baboom who is the baby here, because it is canonically the newest of the living bombs produced by Bowser's Minions! What a little darling! It may be a little unclear what exactly it does at first, but when attacked, Baboom will begin shooting fireworks directly upward, one for each body segment! This "uses up" each segment, including the last one, but they don't actually explode themselves. Do you think they can still live after this? A "spent" Baboom, a single red segment, living a peaceful life wherever it landed? That would be nice.

I hate fireworks. Far too loud and bright. But Baboom makes it fun! It can be carried, and its fireworks used as an upward attack, defeating enemies, breaking blocks, and making coins fall! It is so enriching to shoot upwards in a Mario game. These fireworks cannot hurt the player, which seems like a big problem for a weapon made to fight Mario. An enemy that defeats enemies, and does not hurt our heroes? My word! Can this be? The classic and beloved story trope of a weapon made for evil rebelling against the circumstances of its creation? Hooray! Who says Mario games don't have complex stories? Look at the motivation I personally ascribed to this one disposable bomb. What are the other enemies thinking at any given time? There's surely a stunning story in every Snortoise!

Wonder has all these cute little animations for enemies bumping into each other, and Babooms will do a little... nod? toward one another when they meet! It's hard to tell if it is a nod given its anatomy, but whatever it is, I think it is saying "hello my friend!"

I would be remiss to talk about Baboom without mentioning Kab-omb, the ORIGINAL firework Bob-omb variant! I like Baboom more, but I hold a lot of respect for Kab-omb. A bomb just looking for a kiss, or maybe a glass of chocolate milk with a bendy straw. Is that so wrong?

#baboom #super mario bros wonder #kab-omb #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako

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prythianpages · 8 months

Text

A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features.

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself. “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?”

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination.

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner.

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother.

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris.

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you.

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped.

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought.

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image.

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice. “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars. “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes. “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment.

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering.

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought.

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend.

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment.

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged. There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

“I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks. “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons.

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris imagine #eris one shot #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar one shot #acotar!abba #eris vandaddy #eris angel au

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celaenaeiln · 4 months

Note

What are you favorite things about Dickkory?

Please and Thank You☺️

SO. MANY. THINGS!!!

Where do I start?!

Their freedom

Their dedication

Their dynamic

Ok so my favorite thing - well one of three favorite things - about Dick and Kory is that they just let each other be who they are.

What I mean is Dick never tells Kori she has to look a certain way, act a certain way, or talk a certain way. Obviously he's going to stop her from killing people but he loves her for who she is.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

This means the WORLD to me because EVERYONE loves Kori for her body canonically. Like every single guy is just so turned on by her looks but for Dick that doesn't matter. He loves her wholely and purely. I'm tearing up a little by how much respect he gives her.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #71

You have no idea how happy his words make me. He never ever EVER blames Kori for the way she dresses or restricts her in any fashion. He's always extremely supportive of her. If she wants to do modeling? He's all for it. If she wants to go dancing? He's right there with her. She wants to try something new? He's helping her. He is SUCH a supportive boyfriend in everything she does. The killing is still off-limits ofcourse but everything else he loves her so much. He loves her for who she is not how she looks.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #71

He NEVER puts her down. And she never puts him down. They're supportive. And this I can appreciate even more because some of Dick's other love interests have it out for him. They get some type of power play about digging open his insecurities and throwing his faults in his face but not her. He's aware of his own faults, he doesn't need that to be used as a weapon against him like some more modern love interests do. Kori's understanding and loving and in response to that Dick treats her like a queen.

That's the first reason. The second reason is they help each other.

Dick can be difficult to deal with because he locks his emotions away. When he feels stressed he isolates himself because he doesn't want to talk to anyone about how he's feeling. But Kori? She doesn't resent him for that. She actually patiently tries to get him to open up. She's understanding and loving of him and his situation. I love them because when things get hard they don't just abandon each other, move on, and then get back together again after they've solved their own problems alone - no. They work hard to work through it together.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

Dick and Kori come from vastly different cultures and have different beliefs so this causes problems. Here Dick's contemplating settling down with Kori because of how she kills people.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #13

But in the face of it all, losing her is imporant to him that their difference in values

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #14

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #15

The thing about Dick and Kori having problems is that it's inspiring. Like you see all the troubles they faced, all the hardships, differences, and difficulties they went and it's amazing. Because Dick and Kori come from two different world. Literally. But they worked hard on their relationship. They worked through their differences because they loved each other so much that they wanted to stay together.

We could've have Dick and Kory forever if the real life Batman office writers hadn't broken off their wedding because they wanted to take Dick away from the Titans and give him to Batman. Do you realize what this means? If DC writers Dick hadn't been ripped away and Kori hadn't been disparaged by them, we would STILL be reading about Dick and Kory now. They would've been married and had kids by now.

But that brings me to my point - their love is amazing because they worked on the things that were different. It's awe-inspiring to love someone so much that you'll stay with them through anything.

Dickkory is my number one romantic pair for this reason. The problems that Dick has faced in his subsequent relationships is NOTHING compared to what he worked through with Kori. Which is why it frustrates me when a love interest abandons him at first stirrings of trouble because "hello? what you're getting now is cleaned up dick grayson. This is like playing a game on easy mode and still failing. If you can't be there for him when he has his act together, how could you ever be there for him when he's truly struggling?"

Going back to the scene at hand, Dick still stays with Kori but Kori is forced to marry another man at her father's orders and this is what breaks them apart. Because Kori is married to Ryand'r and Dick loves her. But despite this?

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #32

For Dick on the other hand it takes a case for him to understand -

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #34

But he gets it.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #34

They come back stronger than ever.

Their love is the greatest romance of the ages for this reason. Your partner is your confidant. When the whole world turns against you, YOU need to be there by their side and they need to stand by you through everything. If you suddenly go from being rich to dirt poor, your parents abandon you, your friends betray you - the greatest love is standing with your partner through everything.

And Dick loves Kori for this too

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #44

And that's what they embody and that's why I respect them.

Their relationship isn't a shattered vase glued together, their relationship is a muscle growth. You exercise, you stress the muscle and tear it. It causes you pain but that tear heals and the result is a stronger muscle and a healtier and fitter body. They're just so great.

So the second reason was their dedication to each other. The third reason is I love their dynamic!!

Kori is aggressive and strong but loving where as Dick is softer and strong but loving. It's like a girlboss and powerful malewife dynamic. Dick is phsycially shorter and smaller than Kori and Kori taller than him. They way she carries him around and touches him and holds him?!

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #15

The way that Dick gets so jealous and tries to show off for Kori only for his mount to slip off the cliff is so cute!! To everyone Dick is this cool, sexy, intelligent, perfect figure. The only time he gets childlishly jealous and reckless is when he's with Kori. And then having Kori bridal carry him after his mistake is just priceless.

But Dick doesn't begrudge Kori for this. What I love about Dick loving Kori is that he loves her for her power.

The Flash (1987) Issue #81

Dick thirsting for people who can pick him up and throw him around will always be my favorite part of him.

"I love that in a woman."

Yeah, Dick, we can hear that loud and clear. See it too.

LIKE LOOK AT THIS!!!-

Dark Knights of Steel Issue #7

With Kori there's no hesitation to give Dick affirmation.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #2

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #49

Everyone in the entirety of DC knows that Dick is exceedingly pretty. Even villains regularly call him out on it. But it's SO nice to hear his girlfriend tell him that in such an honest and nice non-sleezy way. And that's my probably most favorite thing about them. This girlboss/malewife dynamic they have going on. They're equals but it's not the usual dynamic where the guy showers the girl with compliments and she's satisfied back. She tells him of her own volition how much she loves him and how beautiful he looks. She carries him around and is aggressive in their love. And I just love that so much.

Their love overall is just off the charts.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #39

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #38

Teen Titans Spotlight (1988) Issue #19

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #10

#dick grayson #nightwing #koriand'r #starfire #dickkori #dickkory #cl confusedhummingbird asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

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chaos-in-deepspace · 4 months

Text

Motorboats | 18+

Imma be frfr ever since the workout outfits came out and I saw Rafayel running, all I've wanted to do was just grab his boobies and just fejekhsfu. Since the game doesn't allow me to do that, I'm writing it. Anyway, it's unhinged time, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Suggestive Themes, playing with men's chesticles, crack fic

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

This man, this poor man hadn't a single clue as to what you were about to do. It was Xavier's fault though, in all honesty. He insisted on walking around the apartment without a shirt on after his workout. A towel slung over his shoulders and his hair dripping onto his chest after his show.

It was enough to drive you absolutely mad, especially when you noticed how nice his boobs looked. So you acted on impulse. Slowly walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. Your face was pressed between his shoulder blades while you waited for him to react.

When Xavier turned around, you knew it was your time. Time to accomplish what you were born to do. Without so much as a warning, you placed your hand on his pecks and shoved your face between them. Squeezing them together before rubbing your face between them and making an obnoxious motorboat noise.

It was beautiful. Glorious even. His chest was softer than you imagined despite them being nothing but pure muscle. He smelled like his body wash still and he was cool to the touch. Everything about this moment solidified that it was the best day ever for you.

The action was enough for Xavier to flinch back from your touch, looking down at you with wide eyes as he processed what you did. Your shit eating grin couldn't be contained...until you saw a small, seemingly innocent smile grace Xavier's face.

"Is it my turn now?"

Zayne

Your poor, sweet, and loving doctor. Words couldn't describe your affection towards the man as you watched him hunch over his desk, getting some paperwork done as you waited patiently for your check up. Your beloved Zayne...and his abnormally slutty outfit of the day.

Sure it wasn't technically slutty, but as you looked at the doctor you couldn't help your eyes as they wandered down his form. His lab coat was open, revealing a black turtle neck shirt underneath. The cherry on top were the straps going around his chest that helped accentuate his pectorals.

"Something you need?" The man in question just glanced up at you after noticing your gaze.

"What me? I'm just waiting on you..."

Your sentence seemed to finally kickstart Zayne's appointment with you as he got up and walked over to the examination table. He grabbed his stethoscope, ready to measure your heart.

"Then shame on me for keeping you waiting."

As he went to place it over your chest, you stopped him. Your hand going towards his own chest. It was just so damn tempting. Zayne looked down at you with a questioning gaze. You couldn't help yourself. With him leaning over you, he was at the perfect height.

You took your hands and went to squeeze at his chest, quickly shoving your face between then and motorboating the poor man. The doctor was stunned, standing there as you finished up with a chuckle. You leaned back to see the slight red dusting his cheeks and ears.

"I hope you're happy with yourself."

Oh he had no idea.

Rafayel

It wasn't often that you found yourself blatantly staring directly at Rafayel. Normally you tried to keep your gaze at least a touch subtle, but today there was absolutely no helping it. You made the mistake of asking him to work out with you since you didn't feel like doing it alone. Besides, despite how much he complained about working out, he had muscles that had to be earned from more than just swimming. He also had a small gym set up, which sure as hell beat going to the actual gym.

What you weren't prepared for was his outfit. The skin tight, sleeveless black top left nothing to the imagination. You could see the outline of his nipples and whenever the man would run you saw his chest literally jiggling. It was making you absolutely feral that you didn't realize you had stopped your own workout just to stare at his chest.

When Rafayel noticed he went to a walk and turned to you, "Something caught your attention?" that smug smile would be wiped off his face if you had anything to say about that.

"Ya...come over here. I need your help with something."

Rafayel was more than happy to get off the treadmill, taking a break as he panted slightly. The faint sheen of sweat coating him wasn't helping your thought process at all. The moment he stood in front of you, you couldn't hold back.

Your hands reached towards his chest and your face went between them perfectly. You pushed them together and gave them a harsh squeeze as you rubbed your face between them, making the motorboating noise. As soon as Rafayel knew what was happening he jumped back from you, his arms going to cover his chest. His entire face was red as he gaped at you like a fish out of water. He looked absolutely scandalized.

"What was that for?!"

"Let me do it again. Get back here you coward!" You said as you took a step forward, your hand making the grabby motion. You swore that Rafayel's scream in horror was the best noise ever. If he thought the treadmill was bad, he had no idea how rough it would be running away from you.

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bengals-barnesbabe · 4 months

Text

“Pick Up Lines” w/ #9

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Black!FemReader

Word Count: 670

Warnings: Minors DNI, literal crack with a heaping sprinkle of smut

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

“Joe, what trait would you say you find the sexiest about a woman?”

It wasn’t the most common question he got from these press conferences, but the newly single quarterback was definitely intrigued.

He let out a light chuckle then quirked the side of his lip up. “Confidence, no brainer.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The concept of women throwing themselves at him wasn’t foreign to the quarterback, but for the last few years he’s been taken. So now being one of the NFL’s hottest eligible bachelors, Joe has the opportunity to entertain himself with all the attention on him.

It started with making eyes with women in clubs that were too shy to come up to him. Then short makeout sessions during his teammates parties. And some showing up to his open practices just to fawn over the work he puts in at the gym.

It was fun until it got boring, he was waiting for that one girl with the ability to keep him on his toes. So far he was flat footed. Until he got a DM from you.

At first glance it looked like a regular fan account that’s obsessed with him, but two things stood out: your picture and your bio.

The picture was of a brown skinned woman wearing his orange jersey showing ample cleavage, head tilted down with a Bengals SnapBack on top of a head of tight black curls.

Your bio only said one thing: ‘Slut for JoeyB and JoeyB Only’

Without glancing at the time, he taps on the dm and indulges in what he thought was gonna be pure flattery.

_joey.bde: Confidence huh? You sure you’re ready for that?

Joeyb_9: I’m ready for anything

_joey.bde: oh yea

_joey.bde: those balls look heavy, want me to hold them for you😊

Joeyb_9: come on give me something original, I thought you were a slut for me😉

_joey.bde: ever met someone that could take all 9👅

Joeyb_9: depends how you want it baby

_joey.bde: down my throat, on my knees in your locker room after a game😈

Joeyb_9: fuck you really are a slut, got anymore

_joey.bde: I have more holes if you’d like to fill them☺️

Joeyb_9: yea you’d be a pretty little cumslut for me wouldn’t ya

_joey.bde: I’d do anything for you daddy🤤

Joeyb_9: prove it😏 *address*

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

“So any new developments in your personal life since we last spoke?”

Joe’s face flushes with heat as he thinks about the photos of you in his phone; your pretty face and tits covered in his seed as you suck on his thumb, his fingers buried in your cunt and his favorite you completely fucked out asleep in his bed.

“No, not really. I’m just chilling for now.”

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

*nsfw under the cut - minors dni*

“Joey please, I can’t.” Your cries turn into breathy moans as he stuffs your cunt with four of his fingers.

“Come on give me one more then I can give you my cock.” He says lightly kissing your cheeks then slowly bringing them down to your neck.

“Don’t you wanna be good for daddy, so suck it up and come.”

Your French tips dig into the bed as his thumb rubs slow circles on your clit. “Fuck I’m gonna-!”

His other hand comes up to your tits squeezing and tugging at your nipples, “yea that’s right, let me hear you.” His voices muffled as he sucks on your neck.

With one last curl of his fingers, your body shakes as you come for a third time. The whine of his name in your throat goes silent due to overstimulation.

Joe removes his juice covered fingers and puts them in his mouth. “Fuck you taste so sweet.” He moans.

Your mouth agape watching him while still feeling the after effects from your orgasm. “Wanna try?”

Lazily shaking your head, he bends down and kisses you, your tongue licking around sucking your juices from his mouth while he just smiles, then pulls away. “Good girl.”

a/n: procrastination at it's finest everyone :) main masterlist

#black reader #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow bengals #nfl imagine #pick up lines #crack fic #crack treated seriously #joe burrow smut #smut #joey b #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine

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fruittt-punchhh · 3 months

Text

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! filthy smut ahead😎 afab! re fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, breath play, choking if you squint, reader gives good top, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (m! receiving), just pure smut.

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: we’re back bitchessss!🤪💖hope you liked the last part hehe. here is pt. 5!! pt. 6 is in the proofreading stage now and I’ve even got a pt. 7 in my brain waiting to be put on paper. as always, forgive any grammar/spelling errors, and lemme know what you think!!! much love, fruit punch🧃

The sight before him was unholy. You sat with your back almost to the wall, sitting back on your feet. Your face was so red from the constant embarrassment, your lips still swollen from how hard Toji was biting and sucking on them. He could see how hard you were breathing, and he was more ready than he had ever been to let you please him. It had been too long since he had gotten a blowjob, let alone a good fuck.

Toji gets off the bed, standing up as he takes a step towards you. You looked as if you were looking straight at the ceiling due to his tall stature. Suddenly, you were in his shadow as he grabs the neck of his shirt and takes it off, discarding it in the floor on top of your bikini. He kicks his sweats off his feet and closes the distance between you two.

Here he was, with his still twitching cock dripping precum in front of you. His length was still glistening from your juices, and you were impressed with the fact that he looked a few inches longer than you originally estimated.

You do as he says and attempt to make it up to him as best you can. You grab him at his base, earning a hiss from the god above you. You stick your tongue out and you start to swirl it around his fat tip.

“Holy shit, y/n, keep going f’me, just a lil’ deeper”

Your tongue was so hot and wet, and seeing you with his dick in your tiny hand almost made him bust. He could tell it would be a struggle to get it to fit, but he needed to feel how tight that throat is. He was scared he wouldn’t even be able to talk you through it at this point. You two had been going at it for at least an hour now. The kisses, grinding, pussy eating and all was fun for sure. But it was torture for Toji. He had to stop himself from cumming so many times now, and he was scared he wouldn’t be able to hold back this time.

You close your lips around the head of his cock, and slowly start to move down his length. It’s barely a third of the way in and he’s already hitting the back of your throat. You choke a little and you feel your eyes water. You were excited to show Toji your lack of a gag reflex. You had always been that way, but it never occurred to you to use that to your advantage until now. The previous guys you were with weren’t even big enough to test it out. You still needed to warm up to his massive size, but you were confident you’d be able to deepthroat him at least a little bit. You keep him there for a moment, swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft, trying to remember every single vein.

You continue your ministrations on his member, starting to pick up your pace as you hollow your cheeks. You now have both hands on the rest of his length, trying to please where you couldn’t reach yet. You needed to warm up just a little more before you start taking him past your throat.

“You’re so fucking perfect f’me, y/n. You might be a virgin b-but you’ve definitely, fuck, s-sucked cock before, haven’t ya’?”

Was the stern, mean Toji stuttering? And what happened to the nicknames? Did he just not care anymore, or was he too far gone to think of any? You felt like you had him in the palm of your hand. You manage to stifle out an “mmhm” while you slobber all over him. You’ve gotten almost half of him in your mouth, and you feel like you’re ready to take him fully.

You pull off with a pop, licking your lips as you look up at him. God, was he pretty.

You lick a long stripe from his heavy balls to the tip of his cock. He grunts, smiling at you as he bites his lip to stifle any whimpers that dare slip past his lips.

Although your throat was sore, you ask him, “Toji, can I show you something? Just trust me, please.”

Toji had no idea what you were letting on. He was excited nonetheless, but he had no clue what you could show him that you haven’t already. You were making him fall apart and he knew he wouldn’t last long enough to fuck you properly.

“Sure, baby, but I dunno if there’s anything I haven’t seen already, heh,” he chuckles, admiring your beautiful figure beneath him.

Instead of responding, you sit back up until you’re level with his dick. You wrap your hands around Toji’s thick thighs, and place your hands on his ass. You knew he would say something about it, so you had to be quick.

“The fuck you tryna sho-“ he starts as all the air is ripped from his lungs. He has to stabilize himself on the wall before he passes out.

You take a deep breath as you start to suck him again. You slowly but surely force your head down, using Toji as leverage, until your nose is buried in the black hair at the base of his cock. You swallow around him as a reflex, and you hear him whimper.

“Y/n, o-ohmmygod f-fuck”

Toji had no more sly remarks for you. As he looks down at you, your eyes peer up at him. He’s sweating and panting like a dog. You must have been doing a decent job since he looked like he might explode at any moment.

You pull entirely off of him, letting his cock spring up as you look up at him.

“Toji?”

“Y-yeah, doll?”

“Can you fuck my throat? I’ll be good I promise. I won’t gag or anything. I-I wanted to do it before but they were never big enough. Please use me.”

He must have died and gone to heaven (or hell?) because he definitely didn’t mistake what you said. How did you have no gag reflex?? Even if you didn’t, he was huge. But now you’re sitting underneath him begging him to fuck your throat. How could he pass up on an offer of a lifetime? No women in the past could even take half of him, whether it be their pussy or their throat. Now here you were, nonchalantly bragging about your skills as he tries not to paint your face white just from hearing your request.

Before he can respond, you’re back to working on his shaft as you get a head start on the whole face-fucking request.

“Holy s-shit, what a fuckin’ filthy slut you are for me, y/n. Hah, if I would known you wanted me to, mmmngh, u-use you this bad, I woulda done it a l-long fuckin’ time ago.” He manages. He thinks he used the very last of his brain power saying that because he was so much closer to cumming than he had previously estimated.

You moan at his words, the vibrations stimulating his cock in a way he had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. You release your hold on his thighs as you feel him grab a handful of your hair. He places his other hand on the back of your head, and he slowly starts thrusting.

“Good god, woman, where’d ya’ learn to do this?” He thinks out loud as he strokes his length down your throat. He swore everytime he thrusted all the way in, you swallowed around him. You didn’t know if it was instinct or not at this point, but with the groans and whimpers coming from the man above you, you definitely weren’t going to stop.

You felt tears run down your face as Toji absolutely abused your throat. The sight of him using you solely for his pleasure had your cunt dripping. You started moaning around him with each thrust, unable to control how good this was making you feel, too. You reach down to play with your clit, still so sensitive from the orgasms he gave you earlier.

“Yeah, play with that clit while I use you. God, thank you y/n. You’re doing s-so fucking perfect, makin’ me feel so good. M’not gonna last, doll, l-let me go a little harder so I can empty my balls on that pretty face, okay?”

You can’t believe his admission, and you attempt to response with a muffled ‘mmm’. You had hoped you were doing well, and his behavior would make you think so, but you still doubted your abilities. You reach your other hand up to massage his heavy balls as you urge him to reach his climax.

“Oh fuck, k-keep doing that, m’gonna fuckin’ cum y/n,” You were doing wonders on his dick, and you were now pushing your head to his pelvis to bring him to his orgasm.

He was moments away from his release as he spits out, “Take a-a deep breath for me, babe.” With one final thrust, he pushes into your throat so hard, shoving your head into the wall behind you. His hands were long gone off your head, and he brings his left hand down to wrap around your throat. He swore he could feel his cock pulsing through your throat. He takes his right hand, and being the mean bastard he was, he plugs your nose as he shoots his hot, thick load down your throat.

Your eyes were bugging out of your head as Toji effectively cut off your air supply while he came. You were no stranger to a little breath play, but this took you off guard. Your hands shoot up to his thighs as you feel every muscle of his clench and release. You relished in the feeling of him having total control over your body as he came down your throat. He releases you as he slides his length out of your throat. You swallow and gasp, not realizing how long he had cut off your airway for. You had tears running down your cheeks (and thighs) as you look up at him and thank him.

“You’re welcome doll, heh,” he laughs, crouching down to meet your eyes, “You milked my cock so good f’me. Open up, lemme see how good of a girl you are.”

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out. He grabs your face and kisses you immediately, groaning into your mouth at the sight. You feel his big hands reach behind you, kneading your ass as he picks you up. You squeak as you wrap your legs and arms around him, trying not to fall. He picked you up like you didn’t weigh a thing, although his legs were trembling and he’d be damned if he let you figure that out.

He turns around, still kissing you as he lays you down on the bed.

“Gimme a minute, shit. Wanna fuck you right and I’m fucking spent.”

You smile up at him, “S’okay, Toji. I can wait as long as you need. It shouldn’t take to long right, old man?” You say, unable to help the giggle that escaped your lips. Toji grabs his length, running himself up and down your folds, getting ready to impale you on his cock.

“Watch it, brat. Keep getting smart with me and I won’t hold back. I’ll have you cryin’ on this dick, pretty girl.”

You open your mouth to respond to let him know you wouldn’t mind crying for him if it meant he’d finally fuck you, until you both hear a noise coming from outside. He looks at you as if he’d seen a ghost.

Was that the fucking garage door?

You two had been at it long enough that the sun had set long ago, and your dad’s fishing trip had come to an end.

You and Toji both scramble to your feet, running to grab a change of clothes.

“Shit, hurry the fuck up. I’m supposed to be at work already, goddammit.”

You yank open your dresser drawers, looking for a shirt and some shorts. You look back to see Toji throwing his shirt over his head.

“Toji your fucking shirt is backwards and inside out!”

He looks down and rips his shirt back off, turning it around before he put it on again.

“What’d I tell you about that language, pretty girl?”

You throw your clothes on, telling him now isn’t the best time. You run to find your phone, only to see your dad had called you, and him and your brother had texted you an hour ago letting you know they were headed home. You were lucky they stopped for food on the way back or you two would have been in deep shit.

Toji pulls his sweats back up, cursing at the wet patch still on the front of them.

“Look I gotta leave for work, just act like you’re asleep or some shit. Don’t tell him anything, or it’s gonna be real bad for the both of us.”

“Okay, yeah — wait, why would I tell him anything, are you crazy?” You ask and you throw your blanket and pillows back on the bed before you climb into it.

“For you I might be, girl,” he mumbles, barely audible as he reaches for the doorknob.

“Wait, Toji? Thanks, I-I guess.”

He doesn’t even look back at you as he opens the door and mutters a ‘yeah’ before he disappears into the darkness of the hallway. You close your eyes, trying to convince yourself and your body that you were ‘asleep’ instead of out of breath, worried, and incredibly turned on still.

You heard the back door open and who you assumed to be your dad and your brother walking in.

You can hear Toji faintly. ‘Hey man, sorry I gotta run, m’late for work.’

‘I thought you were home a while ago, everything okay?’

‘Yeah, I was uh, taking a nap and time got away from me. I won’t be back ‘til late tonight.’

‘Sure, yeah be safe.’ You can hear them sitting down their fishing supplies somewhere in the kitchen as you hear your name being mentioned.

‘Oh, hey you seen y/n since you been back? I picked her up some food.’

He felt his face turn red as his best friend said your name. ‘Uh, n-no, she might be asleep or something, haven’t heard shit outta her.’

You try not to scream as you turn around in the bed, trying your best to hide your face under the covers. You hear the garage door open and close again, signaling that Toji made it out of the house unscathed. You hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. Just play it cool, you’re fucking asleep dude.

There was a light tap on the door.

“Y/n? Toji said you might be asleep, I gotcha some food on the way back.”

Of course he was opening the door. You try to steady your breathing. He falls for the facade easily enough, and you hear him sit the bag of food on your dresser.

‘Smells funny in here, hm’ he says as he lights one of your many candles. Great. Your dad was gullible but he wasn’t born yesterday. He was a good dad, but sometimes he failed at putting two and two together.

You hear him scrounge through your room, was he looking for something? You try to stay calm as you hear a phone begin to vibrate on the floor. Your phone was currently in your hand, so was that-

“Toji’s phone, huh? What’s this doing in here? Damn, has he left yet?” You hear him say. He picked up a towel on the floor that was covering Toji’s phone and your skimpy black bikini. Nice. Could it be anymore obvious?

Your dad leaves the room and you hear him ask your brother if Toji had left. You let out a breath you had been holding for what felt like hours. After what just went down, maybe sleep was your best bet at staying sane. You grab your headphones and shove them in your ears, turning your music up to drown out your thoughts.

You hear a familiar ‘ping!’ as you get a text from an unknown number. You didn’t recognize the area code either. But there was no mistaking who it came from.

‘Don’t think I’m letting u off the hook, doll. I’ve still gotta see if it’ll fit.’

You read the message with wide eyes, opting to leave him on read. Did he have two phones or something? Think logically here, maybe one of them was his work phone. Or for all his other bitches. You felt like you needed time to process the events of the last few hours before you responded. You clicked the lock button on your phone and closed your eyes once more.

ping!

‘See, I don’t think it will. But I want u to prove me wrong, okay? Want you to be good for me again if you’ll have me.’

Was this his manly way of asking for your consent? It was kind of cute, you admit.

You decide to respond before turning your phone off for the night.

‘We’ll just have to see, won’t we?’

pt. 6

@scorpiosugar hehehe

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snoopyana · 6 months

Text

boys cry too.

“boys cry too, you called me & told me you never felt so low.”

he loves you so much. you’re always in the forefront of his mind, hoping you’re ok when he can’t be there to see for himself. but he was the least of your worries. what a shame.

park wonbin. toxic reader. angst. smut.

staring at his phone, disappointment was painted all over his face. knuckles growing white as he gripped the device. you had told him you’d be outside in ten minutes — so he drove over ten minutes earlier. but by now, forty had passed and there was a growing pain in his chest. heart heavy, wonbin looked at his ‘i’m here!’ message that sat on delivered. praying for it to switch to read in the blink of an eye. but it never did, at least not yet.

the streetlight that he decided to park under, purely for your convenience, started to flicker. body leaning into the leather seat of his car, the rumble of his engine filled the vechile. wonbin contemplated on leaving. even though he was originally over the moon to finally hangout with you, that excitement was slowly fading. being replaced with a sense of insecurity.

did you forget?

but he had all night to wait for you. so even if you remembered hours later, he would be quick to agree to another outing. you play with his heart, and he just waits until you’re done. there was times when he tried to tell himself that he was done being your last priority. lost in his thoughts, contemplating the what ifs. throwing his head back against the seat, his waterline started to sting. an obvious sign of the tears fighting to roll down his face. using the palms of his hands, wonbin aggressively rubbed his eyelids in an attempt to push back the tears.

but he failed.

he always failed. he always ended up crying by himself when you left him on delivered. when you forgot about the plans that you made. when you ignored him because you didn’t want to talk. it crushed his soul every single time. the tears leaving his face hot and his body shaken every time. but he knew you didn’t mean it, he knew that you were just busy. right? you were just busy because you would always contact him and apologize. promising that you wouldn’t forget next time.

a tapping on his passenger side window snapped him out of his thoughts, causing a halt to the mini pity party he was having. swiping away tears, wonbin unlocked his doors — allowing you to situate yourself into his car. there was a silence with his occasional sniffle. your eyes glued on the phone that illuminated your face. a few minutes would pass before you finally looked at him. but only for a second and no longer than a second.

“hey binnie.” the way you spoke in such a sweet tone nearly gave him whiplash. not seeing how you could so casually greet him as if you weren’t a whole hour behind schedule. greeting him without knowing that you were the reason he was so distraught a few moments ago. “sorry i took so long, i-“ but you were stopped.

“you forgot.”

his words caught you off guard. a scuff almost leaving your mouth when he cut you off, but thank god it got stuck in your throat. glancing over to the man, your eyes scanned his face. the way his cheeks were flushed, eyes puffy and bottom lip quivering, but he still managed to smile so softly at you. it almost made your heart ache. just almost. your eyes were trained on his trembling pupils — the way he looked so sad yet so happy to see you.

“you forgot, but it’s ok. i have all day for you to make time for me.” his voice cracking with every syllable that slipped past his lips. you did forget, but your pride wouldn’t let you say that. you couldn’t say that. so instead, you tripped to flip it. “what? of course i didn’t forget, of course i have time for you.” your snappy tone making his smile falter for just a split second. facing forward, his hands gripped onto the steering wheel. so what now? the air was thick, and he was hurt.

putting the vehicle into drive, wonbin tried to get ahold of his emotions as he drove. all while you shifted your attention back to the screen in your hands. connecting your phone to the cars bluetooth. boys cry too filled the empty space. as he drove around, the music was slowly drowned out by the ringing in his ears. becoming lost in his own mind while his body was on autopilot. pulling into a secluded park near the park.a place you two used to frequent, back when you cared.the music had long since been turned off as he turned off the car. leaning back into his seat, wonbins’ eyes found their way to your face.

they always did.

“did you really want to hang out with me today?” he still had that saddened expression on his face as he looked at you. picking at the skin around his fingers, waiting for an answer. waiting for anything. shifting in the seat, you managed to turn completely towards wonbin — shoving your phone into the pocket of your hoodie. “yeah, sure i lost track of time, but that doesn’t mean i didn’t wanna see you.” reaching over, you used the pads of your fingers to swipe away lingering tears on his face. he looked adorable, all worked up.

but he couldn’t seem to believe you, yet allowing your fingers to wipe and caress his face. “i hate your excuses, they hurt so much more than when you ignore me.” he tried so hard to keep a steady tone, cheeks heating up as he kept eye contact.

“do you want me to show you how much i love being around you?” before he could even answer, you were sliding yourself into his lap. reaching down to adjust his seat — making enough room for you both to sit comfortably in the small space. cupping his cheeks in both hands, your thumbs working circles on the skin that you couldn’t quite cover with your palms. leaning forward to plant small kisses on his forehead. humming into his skin when his hands found sanctuary on your thighs.

but don’t get it twisted, you were only doing this so he wouldn’t leave. so he felt loved, and wanted.

your kisses eventually found his lips, nipping at his bottom for entry — entry that he gladly gave to you. while your tongue roamed his mouth, one of your hands started its own adventure to his pants. single handedly unbuttoning the fabric. speaking against his lips, you instructed him to slip down his jeans. he was quick to follow, a whine leaving his throat when the cold air of his car hit the exposed flesh. you didn’t plan on fucking him in his car, just a quick handjob to keep him satisfied.

it’s truly a shame how pretty he was, letting all that beauty go to waste by being such a cling. that’s truly the only reason you never perused him. but you were so lucky that he loved you and adored you as much as he did — letting you do anything you wanted in exchange for the smallest sliver of your attention.

your lips attached themselves to his neck, one hand gripping onto his nape while the other slowly pumped his dick. gripping onto the sides of your hoodie, wonbin let his head fall back into the seat. but this time he wasn’t crying. strings of his moans and whines floating in the air while your hand set a painfully slow pace. gripping at his base before slowly sliding back up to his twitching tip. your thumb spreading around the precum that leaked from his slit.

he would make attempts to buck up into your enclosed fist. only to be forced back down by the weight of your body on his own. his head spinning at the damn-near torturous speed of your hand and your teeth bruising the pale skin of his neck. it was all too much as once, too much in general. broken pleas and cries for you to speed up.

so you finally did, he wanted it right?

the switch of pace had his body squirming underneath you, causing the vehicle to slightly rock side to side. thighs tightening, wonbin held onto you for dear life. if he wasn’t lightheaded before, he definitely was now. parted lips allowing for any and every sound to come from him. you could tell he was close, you knew him all too well. whispering praises just below his ear to push him to the edge. and it worked. it didn’t take much for more until he was releasing all over your hand and onto himself. repeating your name as if he would forget it later. resting your head onto his shoulder, you allowed for him to catch his breath.

but you didn’t stay long, wiping your hand onto his now cum-stained shirt. you opened the car door and stepped out, as your apartment was only a few blocks away from where you two were seated. leaving him without even a goodbye.

“it’s always me left to clean up all the mess.”

note- ok first, 3 fics in week? let me calm down before i get burnt out 😭😭 but i really wanted to write a subish wonbin and i was in the mean mood?? so my apologies for those who wanted a good end. heh. also i linked the song that this is loosely based off of, you just gotta find it! (it’s so easy to find but still)

#luvyujun #wonbin #riize #riize imagines #riize smut #riize wonbin #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #park wonbin #riize angst #riize x reader #riize scenarios #riize reading #riize park wonbin #riize suggestive #riize fanfic #riize hard thoughts #sub wonbin #badend??

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amuyyi · 4 months

Text

y/n + her plants .

synopsis; just 3 little drabbles of y/n being the only extrovert and obsessed with plants.

trope; le sserafim x 6th member!reader, platonic , just silly poorly written stuff

wc; 2.0k

cw; none

a/n; im ngl this is just a self indulgent self insert of the author. i love female friendships! also i was half asleep writing this, but i really like the 2nd clip idk it makes me giggle a little :3 i had planned to write more, but i got tired soooo... also did not spellcheck at the end zzz please read my other works if u actually want decently written stuff

Clip 1:

It was your turn to turn in a vlog for the week, and you decided to utilize this time to do a room tour. You grin into the camera as you make your way to you and Yunjin’s shared bedroom, opening the door and showing the interior to the camera. It was a spacious room, with posters and photographs plastered all along the walls alongside other decor such as string lights, unique shaped mirrors, and endless figurines and trinkets lined on the shelves. One of the most prominent features of the room though was the amount of pure green all throughout. There were plants quite literally everywhere. On the windowsill, hanging off the ceiling, held up on the wall, on the floor, the tables, the shelves. It felt like just about any free space was touched by mother nature herself.

You grin sheepishly as you explain, “Not many people know this– well I guess now many people will know this, but I am a super big plant person!”

The camera slowly pans over all of the plants as well as some of Yunjin’s belongings, including her guitar, glasses, and some smiski’s you two co-parent. “Thankfully Yunjin doesn’t mind me hogging up some space for my babies, and I pay her back in smiski figurines!!” Grabbing hold of a little green man on the table that was struggling to put on a sweater, you shove its face into the camera as you giggle, “I think this one's my favorite, me and Yunjin are still trying to come up with a name for him.”

You look around, trying to figure out which plant to showcase first before you catch sight of one particular plant you enjoy. “Oh! I want to show you guys my favorite pot…” The camera pans to a comically large and rather beat up leather boot, which humbly held home to a mini monstera within its space.

“It was a random shoe I found near a river during filming one time. Viney here seems to enjoy it,” You grin, accidentally letting it slip that you name every single one of your plants as well as touch random garbage you find outside before you showcase another “pot,” being a mug that had the words “Live Laugh Love” plastered boldly on the side as you snicker, “this one just makes me laugh. Jen hates it, but I don’t think she can recognize the beauty in irony.”

You let out a sigh as you make your way towards your bed, plopping down onto it as you speak. “Y’know, I personally believe I’m a great candidate to collaborate on a show with Chuu, Tsuki, and Yuqi sunbaenim,” the ramble starts, completely derailing from the original topic of plants as you speak. Your tone is lighthearted and playful, but you’re being completely serious as you continue, “I want to do a bunch of random jobs and harass random people on the street!! I’m perfectly capable of doing that! I’d do that even if I wasn’t getting paid!”

You start to laugh, realizing how ridiculous you started to sound, but you didn’t care, you pressed the topic on. “If I weren't an idol I’d make a great farmer! Why haven’t I gotten invited to be a farmer with Chuu sunbaenim??” An endless string of various other jobs as well as explanations behind why you would qualify for every one of them begins to spew out of your mouth. You were always a major talker, and quite literally had no filter nor shame when it came to what you had to say. More often than not, you were leading conversations at social events if Chaewon hadn’t already beat you to it– and having alone time with your own thoughts and a camera to record it all was a recipe for disaster.

At the end of your rant, you find yourself slightly winded before making direct eye contact with the camera, pointing your finger directly into it as you announce, “If any TV company is out there watching this right now, this is my application to be a guest on one of your shows! Any job will do, I’ll do it! But just know I’ll leave you farmers in the dust if you put me out in the fields. Watch your back.”

As a last “threat” to broadcasters all around the world, you threateningly do a “I’m watching you” gesture with your hand before placing your hand over the camera, ending the vlog.

Clip 2:

Eunchae spins around the dorm building, giving the viewers on the livestream a living room tour as she looks around, coming up with random things to showcase on the spot. So far, she’s shown off the inside of the fridge, their oven, and underneath the couch. The young girl’s eyebrows furrow as she contemplates what to show fearnots next, her eyes landing on your precious arrangement of houseplants that you lovingly arranged in front of the balcony door. Eunchae clears her throat dramatically as she turns the camera towards your plants, squatting down next to them as she makes sure the audience can see both her and them within the frame.

“As you guys can see here, we have y/n’s plants… She's COVERED the apartment full of them, Chaewon unnie has to scold her every time she brings one home.” She giggles into the camera before shaking her head, “I’m convinced she loves those things more than us…”

Faint rustling could be heard within the background, and Eunchae turns her head, opening her mouth as if to call out to whoever was home, but she pauses.An imaginary light bulb goes off in her head as Eunchae gasps, looking straight into the camera as she grins mischievously. “I have an idea… Watch this!” She scrambles onto the floor, laying flat on her stomach on top of the floor tile as she props her phone up against the wall hidden behind a stool. The camera perfectly showcases the plants, the living room, and the curtains covering the screen door.

[ynniez] – oh no… [huhjin001] – this is going to be good [2ningz] - 🥸🥸🥸

The giggles can't seem to stop as Eunchae hops onto her feet and immediately dashes behind the curtains, pressing her finger up to her lips towards the camera in a “shh…!” motion before she disappears.

“Eunchae?” your voice rings out as you return to your living quarters, grocery bags in hand as the camera perfectly captures your entrance. You don’t think much of the silence that follows as you place the bags down, making your way over to your plants with a grin.

“Hello my lovelies~” You say to your plants, squatting down to examine them individually before grabbing hold of the watering can nearby. As you lift up the can, Eunchae suddenly bursts through the curtains, exclaiming “BOO!” as loud as possible, resulting in you screaming at a decibel twice as high.

Unfortunately for the maknae, she had failed to foresee the possibility of you watering your plants at this exact moment– resulting in you blindly chucking 90% of the water inside the can towards the culprit in a panic. Eunchae stands there frozen, oversized sweatshirt and hair absolutely soaked with her mouth agape as she stares at you in complete shock.

“What THE FU– EUNCHAE??” You yell out, watching the younger girl simply freeze in front of you like a wet cat. You switch to English for just one moment, simply saying, “Girl…” as you clutch your hand over your heart, trying to steady the rapid beating.

Eunchae’s shocked expression shifts into one of glee as her mouth still remains open, now smiling as her body rotates to where the phone hid, silently pointing in the general direction of the camera as she tries not to burst out into laughter on the spot.

You stare at her in complete confusion before following her finger, eyes finally landing on the livestream as your eyes widen, suddenly feeling very exposed in her own home. “No way you just got all of that on camera…”

Eunchae finally allows the laughter to flow, as she suddenly spreads her arms out, inching her way towards you. “You did this to me, unnie!!!” She roars, making attempts to trap you in a hug as you scream, running offscreen as the live abruptly ends.

Clip 3:

You’re seen with your face comically close to the camera, a habit that soon became a signature of your livestreams as you watch the viewers and comments roll in. You glaze over them before flipping the camera around, showing Sakura within the kitchen, wearing a pink apron and plastic gloves as she cuts up some vegetables. “Hi everyone!! Today, Kkura unnie and I are making omelets for the girls with microgreens I’ve grown MYSELF in OUR apartment!!” You loudly exclaim, shoving the camera close to the cutting board as Sakura rolls her eyes, chuckling at the sight as you eventually point the camera elsewhere.

“You did a very good job growing these y/n-nnie. They look great.” The comment from the older girl made you shy, and you flip the camera back to your face as you place a hand on your cheek, “hehe, thank you Kkura-unnie~” you coo, shifting your gaze back to the viewers before sighing.

“I grew all kinds of stuff in here, like basil, arugula, cilantro, kale…” You trail off, counting the number of edible plants you’ve grown on your finger before continuing, “but I could make so much more if I had a full blown garden!!” You whine, and Sakura could be seen in the background rolling her eyes, playfully commenting, “not this again…”

You dramatically lean on Sakura’s back with your own despite her already being hunched over while chopping as you sigh even louder this time, “I’m serious unnie!! The stuff I could grow for you guys.. You would have a whole salad in one place!!”

Leaving the older member to her task, you place the camera down before grabbing some eggs and cracking them into a bowl, impressively doing so with only one hand each as the comments complimented your skill.

[makna33] – master chef y/n?? [nay00n1] – girl what cant u do…

A laugh escapes your lips as you beat the eggs, “guys, its not that impressive. Besides, I don’t cook nearly as often or as well as Kkura-unnie.” The compliment garners a small smile from the other girl seen in the corner of the screen as you continue on, “anyways, if I had my own garden in the building, I would graft the best tomatoes ever… I’d be real life Frankenstien creating the perfect tomato!” You start, knowing that most likely nobody would actually care for your facts, but you shared anyways, this was YOUR live after all.

“Oh! We’re also using my basil today in one of the omelets. Guys, if you’re ever growing your own basil at home, make sure to pinch off the flowers! It makes it tastier!!” You point the chopsticks you used to whisk the egg at your phone camera, and some of the yolk is thrown onto the screen as your eyes widen, looking back at Sakura to make sure she didn't see what you just did.

You quickly wipe off the gunk before returning to your kitchen duties as if nothing happened, “These eggs are gonna be so good… Though, I did have a pretty bad mealybug problem with the greens at some point… Do you guys know what those are? They’re like these little white dusty bugs that suck the sap out of your plants if you don’t do anything about them. I had SO MANY. But I refused to give up on em and now they're critter free!”

“Yah! Y/n! Don’t talk about the bugs in your plants!! The girls won’t want to eat it then!” Sakura scolds, playfully kicking your side with her leg as she focuses on frying the eggs.

You giggle as you look into the camera, “oops– don’t tell them that there used to be bugs in their food.”

“WHAT?!”

The sound of Kazuha and Chaewon’s shrill voice rings out in the live, and you immediately slam your phone down, giving the viewers a black screen before the live ends.

#kpop x fem reader #kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #kpop #kpop x female reader #le sserafim x reader #kpop x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #lesserafim imagines #sakura x reader #chaewon x reader #yunjin x reader #nakamura kazhuha x reader #eunchae x reader #le sserafim scenarios #miyawaki sakura x reader

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