#of course). when it was never once hinted at before

[r-vera]

Trust me

Summary- Benedict has been acting weird because of an incident involving one of his muses (she attempted to sa him). Reader tried to gently coax him out of his ‘bubble’ though it was no use until she tried to touch him, earning her a jolt.

Rating- Mature (16+)

Paring- Benedict Bridgerton x female!reader

Warnings- Angst, talks of se***l assault, fluff, slight language, established relationship, happy ending (hopefully that’s all)

Words- 1,841

“Daph, may I ask you something?” you quipped quite unexpectedly. Both you and Daphne were basking in this season’s summer heat from inside Clyvedon Castle’s drawing room, enjoying a rather nice cup of tea. Daphne had decided her time being a Duchess was well-earned for now and was in desperate need of her family’s boastful laughs and silly jests—not to mention their hectic dinners—to indulge her once again. You were especially excited for her visit, not only because you had a chance to see Daph’s little bundle of joy, but because you and she were very close, even before the Duke himself. Childhood friends. You remember all those years ago when you tried to encourage her relationship with the Duke, supporting him over the charming but ‘bland’ prince. She reciprocated her feelings, knowing your deep affection for her big brother, Benedict, and desperately tried to get both of you to admit your stubborn feelings for each other. Her efforts successfully paid off, resulting in the love-bird couple getting married two weeks after their confessions.

It was almost the reason you set up a little date with your friend. Your relationship with Benedict had somehow…shifted? You didn’t want to jump to conclusions before talking with your husband; you knew he preferred some space at times, especially if an idea popped into his creative brain and he wanted to sketch or paint it out before the thought could disappear as soon as it came. But this time…this time felt off. Your first hint was waking up to a cold and empty bed, though you passed it off as a little accident from him staying up late painting (it’s usually when he feels most creative), but then those cold mornings became continuous. You felt it was best to leave it as it was, for now—not exactly avoiding the situation but analyzing it for a deeper reasoning. In the afternoon, when the family mostly had time to take a break from important activities, you would greet your husband with a simple “Hello love” or “Have a wonderful evening, Ben,” but it only resulted in brief nods and odd grunts he never let out before. It was a breaking point when he stayed out the whole evening, never coming back until early morning, only making eye contact with you for the first time at breakfast. You never wanted to jump to conclusions with him, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that whatever was troubling him could not be good and would only be revealed if you gently guided him to confess.

“Of course, dear sister,” she said with adoration. “What has been on your mind?” You played with the embroidery on your dress, encouraging yourself to say what had been on your mind for the past week.

“Has Benedict been acting a bit…strange around me?” You could tell your husband had no problems with his family; in fact, you noticed he’d been engaging with them more than he used to. It only added more slight hurt and suspicion to your heart, knowing the problem was most likely you. Your friend only added more salt to the wound when a poorly concealed look of guilt was etched onto her face. Shaking your head, you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to pour from your burning eyes. So it is you. You’re the reason he’s been acting this way; you're the reason he can’t so much as look you in the eye with adoration and instead, uncomfortablene-

“Now, now, I didn’t say I know the reason why he has been acting this way…just that I have noticed,” she said, placing a gloved hand on top of your fidgeting bare ones.

“Have I done something wrong, Daph? Did I disrespect him in any way? Could it be the time I accidentally took the last blueberry tart that one day? I swear I didn’t know that was the last of them!” You remembered his frustration when he found out who ate his favorite dessert that only came seasonally, but he told you it was perfectly fine, blaming himself for not getting to them fast enough. Daphne only smiled at your silly accusation; this was a serious matter, of course, but it was nice to see you deeply care for her brother and his feelings, even going as far as to think of the tiniest times something conflicting had happened between you two.

“It couldn’t possibly be because of something so little and, dare I say, pointless,” Daphne moved closer to you, grabbing both of your hands in the process. “Tell me, when was the last time he acted normal towards you?” You tried to recall, surfing past a week of old memories until focusing on a time when he told you quite happily about a new art project that consisted of a new muse he met at one of the diversified functions he (now rarely) went to. You knew where Benedict’s heart lay and had no problem with who he used for his artistic designs whatsoever, so using another woman for his professional acts never triggered you.

“Well, he was boasting to me about finding a new muse for some artwork before going to bed, and then after his first encounter with the woman, that was when he started to act strange.” Daphne hummed, understanding your words carefully.

“Now, I don’t want to worry you, but maybe his actions have something to do with this muse.” You tried to ignore the deep pang of nervousness within your chest. No. Ben is never the type of person to commit such a vile act.

“I won’t jump to conclusions, but somehow I need to talk with him.” Your dear friend only nodded in agreement.

“It is all you can do, sister. Benedict can have some trouble confessing things that do not relate to others, but with a gentle push, he’ll pour everything he’s tried to conceal out like a waterfall, so don’t try to drown.” She teased with a slight squeeze of your hands, trying to lighten the dark conversation.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

It was now late evening. Most Bridgertons had called it a night, preparing for the next activities that awaited them the next day; meanwhile, you awaited your husband in your shared chambers, sitting on the foot of the bed in your cream nightgown, one of Ben’s favorites. Your husband awkwardly met with you after another time at the bar with Anthony. He stood in front of the entryway, tugging on the collar of his suit as if a hand was wrapped around his throat, stubbornly staying there. You immediately arose from your position, too nervous to say anything that would get him to abruptly leave like other times.

“Ben…” you whispered softly, unintentionally reaching out a delicate hand in the hope he’d grab it and hug you like he never had before and all would be well, but instead, you received a firm nod and a fast-paced walk toward the water closet. “Benedict!” you demanded more firmly, grabbing his hand in the process, but he instantly removed it from your grasp like it was the hottest thing in the world. Benedict stumbled back, wide-eyed with unstable breaths, heart pounding from the touch. You stood where you were, not knowing what to do. Never had he purposely removed your touch; never so quickly and with a face of horror. “What have I done?” you mumbled more to yourself.

Benedict hesitantly said your name but was quickly cut off by your pained voice. “What did you do that day in your art room with that…woman?” you cautiously crept closer to your husband, too afraid he would jerk away once again. Benedict looked as if he was on the verge of vomiting, cringing when you mentioned ‘woman.’

“N-Nothing, love.” Love. The kind and adoring word felt forced and bland coming from him. It only made you inwardly cry once more.

“Benedict, you must tell me. Whatever it is; I won’t get mad. I swear it.” It was like a wave of guilt, hurt, and resentment came crashing out of a dam he tried so desperately to hold back. His eyes were now red and irritated with tears threatening to spill. It was as if his knees had a mind of their own and felt the need to give out, and before he came crashing down, you were there to hold him and gently place yourselves on the carpeted ground. You cradled him, caressed him, gently whispered comforting nothings in his ear—anything and everything to ensure he was alright and safe.

“I-I never meant to hurt you, angel,” he croaked out through his sobs. You shook your head, almost on the verge of tears yourself.

“You can never truly hurt me, Ben; who did this to you? Was it the woman? What did she do?” you questioned wholeheartedly. Benedict cleared his throat while lifting his head to meet your eyes, your slight nod encouraging him to release the burden that had been locked up within his soul for the past week.

“She…She touched me.”

“Touched you?” you repeated, knowing exactly what he implied. You couldn’t bear the culpability to engross your body. You selfishly thought, though very little, that whatever was going on between him and the muse was…intimate, but in true reality, your husband had been assaulted. Your hold on Ben tightened, silently apologizing to his heart over and over again.

“I tried to tell her to stop…I tried to yell, scream, shout ‘stop,’ but every time the word formed in my mouth, it…it melted. I was scared, only thinking about how you would feel if I,” he paused, “if I told you what she tried to do to me. My mother knocked on the door before anything further happened, and I never felt more grateful in my entire life.” You speechlessly cradled your hands on either side of his face, connecting your heads as one.

“Don’t ever be afraid to come to me when you need help, my heart,” you soothed. “I’m sorry for trying to touch you, and I respect it if you would like more space. I’ll find a guest chamber tonight if I have to,” you said before releasing your hold from Benedict, though he grabbed one of your hands and rested it on top of his.

“There's no need. I think I’m alright now, a little jittery but okay. I need you by my side more than ever now.”

“And I’ll be there every step, Ben.” Your smile slowly turned down at the thought of that imbecile of a woman. “I will kill her even if the whole ton watches. Fuck society, fuck Whistledown,” you seethed. Benedict breathed out a chuckle at your antics.

“Though I would have loved to see that, it’s already dealt with.” You ‘awed’ in partial defeat, making your husband laugh more.

“I love you, Benedict. Never forget that,” you demanded sincerely with every nerve and fiber in your body.

“I love you. Never forget it either.”

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my very first complete oneshot and I’m pretty proud of it. It might have some flaws in there but hopefully, I can learn about them and get better. Please tell me if there are any errors or actions that don’t align with the character's personalities and I’ll fix them as soon as possible! Thank you!

Ps, I don’t really know Benedict’s feelings when sad/hurt since he’s kind of a genuine, playful, and overall comfort character in the show so hopefully I got that down but like I said please let me know if anything’s wrong with the short story!!

[iris-qt]

𝚖𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚊

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

🫧 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🫧 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🫧 ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ’ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ!

🫧 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ɪᴛᴀʟʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙ��ɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you haven’t felt since…Merlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.

But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.

You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told you’d never driven a muggle vehicle before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.

You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.

As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, mia angela?” He smirks.

“Nott,” you scoffed. “Small world…or cruel fate,” you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.

Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didn’t think you’d be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate to see me,” Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. “Risking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.”

You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.

“Trust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.”

The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.

“I already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,” he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.

“Are you done?” You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.

He shrugged, looking you over.

“Need help drying off?”

“I need help out of this conversation.”

“Oh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,” he grinned

You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.

Theo laughs, “Are you waiting for a kiss, principessa?”

You open your eyes, confused. “No, I’m waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.”

He laughs again shrugging and says, “I don’t carry my wand around my domain, there’s no need.”

“Then, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?”

He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isn’t hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush you’d been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.

“So why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.” He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.

“I was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,” you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.

“Y/N relaxing? You must be lying.”

He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.

“What’re you gonna do, push me off?” You smirked, half wishing he’d do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.

What you didn’t expect, however, was him saying:

“Precisely.”

And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought he’d attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind of…fun?

Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldn’t help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.

You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way you’ve never heard him laugh before. It was almost…endearing?

You out your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Mia angela, you have something…everywhere.” He bursts into laughter again. “Beware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,” he gasps through his fits of laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.

You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.

“Is this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?”

He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.

“Alas, you have uncovered my motives,” he teases, grinning.

“Well, your actual motives didn’t work. I’m still sopping wet.” You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.

“There’s more to my motives, mia angela. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theo’s hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.

Don’t ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Don’t ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Don’t ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.

Unfortunately, it isn’t in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.

The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat now…something wasn’t right. And that’s when you remembered something that Theo’s warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theo’s fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.

You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening…he had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sun’s doing. How could he overlook this?

Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.

But then he remembered

He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each others’ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

“Well, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, I’d say you almost succeeded.” You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.

“I..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didn’t know..” he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minute…

“Hold on,” you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. “I thought you said you didn’t have your wand?”

Theo’s eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.

“Ok listen before you throw a fit-“

“I don’t throw fits, I diplomatically argue.”

“Before you throw a tantrum, let me explain.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.

“I just…I knew you’d leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, well…” he sighs.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..” he gives a nervous, strained laugh.

“You never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didn’t even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever looked.

You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldn’t fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.

“And so you lied to make me stay?”

Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.

“Maybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?”

You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.

“Theo, in my last 3 days I’ve been in your beautiful home country, I’ve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and I’ve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.”

Theo regains his composer after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .

“Because of me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, looking away.

“Say it, principessa..” he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.

You dramatically sigh and admit, “Yes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.”

He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.

After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.

“Oh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.”

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, “First of all, it’s a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.”

“Ok my little swamp monster,” he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.

“Okok let me say the line.”

“Go ahead, Theo.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because you have the face of una angela.”

He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.

[mewcury-chaos]

📻🍎𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒🍎📻

{𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠}

+ type: oneshot + note: hinting drugs + artwork: @JusciestE

synopsis: Does it ever drive you crazy / Just how fast the night changes?...

[ previous: {Day 5 - Domestic/Demon} ]

────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

Such a peculiar concept, slumbering away through the night. Alastor never felt the need to curl up on the mattress, gently washing away his sorrows. Even if he had matters to attend to, or even worry about, the deer demon wouldn’t waste precious time participating in such futile activities.

The Radio Demon couldn’t care less for his well-being. Alastor wouldn’t risk letting his guard down after…….

The brilliant crimson eyes dimmed as he morphed back into shadows and shade, a daunting grin remained untouched upon the sinner’s lips.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Another sleepless night for the King of Hell.

Lucifer shoved a handful of sleeping pills down his throat, swallowing the tablets in one go. The ruler washed it off with a cup of water before instantaneously slamming back down onto the bed. The pleasurable delirium gradually took over his anxious form as the sin dozed off, dark bags hanging under his eyes…

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Barely two hours later, he groaned in pain, his heart aching, pounding, and thumping heavily in his chest. The pills wore off so hastily.....

The blond let out uneven breaths, rolling over, heaving for air. His limbs were spread eagle, laying in unnatural angles as the fallen angel kept finding himself restlessly twisting and turning on the scratchy sheets.

His nightwear clung to Lucifer like hot glue, a sheen of sweat coating his figure. The thick collar tightened further around his slender neck, threads and fabric tickling the porcelain skin. 

Head spinning and spinning and spinning again in a foggy daze, he clutched his skull between his palms, squeezing and desperately wishing the pain would ebb away the searing heartache coursing through his body.

His innocent Charlie.  Her hopes.  The dreams he couldn’t provide.

The angels. The extermination. When he was almost too late to snatch her from death.

His longing for comfort. The crippling worthlessness. The haunting loneliness.

The golden band on his finger…

The world twirled and danced mockingly in circles ‘round his small frame, the scarlet wallpapers closing in, nearer and nearer until he was chained onto the bed, gritting back the tears daring to spill.

“NO. STOP.”

Lucifer scrambled, fully awake, shoving his weight back against the wooden headboard, hard. The bed creaked soundly. His clawed hands subconsciously scraped at the bedsheets, reducing the cotton to tattered threads and linings.

The blond reached out for the yellow bottle of pills once more, considering getting another handful so as to appease his boiling nerves.

What would Charlie say?

A few shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t have much of an effect on a divine being as himself anyway... 

Lucifer swallowed one, and another just to calm the anxiety and worry steadily coursing through his veins.

The man desperately needed some fresh air.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Alastor sat elegantly upon the red cushions, humming a pleasant tune as he flipped open another page of an old storybook.

The everlasting smile was present on his face, pointed teeth glimmering under the dull light source—an antique lamp perching on the nearby table. 

On this occasion, though, the daunting grin was less unnerving, and more distant, as well as horrifyingly carefree. An unusual expression for the Radio Demon to possess, but considering there was no one, and nothing occupying the vacant lobby, Alastor was free to not care.

That was until……

“Greetings! How do I owe the pleasure of your company at this, ungodly, hour?”

The demon cheered sarcastically before his majesty could utter a singular word.

A sour smirk was plastered, yet again, on the demon’s face. His claw turned to a different page of the book, the paper emitting a satisfying noise. Alastor didn’t even bother to turn a hair.

“Nice ta know I’m not the only-” Lucifer yawned wearily, stretching his arms wide, “-one stuck in this never-ending cycle.”

Footsteps nearing, closer and closer to where he was situated, the red demon continued his reading session without a care.

A small frame plopped down next to him on the velvet sofa, ushering curses and whines around his lack of sleep and insomnia, gently leaning closer to Alastor's slim figure. The feel of his body against the demon's side was more than enough to make his thoughts wander.

The sin can't have been tipsy. No no no. The blond barely has a tolerance for alcohol, so why…..

The pills, only just now, began to take effect. Drawing, urging, promising the ruler a deep, dreamless slumber. Its chemicals spread warmth through his system like a weed, comforting and contenting as Lucifer gradually submitted to his exhaustion.

“Just how fast the night changes, huh?” The angel murmured softly, the last thing he'd say before he curled himself up into a ball, tucking his knees into his chest. The figure soon fell limp, head leaning against Alastor’s broad shoulders.

A strange sense of fondness and endearment filled his dark heart as he eyed the Sin of Pride with interest and annoyance. The action made him feel trapped and uneasy, but it felt. Right...

The Radio Demon weaved a hand to the back of the other’s head, ruffling the silky hair for a moment before he removed the blond from the sitting position to rest peacefully on his lap.

“Little crowling, little crowling, with button-black eyes. Swoops down into the meadow where the rabbits all hide.”

Alastor whispered in a sing-song tone, returning to his readings with a semi-doting smile. It was a lullaby he would use on the cannibal children, whenever they bother their mothers too much. The sinner wasn’t quite sure if it would work on the King of Hell, but, this would be the closest thing to affection Alastor would allow out of himself. For now............ 

“Little rabbit, little rabbit stay by Mother's side. or the crowling, little crowling, will peck out your eyes.”

Alastor would murmur, turning from the lines of his book to glance at the sight of Lucifer, Ruler of Hell, sleeping so politely in his arms. A small, almost sentimental smile licked his sharp features as the demon reached over, then tentatively intertwine their hands. A thumb brushed across the sin's knuckles back and forth mindlessly.

Maybe, just maybe, though seeming so unlikely, deep down, the Radio Demon longed for this fragile moment more than he’d ever know.

────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

[ {masterlist} ] [ next: {Mini-shot - Domestic/Demon} ]

p/s: Lullaby by Ezra Squall from the book series: Nevermoor (Jessica Townsend)

eat, sleep and stay hydrated <333

[judgementdayslittle]

Hi!!Can you write something about a little!fem!reader x caregiver! judgment day where the little girl throws tantrums and causes trouble?...I hope you don't feel uncomfortable about this request <3

Sure thing Anon!

CW: No heavy punishment! Just some corner time

________

-Now usually, you're a good little. You have good manners and follow the rules. But whether it's because your caregivers told you 'no' the day before, or you just woke up grumpy, you feel like causing baby chaos today.

-It started out simple. When Mami came in to say good morning, you just do an angy pout and cross your arms with a 'hmph!'

-Now of course, Rhea doesn't get mad at this. It's quite the oposite in fact. She finds it kind of adorable. But she is curious on why you're acting grumpy that morning.

-"Aw. why's my little girl looking so grumpy? Did she wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" She asked in a cooing voice. "Well lucky for you, Mami has the perfect cure for that."

-Then Mami unleashes her unltamite attack! Kisses! She kisses your head, your cheeks, your nose! All over your face!

-It's so so hard to stay grumpy while Mami gives you love and kisses. But you're on a mission! You're gonna be trouble today dang it! That's your ultimate goal!

-When Rhea realizes that kisses aren't working, she pickes you up out of bed. Figuring that maybe you're just a hangry little baby.

-Downstairs, Papi, Dada, and Dom are all at the table with breakfast set up

-"Good morning mi pequeña princesa." Papi said as he put a plate of food in front of you.

-Which you push away from you without hesitation with a loud "No!"

-The three of them looking at you with confusion and a hint of worry before Rhea speaks up.

-"Our little girl has been feeling grumpy this morning." She explained to them. Followed by an explaination of how kisses didn't work.

-Following the day, you cause more trouble and chaos. Throwing toys across the room, screaming and and kicking the floor for no reason what so ever, and just shouting "No!" at your caregivers, whether they asked you something or not.

-Dada could ask "How are you feeling doll?" And you'll just reply with "No!" Before stomping away.

-They tried nearly everything. Kisses, cuddles, giving you your favorite snack. Even asking you what was wrong. And yet, nothing worked.

-The finale straw was when you pushed down Dom's block tower that he worked so hard on!

-He was screaming and crying on the floor when Mami, Papi, and Dada came to see what was wrong.

-Dom explained with teary eyes "she bwoke my bwocks! My 'ower!"

-Your caregivers tried everything to avoid it, but they had no choice. You had to sit in the corner.

-Mami and Papi worked on cheering up Dom while you sat in the corner for a whole 10 minutes!

-Once the time was up and Dom was calm, all three of them came to talk to you. Looking at you softly and with care, as to not scare you into thinking they were very mad at you.

-"Now bug, we love you very very much. But what you did to Dom's tower wasn't very nice. Me, Papi, and Mami miss our good girl. Do you think our good girl can come back out?"

-You nod, your lip still wobbiling. You feel so bad now!

-But Mami, Papi, and Dada all scoop you up into a big hug! Telling you how much they love you and that they're not mad at you. And that you'll always be their little princess!

-But still, you are expected to apologize to Dom. Which you do. Luckily he forgives you, and you two build his block tower again. This time bigger than ever!

-In the end, you learn that no matter what happens, even if you act a bit naughty, your caregivers will always love you and will never, ever hurt you.

-----

I hope this was something along the lines of what you wanted Anon. I wanted to make it more heartwarming than sad.

[todorokis-girl]

On a collision course - Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader

I read a post a while ago and this was the line that caugh my attention: "Well have you considered that maybe the unstoppable force is in love with the immovable object; maybe the reason one refuses to move is because they both long for the collision"

masterlist

The sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor echoed through Karasuno High School's gymnasium. The boys' volleyball team was practicing, and as usual, Tsukishima Kei was giving it his all, even if his aloof expression didn't show it. His tall frame and impressive blocking skills made him a formidable player on the court, but his sharp tongue and condescending attitude often rubbed people the wrong way.

Y/N, the team's manager, had known Tsukishima since middle school. They had never gotten along. While Y/N was outgoing and passionate, Tsukishima was reserved and indifferent. Their clashes were legendary, and their mutual disdain was well-known among their friends. Y/N believed in encouragement and support, while Tsukishima believed in brutal honesty and criticism.

Today was no different.

"Tsukishima, your timing was off on that last block," Y/N called out, her voice clear and authoritative.

Tsukishima shot her a withering look. "Maybe if you knew anything about volleyball, you'd realize it was a feint. But thanks for your insightful commentary, manager."

Y/N felt her face heat up. "I'm just trying to help. It's not my fault if you're too stubborn to listen."

The tension between them was palpable, and their teammates exchanged wary glances. This was a regular occurrence, and they had learned to stay out of it.

As practice ended, Y/N stayed behind to clean up. She liked the quiet of the gym when everyone else had left. It gave her a chance to think and unwind. She was wiping down the benches when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Tsukishima, his face unreadable.

"Forgot my water bottle," he said curtly, grabbing it from the bench.

Y/N nodded, not wanting to engage further. But as he turned to leave, she couldn't help herself. "You know, just because we don't agree on everything doesn't mean you have to be such a jerk."

Tsukishima stopped and turned back to her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "And just because you think you're always right doesn't mean you are."

Y/N sighed, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you always have to be so naive?" he shot back. "This isn't some feel-good story where everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya. This is volleyball. It's about winning."

Y/N stared at him, her anger giving way to something else. "Maybe it's not just about winning, Tsukishima. Maybe it's also about working together, about being a team."

For a moment, Tsukishima didn't respond. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Then he shook his head. "Whatever. Believe what you want."

As he walked away, Y/N felt a pang of sadness. She didn't understand why he had to be so cold, why he pushed everyone away. She wanted to help him, to break through that wall he had built around himself. But she didn't know how.

Days turned into weeks, and the animosity between Y/N and Tsukishima continued. Yet, something had changed. Their arguments were still frequent, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, Y/N found herself alone in the gym once more. She was lost in thought when she heard the door open and close. Expecting it to be one of the players, she was surprised to see Tsukishima.

"Hey," he said, his tone unusually soft.

Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat. "Hey."

There was an awkward silence before Tsukishima spoke again. "I… I wanted to apologize. For earlier. And for… everything."

Y/N blinked, taken aback. "What brought this on?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am too stubborn. And maybe… maybe I push people away because I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle.

"Of getting close to people. Of getting hurt," he admitted, his eyes downcast.

Y/N's heart ached at his vulnerability. She took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to be afraid, Tsukishima. You have people who care about you. And… I care about you too."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. "You do?"

She nodded, her hand still on his arm. "I do."

For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged with emotion. Then, slowly, Tsukishima reached out and pulled her into a hug. It was tentative at first, but as Y/N wrapped her arms around him, he held her tighter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"It's okay," she whispered back. "We're in this together."

The change in their relationship was gradual but undeniable. They still bickered, but there was a warmth now, a connection that hadn't been there before. They learned to trust each other, to support each other, and in the process, they grew closer.

One evening, after a long day of practice and homework, Y/N and Tsukishima found themselves walking home together. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the town. They walked in comfortable silence, their hands brushing occasionally.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the gym that day?" Tsukishima asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked at him, puzzled. "Which part?"

"The part about working together, about being a team," he said, his voice soft.

She nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression serious. "I think… I think that's when I realized I was falling for you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

He nodded, taking her hands in his. "Yeah. I know I've been difficult, and I've said things I shouldn't have. But the truth is, I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're the unstoppable force, and I'm the immovable object. And maybe… maybe the reason I refused to move was because I longed for the collision."

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes as she smiled. "You know, for someone who doesn't talk about their feelings much, you sure know how to say the right thing."

He chuckled, pulling her closer. "Well, I had a good teacher."

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So, what now?"

"Now," he said, leaning in to kiss her softly, "we see where this collision takes us."

As their lips met, Y/N felt a surge of happiness. She had always believed in the power of working together, of being a team. And now, with Tsukishima by her side, she knew they could face anything.

Together, they were unstoppable.

The days that followed were filled with a newfound sense of camaraderie and affection. Tsukishima, despite his initial reluctance, began to open up more, not just to Y/N but to the entire team. His sharp remarks became less frequent, replaced by genuine contributions and encouragement. The team noticed the change, and their performance on the court improved as a result.

One day, after practice, the team gathered in the locker room. Hinata, ever the curious one, finally voiced what everyone had been wondering.

"Hey, Tsukishima, Y/N," he began, a mischievous grin on his face. "What's going on with you two? You've been acting... different."

Kageyama nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, it's like you two are getting along or something."

The rest of the team murmured their agreement, all eyes on Tsukishima and Y/N. Tsukishima glanced at Y/N, who gave him an encouraging smile.

Taking a deep breath, Tsukishima decided to be honest. "Well, we had a bit of a... breakthrough. We've realized that we work better together rather than against each other."

Hinata's eyes widened in excitement. "Does that mean you two are...?"

Y/N laughed, cutting him off before he could finish. "Yes, Hinata, we're together."

The team erupted in cheers and playful teasing. Nishinoya and Tanaka gave Tsukishima exaggerated thumbs-ups, while Suga and Daichi offered genuine congratulations. Even Kageyama managed a rare smile.

As the team settled down, Tsukishima felt a sense of relief. It felt good to have their support and understanding. He turned to Y/N, who was beaming at him.

"Looks like they approve," she said softly.

"Looks like it," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

Y/N and Tsukishima found solace in each other. They spent their free time studying, hanging out, and sometimes just enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. The more they learned about each other, the stronger their bond grew.

One evening, after a particularly tough practice session, the team gathered for a casual dinner at a local diner. As they laughed and shared stories, Y/N couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. She glanced at Tsukishima, who was sitting across from her, engaged in a rare, light-hearted conversation with Hinata and Kageyama.

As if sensing her gaze, Tsukishima looked up and met her eyes. He gave her a small, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. In that moment, she knew that the collision they had both longed for had transformed them in ways they hadn't expected.

After dinner, Tsukishima offered to walk Y/N home. The night was cool, and the stars twinkled above them as they strolled through the quiet streets. Y/N leaned into his side, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

"Thank you," Tsukishima said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. "For what?"

"For pushing me," he replied. "For believing in me even when I didn't deserve it. You've changed me, Y/N. You've made me want to be a better person."

She smiled, feeling a swell of affection for the boy who had once been her enemy. "And thank you for letting me in. For trusting me. I wouldn't change a thing."

They walked in silence for a while longer, lost in their thoughts. When they reached Y/N's house, Tsukishima hesitated before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, his tone uncharacteristically shy.

"Of course," Y/N replied, curious.

"Do you think… do you think this is real? What we have?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

Y/N took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I think it's as real as it gets, Tsukishima. We're not perfect, but we're perfect for each other. And that's what matters."

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned down to kiss her. It was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

As they pulled apart, Y/N smiled up at him. "We're unstoppable

, remember?"

He chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, we are."

They said their goodbyes, and as Y/N watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel excited for the future. They had faced their fears and doubts, and now they were stronger for it. Together, they were ready to take on whatever challenges came their way.

And so, the unstoppable force and the immovable object continued their collision course, hand in hand, ready for whatever the world had in store for them.

[romance-rambles]

[modern] cael | red dress, white dress

After Cael picks up a new hobby relating to your latest work, the two of you discuss weddings and wedding dresses. It ends with a proposal, from you to him.

1.8k, set after qixi [+ some spoilers for his whisper], romantic fluff + super self-indulgent, reader is mc, sequel to this cael fic [but you don't have to read it in order], series: none

IN THE TIME SINCE THE night of the QIxi festival, Cael has discovered an amusing new hobby with which to occupy himself with, when he's with you.

The words that the painter and the spirit speak—particularly towards end of your oneshot—are, evidently, not unrelated to your relationship with him. That much is obvious. And it'd be rather difficult to claim otherwise, given the faces they wear.

You haven't tried to, either.

Between the two of you, there is an acknowledgment, implicit, that they are a reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires. That they are the kind of daydreams that even someone eloquent as him would find difficult to describe, domestic and loving—just tumultuous enough to describe their standing, with the sort of fairytale ending most would wish for. That they are memories, transformed only in setting and time—only this time, they are not newly acquainted or on a time limit.

He thinks of the quaint little moment where the painter promises to make sure that no one will bother his lover. Had he not done the same for you, once, long ago?

He remembers the casual affection the spirit showers upon her love too, the way she finds herself with her head on his lap underneath the wisterias, and if that ever stops feeling familiar, it must be because he's lost his mind.

After all, you've always been an affectionate person. How can he miss it when the evidence remains in the lingering heat left by your touch? Through the way you so easily take his hand, or throw your arms around him—

When your lovesick gaze isn't boring holes into his body, that is.

He's no better in that regard. In some ways, he thinks he might be worse, with the way his loving gaze seems incapable of following anyone but you. But you might turn it into a competition if he brings it up, so Cael—well aware it won't end well for him—keeps his mouth shut.

Still, it's clear that you never expected him to start quoting your dialogue back at you.

It reminds him of one of the first times he'd properly let his mask down. The way the gears turned in your head, your deer-in-headlights expression betraying your panic before he'd clarified his joke. You'd stared at him—half-relieved, half-surprised, sitting in the silence a bit longer before you laughed.

Today, when you stare at him, there is a hint of defiance peeking through from underneath your flustered mien.

You're dressed casually, in a yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt with one of your favorite cartoon characters. Jagged lines run across the drawing, signaling its age. Some parts of the design have entirely vanished, but it remains one of your most faithful companions still.

With your head on his lap and legs thrown over the armrest, you're sprawled across the couch. In your hand is your phone, and before he dropped his line of the day on you, you'd been showing him a red dress that you really liked—one you intended to buy with your next paycheck.

"Thank you." The effect of your haughty tone is greatly lessened by the scarlet hue painting your cheeks. You clear your throat. "Does that mean you'd like to see me in a red dress?"

Cael chuckles, brushing your hair gently. "To me, it seems like you're the one who wants to be seen in a red dress."

"Of course, I do," you reply, your hand reaching out to play with his hair. "But red or white, it's not the dress that matters. As long as there's a certain someone waiting for me at the end."

For a moment, his quick-thinking mind betrays him, offering him nothing but static. He puts down the book in his hand down and carefully adjust the bookmark until it looks neat. His attention had left its crisp pages when you'd sat down beside him, but it remained in his hand still.

Occasionally, he would flip to the next page, then remember that he had absorbed none of the words on the previous page. So, he would go back, a fact that had not escaped your keen gaze—you'd teased him plenty for it, and who was he to stop you?

"I wonder who that certain someone is," he murmurs.

"I think he knows who he is," you answer, holding onto the end of his now braided strands. After a moment of digging around in your pockets, and the sofa as well, you managed to find a hair tie. "Or, he should, by this point."

"Indeed," Cael says, earning himself a wry smile from you. "It would be difficult to miss."

Enamored by your smile, he sifts through his memories, searching for the line that had left every single reader in desperate search of their own painter.

You'd been rather pleased when you went scrolling through the comments, with a smile so big it bordered on evil. So pleased, in fact, that you made sure to show him every such comment. The underlying meaning to your words was clear—you'd already found your painter, after all.

You'd have a big ego if you were dating someone so pretty too, you'd said, when he'd commented offhandedly on it.

He remembers responding with:

Then I'm certain I have the biggest ego out of anyone.

Though, his words ended up only disarming you for a brief second. It wasn't long before you were throwing your arms around him and calling him a liar ". But for the time being, the comment section was forgotten, and it was just you and him—and Beanie, watching you both from his favorite spot underneath the round table in the corner, seemingly miffed at being excluded.

He had snuck in a few extra treats for him.

Then, all was well in their relationship once more.

"'If that day ever comes, no matter what you want—'" Cael smiles helplessly, remembering the way you'd so easily captured his expression on the painter's face. "'I'll do everything in my power to bring you the most elegant wedding in the entire world.' Though you said the dress itself doesn't matter..."

You inhale sharply, seemingly forgetting—for a moment—that you're in the middle of braiding another section of his hair. When you look back at him, having looked away, your eyes are shining with poorly-disguised affection and your voice is painfully soft.

"When," you correct. "When that day comes. That's what I should've written down."

Letting go of his hair, you pull yourself off his lap and draw your knees closer to your chest. You rest your head on his shoulder. And as loose dark hair begins to tickle his cheek, his hand seeks out yours, pinky finger brushing against the back of your hand.

"When that day comes, we'll get married."

His gaze softens when he looks at you, in the midst of murmuring his agreement. Your wedding is something he's thought about often—his own is not. But now, the groom at the altar is no longer a blurry figure, devoid of any recognizable qualities and having only an aura of happiness that befits a day so celebrated.

It is something he'll ponder over until the day comes, all so that you're the happiest bride to ever live, whether on Earth or any other world.

"Good." You squeeze his hand gently. "Consider it a proposal then."

"It's the first time I've ever been proposed to," he comments offhandedly.

"Really?" For some reason, you sound surprised. And though your words sound like they could pass for a joke, the thoughtful note to them makes it clear that they are not. "Alright, I'm taking it back. I'll make sure to come back with a ring next time."

Cael smiles helplessly at you. "I'm not sure if you can take something like that back so easily."

His breath catches in his throat when you lift your head slightly to meet his gaze. Because in that moment, you're smiling at him brightly, It is blinding. While he's distracted, you lean in close and steal a quick kiss from his lips.

"Temporary measure," you respond, squinting at him in faux annoyance. "You're not getting rid of me so easily."

In a voice so soft that he's half certain you'll miss it, he says, sincerely, "I would never dream of it."

Judging by the way your smile widens into a grin, you don't miss it at all.

+extra

"YOU KNOW, YOU MISSED IT BEFORE," you point out unexpectedly, long after they've moved on from the topic of weddings and wedding dresses.

Cael catches onto the context immediately.

It's past dinner time now. The dirty dishes in the sink wait for you and your yellow rubber gloves patiently for their turn. He'd been the one to make dinner, something quick and easy, per your request. Your wish for the day had been "a lazy day together", so your initial intention was to order to takeout.

But halfway through the day, you began to crave his cooking.

Once he'd made sure the ingredients were there, getting them both out of a trip to the supermarket, you had no reason to refuse his offer. So you'd scrapped your plans and followed him into the kitchen to help.

"I'm not sure it would've been very appropriate to point out," he says, from where he sits at the dining table.

He'd expected nothing to come out of it, so he simply never brought it up. There were more important things to worry about at the time—your presence in Godheim, and all that came after that. His heart aches at the memory of your tears, particularly because he'd been the one to cause them.

They'd never properly spoken of it—of the day Peter Pan understood, but could not bring himself to make peace with, the fact that Wendy would have to leave him one day.

"After all, you were a teenager," Cael adds, remembering what he'd told your friend Natalie. "It would be no different than taking advantage of you."

His words, however, go in one ear and go out the other. You're rather specific about what you choose to pick out from his words, your next words discarding all but the subtext.

"So, you did know about my crush on you."

Though your words are undeniably a conclusion, a statement and not a question, they carry with them an expectation of a response. You crane your neck to fix him with an equally expectant stare, as if the weight behind your words isn't enough.

"Yes, I knew about your crush on me," Cael admits wryly. A helpless sigh accompanies his words. "What brought this on?"

You hum strainedly, returning to your dishes. "Nothing."

For the time being, he leaves it at that.

It is only when the two of you happen to encounter Lars while on a date that he discovers the truth, after some coaxing on his part. That you'd been under the impression that your crush on him was a secret kept carefully under wraps. That it'd been Lars who'd guessed otherwise—after some advice on how to handle Cael's new hobby—and subsequently been proven correct, leaving you to sulk on your own.

Unsurprisingly, Cael does not manage to stifle his laughter before you notice.

[yutaleks]

eren mentioned 👁️👁️🤲 psssspspsppspspspssp aleks…. let him linger for just a little longer…

Forest!!! while you’re here I’ll give you a little Eren blurb I wrote some time ago that I’ve never posted before. Just for you 🤲🏽

Eren trudges up the stairs outside of his home, his work bag slung over his shoulder, and a napping 6 year old perched in his arm. Her light brown hair–once tied in a cute ponytail by her father that morning, now limp with a hair tie hanging by a thread–brushes against Eren’s collar. Her little arms are wrapped around his neck, and he can feel the light rise and fall of her chest against his as she naps. He smells her familiar scent of lavender shampoo–the kind that you recommended to him some months ago–with just a hint of the smell of grass. She must’ve been rolling around in it at recess, he figures.

With his free arm he digs into his pocket for his keys. They jingle loudly, and he peers down at his daughter to see if the sound wakes her up. Not even when they make it to the front door, and he jams the key into the lock, does she stir. Once the door unlocks, he gives it a little shove, hand still gripping the door knob. He expects to walk into a darkened living room, like he always does.

Instead when he steps in, the lights are on inside the house.

With brows furrowed he steps out of his oxfords in the entryway. He readjusts his daughter in his arms so that he can take off the bag that’s hanging off his shoulder. While he sets the bag down, Eren looks around the living room. Nothing seems out of place. He runs a hand through the loose bangs that hang over his forehead, pushing them back with a sigh. He’s confused, especially when he hears the sounds of metal pans clattering coming from the kitchen.

He opens his mouth, right about to call out and ask who it is, when suddenly there’s a loud noise from the kitchen.

“Shit!”

Instantly Eren’s face relaxes at the sound, a smile spreading across his lips. He walks faster towards the kitchen, and in his haste his daughter starts to wake up. When Eren stands right at the entrance to the kitchen, he stops to watch the one-woman show (read: disaster) before him.

It’s you who’s snuck into his house, he realizes as he grins. Of course it would be you.

“Fuck you,” you curse under your breath as the red sauce splashes back at you, spattering red spots onto your face and your clothes. With the back of your hand, you wipe at the red sauce that stains your cheek. You’re already so annoyed, and the lasagna before you that refuses to cooperate is only making it worse.

“Arguing with the food again?” Eren asks, biting back a smirk as he leans against the door frame.

“Oh my god–Eren! Fuck!”

His voice nearly gives you a heart attack, you’re just so focused on building the layers of the dish that you hadn’t even noticed him come in. His eyes immediately go down to his daughter, who’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Don’t make me restart the swear jar,” he says, a hollow threat that sounds more like a tease.

“Sorry,” you apologize, though behind his daughter’s curious gaze Eren’s holding back a laugh.

He walks further into the kitchen with a soft smile on his face, exhaustion clear in his eyes. Today’s been a long day, and admittedly he wasn’t looking forward to coming home, but seeing you here always brightens his day.

“Is that lasagna?” The little girl perched in his arms, who mere seconds ago was asleep, asks excitedly.

“It’s a good attempt at lasagna,” Eren replies with a chuckle. “Though maybe you should’ve stuck to making it in the pan and not on your face.”

“Shush Jaeger,” you reply, spreading the ricotta cheese in what is the final layer of your masterpiece. “Talking tough now but you’ll be in heaven when you eat this.”

“I want some!” The excited six year old exclaims.

“Don’t worry Ymir, you’ll get as much as you want,” you say as you turn just enough to face her. You both share a smile and Eren once again thinks to himself how lucky he is to have you around, his closest friend.

When he sets Ymir down onto the ground and she runs over to her toys, Eren leans against the kitchen counter. He watches intently as you finish the final layer of the lasagna, garnishing it with what seems like an obscene amount of shredded cheese.

“So what’s all this?” Eren finally asks, gesturing with an open palm to the mess you’ve made on the countertop.

“Well when we spoke earlier on the phone you said you had that big meeting today.” He nods and you tack on with a shrug of your shoulders, “Figured you could use some help with dinner.”

“You’re amazing, did you know that?” He means it, genuinely—what would he do without you?

You laugh, “You only tell me every day. Though it doesn’t hurt to hear it more.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, leaning against the counter. Even with the exhaustion that settles into the curves of his face, you find his expression entirely charming. Handsome.

“I’ll make sure to tell you as often as you wanna hear it.”

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I was thinking the other night, that for some reason I could see Kingdom Hearts ending this way:

The entire story wrapped up (somehow) and everyone finally getting their happy ending. And we actually get to see Sora and the gang finally fully living out their lives and dying happily (think the beginning of Up). And that's the last thing we see before a black screen.

Nomura said once that he was trying to think of a way to end the series so no one could ever continue it, which I get. It's his baby that he's been working on for a large number of years now. I could understand why he wouldn't want someone coming in someday to continue it and potentially ruin it in his eyes.

But then we get some after credits scene where it becomes clear that Sora's been reincarnated into a new life, now that reincarnation is a thing in this series. (But, like, this wouldn't be a way to continue the story. Because things have so very much been wrapped up--like there are no Keyblades, Heartless, Nobodies, Unversed, Dream Eaters or what have you anymore; and this is a new Sora in a new life, and who knows how much like old!Sora he is. He's exactly like old!Sora, but shh. If you were to continue the story--and really, you shouldn't--you'd have to come up with a completely new premise, pretty much.) And you just know that he's going to find his friends, who have been reincarnated into new lives, too.

That way the series ends with a sense of hope and a new beginning, almost.

Not that the ending itself wouldn't have had that sense of hope, in a sense. It would have been a happy ending, at least (however, I can see people being sad that we see the crew die, even though we got to see them living the happy, full lives they'd more than earned).

But Sakaguchi when he created Final Fantasy said that one of the most important things to him with the series, was that whatever happened in the hours before, he always wanted Final Fantasy games to end with a sense of hope for the future: where it seemed like things could always get better. And that's something that Nomura carried over to the Kingdom Hearts series when he created it.

And I feel like such an ending might have that kind of feeling, and might be something he would do. And this does seem to tick off all his boxes of what he's going for with the ending (that we know so far) to me. -shrugs-

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what’s mine is yours

synopsis. suguru is a good best friend—he shares everything. just this once, he shares you too

word count. 2.1k (it's short i promise)

contents. fem! reader, reader is suguru's girlfriend, minors do not interact, virgin satoru <3, cuckolding, fingering, safe sex (who am i ?? jk suguru would not let satoru hit raw lol), petnames (princess, baby, and sweetheart), suguru teaching satoru how to fuck <3

notes. dash pls look away. i am horny at 1 am

satoru, for all his big talk and loud front all these years, is still a virgin. suguru finds it a tad bit funny—but out of the kindness of his heart, he decides to help his best friend change that.

how? you, of course.

“be careful how you handle her,” suguru says with a sly smile, “she’s still my girlfriend—and i have to take care of her. isn’t that right, baby?” his gaze turns to you, finger stroking your cheek gently as you whimper.

“so wet,” satoru mumbles, fingers sinking curiously into your dripping cunt, flexing slowly to pump in and out of you as you whine. his fingers are long, maybe longer than suguru’s—but not nearly as skilled.

“yeah?” suguru chuckles, “bet you like that, huh? careful though, satoru—don’t get used to this. she’s still mine.”

suguru, the ever gracious best friend, has always been one to share. he decides perhaps he can extend the favor to include his girlfriend too—but you’re precious, sweet and kind and oh so doting. he can’t share you permanently. no, it’s a one time thing—after that, satoru will have to find his own perfect little pussy to savor.

“you really get all of this? all to yourself?” satoru marvels, thumbing your clit as you gasp, your hand reaching over to clutch at suguru’s pants. his hand rests over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he hums soothingly.

“yeah,” your boyfriend grins, “every day. whenever i want. right, baby?”

“uh huh,” you nod—and then you cut yourself off with a squeal when satoru’s fingertips brush against that sweet spot deep within your walls, making you flutter around him with a tight squeeze. he doesn’t find it as easily as suguru, doesn’t know how to angle and curl the tips of his fingers when he sinks into you.

and fuck, satoru thinks, suguru is so damn lucky.

“she’s a vocal one,” he chuckles, “you’ve been living the dream.”

“you should hear her when you use your mouth,” suguru chuckles—how embarrassing. you want to crawl onto his lap and hide away in his neck, hide away from satoru’s eyes that are watching you so carefully. satoru has good eyes—the best, even.

but you also like it. for some reason, when his eyes stare down at you with a darkened shade of blue you’ve never seen before, you feel the slick pooling from your core, smearing down your thighs and glossing over his fingers, wetter than ever.

satoru has that effect on people—even if he is a bit inexperienced.

“do i get to do that too?” he asks, sending your boyfriend a lopsided smirk.

suguru raises a brow, tightening his hand’s grip on yours before grunting a low, “don’t get ahead of yourself, satoru.”

“you said it yourself, suguru,” he chuckles, “what’s mine is yours.”

“not her,” suguru growls. and then, sweetly, he turns to you before pecking your forehead with a gentleness he keeps for only you. “you ready, princess?”

“princess,” satoru repeats thoughtfully, “yeah i guess you’re a bit of a princess, aren’t ya?”

“p-please,” you sniffle, tugging on suguru’s wrist, “need more, sugu.”

“yeah? he’s not doing his job, is he?” suguru pouts in sympathy, but his eyes are laced with amusement—like he’s enjoying the show in front of him. you’re sure he is, if the throbbing erection he sports is of any hint.

“hey,” satoru gasps, wounded, “i’m doing exactly what you told me—”

“here,” suguru throws him a condom, cutting him off, “put that on. you’re out of your mind if you think you’re feeling her. that’s only for me.”

“fine,” satoru huffs. you watch as he rolls the condom over his neglected cock—it’s red, swollen and aching, flushed at the tip and drooling with pre cum as he hisses when his hand wraps around it.

it’s pretty, you’ll give him that. satoru isn’t as thick as suguru, but he makes up for it by being a bit longer. he curves a bit with a thick vein running along the underside of his cock, balls heavy as they hang painfully, achingly full. he’s neatly trimmed—messy white strands of hair unlike suguru’s dark ones. you don’t know which one you prefer, if you could even pick one of you had to.

you watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his mouth parts with a low gasp when he accidentally teases the tip a bit as he clumsily works the rubber over himself. he’s sensitive at the head—just like suguru. gives those sweet little breathy whimpers when his slit is thumbed at. it’s cute, you think, maybe not as cute as suguru—but it’s still pretty adorable.

“go slow when you go in,” suguru warns, “if you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

“she’s tough, she can take it,” satoru pats your cheek with a sly grin, “aren’t you, princess?”

“watch it, satoru,” you hear suguru growl, “don’t get too comfortable.”

“aw, it’s all in good fun, right? she’s taking it so well.”

you do take it well—you let satoru’s fingers play with your for ages, let him learn where to find that sensitive spot is in the back of your walls, let him rub your clit slowly—even if you ache for those fast circles suguru always gifts you with. and now, you’re even letting him slide into you, slowly but surely, inching his hardened cock into your impatiently wet cunt with agonizing patience.

“that feel good, baby?” suguru asks you once satoru’s buried to the hilt, splitting you almost in two as you breathe unevenly and nod. and satoru? well, he’s not faring any better—grit teeth and clenched jaw, panting harshly as he focuses on not cumming right then and there.

you’re tight—way tighter than his hand, and way warmer too. fuck suguru for making him wear the condom, and fuck suguru for landing such a perfect pussy too. he doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to using his fist after a taste of this.

“you can move now—go slow at first, and then go faster when she’s close. she likes that. and don’t forget this,” suguru’s hand travels to your clit, giving a soft little pat that makes you whimper before he rubs it with those quick circles you love so much. “she likes when you touch this too. they all do—so when you get yourself your own girl to fuck, make sure you remember that.”

“i know what the clit is,” satoru grumbles, “i’ve watched porn, y’know.”

“i bet,” suguru chuckles, “is this your first time seeing a clit in person? pretty, isn’t it? everything about her is pretty.”

“suguru,” you whine in embarrassment, burying your head back into the pillow as much as you can, “you talk so much.”

“baby,” he insists, “someone has to humble him. he’s all bark and no bite.”

“i can too bite,” satoru grunts—and to prove it, he angles his hips to pull out, almost completely, before thrusting back into you. you cry out—clutching suguru’s hand tightly as your tits bounce. satoru let’s out a choked moan, gasping as you squeeze around his sensitive cock, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

it’s so good. suguru has it so good. you’re so good—perfect, even.

“f-fuck, more, need more,” you sob, and because suguru can’t help himself, his hand grabs at your tit, pinching and tugging at your nipple as he lets you squeeze his other hand in yours. “please, please—faster.”

“you heard her,” suguru hums, “she needs it faster.”

satoru’s good at fucking you—for his first time, he’s got your back arching and toes curling rather quickly. the blunt head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with ease, long and curved enough to nudge against it with every roll of his hips. of course, no one knows how to fuck you until you see stars like suguru—but he comes to a close second.

your gasps have turned into long, wanton moans, and satoru moans in sync, head falling next to yours on the pillow as his breath fans over your shoulder with every harsh pant. his hips are rutting into you, slamming desperately as he feels you squeeze around him with every deep thrust. you can hear the squelching sound of your arousal as he bullies into your dripping cunt, smeared along the insides of your thighs. it’s messy, it’s rushed, it’s desperate and it feels so, so good.

satoru has never felt this good—and you? well….you have to admit you’ve never felt like this before either. it’s new, maybe not better, but certainly not worse.

“oh, fuck,” satoru groans, voice cracking as he whines against your shoulder, “f-fuck your so tight—‘s so good. so, so good….’m not g-gonna last much longer.”

“are you close, baby?” suguru strokes your cheek, watching as your eyes squeeze and your face twists in pleasure, “can’t have him be the only one cumming. that’s no good.”

“close! ‘m…’m so close, sugu. gonna cum,” you gasp as you nod.

if satoru wasn’t so lost on the feeling of your tight walls constricting around him, fluttering so perfectly that he almost feels like he can’t move, he might have protested that you addressed suguru and not him—he’s the one fucking you after all. it should be him you’re telling that you’re close, not your boyfriend. just because suguru is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s the one who gets to bear the reward for making you cum.

right now, that’s satoru.

“aw c’mon, sweetheart, you’re gonna—o-oh, shit,” he cuts himself off with a breathy moan, “you’re gonna make me cry. say my name too, yeah?”

“satoru,” suguru warns lowly.

“see? jus’ like that. yeah, pretty? say it just how suguru did,” satoru, murmurs against your ear, biting your earlobe softly.

your hand, much to suguru’s dismay, tugs from his grasp so your arms can wrap around satoru’s neck and cling to his large figure as he towers over you, fucking you mercilessly. his pace is frenzied now—that steady ache building up in his throbbing length is about to burst, and that coil in your belly feels like it’ll snap any second too.

“s-satoru, please—‘m c-close, so close,” you mewl, “wanna cum.”

he grins, blue eyes raking over your body as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harshly over it in that way you’ve been craving.

“yeah? you close, pretty? ‘s good to hear. i am too,” he murmurs lowly, finishing the sentence off with a shaky gasp as you squeeze around him.

and then you fall over the edge—he sends you hurtling into your high before you can ever register it. it’s new, satoru thinks—it makes his hips stutter for a second when he feels you spasm around his cock like that, sucking him in and squeezing around him enough that he chokes on a whimper and cums right then and there too. he thinks it’s a miracle he held out just long enough to cum after you, thanking anyone who’s listened to his prayers of lasting. it’s almost impossible not to finish immediately with how your walls hug around his length.

by now, his hips have lost any rhythm they might’ve had before, sloppily rutting into you as he desperately rides out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum spilling into the condom that separates him from fully feeling your warmth. he’s sensitive—his cock is throbbing even as he lets go of that built up tension in the form of white, hot release. you milk him until he’s almost certain he’s got nothing left to give, dry and worn out from the way you pulse so harshly around him.

“so good—m-make me feel so good,” satoru breathes in wonder as he finishes, thumb slowing itself along your clit before his body slumps over yours.

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s a mess of limbs as he rests over you, still quivering over your body from the aftershocks of his orgasm. it’s earth shattering—how you make him feel. has he really been missing out on this all this time?

“you’re heavy,” you grumble, patting at his shoulder. he chuckles into your neck, catching his breath.

“yeah? heavier than suguru?”

“i’m careful enough to collapse next to her,” suguru mutters from the side.

“fuck, that was amazing,” satoru rolls over, sprawling himself on the mattress next to you, chest heaving as he breathes, “i see why suguru spoils you so much. you keep him happy, huh?”

“oh yes,” suguru drawls, eyes narrowing. gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs at you, making you sit up as you eye the bulge in his pants and the large wet spot of pre cum staining the fabric. “you’ll see just how happy she makes me in a second here—she’s good with her mouth too.”

idk what possessed me to write this i rly don't. all i know is i want them both carnally

NO PART TWO — please STOP commenting that

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[sexbot300]

‧˚₊•୨୧ Ya know, just crushing on your friends older dad (toji pls corrupt me) quick messy drabble of his fine ass

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

It just started off as tiny thoughts… Broad ass shoulders, thick thighs, huge arms that can put you in a chokehold… You can go ON. You couldn’t even bring yourself to admit the way this man could absolutely degrade you and you would smile in the entirety of it.

‘Sleepovers are so fun’ another one of your thoughts. Not only do you get to stay over with your friends but there is eye candy to admire every once in a while. You just so happened to be wearing your shortest black spandex shorts that accentuate every curvature of your ass and a cream-colored cropped tank top that spills out half of your cleavage. I mean! What if it gets stuffy and sickly hot when you sleep? Completely innocent!!

This leaves you in a predicament. Megumi asked of you to get a snack downstairs, but poor you! Too short to reach the top cabinet :(

You huff and puff while standing on your tippy toes, sleek cabinet opened, one hand gripped at the edge of the granite countertop for support. Your other arm outstretched, nails lightly grazing the colorful box of candy your dear friend wanted. With every muscular push from your calf muscles, you bounce a little and recoil the exposed parts of your body.

Sneakily, unaware, a presence loomed behind you, enjoying the pathetic little effort of what you decided to call “clothes.”

A musky scent engulfed your senses as a chiseled body pressed up against you. Before you had time to process what was going on, the body proceeded to press slightly more against you, adding on pressure. Your hand that was once extended to grab the box, soon had a veiny, stronger, and massive hand gripping onto your wrist.

What you can make out to be a pelvis, pressed against the own fat of your ass, paired with another hand clutching the indent of your waist aided in lifting you up. Soon your feet were completely off the ground and you couldn’t help but feel something, hard, press against you. You quickly understood that this was him offering a helping hand, as the thicker hand stretched your own to grab the box. By the grace of God, you managed to grip the object that got you in this dilemma without dropping it.

“There you go, you got it.” A rumbling occurred against your back as his chest released the deep voice that almost felt taunting. The voice that spoke was smooth, laced with a grin.

Slowly looking up you realized he hasn’t dropped you yet. Ass still pressed against his dick, feet in the air. Did he notice your light blush scattered across your face? No, play innocent. Staring, you found his emerald eyes that showed every hint of amusement, his scarred lip that curved up a bit and his raven hair that fell across his face. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to die right then and there or leave every bit of dignity behind. He looked down at you like prey, you decided to play in.

“See? Wasn’t so bad.” He spoke in a silky voice, never losing his smirk. You only gave him a look of pure innocence; brows furrowed, rosy lips puckered out, and big doe-like eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Fushiguro. I really appreciate it.” His cock twitched. “But, can you please put me down now?” Lacing every word you say with the most saccharine voice you can muster.

His face only softened up. “Of course.” As he let go of the tight embrace on your wrist, he still held a firm position of his pelvis against your ass. Your toes slowly touched the ground but clumsy you, you dropped the box onto the counter! Still maintaining eye contact with the man that looked like he wanted to dig his teeth into you, you let out a tiny, “oops!”

Proceeding to fully touch the ground you quickly look down onto the countertop to grab the contents. But oh, no, no, no. You just had to be a brat. Slowly arching over, you wiggled your ass against the older mans hard on. Eliciting friction to your cunt that needs to be touched so desperately wasn’t the smartest idea. But the other man found himself even further amused by this, his clothed dick loosely making out the indents of your folds. You finally grabbed the box you ‘dropped.’

You blinked looking at him, feigning innocence while his grin deepened. “I can go now Mr. Fushiguro.” Quickly, he slender fingers dug into your hip bones making you pathetically let out a gasp. Forcing your ass almost impossibly close against his dick, even with the barrier of clothes. He slowly, rocked himself up and down, creating lewd noises you choke back.

“Go ahead… give it to them upstairs. I can then accidentally “drop” your panties on the ground as well.”

You blankly stared, mouth agape suppressing any noise, while he still rocked you back and forth on him. “What’s with the blank mind now princess? We’re still playing fair aren’t we? It’s about time you got dick from the man you practically eye fuck.”

He let out a chuckle, “Sick girl. Don’t worry. You won’t need to dress like a slut in my house any further. I’ll take real good care of you, if you can just shut up and take it.”

You pulled your bottom lip in slightly sucking it, testing your luck, knowing that this day will finally come. “Okay, Daddy.”

An even wider grin appeared on his face, “Looks like you came already trained for me? Good girl. Hope that little cunt of yours can take the abuse your mouth should be getting instead. Go, now.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly jumped out of his embrace throwing the candy at Megumi, Nobara, and Itadori leaving them in a confused state. Muttering some excuse of having to need to use the restroom… for the rest of the night oddly.

:(((( poor little cunt, couldn’t sit down properly for days straight. He made sure to ruin your hole so no one else got to :(

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[audisive]

♪ WEST COAST. (💌) – next part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: soap accidentally finds out about simon's girl.

tags: fluff, romance, simon is a big baby !! let us all accept this fact, soap and his assumptions, uh bad jokes, very rushed fic, crack ?, reader can indeed fix simon

Soap isn't sure when his assumptions started, nor is he sure how it got to Gaz and Price himself. 

Maybe it was when he started to notice that Ghost left base whenever he could. (How come ye never leave base? It's a hassle havin' to go back and forth for nothin', Johnny.) Maybe it was the smudged color of red and pink on his balaclava, the lingering perfume on his hoodie, or his new wallet taking the place of one that was once worn out.

"Wha's yer favorite perfume, LT?" "My enemies' sweat and tears."

(It's well-known that despite the fact that Ghost does consider the 141 to be his family, he keeps his personal life very private and away from them. They respect that, in turn, but let's face it, Soap is nosy.)

Really, it was an accident. Soap swears it was!

He just happened to be passing by his lieutenant in the bar where the team had all gone to celebrate a wreck of a mission that they've managed to successfully finish. Truly, it was an accident when his eyes caught a glimpse of Ghost's new wallet, and he really, very much so did not mean to watch a little too long – long enough for it to open and reveal a hefty amount of cash and a small square of colors, barely noticeable. 

Soap's feet move before he could quietly search for more.

"Got a new wallet, aye?" He slides beside the taller man smoothly, just as the Brit had grunted out another order of Bourbon. Ghost hums in acknowledgement.

"Y'got a crush on me or somethin', Johnny?"

Soap chuckles even if the other does not. "A just happened tae see it. Fancy little thing."

It doesn't take long before Ghost disappears into the night, but the Scot swears his pace was a bit faster than usual when he left the awfully-smelling bar, and Gaz would be lying if he said he didn't see the little picture of a pretty bird tucked away in his scarily huge lieutenant's wallet.

It's not that Soap often makes bold assumptions about people and their personal lives, not when they're out of reach from him, but can you really blame him for thinking that the words 'Ghost' and 'girlfriend' do not sound right in the same sentence? Would it be considered an assumption this time if he'd seen the photo himself? Surely, his superior isn't some perverted freak who keeps an image of a breathtaking woman he randomly found in his private items. Uh, he hopes not, at least.

"Bullshit!" is what a drunken Soap yells when the Brit nonchalantly discloses to the team, without hesitation, that he is simply not interested in dating. He spills everything he's gathered in the past few months, from the smallest hints to the biggest; the unfamiliar strand of hair on Ghost's hoodie to the wallet from months ago.

"A'm no crazy!" Soap convinces no one as he's ushered back to the barracks for making such an insane assumption about the lieutenant in his unreliable state. Ghost's lips curl up into a smirk against the cold glass of Bourbon in his hand, sat back and relaxed with his legs spread wide.

Call him a big baby (he is) for making a fool out of his sergeant instead of just telling the truth and bragging about his angel to the others, but can you blame him? He just wants to keep you tucked away in his pocket, away from everyone else. What are you talking about, lovie? 'Course 'm not ashamed of you. You're just too pretty for them, is all. Gotta keep m' girl safe, yeah?

Besides, they don't have to know the way Simon melts into the nook of your neck when he gets home from deployment or know that he uses your lavender-scented shampoo. And no, it doesn't matter that Johnny knows. It's his word against the lieutenant's. He spares his LT and turns a blind eye this once.

When the time is right, Simon is sure to properly introduce his heart to his unspoken family. For the time being, he just wants to keep you his pretty little secret.

    divider by @cafekitsune !

[chuluoyi]

✎ insatiable

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of heavy smut (gojo eating you out, p in v sex, missionary style, and hints of semi-rough sex?) and fluff, fluff, fluff—it gets exponentially soft during aftercare because i need fluff to live

note: i'm no saint, i know, and i'm blaming all this on my pms🤧 this is obviously not my best work but pls enjoy regardless🥲 based on this idea of love hotel dates

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is a man of demanding needs, and ‘holding back’ is never in his vocabulary.

Sometimes he swears you do it on purpose—the choice of your sundress, revealing your soft thighs for everyone to see; or pulling up your hair to enunciate the beauty of your neck, which reminds him of just how much he loves it to leave his love bites there.

And how you coyly look at him while doing so, it’s hard not to get hard.

You made him want to fuck you into the mattress and devour you whole—well, with you looking so inviting like that, you couldn’t really blame him for leading you to love hotel in the middle of your dates now, could you?

. . .

“Why are you so pretty, huh? All dolled up just for me...”

Your plush thighs framing each side of his head, your dress was long discarded as you lay sprawled out, legs parted wide . . . with Satoru sucking your dripping cunt hungrily and you pulling at his hair.

“Ahh... hah... mmnghh!” the way his voice was muffled between your legs, paired with how his tongue was tasting your clit had you moaning like a distressed kitten— and you felt hot all over.

And oh, couldn't you tell that you were so wet already down there?

You grimaced, focusing on the rising heat pooling in your lower belly. “Satoru... you're too—!”

“Hmm? Too what? Too good, sweet pea?” he edged you on, that devilish smirk on his face. “Of course I am. I'm the best.”

The way he lapped at your overflowing pussy was mind-blowing to say the least—casually nipping, licking, and overall, just scarfing down your sensitive flesh with such fervor.

How could someone be so incredibly sinful and heavenly at the same time?

"Aahhhh!" you yanked his locks and arched your back when he blowed air into your clit—your body spasming when you finally felt the knot in your belly burst once again, his awaiting tongue slurping you as if you were his tastiest treat.

And by now, you could barely form any thoughts, after he pulled the rag out from under you by making you cum four times.

“Do I make you feel good?” he chuckled, still pressing his face between your legs. With your head spinning and stars dancing in your vision, you could only whine.

Seeing you rendered into such hot mess—all because of him, Satoru smiled, ignoring the slight pain in his scalp as he swallowed your cum with that devious smirk before kissing your inner thigh with the very same daring mouth that was devouring your pussy before.

Beautifully and perfectly wet. You were like a ripe fruit for ready the taking now.

“Now, sweets... let me just show you what the best feels like.”

Suddenly, his length slid into you like a perfect fit, hitting you right where it should be. The sensation left you breathless, and in a flash, you let out hitched cries as he began to move within you, setting a relentless rhythm that seemed almost unforgiving.

“Satoru— too fast! Too de—ngh, hah—!”

Oh my, what a precious thing you are, writhing under him like this. “Really…? Then it means I’m doing—haah—a great job at this then.”

With each thrust, he marvelled at how tight your walls were engulfing him. Damn, if this kept up longer, even he wouldn’t last. Your pussy was a heavenly treasure.

“Fuck, you're so—hot,” Satoru panted, his fingers digging into your thighs as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was really going to lose it soon, especially when right now, under him, you were a sight to behold. So pliant, so pretty, all his—

“I can't—!” you suddenly blurted, tears running down your scrunched-up face. “Satoru, I can't anymore—please—”

“Oh, but you can, baby girl,” he slowed down and countered in a low growl, interlacing his fingers with yours and folded your knees, effectively pinning you down to the bed. He had never made you hit five orgasms in one session, but now he was about to set a personal best.

His eyes captivated you, with how glittery they were. “One more time. My girl can do it.”

The underlying command in his tone triggered you, turning you on. And then he plowed into you— and then you didn't know anymore as the one thing you could utter was his name, in broken wails. “Satoru! argh—aaaah! Satoruuuu!”

His name spilling nastily from your lips, and—holy fuck, how your folds were still clenching around his cock so deliciously tight was just so—!!

He grunted, brushing his lips on yours in a messy kiss as his other hand squeezed your plump breast, making you yelp. “Can't blame me for this. Will fuck you till you can’t walk. You're mine now.”

He thrusted faster and harder, targeting your cervix repeatedly like a predator in heat. And your scream was the loudest ever yet when you cummed for the fifth time—

“Ah… ah—ahhhh!” your body shuddered, a wave of blinding pleasure crashed upon you so hard your vision dimmed, lost in the sensation of how his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply without giving you a chance to recover.

And by God, you are amazing, because in the next minute, Satoru lost all his shits and groaned loudly—his hot cum spurting in successive bursts and filling you up oh so nicely . . . even overflowing as it dripped out of your spent folds and down to the pristine sheets.

Satoru slowly sat up on the bed. The air was still thick with the aftermath of the best sex he had for the first time in a while.

It took him a few moments to realize that you passed out as you were lying face down on the pillow, motionless. A frown creased his forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tenderly brushing your hair aside.

“Sweetheart, hey? You okay?” he cautiously whispered. “Hey...”

His heart suddenly thudded within his ribcage when you failed to respond. The mere thought of you being anything less than okay was enough to send him spiraling.

You cracked your eyes open at his prodding, and let out a whimper when you felt a sudden cramp seizing your lower abdomen. In reflex, you clutched at the source of discomfort and curled upon yourself.

Satoru got a hold of you quickly, alarmed, trying to soothe you. “We're getting a bath, yeah? Hold on.”

Gone was the rabid man who senselessly fucked you over, replaced by the sweet boyfriend who was worried sick over your state.

He rushed to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath. However, noticing your slow, pained attempt to stand, he hurried back, lifting you effortlessly with one arm under your knees.

“Shh,” he quieted your whine gently, planting a swift kiss on your forehead. “You’re sore. Don't walk—let me carry you.”

And not only did he carry you, Satoru also tenderly bathed you, keeping you close to his chest. He sat behind you in the bathtub, comforting you with gentle caresses when you sniffled and pressing soft kisses on your wet shoulders, one arm securely around your waist.

After the bath, he quickly dried you off and wrapped you in the hotel's plush bathrobe. With utmost care, he lifted you again in a princess-carry and tucked you into the bed you both shared for the night.

“How are you feeling now, hmm?” he asked you softly, drawing you to his embrace again. “Better?”

Even refreshed from the bath, your mind was still partially muddled in the afterglow from the earlier lovemaking. You sought solace in his comforting presence. “Mm-hmm...”

“I was too rough on you, wasn’t I?“

He really made good on that promise—you wouldn’t be able to walk now as you felt too much like a jelly. You simply let out a soft sigh and gently bumped your forehead against his chest in a resignation, which brought a smile to his face.

“Sorry...” he murmured, his hand finding your hip to start a gentle massage. Unbeknownst to your half-sleepy state, he genuinely meant his apology. “In my defense, you are just unbelievably ravishing though...”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted through a haze, your voice scratchy as you poked him in the chest with little force.

“Heh, for you? Most definitely.”

That got you to smile. His words, warm and fond, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, affirming his deep, unwavering affection and desire for you alone.

The soothing motions of his hip massage lulled you back to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut with a sense of tranquility. And seeing you like this, something inside Gojo Satoru pulsed with tenderness.

“So pretty,” he blurted in pure adoration, his honored eyes fixed firmly on your sleeping form, blinking in wonder. “Wasted on someone like me…”

Suddenly, he found that he wanted to be soft to you more than ever. Next time, he would take it nice and slow. He would mold himself into your needs and desires— that was his vow to himself.

And it dawned to him, how he didn't want this love hotels anymore. Instead, he wants forever, with you—

But until then... he would relish this moment to the fullest, indulging himself in your presence, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat—secure with the knowledge that he was yours, at least until forever falls apart.

[hazelfoureyes]

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

[armxnh]

i know we just met, but i love you

synopsis: love at first sight with the tokyo revengers men.

characters: manjiro 'mikey' sano, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno

genre: fluff

warnings: none (i think...?)

masterlist.

manjiro 'mikey' sano

"ken-chinnnn" the leader of the toman whined at his taller friend. draken rolled his eyes in response, "no mikey, drop it."

"come onnnn-" the said man pouted exaggeratedly, "what did i do wrong?"

"nothing." the delinquent replied taking his wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, "you just don't need to eat twenty-five taiyaki."

"sorry to bother you but there are a lot of people who are waiting take their orders so if you could-" daiki, as it was written on his name tag, tried to cut them off from behind the counter.

for the past ten minutes, the two delinquents were arguing about their order. draken wanted to buy mikey five taiyaki, while mikey wanted his friend to buy him twenty-five of them.

draken turned his head to the cashier, "yeah, so five taiyaki and-"

"twenty-five taiyaki." "damn you-"

"hurry up! unlike other people, some of us have important things to do!" a customer yelled from the back of the line.

manjiro snapped his head to the back of the line, narrowing his eyes at the older man who had just yelled at him. "see now you're making people angry, mikey. 'm not gonna spend ¥5,272 on snacks."

"i need to eat a lot if i want to be taller!"

"for the last time. you won't get taller! you are at your maximum height!"

"alright! i'm not going through this again." a soft voice cut both of them before they could start the same argument they had 2 minutes ago. "daiki, i'll pay for their order- just make his goddamn snacks, please."

when manjiro turned to look at the person who 'saved his life', he felt like he has just died and miraculously came back to life as he made eye contact with you.

you were... pretty.

his eyes were set on you, taking in every single detail he could as if he was scared to forget how you look the second he'll look away.

"thank you, but that's not necessary!" draken politely thanked you as you grabbed your fidelity card of the small shop.

"don't worry about it! after all, those fidelity points have to be used for something." you waved him off, looking back at daiki, "could you also add my regular oder with that, please daiki?"

"o-of course, (y/n)!" the young worker quickly tapped your oder in the computer, a red hue covering his cheeks when you smiled at him.

"mikey, what do you say?" draken looked at his friend, hinting him to thank you, but his words fell into deaf ears as mikey kept looking at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

"mikey?" He nudged the said man's shoulder trying to snap him out of his thoughts, only to be ignored once more.

the tall blond dropped the smile as he turned to his friend hitting the side of his head, finally snapping him out of his thoughts, "mikey!"

"um? what?" mikey barely glanced at draken when he responded, his heartbeat increasing when you looked back at him with your receipt in hand.

"i said, what do you say to the girl who just bought you your snacks?" he replied, glancing between the two of you clearly wondering why his friend was acting weird all of the sudden.

"marry me."

ken ryuguji never whipped his head to look at his friend so fast in his life. What the hell did he just said?!

you felt your face warm up at his words, chuckling as you walk past him, placing your hand on his shoulder, "do you ask every girl who buys you snacks to marry you?"

manjiro felt like he was in heaven when you stood closer to him. how can someone be so pretty and be so nice and smell so good and be so pretty at the same time.

"what?" toman's leader came back down to earth when you handed him the box filled of taiyaki. "did i say that out loud?" manjiro mumbled, frowning to himself. before looking back at you, just to see you making your way outside. "hey- wait!"

he tossed the snacks at draken jogging to meet you outside of the shop. "w-wait!"

you turned to look at him, the soft summer breeze sweating through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open, "yes?"

"you're (y/n), right?" he asked remembering how the cashier called you when you were ordering, "i'm mikey..." he wanted to say something else but the words got caught in his throat when you smiled at him.

"nice to meet you, mikey" you replied before your eyes drifted behind him to the small group of guys that were looking at the two of you intensely, the 'ken-chin' guy from earlier standing with them. "i think your friends are waiting for you"

manjiro glanced back to see his best friends looking at them with knowing looks on their faces, "never mind them- this is- you are more important."

you looked away from him, his intense eye contact making your face feel warm, "you really know how to talk to girls you know?"

"thank you for earlier... the snacks and all..."

"that was 2 months worth of fidelity points- you better eat every single one of those taiyaki" you playfully warned the gang leader.

"don't worry about that..!" mikey replied knowing damn well that he will inhale those snacks. "can i walk you home? it's going to get dark soon- wouldn't want my wife to get attacked or something!"

wife?!

you suppress a smile at his words, "of course, wouldn't want it to get dark at 2 pm, and then get attacked by who knows what next to a bakery."

"exactly! let's go, wifey!"

takashi mitsuya

"what did you say you're brother's name was?" you asked the crying girl in front of you.

"...t- taka-shi" the small girl sobbed in your shoulder as you gently patted her head.

"alright and what's your name?" you gently asked as you scanned the area trying to find someone who looked like they had just lost their child.

"i- i- i'm mana"

"you have a really pretty name, you know?" you smiled fondly at the girl as you whipped the tears of her face with your thumbs.

"really?"

"heck yeah! it's a badass name!" you felt relief wash over you when you saw a smile spread across the kid's face, "i'm (y/n) and i'm gonna help you find your brother alright?"

"thank you..." she mumbled quietly.

"you're going to hop on my shoulders and tell me when you see your brother okay?" the girl looked up at you with stars in her eyes, you pulled mana on your shoulder, her small hands on your head.

you walked for a good 15 minutes before mana tapped your head with on hand while the other pointed toward an unknown man in the crowd of person, "they're there! that's draken!"

draken? wasn't her brother's name takashi? you wondered as you put mana to the ground your hand grabbing hers just in case she got lost again.

"mana!" a little girl's voice called out as you arrived next to the very tall guy with a dragon tattoo on his head. the small girl that looked very similar to mana hugged tightly the younger girl.

"mitsuya! ' found her" the tall guy called out for someone else behind him. the 'mitsuya' guy appeared from behind the 'draken' guy not long after he called out from him. the purple haired teen practically attacked his sister with a hug, sighing in relief.

"don't ever do that again, mana." he gently scaled his younger sister, "you could've gotten lost and we would've been really sad, al-?"

"it's fine! (y/n) helped me find you!" she pointed her finger at her. mitsuya ruffled his sister's hair, before straightening up to thank the person that help his mini-him, "thank you so mu..."

he felt like the world had stopped moving. like it was only the two of them in the middle of the festival. takashi mitsuya was in a trance. he was simply mesmerized by the sight of you.

"it's no problem, really! " you softly smiled at him, "your sister is a real angel-"

anything else you said after wasn't even registered but the delinquent in front of you. he was usually so good at this- talking to people was what he did best so... why couldn't he utter a single word for you.

his cheeks were red, his palm were sweaty, why was he anxious?- he was hanging on everything you did. even if he felt like he had forgotten how to speak, your voice felt like melody to his ears.

he snapped out of his trance when someone nudge his shoulder. mitsuya glanced at draken beside him, suddenly remembering that they weren't alone and that you were talking to him.

you looked at him with a puzzled look, "are you alright?

your question made him overthink about everything that happened in the last 2 minutes of your meeting. Did he look like a creep?

"i- i- great."

the hell was that takashi? he cursed himself.

darken cleared his throat, holding back his laugh. he brought his fist to his mouth faking coughs as he muttered a small, "real smooth, mitsuya".

you chuckled at his friend's comment, making mitsuya straighten up, you pulled out your hand for him to shake.

"let's start over, alright? i'm (y/n)... you're takashi right?"

draken stepped up clearly expecting his friend to be to lost in space to answer you, "he prefers mitsuya-"

"takashi's fine!" the said man interjected, as he quickly grabbed your hand to shake it, sending one of his pretty smile in your direction.

"i-"

"are you going to marry my brother?" he couldn't catch a break could he? luna asked you with big eyes.

you chuckled softly at her words, "how about this... i will give my number to your brother. then we'll go out to eat something to talk about marriage alright?"

"yes!" the girl tightly hugged your leg as you said that.

"does that sound like a plan to you, takashi?" yes!

mitsuya hurriedly started to look in his pocket for a pen, when draken pulled one out of his pocket with a piece of paper and handed it to the purple haired boy, "there you go, casanova"

takashi handed you the paper and the pen, before you wrote your name with your phone number on it.

"see y'a soon, taka! bye, mana don't get lost again alright?"

as soon as you were out of sight takashi turned to draken with a stern look, "not a word about this, alright?"

"you're crazy!" draken crackled putting his hand in his pocket, "i'm going to tell everyone!"

"draken!"

"as your wingman i feel like it's my responsibility-"

"no it is not!"

chifuyu matsuno

"hurry up, chifuyu!" takemichi yelled at his friend. they couldn't be late. not for that.

"how come you are slow as hell during a fight, yet you sprint your life on a sunday at 8 am?" the blond joked as he calmly walked behind takemichi with not a care in the world.

"come on! we're gonna be late!" he repeated hurriedly before stopping abruptly while looking around him.

"late to what?" chifuyu yawned, before looking at his friend, who stood there looking around, up and down as if his brain had finally snapped, "you alright?"

"alright stand here and don't move." takemichi moved the delinquent around so that he would stand in the middle of a park- an empty park.

"did you finally snapped or...?" he asked when the time traveler started to back away from him, "are you going to kill me? is this really how it's gonna end-"

"watch out!"

a voice yelled, but it was too late.

a ball directly hit his face, knocking chifuyu to the dirty ground, his eyes closing due to the shock.

it took him a couple of seconds before finally opening his eyes again, only to realize that he was in heaven. the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life held his head in her hands, her index and middle finger pressed against the front of his neck just below his jaw- making sure that his heart was still beating.

"oh- thank god! you're not dead!"

"are you an angel?" chifuyu mumbled placing his hand on top of yours- making sure you were real, "am i in heaven?"

you let a breathy chuckle at his words, "you're cute- but no you're not dead... i kicked a ball in your face- unintentionally of course!"

his eyes finally focused on you, remembering what had happened. he blinked a couple of time, his eyes scanning your face- a pretty girl's face... so close to his face with her hands on his face and his hands on her hand-

what?!

chifuyu's face became as red a tomato straitening his posture to apologize for touching you without your authorization, "i'm so sorry-"

his head came in contact with your head, making you pull back immediately from the blond. "ow! i told you i didn't do it on purpose!" you groan holding your head with your hands.

chifuyu gasped in horror at his own clumsiness as he placed a hand on the back of your head. hopping that the coldness of it would help you a little, "i'm sorry! i swear i didn't mean it! please hit me again so that we're even!"

...what? now why would he say that?

"what? what's wrong with you?! do you get turn on by getting hit or something?!"

chifuyu panically looked around to search takemichi so that he could help him. when he finally spotted him, hiding behind the swings, the time traveler was smiling proudly with his two thumbs up in the air.

his action making him recall a conversation the two of them had a couple of weeks earlier.

"so... am i married in the future?" chifuyu asked takemichi as he bit down the sandwich he made himself for lunch.

takemichi raised his brows at the question, "yeah-"

"really?!" the blond gasped, with heart in his eyes, "do i know her?! no wait- that'll ruin the surprise- is she pretty?! no wait- of course she's pretty you idiot!"

the time traveler chuckled at his friend's words, rubbing the back of his neck, "do you want me to tell you how you met?"

"no! it has to be a surprise!" chifuyu refused, "wait am i going to meet her soon? is that why you said that?! takemichi?! answer!"

"nah- like you said it has to be a surprise~"

"takemichi!"

"if it makes you feel better- you embarrassed yourself in front of her"

"how would that make me feel better?!"

that sneaky bastard.

"i'm sorry! i don't know how to talk to pretty girls..." chifuyu mumbled looking to the ground, but his face snapped back at you when he realize what he had just say, your eyes round at his words, "i- i mean not that don't know how to talk you! wait- not that you're not pretty! you are pretty- beautiful even! but that is not the point! i don't need you to hit me! just please don't think i hurt you on purpose- i don't hit pretty girls! no wait- i don't hit girls at all! but you being beautifully-pretty is just a plus you know! an-"

you smacked your hand on his mouth, stopping his rambling, the butterflies in your stomach flying way to much due to his words. "please stop-! you're too cute..."

takemichi titled his head at the scene in front of him, clearly not remembering that part of the story your older self told him in the future about how chifuyu and her had met-

but... mission failed successfully... i guess?

ⓒarmxnh