#there were lots of positive points made too

[thoughtless-muse]

chapter summary: reality is certainly a hard pill to swallow – but in order to keep moving forward, swallow it you must.

word count: 4.2k

c/w: language, bickering, excessive use of apostrophes (courtesy of the dixon accent), subtle bodily description of reader (tits and hips, nothing too in-depth), low key sexual harassment I think (merle checks reader out a lot), blossoming friendships, minor angst, suggestive thoughts, brief mentions of grief/loss, subtle tension, pre-season one

chapter one: dislocated introductions

it had been some time since shane ushered the two men into his tent for a ‘discussion.’ in fact, by the time you’d walked down to the lake and back, the men were still inside the tent. you weren’t nervous about it, per se, but you certainly hadn’t liked the look on shane’s face as he guided them to the tent.

he looked… uncharacteristically angry. it was a look you hadn’t seen on his face in all the years you’d known him, which were quite a few – even when the world had been blown to shit, even as he watched the napalm drop into the streets of atlanta, even when he recalled the massacre he’d witnessed in the hospital, he hadn’t looked that angry.

it had you wondering why.

to you, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. shane’s reaction would have been understandable had merle been waving his gun around or pointing it at someone, or if he’d been threatening the camp in some way. but all merle had done was show up and ask for his brother, albeit a bit argumentatively; but he kept his gun holstered to his hip the whole time, never even reaching a hand down toward it.

and, honestly, who didn’t have a gun on them with the world in the state that it was?

shane’s reaction had appealed as more of an overreaction in your eyes. you could understand mistrusting complete strangers, especially ones who were armed, but the way shane handled it just seemed so… extreme. and to be angry at daryl for his brother’s choices? just ridiculous.

you had to physically restrain yourself from creeping closer to shane’s tent in an attempt to garner an earful. from this distance, you couldn’t hear any of the words that were being passed around within, but so far no yelling had broken out. you were sure the whole camp would be able to hear it if it had. but you were so damn curious; even though it truly wasn’t a matter than concerned you.

daryl wasn’t even supposed to be a concern to you; shane had made it clear right from the start what he thought your concerns should be – but you felt strangely as if daryl’s fate was being decided within that tent, and a part of you desperately wanted to have a say in that for reasons you couldn’t understand.

reasons you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

“hey, sweetheart.” your concentration was torn from shane’s tent by a soft voice behind you and a warm hand on your shoulder. you whipped your head around and squinted against the glare of the georgia sun, barely able to perceive the outline of lori standing above you.

“oh, hey, lori.” you acknowledged the older woman with a small smile. she returned the gesture with a small squeeze to your shoulder.

“do you know where shane is?” lori queried with a glance around the camp. you grimaced subtly and gestured to shane’s tent.

“he’s in there. he’s talking to daryl and his brother.” you answered, a bit flippantly, still irked by the event that had transpired previously, still unable to remove that expression on shane’s face from your mind.

“daryl?” lori mused, eyebrows sewing together in confusion. you chuckled airily and nodded, using your hands to mimic the act of adjusting a strap over your shoulder.

“daryl, the guy with the crossbow.” you iterated, and lori’s lips popped open in a small ‘o’ shape as she mentally connected the dots.

“I didn’t know he had a brother.” lori hummed thoughtfully as she circled around you, plopping herself down on the wooden crate positioned diagonal from the one you sat on. her dark hair fell strand by strand over her shoulder as she planted her elbows on her knees and leaned forward.

“no one did,” you concurred. “hell, I don’t think anyone even knew his name. I didn’t know it until just earlier.”

lori simply nodded in agreement, glancing over in the direction of shane’s tent. you couldn’t help but notice a strange mist covering her eyes, as if she wasn’t truly seeing what she was looking at. concern gnawed like a tiny beast at your brain, and you leaned closer to the woman and lowered your voice, softly calling, “you okay, lor?”

you wouldn’t say lori and yourself were particularly close – at least not in a way that was inseparable, as you had been with your brother. but lori had certainly lived up to the ‘sister in law’ name, quickly becoming your family in every way but blood; you looked up to her, cared for her, and seeing her eyes cloud over with that look just didn’t sit right with you. especially not with shane’s glare still fresh in your mind.

“what was that, sweetie?” lori asked, almost absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the tent. you swallowed around a tight knot in your throat.

“I asked if you were okay, lori.” you reiterated, placing a bit more force into your tone, which seemed to break her from her trance. her eyes, now clear of that fog, returned to yours and her lips pulled up into a smile.

“yeah, yeah, I’m fine. just a bit… distracted, I guess.”

you weren’t wholly convinced by her answer, but confident enough in the fact that if there was something bothering her she would open up about it, you shirked off the worry and steered the conversation into a different direction.

“where’s carl?”

“carol’s watching him. he’s coloring with sophia right now.” lori responded almost immediately, but a stone still dropped into your stomach when she added, “why is shane talking to daryl and his brother in there?”

“well, I don’t know the full story. I was doing laundry when carl came and got me. I guess daryl’s brother just marched right into camp and demanded to see him.”

“carl was near him?” lori asked, panic eddying into her voice. you quickly reached over and grasped her by the crook of the elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“he was fine, lori. shane and I were both there. honestly, if you ask me, he wasn’t in any danger in the first place.” you barely managed to stifle back a scoff, and lori stared at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“morales told me he had a gun.”

you nodded in agreement. “he did, but he never even took it out of the holster. but shane just… overreacted. demanded that he hand it over.”

lori blinked slowly, once then twice, before she sighed and linked her fingers together between her knees.

“I can’t say if he was overreacting or not. but I know he’s been… stressed lately, so that may have played a part in his actions.”

you bit the inside of your cheek and swallowed down the groan that threatened to bubble past your lips. you weren’t sure what had you so irritated about the whole ordeal, you just were.

“that’s probably why he’s holding a full-scale interrogation in there right now, too, huh?” you quipped.

“he’s probably just making sure they’re good people. you can’t really take chances these days.” lori shot back.

now, you simply couldn’t hold back your scoff. was lori really on the same page as shane?

“daryl has been here for days, and nothing bad has happened. he came in with a crossbow, for christ’s sake! he very easily could have put an arrow between anyone’s eyes by now, but he hasn’t.” you combated, fixing lori with a glare. why were you so angry, anyway?

lori pursed her lips and the muscles of her throat contracted as she swallowed deeply. her knuckles began to whiten from how tightly her fingers were wound together.

“be that as it may, we don’t know his brother at all. daryl could be perfectly sane whereas his brother could be the complete opposite. I agree with what shane asked of him, and I agree with what he’s doing now.” lori implored, her eyes wide with plea; a plea for you to understand.

the irritation within your chest quelled a small bit as you digested lori’s words. could it be, perhaps, that you were the one who overreacted? human nature is a concept that is difficult to conceive, and just because shane’s actions seemed to air too far on the side of caution, you supposed they weren’t completely uncalled for; as lori had stated, merle was a mystery to everyone except daryl, and he could very well pose a threat in the future, even if he hadn’t posed one hours ago.

“I suppose you’re right, lori.” you finally conceded with a sigh, sending the older woman a bit of a sheepish look. your anger towards her and the situation suddenly dawned on you as a bit childish. lori’s lips pulled into a wide smile and she reached over to rub her palm into your bicep.

“it’s okay to have crushes, sweetheart. but don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.” lori murmured, her voice edged with amusement.

you gaped at lori as your cheeks bloomed with heat. crushes? what the hell was she talking about? you didn’t have a crush on anyone.

you were just upset that shane had immediately considered merle a threat without even knowing the man. because shane didn’t know him, and by considering him a threat, he, by extension, called daryl into question and –

oh.

oh.

that’s what lori meant.

don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.

slowly, everything began to click into place. the real reason behind your anger and frustration at shane’s actions. it wasn’t because you considered them to be too cautious, but because you didn’t like the idea of shane, or anyone else, viewing daryl as a potential threat.

the one thing you couldn’t figure out was why. why did that irk you so bad? was it because you genuinely felt that, bad attitude aside and no matter how much he annoyed you, daryl was a good guy? or was it because you simply wanted daryl to be a good guy because you were attracted to him?

or was it because you hated the way his face had contorted with discomfort when shane confronted him about something he clearly hadn’t wanted happening in the first place?

“fuck!” you groaned, burying your heated face into your palms. your reaction prompted a bubbly laugh from lori, who once more reached over to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“it’s okay, hun. just take some time to calm down, yeah? maybe go color with carl like you used to?” lori suggested, and you playfully batted at her hand, sending her a glare through your fingers.

“I’m not twelve anymore, lori. that won’t work on me.”

contrary to the statement you’d uttered to lori, you found yourself seated at the makeshift table next to carl not even fifteen minutes later, an indigo crayon clutched in your hand and two children giggling at your masterpiece.

“apples aren’t supposed to be blue!” carl guffawed, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing your crudely drawn apple.

“okay, two things, carl,” you started, reaching over to flick the boy in the ear lightly. “first thing – this isn’t blue, it’s indigo. and, second thing” – you extended your arm past carl to the stack of crayons beside him – “I wouldn’t have to make my apple indigo if someone wasn’t hogging all the red crayons!”

carl nearly squealed and shot his hands up to slap at your arm, effectively batting away your advance towards his treasure trove. at the look of mock surprise you shot him, carl erupted into a fit of giggles and laughs, which shot warmth straight through your chest.

carl looked so much like rick that sometimes it hurt.

overcome with affection for the boy, you ruffled his hair, your fingers getting caught unceremoniously by the subtle tangles within.

“you need a haircut,” you observed, retracting your fingers from carl’s hair as gently as you could. carl made a gagging noise and shook his head vehemently. his reaction pulled a small chuckle from your throat. carl hated haircuts.

“hey, it’s that strange man.” sophia suddenly exclaimed, voice lowered as though to only speak to the occupants of the table. your heart tripped over itself and you whipped your head towards the direction sophia was gesturing to. sure enough, you noticed the man from earlier, merle, sauntering towards the table.

something quick and hot shot through your veins, lori’s previous words returning to your mind with a vengeance, and before you could truly stop to think about what you were doing, you were out of your seat and meeting merle halfway.

for a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another – merle seemed to be visually appreciating your body, whereas you were searching his for any sign of threat. the gun that had been holstered to his hip was absent, which slightly lowered his danger level in your eyes, but you weren’t about to let him any closer to carl or sophia.

just in case.

finally, after what felt like ages of staring one another down, merle spoke, his voice low and raspy.

“I just wanted’ta come find’ya and properly introduce myself. merle dixon.”

merle extended a large, somewhat grimy hand to you. after a moment’s consideration, you reached forward and gripped it with your own. you noticed that his hand was rough and littered with callouses. he was obviously no stranger to hard work.

“(y/n) grimes. am I correct to assume that you’re staying with us?”

you released your grip but merle had yet to let your hand go, holding it in his for the duration of a vocalized hum before letting it go.

“indeed, you are. see, yer man shane proposed an offer that my brother ‘n I simply couldn’ refuse.”

your heart throbbed inside your chest and your throat tightened. did that mean daryl was staying, too? completely oblivious to the slippery mental slope you were approaching, merle continued.

“so’s I figured tha’ since we’re goin’ta be proper campmates now, I’d come over and introduce myself; and giv’ya some of my true-earned gratitude.”

“gratitude?” you parroted, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. merle nodded slowly, almost sagely, and slipped his thumbs through the belt loops at his hips.

“yes, ma’am. had’ya not stepped in when’ya did, I’m afrai’ I prol’ly would’a lost my cool.” merle conceded with a sigh, and once more your walls shot up. you stood straighter and leveled the man with a glare. upon seeing your reaction, merle retracted his thumbs from his belt loops and raised his hands in a placating manner.

“woah, calm down. I wouldn’ta shot yer boy or anythin’. I mean, had he raised his gun firs’, that’d’be a diff’ren’ story. I was just meanin’ I feared it may’ave escalated had’ya not stepped in.”

you swallowed thickly and nodded just subtly; it was difficult for you to discern if merle was telling the truth or not, but his admission had brought about an iron-willed conviction inside you.

you would definitely keep your eye on merle dixon.

“well, there’s no thanks needed. no one would have wanted it to escalate; shane certainly wouldn’t have.” you said stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective manner. you ignored the way merle slipped his eyes down to the top of your breasts; you had some tits, you wouldn’t deny that. and as long as he kept his hands to himself, you didn’t see a reason to overreact.

“merle! git yer ass in gear an’ le’s go! we’re wastin’ daylight!”

your eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the new voice. biceps glistening and flexing with each step he took, angry scowl etched into his face, and the strap of his crossbow strangled in a white knuckled grip, he was a vision of pissed off. lori’s previous assertion of a crush had your cheeks flooding with heat as you watched daryl stalk closer.

by the time daryl finally stopped next to merle, your heart had created its own off-tune beat within your chest, and your cheeks felt hotter than the sun – but you pushed away everything you were feeling and gave the rugged, angry man a once-over. you already decided to keep an eye on merle, so you might as well go the extra mile and keep one on daryl, too.

you wouldn’t complain about having to do that.

it was as you were scanning his waistline that you noticed a familiar string of rope slipped through his belt loop. it was the same rope he’d knot multiple squirrels to, like he had the first day he entered camp.

“you’re going hunting?” you asked, halfway-conversationally, halfway with the intention of prompting that gravelly voice from daryl’s throat again.

except, it wasn’t daryl who answered. rather, he tore his eyes away from yours and focused on the foliage that lined the clearing, and merle spoke up in his stead.

“it’s our part of the bargain, darlin’. we keep you people fed, and we get stay here.”

you snapped your eyes back to merle in a vexed manner; if the man took notice of it, he didn’t respond to it other than with a slight widening of the smile on his face. you quickly pushed away your annoyance in favor of shifting your tone into something that could pass as amicable.

“well, good luck with that, then.”

it would be much easier to keep your eye on merle if there wasn’t any tension; keep your friends close and your potential enemies closer. that sort of thing.

“why, thank’ya, sugar, but I don’ thin’ we’ll need any’a tha’. daryl and me’s been in the woods since we was li’l.” merle drawled, inching himself closer to you. you resisted the urge to retreat, but you allowed yourself the lee-way of shrinking your arm back when merle extended a hand with the intention of grazing his fingers across your skin.

discomfort was burrowing deep into your body, but your ears nearly perked at the unintentional slip of information about the man you’d been wondering about for days. it was a fact that you could have surmised just by observing him, but the verbal confirmation of it had your brain thirsting for more.

it wasn’t because of a crush. it was only because of physical attraction; and of course physical attraction would lead to curiosity. of course.

at your clear rejection of touch, merle dropped his hand back down to his side, much to your relief. you were already connecting the dots on the type of person merle was just from this brief interaction, and though he wasn’t exactly coloring himself as a legitimate rapist, you determined that, from this point forward, you’d still do your best to ensure he’d never be alone with you or any other woman in the camp.

because this man was most certainly a pervert, at the very least.

“you should get going, dixon.” you murmured flippantly, casting a brief glance upward. “you’re wasting daylight.”

you thanked every invisible star in the sky that you were fast enough to catch the way daryl’s eyes shot to you as you parroted his previous words to his brother – it was such a quick glance that you were unable to ascertain what it meant, or if there was any interest hidden within, but your skin still tingled and your heart still tripped over itself when it happened.

but it wasn’t because of a goddamn crush.

mid-afternoon had melted to dusk before you could even register that that much time had passed.

the camp seemed so serene now; bathed in an orange glow, quieted, with multiple people milling about to the tune of cricket song, popping embers and whistling wind. the sun’s wavering strength granted a breath of chilly air, soothing the heat beneath your skin.

but even the cool, serene atmosphere of the camp couldn’t quell the storm raging inside your head; not as it normally would.

it was so stupid – you knew it was. and it wasn’t like yourself, either. there was no time for second guesses, not before and definitely not now.

and yet, it was a broken record. scratchy and choppy, set to an endless loop that frayed every single nerve within your body, the very embodiment of the sole goal of driving you absolutely insane with doubt.

crush.

crush.

the word taunted you, teased you, made you question everything; and it really shouldn’t. you knew it shouldn’t.

and you also knew with every fiber of your being that it was wrong – that lori was wrong. because you… you did not develop crushes. you never had. any relations you ever had with men were born of pure physical desire, with no underlying emotions.

you only ever felt physical attraction, lust, and want. it was familiar, it was comfortable, it was natural, it was you.

so why the hell were you second guessing the nature that you’d always harbored? the nature that had never changed, that never would change?

it was lori’s fault, plain and simple.

she was the reason you were thinking so much. all because she had uttered that one little word. and now you had to do something about it. you had to put a stop to it.

you zigzagged around multiple shoulders as you made your way across camp, bumping into some with muted apologies, absentmindedly, eyes rapidly scanning the crowd until you were able to finally locate lori. she was standing next to the rv that belonged to dale, engaged in some sort of indistinct conversation with the man – that was until you grabbed her wrist and pulled her off to the side, dragging her to the farthest reaches of the camp.

“(y/n), what’s going on–” lori attempted to prod you gently, but you cut her off by swinging around to face her.

“I just want to have sex with him!” you breathed out in a rush, surely resembling a wild, scared animal with the way your eyes darted around the camp. lori’s own eyes widened to the size of dinner plates whereas her eyebrows furrowed together.

“u-uhm, sure, y-yeah. you mean daryl, right?” lori pressed, and you nodded vigorously.

“yes, I mean him. I just wanted to make that clear, because earlier you said something about a crush, and I just want you to know that it’s not like that–”

why were you even explaining this? had you really gone off the deep end? had the end of the world finally rusted every last screw left in your brain?

“okay, okay, honey, I need you to breathe.” lori directed, softly, catching your hands in hers, adding, “what I said was only a joke. I know it’s not like that.”

relief sagged your shoulders as you let out a deep breath. you met lori’s gaze, still wide and confused and bewildered, and then everything crashed into you with the force of a derailed train.

you couldn’t stop it. you laughed. a full on belly laugh. because you were being so fucking ridiculous – and feeling highly embarrassed at the moment.

“god, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry lori, I don’t know why I’m even acting like this.”

lori let out a soft chuckle and released your hands. her eyes softened and the smile she wore was genuine; more genuine than you’d seen in a long time.

“you aren’t being stupid, (y/n). I think maybe you’re just feeling restless. anyone would if they were cooped up here all day, every day. I imagine it’s hard on you.”

lori wasn’t entirely wrong. before the world had went to shit, you were an adventurous spirit. you never much liked the idea of staying in one place – there was too much to explore, too much to see, too much to do – and you couldn’t even fathom not indulging in that, of not feeding the desire.

but this spirit of yours was the whole reason you weren’t there the day rick got shot, why it took you nearly a week to get to king county to visit his room; why a goodbye was rendered impossible.

but that wasn’t why you were acting this way; that you knew for a fact.

tears stung at the back of your eyes and, ever observant, lori pulled you into her chest and circled her arms around your waist. warmth bloomed across your front and the sweet scent of lori’s perfume, faded and floral, mixed with the scent of sweat and smoke clinging to her skin. the scent, despite being slightly odorous, sunk into your body and brought about extreme comfort. you bit back the sobs by sinking your teeth deep into your bottom lip and squeezed lori back tightly, shedding your silent tears into the welcoming jut of her collarbone as she shushed you softly.

you felt completely rattled – because it all suddenly made sense to you.

consuming yourself with lust over a stranger, worrying about the fate of that stranger, or even tearing yourself up inside over whether or not you actually had a crush on said stranger – it was far easier than letting reality take the wheel, far easier than accepting the fact that the life you had and the world you knew were both gone, sucked away into an endless black hole, never to be seen again.

and there was nothing you could do about it.

prologue | chapter two

a/n: if you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more, please consider liking/commenting/reblogging/following, or maybe even get yourself added to the taglist! I love y’all so much! also, I’ve decided to switch some things around given the depth these chapters are given – some events were cut from this one and will be added into chapter 2 – which is when reader and daryl really start interacting!

NOTE: the dividers used in this post do not belong to me, nor did I create them. they come from this post, labeled under free-to-use. all credits go to the creator of the dividers.

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @chylerluvschim @alialiclouds

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[ghostwritermia]

Jegulus x reader request?

Where the reader is also a quidditch player and basically she is in hufflepuff/ravenclaw and their team wins, but one of the boys get mad preferably regulus and reader gets upset james comforts her. Basically angst to fluff

P.s u don't have to do it, I hv been writing a poly moonwater for a week and haven't completed yet. Ik writing is hectic

Lots of Love, babe

Hi Hi! Sorry this took so long. I was in a writing slump...

Anyhoo. Here it is, I hope you enjoy!

totally didn't feed my overdramatic personality into this...

No warnings I can think of? Overthinking? Getting lost in your thoughts? Tears?

Poly!Jegulus x ravenclaw!reader

You were absolutely elated when you found out you had been assigned the captain position.

Sure, you were on a team that normally didn't win, but you were fine with that. You enjoyed the sport, the crowd, the family your team became, the community and environment.

It was the last game of the season and your team had finally won against Slytherin. Earlier in the season you had led your team to victory against Gryffindor. So, with one boyfriend left to beat, you had finally done it today, but apparently it had come with a price to pay.

As you were being crowded and tackled by your team you peeked over your best friend's shoulder, seeing Regulus storming off. And with that, your mood instantly dropped. 

You slipped an easy smile back onto your face as you hugged the rest of your team before slipping off into the changing tent and then back to your common room. 

You understand that Reg wanted to win his last game of the season, you did. But, it was your last game too, and only the second game you had been able to win that season. Shouldn't he be proud of you too?

When you finally made it back to your dorm, you quickly slipped into one of James's shirts (which were huge on you), and a pair of sleep shorts, before curling on in an armchair, pulling your knees to your chest and a blue fuzzy blanket up to your chin.

You didn't know how long you sat there. You also didn't know when James had slipped into the room, not even realizing he was there until he gently wiped tears away from under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

You startled, eyes lifting to meet his, to see sorrow swimming in his gaze. “You just gotta give him time, darling. You know how he gets about these things, he’ll come around.” James swiftly picks you up and takes your place in the armchair before resting you back into his lap.

You sighed, curling into his side, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. “I know, it’s just hard sometimes.” You sniffle into his shirt, and he tugs you tighter against him.

“He will come around darling, I promise.” He says, leaving a gentle kiss to the top of your hair.

You lose track of time as you get comfortable, cuddling into James (stealing all of his warmth), yet he doesn’t complain. You smile into his shoulder as he starts running his fingers through your hair. You playfully bite his shoulder; he tugs on a strand of your hair in reprimand.

You had started to doze off when the door creaked open and James spotted Regulus’s head peek in. He gently tapped your shoulder and when he had gotten your attention, pointed to Regulus.

Your gaze met the stormy gray of Regulus’s before you looked away, finding a loose thread of your blanket far more interesting.

“Mon Amour, I’m so so sorry.” Regulus rushes over to you, crouching down in front of you. “My mind blanked, and I didn’t think before I walked away, and I’m so sorry.” He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before running his thumb along the back of it.

You frown, your eyebrows scrunching and slide out of James’s lap and onto the floor next to Reg. “It’s okay, my love. I understand what it’s like to have loads of pressure on your shoulders, I do too. It can overwhelm you at any moment; sometimes it can even come when we don’t want it too and take control of our actions.” You say wisely. “You had a moment, it happens to the best of us. You may be a wizard, but you are still a human. Bound to make mistakes for the rest of your life,” You remind dramatically, talking with your hands. Regulus laughs, his eyes lighting up again and grabs your hands, holding them stationary.

“I’m glad that you forgive me, mon amour, but you are over dramatic.” Your boyfriend dressed in green states.

You scoff as James slides down from the chair to sit with the two of you on the floor. “I love this make-up session you two are having, but you both are full of crap.” He tugs you both into his sides, one arm wrapped around each of you.

Regulus turns his head, biting James’s hand as you dramatically raise your hand before swatting him on the back of his head.

James quickly pulls his hand away from Regulus, retracting his hold from the two of you and holds the back of his head. “Hey!” You both turn your head and blink at him feigning innocence. “This is not attack James day.” 

He smiles, teeth flashing. You dramatically cover your eyes, faking passing out; falling back from your sitting position and onto your back. “Ah, too bright. Can’t see. James you’re blinding me, can’t you see? Because I sure can’t.”

“Regulus was right. You are so over dramatic.” James rolls his eyes before leaning towards you and pulling your hands away from your eyes and pulling you into him.

“I. Am. Not.” You pout, crossing your arms and leaning out of James’s embrace.

Regulus leans towards you smiling and kisses your forehead. “Yes you are.” He whispers, tackling you to the ground, tickling your sides. “You are dramatic, and I love you for it.” You grin and Regulus gives you a skeptical glance as you turn and smile at James.

Before Reg could blink he was pinned down to the ground; roles reversed. James had his arms pinned to the ground as you straddled his hip, returning the attack of tickles that he had been serving you.

“You lose, Reggie.” You state in a sing-song voice, giggling.

[tulipsinthedas]

Just finished binging the Fallout tv show and 🤯 I've got so many thoughts running through this little brain of mine. So here's a very long rant no one asked for. Maybe I'll make a more digestible version later. Obviously SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Be warned!

First off - the lore. So many interesting things were added into the lore by this show that I find so fascinating, as well as theories I've had that were touched upon. All of which makes this very exciting but also leaves me DESPERATE for season two. The main thing that has really stuck with me is the confirmation that Vault-Tec were the ones to drop the bombs like hello??? I've always had an inkling ever since I started delving into fallout lore a good year or two ago that they were behind everything, but finally having it confirmed is so fun. Of course, some people out there are going to be irritated (L take) but this imo will make replays so much more interesting. Same with the addition of ghouls needing medication to keep from becoming feral. Although this begs some questions; what is the medicine? Is it just radaway, or something else entirely? Maybe it's connected to whatever Hancock used to ghoulify himself? Or maybe it's connected to Doctor Barrows' research into ghouls fom Fallout 3? Idk! But I hope it's answered in season 2.

Cooper being the inspiration behind the iconic vault boy mascot absolutely gagged me. It was kinda hinted at even in the beginning at the kids birthday party but I was still surprised. Pleasantly, of course. Other smaller things, like the BOS branding and helmets opening up, among other things, were also fun touches that develop the lore in ways that the games probably never would have. It's small things like this that despite livening up the wasteland, would be unnecessary uses of resources from a game-development standpoint. So I think if season 2 ends up being a banger like season 1, we could see a lot more tiny additions to the lore like this!

Secondly - the characters. I don't even know where to start. They were written so well which is such a critical part of a good series. Lucy, despite everything she goes through, stays true to her morals and by doing so, probably unknowingly, is changing those around her. Despite being stubborn, she's willing to listen and understand other viewpoints and adapt herself. It's so refreshing to see a main female lead who isn't written as either weak and naive or strong and boneheaded; she'd a perfect mix of both. I also appreciate them not making her a total push over, even in the beginning before she is given any reason to change. She grows, but never fails to stay true to herself. Plus the whole sex positive thing is an amazing touch to add as well, especially for a woman.

And while on this topic, Maximus is such a cutie pie. Writing characters that are selflessly aligned can definitely be a hit or miss, and without properly being fleshed out, can be one-dimensional, but I never felt that way with him. Despite trying to help others and be a good person, he still has flaws and does feels selfish things. They took the trope of the knight in shining armor, literally, and gave him actual human characteristics that made him feel real. Underneath his heroic demeanor, he's just a little guy who likes slippers and vault popcorn. Who just wants to be somewhere safe away from war and danger, to be where he can just relax and not have to worry. And his romance arc with Lucy is just way too cute. From the moment they met in Filly I knew something was going to happen and I was so excited when they finally kissed lmao. The sweet, innocent love at first sight thing they have going on is the perfect dichotomy to all the bloodshed and heavy themes going on in the rest of the show.

And finally, Cooper is reviving the inner ghoul lover in me and I cannot complain at all. As a certified Hancock lover, I feel seen ✋ also Walton Goggins is just incredibly fine. But that's besides the point. His character is arguably the best written because despite being an undeniably evil person, he is still likeable. 200 years have turned him into a man who had to lose his humanity to survive, and the pre-war flashbacks being shown through his eyes give him, and the story, so much depth. Despite his ways, you can't help but still feel for him, to still root for him and hope that he still has a little bit of that humanity left within him. Which imo was shown multiple times; for example him not killing Maximus in episode two even though he easily could have done so. And the fact that he's still searching for his family all these years later? When he was asked what has been keeping him going so long, I think they are his reason. Whether he is searching to reunite or to exact revenge on Barb for dropping the bombs while him and Janey were outside idk. But it makes his story all the more heartbreaking. I also love the writing for Norm, Moldaver, Dane, and so many others, but this is already too long ass it is.

Overall, this series was so good and I'll be impatiently awaiting season 2! Some things I'm hoping to see next seasons are super mutants for sure, as well as synths and more of the enclave. I think they went easy this season to test the waters and see just how interested people are. And now that they know people are very interested, I think they'll be more willing to invest a larger budget, and add more. Rant over!

[the-forgotten-jack]

Ignis Tempestas

*part 14 of ??*

*chapter 2*

*reminder: --- marks a change in perspective*

"APATHY!"

My voice echoed harshly through the hall as I screamed my brother's name. His footsteps followed shortly. I smirked as he came scrambling into my room.

"Yes, Empathy?" His voice was quiet and shook slightly.

"I'm going into town. Go tell father I'll be home before the eighth hour of light."

"Empathy-" He started to protest, but I held my hand up to stop him, my smirk turning to a malicious grin.

"Yes, dear brother?" He faltered when I spoke in that sickly sweet tone I used before forcing him to do the worst jobs around the palace.

He swallowed his words and nodded stiffly before walking away. I waited a little, then left my room as well, going down to the stables. I snapped at any servants as I passed them, taking pleasure in how they flinched away from me. One poor girl even fell over herself as she was carrying a bucket of water to the kitchens. I laughed as she picked herself up, soaked thoroughly.

When I got to the stables, I spoke to no one. I didn't need to. My shoes made a distinctive clicking sound, and my yelling had given me away. The stablehand already had my horse saddled and ready to ride. He offered to help me up, but I smacked his hand away from me.

I reached the market quickly and dismounted, beginning to wander the shops. I didn't need to tie up my horse or anything of the sort, no. I was Empathy Mae. You'd have to be a brainless fool to try stealing from me.

Nothing in particular caught my eye, but I liked sensing the nearly tangible fear when people saw me. They knew my reputation, and based only on my appearance, it could easily be proven.

I was wearing a cream colored dress with deep blue embroidery on the ends of the sleeves, which clung to my arms and flared at the wrists, and lace at the bottom. Under my dress, I wore simple leggings of the same colors, so I didn't expose anything while I was riding. My boots were a lighter blue, made of soft leather with a steel heel. I wore no jewelry, but I didn't need to.

Out of nowhere, there was an awful commotion, and a voice screamed for the guards. I rolled my eyes. It was probably just a robbery, I thought. There were lots of those. But then I saw the vulture standard, and for the first time in many years, fear struck me.

---

I raised my standard high, laughing as the other bandits spread out around me, wreaking total havoc.

"BRING ME THE BOY CALLED APATHY!"

My brethren responded to the command, surging forward in all directions to clear my path and assist in my search. I kept a facade of merely enjoying the raid, but deep inside me, I felt nauseous from excitement. I'd been meeting in secret with Apathy Minn for a few months now, and I'd fallen hard for him. A few days ago, I decided I'd take him as my own. His father and mother would never allow our relationship, so I told him I'd come up with something. This raid was that something.

Not too far from my own position, I heard a haughty voice speaking oddly calmly for their situation.

"What are you looking for my brother for? He's worthless, really."

I turned incredulously to face the speaker and broke into a grin. I raised my hand, pointing to the girl who'd insulted my beloved.

"Kill the girl first."

---

I paced nervously in my room as I waited for the inevitable knock at my window. A guard had just come running from the market with news of a bandit attack, and something in me knew it was Ven Skull, the bandit who'd been visiting me for the past few months.

To be honest, I was worried for him. He was already always in dangerous situations, but his love for me made him reckless. I was sure he was going to get too hurt to get me out of here, but I had to have faith in him. He was smart, even if he was reckless. I just had to be patient.

My father burst into my room, a wild look in his eyes.

"Where's your sister?"

[zeno-zero]

Avatar Roku rant/rambles:

I love him, I love him in such an insane amount. Had me on chokehold since 10 years old like goodness me! What the fuck H-E-🏑🏑 !!

Nobody understood his character and that would've been greatly fine with me but the amount of mischaracterizations, misinterepations, and wishes that he's more like Kyoshi has always made me upset. Roku is a good man whose position as an avatar is poor in terms of writing and expanding his story further.

Roku outside of being Aang's mentor and guide - he was nothing more than just being kindhearted, wise, and pleasant while also acknowledging his indecisiveness, and faults. He even has a flawed perspective on the four nations, that the four nations should always be remained seperated, and still. Yet, I still continue to adore him a LOT. He have so much potential, there are rooms that people could always explore his character than just on the surface/visual level. His airbending and waterbending teachers weren't even named in the late 2010's until some informations were finally out !!

The gene yang comics are not my cup of tea but Roku telling Aang that he should end Zuko's life because he couldn't bare the thought of seeing Sozin? WOW. His friendship with Sozin has always mean something to Roku - so much so, he trusted him to the point it was his downfall. The thought of Sozin's redemption after he left him with the rubble is definitely what Roku had in his mind. But we're talking about the conflict between the Avatar and the Fire Lord, never Roku and Sozin.

His bending abilities are fucking awesome too !! Destroyed an entire palace with airbending + avatar state alone? Created a massive wave in one single move that sent his teacher flying up all the way on top of the chief's palace? He can even be quiet and and silently burrow to the ground to suprise attack enemies with earthbending? Lets not forget that the entire island that Roku was in used to be a huge one until he cut it into a cresent island !! There used to be two super volcanoes !! There's only one remaining !! His firebending shown on the show is also interesting! His fire made Zhao's crew literally run away while incinerating thd metal chains that Katara, Sokka, Shyu, and Zuko were wrapped around with,, unharmed. Him simultaneously bending all four elements at once without the use of the avatar state? Gosh,, people underestimate him sooooo much !!

"But Roku died to a volcano! He should've evacuated-" He was minimizing the effects of it! He died as a hero in that night because no other people held power his power just like he has. The citizens and his wife would've died if it weren't for him, because while it isn't explicitly explained in his wiki and show -  Lava entering the ocean creates a distinctive set of hazards that have seriously injured or killed unsuspecting people eager to see up close the interaction of hot lava and cool seawater. As hot lava boils cool seawater, a series of chemical and physical reactions create a mixture of condensed, acidic steam, hydrochloric acid gas, and tiny shards of volcanic glass. Blown by wind, this plume creates a noticeable downwind haze, known as "laze" (short for lava haze) <- [From "Lava entering ocean" | U.S Geological Survey - USGS.gov] ||And to also answer the dragon part that died with him? I have no answer for that other than the plot has to move on /or the dragon relies on his orders, and to Roku's dying breath, he would rather stay with him.

And nobody talks about how painful and traumatizing Roku's death is - pyroclastic flow is apart of volcano, he either died burning alive, suffocated, or even buried alive! On the margins of pyroclastic flows, death and serious injury to people and animals may result from burns and inhalation of hot ash and gases. Archaeologists have found that some people perished in a pyroclastic surge, a wave of superheated gas and hot ash that literally boiled their blood and caused their skulls to explode, reports Neel V. Patel at Popular Science. <- [Pyroclastic Flows move fast and destroying everything in their path" | U.S Geological survey] AND ["Mount Vesuvius Boiled Its Victims’ Blood and Caused Their Skulls to Explode" by Jason Delay]

But in a summary, I love Roku and I would die to honor his name. Thank you for reading through all of this. Love you guys !! /platonically 

[wonder-worker]

Margaret of Anjou’s visit to Coventry [in 1456], which was part of her dower and that of her son, Edward of Lancaster, was much more elaborate. It essentially reasserted Lancastrian power. The presence of Henry and the infant Edward was recognised in the pageantry. The ceremonial route between the Bablake gate and the commercial centre was short, skirting the area controlled by the cathedral priory, but it made up for its brevity with no fewer than fourteen pageants. Since Coventry had an established cycle of mystery plays, there were presumably enough local resources and experience to mount an impressive display; but one John Wetherby was summoned from Leicester to compose verses and stage the scenes. As at Margaret’s coronation the iconography was elaborate, though it built upon earlier developments.

Starting at Bablake gate, next to the Trinity Guild church of St. Michael, Bablake, the party was welcomed with a Tree of Jesse, set up on the gate itself, with the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah explaining the symbolism. Outside St. Michael’s church the party was greeted by Edward the Confessor and St. John the Evangelist; and proceeding to Smithford Street, they found on the conduit the four Cardinal Virtues—Righteousness (Justice?), Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude. In Cross Cheaping wine flowed freely, as in London, and angels stood on the cross, censing Margaret as she passed. Beyond the cross was pitched a series of pageants, each displaying one of the Nine Worthies, who offered to serve Margaret. Finally, the queen was shown a pageant of her patron saint, Margaret, slaying the dragon [which 'turned out to be strictly an intercessor on the queen's behalf', as Helen Maurer points out].

The meanings here are complex and have been variously interpreted. An initial reading of the programme found a message of messianic kingship: the Jesse tree equating royal genealogy with that of Christ had been used at the welcome for Henry VI on his return from Paris in 1432. A more recent, feminist view is that the symbolism is essentially Marian, and to be associated with Margaret both as queen and mother of the heir rather than Henry himself. The theme is shared sovereignty, with Margaret equal to her husband and son. Ideal kingship was symbolised by the presence of Edward the Confessor, but Margaret was the person to whom the speeches were specifically addressed and she, not Henry, was seen as the saviour of the house of Lancaster. This reading tips the balance too far the other way: the tableau of Edward the Confessor and St. John was a direct reference to the legend of the Ring and the Pilgrim, one of Henry III’s favourite stories, which was illustrated in Westminster Abbey, several of his houses, and in manuscript. It symbolised royal largesse, and its message at Coventry would certainly have encompassed the reigning king. Again, the presence of allegorical figures, first used for Henry, seems to acknowledge his presence. Yet, while the message of the Coventry pageants was directed at contemporary events it emphasised Margaret’s motherhood and duties as queen; and it was expressed as a traditional spiritual journey from the Old Testament, via the incarnation represented by the cross, to the final triumph over evil, with the help of the Virgin, allegory, and the Worthies. The only true thematic innovation was the commentary by the prophets.

[...] The messages of the pageants firmly reminded the royal women of their place as mothers and mediators, honoured but subordinate. Yet, if passive, these young women were not without significance. It is clear from the pageantry of 1392 and 1426 in London and 1456 in Coventry that when a crisis needed to be resolved, the queen (or regent’s wife) was accorded extra recognition. Her duty as mediator—or the good aspect of a misdirected man—suddenly became more than a pious wish. At Coventry, Margaret of Anjou was even presented as the rock upon which the monarchy rested. [However,] a crisis had to be sensed in order to provoke such emphasis [...]."

-Nicola Coldstream, "Roles of Women in Late Medieval Civic Pageantry," "Reassessing the Roles of Women as 'Makers' of Medieval Art and Culture"

[anotherpapercut]

people acting like there isn't still very much an active stigma against cannibas and cannibas users is going to be my joker origin story

when i go to the doctor they still put cannibas use under the tab "substance abuse". not even just substance use. it is fully assumed that people who use cannabis, even as a prescription medication, are abusing it. just because you're friends with a couple of dumbass stoners doesn't mean that we've abandoned the idea as a culture that weed is a bad and scary and dangerous and highly addictive drug that will ruin your life if you use it once

[magnoliamyrrh]

especially bc if theres one thing speaking to ppl on complicated subjects has taught me, and actually getting across to them, is that actually, yea. often times being able to talk and rationalize and keep your cool achieves 3000% more than yelling, screaming, insulting, or anything else does. oh, it sure is harder. oh, its an emotional toll. and you really wanna just call them stupid or tell them to fuck off. but the changes of getting somewhere are much better

there are people which will not change. there are ppl which do not want to hear. there are people which are set to remain in their ways..... but many people are capable of change. maybe people are capable of growth..... and i think... ultimately many ppl wanna be "good," whatever good means in their eyes. and playing off of that to your advantage helps

[definitelyjunehomestuck]

once again minecraft fans be mad for all the wrong reasons

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[spaceradars]

one of the things i love the most about writing a story/potential book about bands/music is that i literally put all of my interests there. i couldn't do this if i didn't asdfgfdsa

[homophobicwarios]

I would mail all my mutuals little dollies but alas internet safety. Mayhaps we should not exchange addresses.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally. 

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 

“That was years ago—” 

“She has a key to your apartment—“ 

“So do you!” he glares. 

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 

You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 

One he couldn’t dare to cross. 

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 

Or at least, not his main problem. 

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 

That should have been his first clue. 

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping. 

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 

Fuck. 

No, he couldn’t. 

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Suguru, please—“ 

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 

What the fuck is going on? 

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 

“It’s not like you to call—“ 

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 

His phone buzzed with texts from you: 

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 

You: are you home? 

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 

Another knock. 

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 

“Suguru—“ 

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 

And he can’t hold back. 

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears

his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.

aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.

"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.

"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.

aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.

he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.

your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.

the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax

before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.

the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.

with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.

you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.

after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.

"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.

the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.

a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.

you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.

you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.

the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you

he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.

sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.

his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.

what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.

he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.

"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.

sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth

your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.

boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.

a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.

your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.

alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.

boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I think I have a potentially controversial opinion on Aziraphale and the ending.

So one of the things that made me smile so, SO much, was THIS:

That PURE ABSOLUTE UTTER JOY.

We have not seen ANYTHING like that from demon Crowley. We've seen him be drunk and silly, we've seen him be amused, but we've not seen this.

Now, let's consider what we know about Heaven:

It's never fully populated. ALL of the shots are completely devoid of angels, except for a few, who are almost always just getting somewhere and never really talking to each other.

Where I thought the archangels were a tight clan, it really looks like they're super catty and prone to jealousy. No doubt they would stab each other in the back happily if it came down to it. How much of Heaven is like that, if even the archangels all hate each other?

Aziraphale already has a nervous disposition when he meets Crowley. Is he perhaps an angel that NEVER fit in? Is he familiar with being ostracized by his peers? Just how lonely IS Heaven? Crowley seems to be a pretty powerful angel, and HE doesn't even know that it's all getting shut down in 6000 years -- it's like no one talks to anyone.

Aziraphale, during their whole meeting, looks absolutely smitten. At one point, Crowley goes, "Look at you! You're gorgeous!" and Aziraphale looks over with happy surprise, just before realizing he's not looking at him but rather at what he's created. And then, when Crowley starts going on about making suggestions and asking questions, Aziraphale is IMMEDIATELY concerned and doesn't want him to get into trouble.

Aziraphale is hooked on this angel, and I cannot help but think that this is perhaps the first angel who has ever WELCOMED Aziraphale into his company.

He is hooked on this angel, and the way Crowley smiles is with the light of all the stars he's just created, and it's infectious and it brings a smile to Aziraphale's face as well. And then this angel shields him from the oncoming falling stars.

He is hooked on this angel, and then this angel goes and joins the Great Rebellion, and becomes fallen himself.

"You were an angel once," Aziraphale said, softly, at the bandstand. He remembers.

I think it's reasonable to guess that Heaven has never felt so warm as it did in the presence of millions of exploding stars, next to the (arch?)angel that may perhaps be one of the few (only?) to pay him any positive attention.

I think it's reasonable to assume that Heaven was not the same after Crowley fell. I wouldn't be surprised to find out Aziraphale had wondered about the angel, wondered if he was okay. I would imagine that Aziraphale keeps that picture of pure, angelic, unbridled joy somewhere inside of him.

So, really, is it any surprise that threaded throughout EVERY interaction, Aziraphale has this deep-down feeling that Crowley is good? Would it be any surprise that Aziraphale, an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can (which isn't always), feels that if HE is still an angel, then what was done to Crowley was a great injustice?

I think it would make sense that we are shown "before the beginning" not just because it is fun, but because THIS is the foundational context for everything Aziraphale thinks Crowley is, everything Crowley enjoys. I think he remembers this moment and wishes he could live there forever. With Crowley. The two of them with this happiness, forever.

But nothing lasts forever, as much as he wishes it did.

I'm not saying Aziraphale was right with what he did to Crowley at the end of s2. There is a lot I think he did wrong. I think he held onto this picture so tightly, he didn't realize that Crowley had long since let it go, and painted a new one with Aziraphale with all the shades of grey he picked up as he sauntered (or plummeted) vaguely downward (into a pool of boiling sulfur).

I don't think he was right, but I do think he is understandable. I think there was a lot of selfishness, but also some misguided selflessness too. I watched that first scene with angelic Crowley and my heart actually broke a little, because I thought, "What a shame this joy was taken away from him."

I think Aziraphale is trying to right the injustice he feels has been done. But I also think Aziraphale doesn't realize that Crowley can never go back. The concept of falling never crossed Crowley's mind when he suggested that he ask a few questions, and he will NEVER get that kind of innocence back. And Aziraphale doesn't understand, because Heaven has clearly always just been that way for him (he is already aware of the danger of asking questions).

Crowley does not want to go back because he can never go back. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could build a universal machine that would crank out stars for eons and eons. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could make some suggestions and ask some questions and co-create with THE Creator.

Crowley understands that, and Aziraphale doesn't. But I can understand why Aziraphale would want to try. And I think it's all because of this: