#they pair well with so many things and can be put in so many things..

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [6] - Election Day

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: A hug can mean many things.

Warnings: Explicit language, drinking, angst, yearning.

Word Count: 5252

Series Masterlist

The election day.

You were so on edge that when you got to work, you could barely hear the chaos with blood rushing in your ears. The whole team was busy, some making phone calls, some rushing through the office with papers in hand, and some talking to each other. You knew Sam was already there for moral support, probably in Bucky’s office, and apparently Sarah had brought AJ and Cass so that they could all be there for Bucky. You waved at them, then made your way to your desk to put your purse on it, Caleb coming closer the minute you did.

“I talked to the bar,” he said. “They’ll close it down for us.”

You took a deep breath and sat down. “Okay.”

“We’re gonna celebrate and I’ll try every single cocktail there.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t look so tense.” He reached out to squeeze your hand. “He’s gonna nail it.”

You looked around. “He’s in his office?”

“Mm hm. With Sam and Sarah.” He eyed you up and down. “You could go in and wish him luck, you know? I get why you’ve been avoiding him for two months, but today is kind of special.” 

You blinked a couple of times, then cleared your throat.

“How’s the voter turnout looking?”

“Pretty good so far— are you seriously not going to go and say hi?”

“I have like one thousand things to do,” you murmured and switched your laptop on. “It’s the election day.”

“Oh is it?” Caleb asked with a grin. “I was wondering why everyone was so on edge, must be why.”

You let out a laugh as he walked away and you texted Kelsey who was probably with Bucky in his office, then lifted your head when AJ and Cass ran to your desk.

“Hey there.” You smiled at them. “What’s up?”

“Are you very busy?”

You looked at the hundreds of notifications on your laptop and your phone, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you lied. “And either way, I can always make the time for the most awesome kids in the world. How can I help you guys?”

“We have a couple of questions,” AJ said and you hummed.

“Well then it’s your lucky day, because I’m so good at answering questions,” you told them. “Ask away.”

“When will we know the results?”

“After the polls close and they count the votes, so around the evening.”

“How many votes do we need?”

“Mm, that’s a bit tricky,” you said. “We obviously need more than the opponent, but I’m aiming for 170,000.”

AJ’s eyes widened. “Do you know that many people?”

“Nope,” you said. “But more than that many people know Bucky.”

Cass shifted his weight as if he was trying to decide whether to ask another question but then he took a deep breath like he was gathering his courage, making you bite back a smile.

“Yes, Cass?”

“Will Uncle Bucky be president one day?”

“Whoa, that’s such a smart question,” you said and a proud smile lit up his face. “That’s a good one, let me think…The biggest factor is whether he wants to or not. Did you ask him?”

He shook his head. “We haven’t yet.”

“You think he’d make a good president?”

“Yeah, he’s awesome!” Cass said. “If he wants to be president, will you make that happen?”

“Me?”

“He always says you’re the best at everything.”

You could feel the warmth in your chest. “Does he?”

“Yeah, mom asked him about you the other day, and he said you—”

“Boys!” Sarah called out, making them turn to her as she approached your desk. “Let her work, she’s very busy.”

“Multitasking is my middle name,” you told her with a grin while AJ and Cass walked away from you and Sarah leaned back to your desk.

“How do you feel?”

“Tense,” you said and nodded in the direction of Bucky’s office. “How’s he doing?”

“He can’t stop pacing,” she said. “Kelsey had to repeat herself like three times just now, so I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you went in for some encouragement.”

You averted your eyes, shaking your head.

“I’d love to, but I’m swamped with work,” you said, clicking on your emails and Sarah hummed.

“You’ve been avoiding him for two months now.”

“I don’t know why everybody keeps saying that, I’m not avoiding him. I work for the guy.”

“Right. So this whole thing has nothing to do with the fact that he got himself a girlfriend two months ago?”

Your head shot up, your eyes widening and you opened your mouth, then closed it, frantically searching for the right words.

“Wha—he—” you stammered. “Why would that be relevant? That’s not relevant, I almost forgot he has a girlfriend—what? What makes you think it’s relevant?”

Very smooth.

Sarah gave you a look. “Come on.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Sarah.”

“It’s just a funny coincidence that you decided to put this distance between you two months ago, considering you two were basically inseparable before Hazel entered the picture.”

“I’ve just been busy with work and my own relationship,” you managed to say. “I don’t care about his relationship, he seems happy enough.”

“Hazel is nice,” Sarah admitted and you snorted.

“She’s also gorgeous, a billionaire and has a successful business,” you murmured, quickly typing your response to the next email. “But who’s keeping count?”

“But I don’t think their relationship will last.”

That made you look up from your screen, your stomach doing a flip. “Wait what? Why not?”

Sarah shot you a smug smile, then shrugged her shoulders and walked away from you, making you shake your head.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “Election day. Keep your head in the game, do not get distracted.”

                                                                        *

After the polls were closed, everyone went to the bar to watch the results. There was no reason to stay in the office anymore; you were either going to move it to the DC or find yourselves new jobs, and either way, staying in the office was not going to change whatever the outcome was.

After you had done everything in the office until the afternoon, you and Caleb had gone to a polling station to make sure everything was going well. When it was closed, Caleb had gone straight to the bar while you returned to the office to grab your coat but as soon as you stepped inside, you pulled your brows together.

Bucky’s office light was on.

Ah.

 Your phone buzzed in your hand and you checked the texts, smiling to yourself before making your way to his office. Your heart was beating in your ears as you knocked on the door and opened it to find him half sprawled on his desk, resting his head on his crossed arms.

His voice came out muffled when he spoke: “Nice perfume.”

“Nice crippling self-doubt,” you replied as you leaned sideways to the doorframe, and he scoffed.

“I’m not having doubts, I’m resting my eyes.”

“On the election night?”

That made him lift his head, making your cheeks feel warm at the sight of his handsome face. It was almost strange, how two months of you avoiding him had done nothing to the magnetic pull you felt whenever you were around him, but you tried to focus.

“Bucky…”

“Don’t tell me any numbers. Don’t.”

“Okay,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders and stepped into the office. “They’re still counting anyway. And everyone is at the bar already, come on.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Was this a mistake?”

“Nope!” You snapped your fingers. “Get up sergeant, we’re leaving.”

“Birdie—”

“Get up.”

“Have I ever told you how bossy you are?”

“I grew up in a stressful home, my options were limited.”

“What if—”

“Get up, I said we’re leaving,” you said and he heaved a sigh, then got up from his seat and followed you out of the office. It was a warm pleasant evening, and you took a deep breath, then started walking with him beside you.

For a couple of minutes, it was completely silent as if he was too lost in his own thoughts before he cleared his throat.

“Talk to me about something else,” he said. “Please. Or else I’ll lose my mind.”

You pressed your lips together and stole a look at him.

“How’s it going with your girlfriend?”

“She’s nice,” he muttered. “And with your boyfriend?”

“It’s okay,” you said. “He’s at the bar already.”

“So is she.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a couple of familiar faces –journalists— making their way into the bar, making your stomach do a flip.

Bucky may have asked you not to check the results, but that right there was a very, very good sign.

“So 40s dating etiquette isn’t that different than ours?” you asked, trying to distract him and his eyes widened.

“It’s very different,” he said. “Are you kidding? It’s insane nowadays.”

“Do you want me to prepare a handbook for you?” you asked. “A report—hey, I can prepare a Powerpoint?”

That made him let out a chuckle and he came to a stop in front of the bar window, then turned to look at you.

“Birdie,” he said. “Listen, whatever happens…”

“You’ll have to give a speech to the whole team no matter the result,” you reminded him and he shook his head.

“Not this speech,” he said, “I know things have been weird for the last two months, but I—”

The uproar from the bar cut him off and your eyes snapped over his shoulder to find the TV inside, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed and grabbed his wrist to pull him into the bar, the cheers only getting louder the minute you stepped inside. His name was above his opponent’s, the graph showing how many votes they each got and—

Announcing him as the winner.

You turned to him to find him staring at the screen like he couldn’t believe it. A laugh escaped you as his gaze found yours, then he turned his hand so that he could hold your wrist before yanking you to himself to swoop you into his arms, hugging you tight. Your heart was doing flips in your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and let out a squeal when he lifted you off the ground, making you giggle. His hand cradled the back of your head and he buried his face into your hair, took a deep breath, pressed a kiss to your temple, then he put you down.

You were dizzy.

And breathless.

And—

You felt someone grab your arm before Kelsey pulled you into a hug, Caleb soon joining you to turn it into a group hug.

“I told you, we nailed it!” he exclaimed when he pulled back and Kelsey let out a laugh.

“Oh yeah!”

“We did!” you said and Kelsey licked her lips, then leaned in so that you could hear her through the cheers.

“Sorry for the interruption but it looked like he would kiss you, and the press is here.”

“And your boyfriend, and his girlfriend,” Caleb added and you held your breath.

Max was here.

Right.

You looked over your shoulder to find him by the bar, watching you with a slight frown on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam hugging Bucky and slapping him on the back, AJ and Cass running around, Sarah smiling at something Sam was saying to Bucky, and multiple people already talking to the press while you made your way to Max and pecked him on the lips.

 “Hey!” you said, smiling brightly at him. “Can you believe this?”

“Yeah.” His eyes darted from you to Bucky, then to you again. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” you said while Sarah waved at you, and you waved at her back. “Um, did I make you wait long?”

“Not much,” he said. “Why did you come with him?”

“With Bucky?” you asked. “He was in the office and I had to go get my coat—”

“Birdie!” Caleb called out. “Team photo, come on!”

“Right,” you said. “Max, I need to be in that photo and talk to the press, you know how it goes. Are you okay though?”

“Sure,” he said after a pause. “But can we talk sometime?”

“Absolutely,” you said, already walking away from him to the team. “Drink and have fun, I’ll be back!”

                                                    *

This was why you were in politics.

Tonight was going amazing.

“Yeah, I don’t have the exact voter demographic right now,” you told Gemma, who was a brilliant journalist, while she held her phone close to you so that she could record you. “As you can see, we’re a bit—”

You were cut off when a wave of applause burst through the bar and you turned your head to see Caleb climbing on the bar counter, Kelsey letting out a whistle.

“Alright, alright,” Caleb said and pointed at Bucky with his beer bottle who raised his in turn with a grin. “Bucky made a speech, Paul made a speech, so I’m guessing we can as well.”

“Do it!”

“Take your shirt off and do it!”

“I’m saving that for when I’m more drunk—so let me start by saying,” he said, “there are a lot of journalists here, so I’m going on a record to say that we fucking nailed it!”

The whole bar cheered, laughter echoing in the room.

“It has been very, very challenging,” Caleb said. “I think I’m high on adrenaline but hey, I’m glad Brooklyn made the right choice!”

Cheers got even louder, making Caleb’s grin wider.

“I’m also glad that no one in this room will ever worry about being unemployed ever again!” he said, holding up his phone. “I got five job offers and counting, so Paul, if you feel like giving me a raise…”

All of a sudden, the whole team started shouting numbers.

“I got seven, you amateur!”

“Five!”

“Six!”

“Four and counting!”

“Eight and counting!”

“How many did you get?” Gemma asked, making you turn your attention to her as Caleb climbed down the counter only for another member of the team to climb there.

“Ten and—” you started, then checked your phone. “Oh, sorry. Eleven and counting.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Thank you!”

“And my last question, multiple political sources call you guys Barnes’ Dream Team,” she said. “Job offers only prove that you guys played a huge part in this, so my question is, how did the team approach the strategy? Did you have an exact picture in mind from the beginning, or did you have to adapt a lot?”

“Oh, a combination of both,” you said. “We all got hired at different points during the campaign, but we were lucky to have the type of dynamic that was open to having ideas that feed into each other.”

“Such as using different mediums to reach people?” she asked. “Because at a certain point, you guys were everywhere. Do you think it played a significant part in this outcome?”

“Definitely,” you said. “It was the very first thing we came up with, there would be no corner of Brooklyn that hasn’t heard from us in one way or another. TV, radio, podcasts, social media, town hall meetings—we wanted them to hear us, then decide whether they wanted to vote for him or not. The priority wasn’t the votes; it was to make sure they heard what Bucky would bring to the politics rather than things he was made to do in the past. We’re lucky he doesn’t get tired because I doubt any other candidate would be able to handle the type of schedule we put in front of him.”

“Is he easy to work with, then?”

“He’s amazing to work with,” you said with a bright smile. “The team is only as good as the boss, and vice versa. Every single person in this room is genuinely happy for him, besides the job offers and everything.”

She licked her lips, her eyes finding Bucky before snapping back to you.

“We just saw a very uh…enthusiastic hug there,” she said. “Would you say you are close?”

Ah.

Anxiety made your stomach turn but you managed to keep the smile on your face.

“We all ended up as a very tight-knit team,” you said without a pause. “We spent almost every minute together, so we’re very close with everyone in the team. My boyfriend was just talking about how our list for Christmas presents doubled up because I got another family at work.”

Gemma smiled and she stopped recording, lowering her phone. “In other words, you’re too smart to fall into that trap.”

“I’ve got some experience in media training.”

She hissed in a breath.

“The guy is handsome enough to make anyone and everyone become interested in politics,” she said. “And even more people will be watching him now. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

You held up your hands.

“Work is work, no hard feelings Gemma,” you told her as your phone started buzzing and you checked the screen, pursing your lips. “I need to get this, sorry.”

You stepped out of the bar, then went into the small alley, cleared your throat and answered the phone.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi pumpkin,” he said. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thanks.”

“How’s your boy doing?”

“He’s very happy.”

“He should be,” he said. “Wasn’t a landslide, but wasn’t very close either.”

“Yeah, when the counting first started, I wasn’t so sure,” you admitted. “But apparently we swayed a significant number of people, even in the neighborhoods I was doubtful about.”

“And how many job offers so far?”

“Dad…”

“Pumpkin, you and the rest of his team just entered every politician’s radar,” he said. “They have a point in calling you his dream team, you managed to make the voters love a former brainwashed assassin enough to put him in the congress.”

“Please don’t call him that,” you told him. “He deserves much better.”

“How many?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eleven and counting.”

“Good,” he said and heaved a sigh. “Well I gotta go, Senator Williams has been calling for the third time tonight. See you in DC.”

You shook your head slightly when he hung up and you turned around, a gasp leaving your lips as soon as you did.

“Max!” you said, putting a hand over your chest. “Jesus, you scared me. What is it?”

He eyed you up and down. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure?” you said, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“What was that?” he asked, pointing back at the bar with his thumb over his shoulder and you swallowed thickly, but managed to keep your expression calm.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “That hug?”

“What, I can’t hug people now?” Your voice came out way too defensive and Max let out a dry laugh, then shook his head.

“Jesus.”

“He won, we’re all excited—”

“Yeah, he won,” Max cut you off. “So? What does that mean for us?”

You blinked a couple of times. “What do you mean?”

“He’ll be in DC. And you?”

“Max, we talked about this when I first started this job,” you reminded him. “We said—”

“Yeah, back when I didn’t think he’d win!” he snapped, making you pull back slightly, a frown pulling your brows together when the realization crashed down on you like a ton of bricks. “Back when this whole thing was hypothetical.”

Wait.

Wait, Max wouldn’t—

“…Who did you vote for?” you asked, making him roll his eyes.

“How is that relevant?”

“It’s incredibly relevant,” you growled. “Answer the question.”

“What does it matter?”

You covered your mouth, taking a step back. “You voted for the opposition?!���

“It doesn’t matter, okay? And hypothetically, if I did, maybe it was because I didn’t want my girlfriend to move to a different city, have you ever thought about that?”

You could barely hear what he was saying, anger making your ears ring as you dropped your hands.

“This will not work if you move to a different city with him,” he said, motioning between you. “Just warning you.”

A snort escaped you before it turned into a full laugh, making you clutch at your stomach in an attempt to stop your laughter and you lifted your head again, wiping at your eyes to keep a straight face.

“You…” you trailed off, trying to control the feral grin curling your lips. “So wait, not only did you vote for the opposition, now you’re asking me to choose between my career and you?”

“I’m asking you to choose between me and him,” he corrected you, pointing at the bar. “It’s not like New York has a lack of politicians. You can easily work for someone here.”

You dragged your tongue over your teeth. “Uh huh. And you’re saying this based on your extensive knowledge in politics?”

“I don’t have to know shit about politics for this conversation,” he said. “You can either be with me, or move to DC. You can’t have both.”

Another huff of laughter climbed your throat and you ran a hand over your face.

“You seriously think you’re giving me an ultimatum right now?” you asked. “Oh my God, the audacity.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“You can’t give me an ultimatum when this relationship is already over, motherfucker,” you said, your voice rising with each word. “I’m breaking up with you, not the other way around!”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.  “Great, very mature—”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “I was going to dump you for the voting thing alone, and you pull that shit? Career vs the man? What the fuck do you think this is, 1950s?”

“So you’re choosing to end this relationship then?”

“Max.” You tilted your head. “I’m asking because I don’t understand. Did you honestly, genuinely think I would ever choose you over my career? Are you joking?”

“As I said, not your career. Your boss.”

You didn’t even hesitate: “I wouldn’t choose you over him with a gun pointed at my head.”

Max scoffed a bitter laugh before he licked his lips.

“I knew it,” he spat. “You’re fucking him.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”  

“Such a cliché,” he said as you pulled back, glaring at him. “Politician and the younger female aide. Does he know you’re a power-hungry slut yet?”

“Careful there.”

“Or does he think you’re just naïve as fuck?”

“I’m not fucking him,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t ask him to rip your tongue out if you keep insulting me. Because trust me, things didn’t end well for the last guy and the body part he used to make me feel bad.”

That made him fall silent and you took a deep breath, stealing a glance at the bar before turning to him.

“And for the record, Max,” you said. “I don’t care what your tech bro idol says. Five minutes is not enough for the microwave to finish, let alone a woman, you selfish, spineless piece of shit.”

With that, you made your way back into the bar without so much as a glance back, your heart still beating in your ears.

                                               *

This was not the time to announce your break up to anyone, tonight belonged to Bucky and his win.

To be completely honest, you were feeling much better than you thought you would. Before this, you had assumed breaking up with Max would’ve made you feel sad or at least anxious, but you honestly couldn’t feel anything other than relief right now.

Relief and excitement about your future.

The press had left but the whole team was ready to party until the morning. Kelsey had already arranged you a table at a very fancy club, saying that her ex friend with benefits was a bartender there, so everyone was slowly finishing their final round at the bar. You had stepped outside to take yet another call for a job offer, pacing in the sidewalk while keeping your eyes on the street.

“I am honored ma’am,” you said. “I loved your work on the clean energy bill you pushed for last month.”

“Even if it didn’t pass?” she joked and you let out a laugh.

“Can’t win them all.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, you’ve done great with Barnes, and my team would love to have you in my campaign for the next term.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. “I would have to check in with Mr. Barnes about his plans for the next term as you know.”

“Of course,” she said. “But if he’s not running, or if you’re looking for a change, my team is open.”

“Thank you so much ma’am,” you said. “And if it’s alright with you, I’d love to talk to you about our stance on clean energy once we’re in DC, we have a lot of common ground so I think working together could raise the chances to pass it the next time.”

“That’s great,” she said. “I’ll tell my chief of staff to contact you the minute you arrive. Welcome to the A League.”

“Thank you ma’am,” you said and hung up, then lowered the phone to check your emails but your head whipped around when you heard a familiar voice.

“Planning on leaving me so soon?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky before giving him a mischievous smile.

“Nope, I’m just gonna use all these job offers to ask for a raise,” you said airily as if your heart wasn’t pacing in your chest. “Hello Congressman Barnes.”

He smiled back. “Hi Birdie.”

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly?” he asked. “I think I’m still in shock.”

“I told you we would win.”

His gaze on you was soft again, making your cheeks burn.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah you did.”

“I mean honestly at this point, everyone should listen to me all the time—”

“Thank you,” he cut you off and your grin widened.

“Hey, all I did was basically not sleep for months, work around 100 hours a week, make the public like you in multiple ways, and put you in the Congress,” you said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Would do it for anyone, don’t flatter yourself.”

A huff of laughter escaped him and he hummed. “Of course.”

“But seriously,” you told him. “I know this is not the first time you hear this tonight, but you do deserve it, Bucky.”

That made him pause for a moment, letting out a breath as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I uh…I needed to hear it from you, not anyone else.”

It was almost funny how in sync you and Bucky were; you took a step to lean your back to the wall and his body automatically turned to follow you so that he could keep his eyes on you, like a dance.

“I missed you, you know?” His voice was soft, like he feared that if he said it any louder it would break the spell you had been under for the whole night. You swallowed thickly, resting your head back on the wall, looking up at the stars before your gaze found his.

“Me too,” you admitted in a whisper, hugging yourself. “Sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I descended upon your place with the fury of a hellhound,” you reminded him, making him scoff a laugh. “But hey, it didn’t affect the results. I guess you had a point about not being in The Bachelor.”

“I still shouldn’t have brought Max up,” he said and frowned as if the thought just hit him. “Is he taking you home—where is he by the way? You’ve had eight drinks, there’s no way you’re going home by yourself.”

You tilted your head. “You counted how many drinks I’ve had?”

“Observation,” he said after a pause. “It’s…handy.”

“For espionage.”

“And for nights like these,” he said and you hummed.

“Kels drank like half of my cocktails,” you said. “And Max is not taking me home.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “What kind of a shitty boyfriend—”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

 That made his head shoot up, the rest of his sentence getting caught somewhere in his throat. You offered him a small smile while he tried to pull himself together, blinking fast as if he was trying to decide whether he heard you right.

“What?” he ended up asking and you nodded your head.

“I dumped him.”

For the first time you’d met him, he was at a loss for words: “…Why?”

“So many reasons.” You heaved a sigh. “But like, at the end of the day, there’s a line, you know? And the motherfucker didn’t just cross it, he ran past it, jumped back, then ran past it again.” 

Bucky stared at you, a light you couldn’t quite decipher gleaming in his blue eyes but before either of you could say anything, the door of the bar opened and Hazel walked outside, her eyes narrowing the moment she saw that you were there with Bucky.

Ah.

Bucky, being a guy, had no idea what that glare meant; you doubted he even noticed it despite his perfect observation skills, but the message was quite clear: I saw that hug, back off.

So you did. You stepped sideways when she stepped closer to Bucky and averted your eyes from him to give her a tight lipped smile.

“Hello Miss Brooks.”

“Hi. You ready babe?” she asked Bucky, making your stomach do a painful flip and Bucky took a deep breath as if he was trying to snap out of a daze, his eyes still on you.

“Who’s—who’s taking you home?”

“I’m not going home,” you said, looking between him and Hazel who was leaning on his arm sideways. “Me and the rest of the team are going to the club to celebrate, we’ll probably be outside until the morning. You guys should join if you’d like, Kelsey’s friend is a bartender there, and the place has got like a bunch of cocktail awards.”

Hazel hummed and smiled up at Bucky.

“I think we’ll have our own celebration at home tonight,” she said with a quiet laugh like it was an inside joke, and you tried to ignore the fire in your throat.

Ouch.

Well played though.

Bucky’s brows furrowed like he was a bit uncomfortable with the innuendo, and he stole a glance at her while you forced yourself to smile, taking a step back.

“Have fun though!” Hazel added. “You guys deserved it.”

You couldn’t decide whether that was condescending or you were just unnecessarily sensitive because she was the one who was going home with Bucky tonight and not you.

“Thank you,” you said and nodded at Bucky. “And congratulations, Mr. Barnes.”   

With that, you walked past him to make your way into the bar, then approached Kelsey and Caleb.

“Hey,” Kelsey said. “Ready to go?”

You scoffed a laugh, then grabbed her drink from her hand to down it in one go.

“Oh yeah,” you said. “Let’s get me blackout drunk.”

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 13

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK??? omg y'all. i can't believe it's been over a month since the last update. i had to let this story cool down in my brain before picking it back up. also, just a lot of things happening at the same time in my life. thanks everyone for your patience! as usual, feedback is MUCH appreciated. enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

“Don’t scare me!”

??? looks at you with a pout and a deep frown. You roll your eyes and rest your hand on the side of your waist.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made that noise to scare me!”

“If you keep complaining, I’ll leave you alone…”

“No!” Her scream echoes from her place at the stairs. “You know I’m scared of the dark!”

You take one more step down and groan in a very annoyed tone. “You could’ve just taken a torch from the patio if you weren’t so lazy.”

“What? You make these light balls all the time. Keep showing them off. What’s different now?”

“The difference, ???, is that your mother asked you to go down the cellar, not me. You dragged me here because you’re a lazy scaredy cat.” ??? takes one more step down. You follow her. “And it’s not a ‘light ball’, it’s a–“

“A sun sphere,” she makes a very whiny impersonation of your voice and shrugs. “Whatever.”

She’s being definitely way too annoying for someone needing help.

The sun sphere floats centimeters away from your palm. It’s not bigger than a pebble, but it’s enough to lighten the entire underground cellar. Eerie shadows are cast over the many barrels and jars that store mostly wine and ale. It always smells of wood, wet soil and grapes down here.

??? squeezes her eyes and walks deeper into the cellar. “Now, which one is it… ???, do you remember–?”

“The big one in the corner. Made of dark oak. Gods, you really know nothing.”

She turns to you with a deeper frown. “And you’re the most annoying person I know! You keep acting like that just because you can make your stupid balls of light or because you turned twelve first! No one besides you cares! Everyone says I’m cuter than you anyway!”

Your jaw drops. You tilt your head to the side. “Well, I think you care. At least I’m useful for something. All you do is braid your hair and destroy Aunt ???’s tapestries with your ugly paintings.”

??? gags; her face is now completely clouded with anger. She puts the ceramic jar she held previously on the floor and walks towards you at heavy steps, her hands tightened into fists.

“Take that back!”

Oh, that was such a grave mistake.

??? has time to see your face turn into a mischievous grin before she regrets what she was about to do.

“No–“

Too late.

You summon the sun sphere to your palm and close your hand.

The light extinguishes.

??? yells.

You run upstairs much faster than her – you were closer to the stairs since the beginning – with ??? following you shortly while screaming like a scared mouse. But you get to the top faster. You shut the door with a loud bang. You lock the heavy wooden door and lean your back on it.

You laugh while she bangs on the door, screaming and crying, until you spot Aunt ??? going down the patio to see what is happening.

You run away before she can scold you.

Juste and Alucard gathered in front of Ruby to analyze the speck of light she had just summoned.

The old Belmont hummed and held his chin, leaning down slightly to see it closer. The only way to describe what he was seeing was as a ball of light. It floated a few centimeters away from her palm obediently.

Juste stuck his finger into the ball and hummed again. It didn’t move away from his touch; his pointer finger went through it as if it weren’t even there.

“It’s not fire,” he observed with a thoughtful tone. “It even feels a little cold.”

Alucard watched him intently.

“Does it feel like Speaker magic?” the white-haired vampire asked.

“No, no. It definitely isn’t.” Juste straightened his back and rested a hand on the side of his waist. “Never seen a Speaker summon light like that.” His frown deepened. “Though it’s not really light. It’s sun, isn’t it?”

Ruby looked down at the light orb and pressed her lips.

“It’s called a sun sphere. I… think.” Her words were slow, hesitant.

“And how did you figure out you could make it?” Alucard asked.

Ruby gulped. She looked a little dazed… Juste figured she was the most shocked out of everyone at this new discovery. It was as if she didn’t even know what to do with herself.

“I had a dream. When I woke up, I just… could do it.”

“How are you summoning it?” It was Juste’s turn to ask.

“I don’t know. It’s second nature. It’s like… it’s like asking me how do I raise my arm or how do I see with my eyes.” Ruby moved her hand slightly; the sphere grew a bit larger, floating farther from her palm. “It feels as if there is a room in my mind I was not aware of. It was… locked. Hidden. Now, the door is opened and I can walk in. It was always there, I just didn’t see it.”

Juste sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“...Yeah, I can relate to that.”

She summoned the sphere back into her palm; when she closed her hand, the sphere vanished.

Alucard crossed his arms. “So Annette was right all along. You are a witch. Your powers were just locked.”

Ruby looked down. “I’m not sure about that.” She confessed. “I also don’t know how useful this magic is other than just creating light.”

Juste chuckled dryly. “Well. It did obliterate half an army of vampires. It’d call it more than useful.”

“But that was the scepter… wasn’t it?” She definitely didn’t sound too sure of herself.

Juste wasn’t sure about that, either. He knew the scepter had some sort of magic stored in it… but what if it was just and instrument for her power, not the source of it to create such an intense spell?

The Belmont was about to make more questions – her magic was intriguing; he didn’t like the fact that he didn’t know what he was dealing with… and the thing about Belmonts is that they usually knew what the hell they were dealing with.

But he looked down at Ruby and noticed how she looked nauseous.

Alucard acted before he could.

The white-haired vampire rested his hand over her shoulder. “We should depart tomorrow morning,” he said in a calming tone. “Why don’t you get inside and have your things ready for the travel?”

Ruby looked surprised at first, then something like relief covered her features. She nodded and stepped back.

“You’re right. I’ll… see what I can do.”

She waved a small goodbye towards Juste and rushed to get into the house.

The old man sighed and crossed his arms. “Poor girl. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”

Alucard just looked down in response.

Paris was still noisy with repairs happening everywhere – even noisier than usual. The party last night lifted their spirits, but now it was time for the Parisians to face reality: hundreds of dead. Countless buildings destroyed. A monarchy yet to be crushed… there was much to be done.

But strangely enough, Juste felt… excited.

...Renewed? Joyful? Perhaps all of these things at once. It felt as if the veil that covered his eyes and the weight heavy on his shoulders had lifted. He felt that… maybe, Juste had found a purpose again. One that went beyond survival or killing some vampires for a few coins.

One more noble, perhaps. The one that kept the Belmont clan alive for centuries.

Talking about something being alive for centuries – Juste looked at Alucard with a quirked eyebrow.

“‘Departing tomorrow morning?’ May I ask where you’re going next?”

Alucard’s expression softened slightly, the knot between his eyebrows untied. Of course Juste was curious. He couldn’t deny that the mystique (for lack of a better word) that revolved around Alucard intrigued him. Juste spent his childhood hearing stories about the man from his father, even though the half-vampire barely spent any time with him back then.

Which was even more intriguing, in a way. Because Alucard hadn’t changed a day since Juste was fourteen. Same appearance, same voice, same… everything. It was a bit eerie how this man that looked to be around his late twenties was actually lifetimes older than him… and it was a bit eerie how this young looking man could make Juste feel like a child.

Not intentionally or in a belittling way. But Juste knew what that look meant, the slight curve up of his lips. The barely there excitement and endearment, maybe.

“We’re going to Wallachia. To the Castle… and the Belmont Hold.” There it was. Alucard knew Juste would gasp, that his eyes would widen ever so slightly. “You’ve never been there, have you?”

Indeed. Juste didn’t know exactly why his ancestors left Wallachia or why they decided to spread around Europe. He thought it wasn’t a great idea judging by how little of them still remained. Perhaps staying in the Hold would’ve been the smarter decision. But Juste wasn’t there at the time… he couldn’t judge.

Every Belmont knew about the Hold and the centuries of information, history and magic stored there. Every Belmont knew that Alucard was the official guardian of the place…

“You’re more than welcome to join us.” The vampire continued. “Richter, too, if he wishes so.”

...And it would be a lie if Juste said this invite didn’t make his heart race.

Juste was a Belmont, but he was far from knowing the glory days of his clan. He’d like to know what remained of it, how magnificent the Hold must truly be. If he said he didn’t plan this trip many times, he’d be lying. But life always had a way to drift him apart from it over and over again – because of Lydie, then because of Julia… and then, because of his inertia that lasted years.

He didn’t have any of that anymore.

And yet – once again, Juste couldn’t go.

The old man sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m honored for the invite… but I’ll have to decline. Richter decided to leave for Saint Domingue with Annette… and I just can’t leave Maria alone. At least, not now. She needs someone.”

Juste knew this better than anybody. He’d seen it up close for the past few days – her fight against the darkness within herself, the loss of her mother… the way he failed in stopping her from killing the Abbot. Juste knew she hadn’t healed from any of that yet. Maria needed guidance. Not only because she was just a child in a cruel world – Maria was a powerful magician, perhaps more powerful than anyone first assumed.

And Juste had seen that darkness in her.

That linked with magic could become a catastrophe.

Richter still hadn’t told her was leaving… Juste feared what her reaction would be. So he needed to make sure she wouldn’t feel alone. Even though, well, he wasn’t great with teenage girls.

He’d have to overcome that.

Was he doing it for Maria, for Tera, for himself or for Julia?

Did he see Julia in that short blonde girl?

Maybe.

Juste just knew he didn’t want to fail in protecting someone this time.

Alucard shrugged slightly. “The place is part yours by right anyway. You can come whenever you want.”

Juste smiled and nodded. He then quirked one eyebrow again. Talking about feeling responsible over someone…

“You took full responsibility over Ruby, huh?”

The faint smile immediately vanished from Alucard’s lips. He looked down, the knot between his brows appeared again.

“...This isn’t completely over, Juste.” His voice was quieter, as if afraid any passersby could eavesdrop. Somber. “You saw it, too. The shadow.”

Juste felt a shiver just remembering it.

He was barely awake at the time, recovering from the heavy blow Erzsebet had landed on him and Maria. He was dizzy, confused, feeling pain everywhere… but he saw it. The whirlpool of shadows surrounding Drolta’s beheaded body. The laughing thing that emerged from it.

The demon.

“That thing appeared for the Abbot, too, when he died.” Juste lowered his voice as well, caressing his beard absently. “It came to reap him.”

“He probably had a deal with this demon… and he died before accomplishing it.”

“Which means Drolta had a deal with it, too?” Juste completed his logic. “Why would a vampire so powerful fall for that?”

Alucard tilted his head to the side. Juste could almost see the gears in his mind turning relentlessly, trying to come up with new answers.

“I can’t be sure. But… they had an immortal whose blood miraculously heals in their possession for a long time.” The vampire looked at him. “This feels like something worth making a deal for. No?”

Juste widened his eyes slowly.

...That made sense. Yes, that made a lot of sense.

“Do you think she was the bargaining chip?”

Alucard shrugged. “Erzsebet drank Sekhmet’s blood to become the goddess’ vessel… and Ruby’s blood to heal herself from the process. Drolta searched for a suitable vessel for millennia. Maybe she didn’t find one. Maybe she made one that couldn’t die this time… because she had a way to heal her continuously.” Alucard held his chin in a thoughtful expression. “And it’s not only that… right after Annette managed to rip Sekhmet’s soul from Drolta’s body, Drolta tried to reach for Ruby. I’m sure she did. Why would she do something like that on the verge of death?”

“Maybe to heal herself with Ruby’s blood.” Juste guessed. “Or maybe… because she was part of the deal.”

“And Drolta knew she had to do something about Ruby to complete her part of the deal before she could be reaped.”

It’s like Juste could visualize an intricate thread form in front of his eyes as Alucard spoke. The old Belmont tapped his foot on the cobblestones floor, hummed deep in thought.

“The fact that after Drolta died, Ruby remembered how to access her magic… a non-Speaker magic that I’ve never heard of on top of that makes everything more suspicious.”

“Yes.” Alucard nodded. “I believe all the answers are with her already. We just have to find a way to open the doors to her mind. My father’s knowledge might be helpful with that.”

“Let’s be glad that Ruby is cooperative, then.”

“She wants to remember her past more than all of us.”

Juste tilted his head. “Understandable. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like… to have no memories at all.” He hesitated a few seconds before speaking again. “Which… might lead to some uncomfortable discoveries, aye? Maybe she became a part of all this willingly.”

“I doubt it. She also wanted Erzsebet and Drolta dead more than all of us.” Alucard looked down again. “But if it turns out to be true… I’ll deal with it.”

Juste eyed Alucard in silence for a while.

Could he, really?

Of course – he didn’t want to question legendary Alucard. This man had killed more vampires and fought more magicians than Juste could even count. But Juste also saw that the vampire was… attached to her to some degree. He just wasn’t sure how deep this attachment was. Would Alucard be able to deal with her if he found out she wasn’t innocent?

Because dealing with it meant to kill her.

But… well… considering what he had already done in the past…

Juste didn’t even want to think about it.

“If it comes down to this… how are you going to do it?” The Belmont was, once again, hesitant, choosing his words carefully. “From what I’ve heard, she’s like a vampire. Does she die like a vampire, too?”

Alucard tightened his eyes slowly.

“I’ve seen a night creature bite half of her body. Multiple organs pierced. Bones crushed to dust. Mass bleeding. She healed in an hour and half.” The vampire looked down at Juste, maybe to observe his astonishment. “I don’t know many vampires who could survive all that.”

Juste went silent for a while.

That… that sounded dangerously close to something mankind had been looking for since the dawn of time. What vampires wanted the most. They called themselves immortals, but they could be killed. And yet…

“That sounds like true immortality.”

Alucard nodded slowly in a grave movement.

Juste felt his stomach get heavy.

He shook his head. “But that can’t be. Anything can be killed. We just don’t know how yet… in her case.”

Alucard looked down again. There was something very dark in his eyes… very cold.

“Perhaps the only person that knew how to is already dead.”

It took Juste a few seconds to understand what he meant… could it be… Drolta…?

But he saw someone else approaching – and the topic ended right then.

It was the ginger boy, Henri, son of the Judge.

It was a bit funny how awkwardly he walked. The young lad always looked like a pile of nervousness – blushing, blinking, averting his gaze elsewhere… so much that Juste wondered how the hell did he survive past night. How was he even a soldier?

“Did you call me, Mr. Alucard?” The boy asked. He hardly could keep eye contact with neither of them.

“Yes.” The vampire crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at Henri; Juste could almost see the boy shrinking under his gaze, though Alucard didn’t sound much different from how he usually talked. “Did you tell anyone about what happened yesterday?”

The younger one widened his eyes slightly. He unconsciously gripped his recently healed shoulder. “N-No, sir.”

“This information could put her in great danger.” Alucard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The only people that know about Ruby’s ability are me, Juste and you. So, if anyone comes after her… I’ll know it was you.”

Henri got pale.

It seems that even his lips lost their color.

It was a bit impressive how Alucard could threaten in such a sophisticated way. Henri looked between the vampire and the Belmont, both much taller and muscular than him – and Juste wondered for a second if he’d piss his pants.

“O-Of course, Mr. Alucard. I’d n-never put Miss Ruby in danger. This secret goes with me to the grave.”

Alucard nodded approvingly.

He then looked at Juste. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to make as well.”

The vampire took two steps.

Juste watched Henri intently. In the time Alucard took these two steps, it looked like there was a war happening inside the boy. Finally, before Alucard could leave–

“Wait!”

He turned around and looked down at Henri. The quirk of his brow was enough of a question.

Before, Henri got pale. Now, he got as red as a lobster.

The boy avoided his gaze and bowed slightly.

“I-I’d like to properly apologize, Mr. Alucard. For c-c-courting Miss Ruby. I… I didn’t know she was is your fiancée.”

It was a difficult task to take Alucard off guard – but Henri’s “apology” certainly did.

Juste looked from the tall one to the small one repeatedly. What is going on here?!

Henri coughed. “I-I did not mean any disrespect on you, sir. Or on Miss Ruby. Please, forgive me.”

There were a few seconds of silence.

Juste tried to muffle an incoming giggle. So the boy thought they’re a couple?

The tension disappeared from Alucard’s face once more. He chuckled lightly and closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he found the situation extremely funny.

He patted Henri’s shoulder softly.

And walked away.

Not a word spoken.

Now Juste was caught off guard.

He watched Alucard’s back as he distanced himself, suddenly remembering what he said yesterday night when Maria asked him what he was going to do from now on.

“I’ve been alone for many years. It seemed, on the whole, for the best. But last night, I saw people who have found something… new and precious and… maybe world-changing. They were not ready to surrender it. They would rather die. I think I’d like to see how that goes.”

And Juste got it.

The old Belmont chuckled and patted Henri’s back. The boy gasped in surprise.

“You aimed too high, lad.” Henri looked down with blush already covering his cheeks and ears. “But don’t be discouraged. Paris is full of beauties.”

He walked away too before Henri could feel even more embarrassed.

Apparently… Juste wasn’t the only one with a new motivation to live.

You should be packing.

Well. Not that you had anything to pack. The maid had kindly brought a few pieces of clothing and a bag, so it was pretty much everything you’d be able to carry with yourself – but all of these items were still scattered over the bed, untouched.

All you could do was sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the sun sphere.

Sun sphere. It’s how that little girl in the dream called.

As soon as your eyes snapped open, you just knew how to do it. It was easy, didn’t make you feel tired. Almost as it you’d known how to do that your entire life.

It was the second time in 48 hours that a dream revealed something about yourself.

You remembered how, under imprisonment, you barely ever dreamed of anything – and now suddenly whenever you closed your eyes, your mind wandered. What if that was also Erzsebet and Drolta’s work? What if Alucard was right and your memory was blocked by magic?

Maybe these weren’t dreams. Maybe these were memories.

You closed your hand, making the sun sphere vanish. So you were in fact a magician, as Annette suspected from the start… though Juste stated this wasn’t Speaker magic. Alucard had no idea of what it was either. When it came to you, it seems no one had any idea of anything ever. Which, quite honestly, was starting to be annoying. Of course – no one had to know anything, but the sheer lack of information was just infuriating.

Alucard was confident you’d find valuable information in his castle, however.

Dracula’s Castle.

It felt a bit strange how Alucard didn’t call the place his. His father could’ve built it, but as far as you knew, it had been his for hundreds of years already. Why, then, didn’t he feel like he owned it?

The idea of being there was both exciting and frightening. Dracula built the castle. He lived there. And for some reason, the mere mention of his name already brought chills. You should’ve already mentioned this strange reaction to Alucard at this point, though you still didn’t quite know how to approach the topic… but it had to be done, right? And soon. You couldn’t run away from it much longer.

What was also exciting and frightening was the idea that you’d travel with Alucard.

Alone.

You weren’t scared of him; not at all. But… Annette and Richter wouldn’t be there to divert his attention. It’d be just you and him the entire travel.

You didn’t know if you could manage your embarrassment around him.

Why were you even embarrassed in the first place? You didn’t know exactly. Maybe the fact that you were so attached to him already. That… didn’t feel very mature of you. And Alucard was so mature.

There was no way you wouldn’t be attached to him when you knew so little about the world. But… how did he feel about all this? What if you were being inconvenient in some way?

You shook your head as if to make these thoughts fly away.

“Pack. I should pack.” You mumbled under your breath before finally getting up.

Two changes of clothes, one of which you’d obviously be wearing. A black cloak. You folded everything carefully and put it inside the brown leather bag the maid provided. And finally… something else you felt brave enough to ask for.

A small notebook.

The cover was made of black leather with a thin strip to keep it closed. It was a little bigger than your hand. With care, you took the lily that the three little boys had given you and placed it inside the notebook to let it dry there.

You’d just written a few things yet. A couple of phrases. You found yourself embarrassed of writing anything remotely personal, even if you were locked inside a bedroom. Probably because you were still under the panic of being watched at all times.

But you were scared of forgetting the frail memories you had retrieved… or even the events that unfolded in the past week.

You hadn’t experienced any memory blackouts since you left imprisonment. You woke up exactly were you laid previously; you didn’t suddenly find yourself in situations and didn’t remember how they started. But there was no solid proof that it couldn’t happen again. What if you had to use the scepter again and it melted your brain? What if it caused memory loss? What if there was actually something wrong with your head that had nothing to do with magic?

So you decided to keep track of yourself in this small notebook.

You still had to find the right words. It was… difficult to organize your thoughts in text. Your handwriting wasn’t the best, either. But you had to try, regardless of how awkward it’d feel at first.

You felt the presence before you saw him.

Something cold. For a second, you thought it was a freezing breeze coming from the open window… but no. Something in your guts knew better. Was familiar with it. The sense of danger they brought, the darkness and the cold.

The presence of a vampire.

You turned around in a jump.

You thought your eyes were failing you at first. It… looked like smoke. Pitch black smoke materializing in the room, condensing at the darkest part of it, were the thick curtains were still covering the window.

That pitch black smoke took the form of a man.

Your first reaction was to grab the sun disk. Your heart raced, adrenaline heightened your senses to a ten. The door was quite far… if he launched himself at you, would you make it to the doorknob in time?

But then… you looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The unknown man was tall and muscular. He wore a luxurious purple and golden attire. His long straight black hair fell to the right side of his face. His eyes… vertical pupils and an eerie, supernatural shade of green, contrasting with his brown skin. They seemed to glow in the dark. Astute eyes. Almost as if you stood in front of a serpent quietly analyzing its prey. His beauty was mesmerizing.

And you remembered.

“...I know you.” Your voice was quiet. “You were at the Erzsebet’s chateau that morning.”

The vampire opened an almost imperceptible smirk.

“I’m surprised you remember.” His voice was also quiet; smooth as silk, with a bit of rasp on it.

“Are you one of her servants? Do you seek revenge?”

He shook his head slightly. His earrings tinkled with the movement.

“Oh, no. I’m more than pleased that the bitch is dead now.” His gaze was so penetrating that you felt your stomach drop. He measured you up and down slowly. “But… I’m curious about you.”

You still moved slowly, as if you were indeed facing a poisonous serpent. Alucard didn’t feel this man’s presence in the house… meaning he was certainly skilled in masking his presence. That was no regular vampire. In a way, he exhaled that same quiet aura of an old, powerful vampire that Alucard had as well.

He didn’t show any aggressiveness in his expression or body.

Which made you remember something else.

The day Alucard took you from the chateau… the words he said.

Now, let’s go. I’m already abusing the opportunity my associate gave me…

This man was there to see you help summon the eclipse.

“...Was it you?” He waited for you to elaborate. “It’s you who told Alucard about me?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head… almost a nod.

You straightened your back and lowered your arm slowly.

“...Thank you, sir. You saved my life.”

He seemed a bit taken aback by your sudden change in behavior.

“Nothing to thank me for. I was chasing after my own interests.”

“If your interest was to defeat Erzsebet, than I should thank you even more.”

He chuckled dryly. “You’re not what I was expecting. But… it makes sense, in the end.”

“What are you talking about?” You frowned.

“I wanted to see the person Mizrak risked his life for up close.” His eyes dropped to the sun disk in your hand. “So… it was really you.”

His last sentence went completely unnoticed. Your eyes widened.

“Mizrak?! Do you know Mizrak?” You took one step closer to him. “Is he alive? Is he okay?!”

The scene of Mizrak being stabbed in the stomach didn’t leave your mind. The amount of blood that flowed from the wound, the way he pushed you inside the cathedral… and how he simply disappeared after everything. Both Alucard and Juste tried to find him, asking in several medical posts (the improvised spots where the wounded in battle were being treated) if they’d seen him, but no one received a man with the same description.

You wouldn’t have reached Notre Dame without him. The idea that he could’ve simply died was agonizing.

The vampire quirked an eyebrow softly at your inquires. “...He’s still not well. But he’ll be.”

A side of you was immediately worried for Mizrak’s life. After all… this man could’ve helped you, but he still was a vampire – and you didn’t trust vampires. But there was something in the way his serpent eyes softened almost imperceptibly at the mention of Mizrak that made you… calm down about his safety.

You tightened your eyes at him.

“What’s your curiosity about me?”

The vampire watched you in silence for some seconds.

It was unsettling how you had no clue of what was going through his mind. The ghost of a smirk stayed there… almost in a mocking way. You wondered it you really should stop worrying. You wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to reach for the doorknob and scream…

But his eyes dropped from your face.

They lingered somewhere lower.

Your chest. The left side of it.

And… and it seemed he was seeing something you couldn’t. Something that made his vertical pupils dilate slightly.

Finally he looked at your face again.

Opened a lip tightened smile.

“Don’t bother, my dear. I already found out.” You watched as his body started to dissipate again in a shapeless black cloud. “Farewell.”

And just like that – he was gone.

You hadn’t realized you weren’t breathing properly.

You turned around and opened the door in a rush. What the hell just happened?! Who was that man? What did he mean? What if he was dangerous? What if he was still around? Why didn’t anyone else feel his presence?! You ran down the corridor, feeling adrenaline kick in again. The stranger saved your life… and didn’t seem aggressive. But that could mean nothing.

Alucard’s room was the last. The door was partially opened, so you just stormed in–

And froze.

Alucard was in the room.

...Laying on the sofa. Asleep.

His chest moved slowly. He was too tall for it… so one of his legs was over the sofa arm, while his other feet touched the floor. His neck was in an uncomfortable position. By the way his sword was leaning on the sofa and he had a small book over his chest… he didn’t plan to sleep there.

Your entire will to warn him ended right then.

From the moment you met him… the travel from Machecoul to Juste’s cottage, then all the way down the river towards Paris… Alucard didn’t sleep once. Richter and Annette took turns on who got to sleep. You even managed to sleep some hours at the atelier.

Alucard didn’t.

He’d been awake for days straight.

How could you simply wake him up now that he finally relaxed, even if by accident?

You stood by the door for some seconds. His long wavy hair fell over his shoulders and the sofa arm like a cascade of threads made with moonlight itself. You’d never seen him so… tranquil. No knot between his brows, lips completely relaxed. It made him look younger, in a way.

Slowly, you stepped back and closed the door, afraid to make any noise.

That could wait.

A/N: SO!! after over a month i know yall were expecting dracula's castle already or hot steamy sex!! BUT!! this is a transition chapter and it had to happen before we get to the next part!! it'll all be worth it later TRUST 🙏 what i will tell you is that one of the reasons why this ch took so long is that i REALLY wanted to write what comes next, but this one had to come first. and it kinda pissed me off, so instead of, you know, getting this over with, i just laid in bed and fantasized about the parts i ACTUALLY wanted to write. which means i am motivated to write again bc i'm getting to the parts i wanted. i don't even know if what i just said makes sense lmao but ANYWAYS!! trust the process!! 🙏

[reoverie]

────── THE PERFECT PAIR ⠀ ✦ ⠀ OLIVER ⠀ AIKU

⠀ ⠀ 𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗂𝗄𝗎 ⠀ ⟡⠀ 𝒇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ⠀ ⠀ 𝟩𝟣𝟨 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ⠀ ⠀ 𝗰𝘄. ⠀ 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. ⠀ ⠀ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀. ⠀ 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 + 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 :𝟥

if you hadn’t noticed, even the most important things have a second part — or pair — to them; movies, books, and eventually, your relationship with oliver aiku.

you have so many things to say to him after he broke up with you for the second time, yet you can barely allow yourself to process what you want to say.

you yearn for him, your heart and mind know the feeling all too well. they acknowledge how much you miss him, how much you like him— err.. how much you liked him.

the first time oliver broke up with you, you sobbed for weeks. it took so long for you to piece yourself together once again, but that progress immediately disappeared the moment you gave oliver a second chance. you were over the moon, the chance to restart giving you hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future with him. hell, you even made him a playlist! one that you planned to share before the second break-up.

it’s late at night, and it almost feels as if the city was asleep. you sure as hell were before your phone began to ring, the specific ringtone you had for oliver buzzing through the stillness of your room.

instantly, your eyes open wide and you shoot up, sitting in your bed. frantic hands search your bedsheets for your phone, and when you find it, you immediately press the answer button and put the phone to your ear.

“hey olli-“

you aren’t given a chance to speak before oliver’s cutting you off.

“look, babe, me and you aren’t gonna work out.” his voice is gruff on the other side of the speaker, and you’re certain you hear some other girl in the background.

“wh- what?” you choke out, eyes blinking away both the grogginess and tears that formed in your eyes.

who the hell calls in the middle of the night to break up with someone over the phone? who the fuck does that!?

“yeah.. but, y’know, we can be friends. or you could be one of my fangirls. wouldn’t you like that?” it’s almost as if you could hear the smirk in his voice — no. you did hear the smirk in his voice.

your hand gripped your phone, to the point it felt it may crack with how tightly you held it. sharply inhaling, you fake a smile and grit your teeth.

“yeah. i’d love that.”

but you lied. you didn’t want to be his friend or one of his airheaded fangirls — you wanted to be with him, to be his entirely. you wanted to love him loudly and proudly. you wanted him to love you the same, if not even more. it seemed near impossible for him to do that with how many girls he had in his phone.

you were never one to believe in second chances when it came to romantic relationships. friendships? sure. but when a relationship ends, it ends. you’d cry about it and then move on. but you can hardly move on from oliver, so caught up on all of his sweet words and innocent touches that lingered on your skin, touches you can still feel to this day. the more you think about him, the more you’re open to taking him back once again.

but now that you’re broken up, you’re given a chance to think — if he were to ever propose getting back together, dating him for a third time isn’t worth it. you love him, you think of him more than you should. but you find yourself thinking about what other girls were under his spell that ended as broken as you. the thought makes you sick, and the more you think, the less you like him.

you miss him, miss what the two of you had even if it was for a mere few months. you’re aware you’ll never take back the moments shared, and truthfully? you don’t want them back. he wasn’t worth the heartbreak, worth the countless tears you’ve shed.

so as you write the emotions that are bubbling in you, you listen to the carefully curated playlist you had made for him. it had changed a lot since the day you had made it, quite like the feelings you once had for your now ex-boyfriend.

© REOVERIE, 2024 ⠀/ ⠀my works are purely fiction and, in no way, is canon aligned. please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[https-bobreynolds]

misunderstanding

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x thunderbolts*! ex-avenger! reader

summary: bob gets jealous over a certain russian assassin.

warning: mentions of death and alcohol, reader curses several times, they kinda banter, jealous! bob gets kinda… sarcastic and grumpy, slow burn-ish

your relationship with bob has changed ever since you were both, along with others, forcefully made into a team, the thunderbolts*, the new avengers. he’s… cute, kind, and you live in the same tower, plus, it doesn’t help when his bedroom is right across yours too.

it was clear to the others that you two had a thing going on, how could they not? you both were always together whenever possible, it’s like you two are inseparable. the kitchen and the main common room being the two places where they would always find the two of you doing something cute, domestic even, sometimes.

but you’re both friends, really good ones... or at least that’s what he says every time someone asks him about it.

that is, until these past few days, he hasn’t seen you that much. it’s not that you were avoiding him, no. but you’re quite literally gone, away from the tower. bob didn’t mind it that much when he first noticed, he thought ‘o-oh she’s probably busy’

but then he starts to notice that yelena is usually gone at the same time you were out as well. have you both… been going out on dates? no that can’t be it… that just can’t be.

until early this evening, when he saw the two of you coming back from God knows where, hugging each other with closed eyes.

your eyes fluttered open, noticed his head poking out from his bedroom door, confused face and all. “oh, hey bob, you wanna come have a drink with us?”

bob looked up as he heard your voice, his face still etched with confusion. he had been hoping to see you, but not like this. he had hoped to see you alone, but instead, you were with yelena, both of you looking... intimate.

he shook his head, “n-nah... nah, i’m good. thanks, though” he said, trying to sound casual, failing miserably.

you couldn’t help but notice his cold tone, the distance in his voice. you knew bob like the back of your hand, so you could instantly tell something was off with him. “are you sure? we could use some company” you said, hoping to get him to change his mind.

“it’ll be fun, bob. alexei’s coming as well.” yelena says, leaning against your body.

bob could feel himself wavering, wanting to say yes, but something held him back. he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you and yelena acting so close, as if you guys were a couple or something...

he let out a sigh, conflicted, “i… i don’t know… i’m not really in the mood…”

you furrowed your eyebrows together, something was definitely off with him, but you couldn’t put a finger on it, “come on, just one drink, that’s all. just… just come hang with us for awhile.”

he sighed again, looking back and forth between the two of you, seeing your begging face, he couldn’t say no, not to you. “fine… just one drink, alright?”

you nodded, a small smile on your face, “yeah, yeah that’s fine.” he took a deep breath, trying to push down the discomfort he was feeling, “yeah… yeah, i’m coming.”

now when you initially invited him, he thought you meant drink, as in drink in a bar- one of alexei’s many regulars probably. so when you and yelena took several beer cans from the fridge and bought it up to the tower’s rooftop, he was pleasantly surprised to say the least.

it was nothing special, just lightly decorated with a few fairy lights, courtesy of yelena, wanting the rooftop to look nice, brighter.

alexei was already there, waiting, with his own box of vodka, “thought you would never come!”

bob forced a smile, trying not to let on how annoyed, small-hearted, he felt. he felt left out, seeing the three of you already comfortable around each other. “y-yeah, i thought you guys wanted to go to a bar or something, honestly.”

“bars are expensive.” yelena piped up, smiling. “besides, it’s more personal this way, don’t you think?”

bob wanted to say that he’d actually prefer the bar this time, but he didn’t. instead, he nodded, “yeah… yeah, it is more personal, huh?”

you patted a spot beside you, inviting him to sit next to you, “yeah, of course it is. we get a better view of the stars this way too.”

bob did his best to hide the slight surprise he felt as you patted the spot next to you, and he slowly made his way over, sitting down next to you, making sure to keep a relatively comfortable distance.

you couldn’t help but notice his hesitance as he sat down next to you, choosing to sit a few inches away instead of making himself comfortable. you furrowed your eyebrows together, trying to figure out what was going on with him… he was usually so clingy, so this was really strange.

alexei, who was sitting opposite you and bob, spoke up, “you seem tense kid, got something on your mind?”

bob shook his head, trying to play it cool, “nah, i’m good… just... just tired, that’s all."

alexei raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not believing him, but decided to let it slide for now. “just drink vodka, that will help.” he said bluntly.

“yeah, i think i will, thanks…” bob said, reaching out and grabbing one of the many vodka bottles alexei had brought with him. he popped the top open, taking a big swig, letting the burn of the vodka course through him, hoping it would soothe his anxious thoughts.

“Jesus, calm down bob. we have the whole night to ourselves” you said, eyes slightly widened at the big chug he took, he never does… this.

bob’s eyes were slightly widened as well, but it was more from the pain of the alcohol than anything… he hadn’t drunken in a while, and it was definitely showing. he let out a breathy huff, shaking his head, “yeah… yeah, you’re right… maybe i should slow down.”

alexei, who had been silently watching the exchange, let out a bark of laughter, “you look like a sad puppy with those big eyes! drink more” he said, pushing the bottle closer to him.

you, alexei, and yelena talked to each other, with bob making sparse comments, but he was mainly just quietly listening, taking another swig of vodka every now and then.

when yelena and alexei stood up, (finally) wandering off, you glanced at the man beside you who’s been awfully quiet, “you okay?”

bob looked over at you, trying to hide the buzzing in his head, “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. just… just thinking.”

a look of concern flooded your face, but before you could say more, alexei spoke up from afar, “what is there to think about? just drink and relax, kid!”

you rolled your eyes at alexei’s comment, “ignore him.”

“mind telling me what’s going on in your head?” you asked with concern in your eyes, face slightly red due to the alcohol.

bob looked at you, taking in your redding face, as his heart ached. he knew you had a few drinks as well, but it hardly affected you as much since you had a higher alcohol tolerance than the others, you were tipsy at best. he shook his head, “it’s nothing, really… just tired, that’s all.” he said, trying to brush off your concern.

you didn’t buy it. you knew when he was lying, and right now, it was as clear as day. “you’re lying” you said bluntly, crossing your arms in front of you, looking at him with a serious expression, “now spill, what’s bothering you?”

bob’s heart nearly stopped as you called him out on his lie, he didn’t know how he thought he could fool you, but he tried anyway. he shook his head, “no seriously, it’s nothing. i’m fine, h-honestly.”

you didn’t miss a beat, still crossing your arms in front of you. “bullshit. you’re still lying, so try again. what’s going on in that brain of yours?” you said firmly.

bob felt his heart skip a beat again, his face heating up, he could never deny you. he knew there was no point in arguing with you, not when you were like this, so he decided to be truthful to you. “fine, you really want to know what’s going on in my head?” he asked quietly.

you just nodded, “yes, yes i do want to know what’s going on in your head.”

he let out a sigh, looking out at the skyline as he spoke, "you really want to know what's bothering me? you want to know why i'm in a bad mood right now?"

“yes, that’s what i just said, now spill already” you said with an irked tone, clearly getting impatient.

‘tipsy y/n is impatient’ bob takes a mental note to himself

he looked at you, his expression hardening, “fine, you wanna know that badly huh? okay. you wanna know why i’m in a bad mood right now, why i seem so tense? i’ll tell you why, alright? c-cause it’s pissing me off that you’ve been spending so much time with yelena lately.”

you felt a wave of surprise wash over you, not expecting him to say that. you felt taken aback, but you tried to keep your composure, “i… is that what’s bothering you? that’s what you’re all grumpy about? really?”

he sighed, a bitter tone in his voice, "is it so wrong of me to be pissed off that you've been spending so much time with her? being i-intimate with her, as if w-we weren’t already a thing?"

you went silent, you felt a pang of guilt, knowing that you had been hanging out with her quite a lot lately, you didn’t explain why, and you hadn’t spend any of your time with bob, except for a few chit chats here and there.

bob saw the expression on your face, the guilt written all over it, and he knew instantly that you felt bad for neglecting him. he felt a mix of bitterness and sadness, “what was i… to you, this whole time??”

“bob, it’s not like that at all.”

he rolled his eyes, his voice filled with sarcasm, "oh really? then what’s it like, huh? explain it to me then, why you’ve been spending all your time with her in secret, and none with me?"

you pursed your lips and took a deep sigh before answering, “…it’s natasha’s death anniversary”

before becoming a member of the thunderbolts*, you were an avenger, a part of the originals. natasha was one of your closest friend, one of the only female friends you had since the beginning, almost like an older sister to you, teaching you things, helping you train physically and mentally.

the moment she died, you felt like the world stopped. you felt so useless, not being able to do anything about it. it was one of the worst days in your life.

bob was taken aback by your answer, his expression softened instantly as he realized the real reason behind your absence. he was so wrapped up in his own jealousy that he hadn't considered the anniversary of natasha's death until now. he felt a pang of guilt for pushing you and acting like a brat.

“nat might’ve been my closest friend, but to yelena and alexei, she was their family,” she started, looking at the duo who’s far too drunk to notice your conversation.

“i thought that it would be nice if we did something for her, you know..? we went to her grave, we cleaned it up, decorated it a bit, left a portion of shawarma there- in case she misses it, a reminder of old times.” you smiled, remembering the day all seven of you had shawarma after saving new york for the first time.

“we did a bit of charity work too, did it under her name… so people could know how good of person she was… so people could remember her.” you continued, whispering softly, smiling at the sky.

bob listened to you speak silently, his heart growing heavy with remorse. he felt foolish for being so selfish, for making it all about him instead of realizing the pain you were going through. you were dealing with the loss of a dear friend, and he was acting like a child who didn't get enough attention.

“…i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you about any of this, and i’m sorry for ignoring you- i promise, i didn’t do that on purpose… i would never do that to you bob. i was just so caught up-“

he shook his head, feeling even more guilty for his earlier behavior, "no… no, i’m sorry. i was out of line. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did just because i was j-jealous of you spending time with someone else. i should’ve realized what a big day it was for you… i’m so sorry."

he leaned forward, closer to you, his expression filled with regret, "i feel like such an ass… you’re grieving and i was just moping around, throwing a tantrum like a c-child."

“it’s alright… you didn’t know” you said, with a reassuring smile.

you turned to the other two and said, “tonight was alexei’s idea, his way of coping with nat has always been just to drink it all out. yelena and i just wanted to accompany him, make it a fun night, instead of you know- a depressing one.”

bob nodded, feeling a wave of understanding wash over him. he felt stupid for the way he reacted, for letting his jealousy get the best of him, instead of being there for you during a difficult time.

he was about to say something, to apologize to you again, but alexei suddenly spoke up, “you know what we should do?”

you turned your attention to alexei, wondering what he had in mind. "what is it?"

“we should do a toast.” alexei said, short and simple, but you caught on to his intentions and nodded, so did the others. “here’s to natasha”

they raised their glasses, bob included, "to natasha."

bonus:

“so, bob, when are you going to ask y/n out?”

“h-huh??”

“she’s right. what are you waiting for, kid??”

“guys… you know that i’m right here, right?”

let’s just say that with the help of drunk yelena and alexei, the two of you finally became official, under the starry night.

author’s note: this is my way of coping with nat’s death, i’m still not over it and any other deaths in the mcu🥲🥲

[buckybarnes-lover]

The Winter Problem- Part 1

Summary: While training with Natasha, she tells you about an upcoming mission where your going to be paired with Bucky even though you hate him.

Words: 1,419

Warnings: There aren't any warnings for this part

A/N: This is the first part of an enemies-to-lovers slow-burn I'm working on, so far idk how many parts this is going to be, also reader won't be physically described other than being a female and smaller than Bucky, also reader has telekinesis. Thank you!

Masterlist here

"Shit!"

Natasha slams you on your back and onto the training mat and uses her body weight to keep you down. A smirk forms on her face as she gets up and offers her hand to help you up.

"You know, after the last 3 times I did that, I would've thought you'd know how to block it." She watches you try to regain your breath.

"Not all of us are trained spies Nat." You huff. "Some of us prefer using our powers." It's true, you preferred using your powers over fighting because if you could beat someone up from afar then you didn't need to know how to fight up close, but no, when you joined the Avengers they insisted that you needed to know how to fight as well.

Natasha offered to train you and as brutal as she was at fighting, she was an excellent coach. She wasn't overly strict or intense and gave you just the right amount of push you needed. Within 2 months you were excelling, though you still had things to learn.

"Let's call that a day." Nat puts her arm around your shoulder and hands you your water. "You did good work today, you lasted longer than the last session, keep it up." 

You can't help but smile at her words, Nat always kept her feedback positive which is one of the reasons you liked her so much.

"Thanks, same time tomorrow?" You take a sip of your water and make your way inside the elevator.

Nat hesitates. "Sure." She drags out the word like she knows something you don't. That gets your attention.

"What is it? We can't train tomorrow?" You ask.

"No, we can, it's just Steve told me you'll be going on a mission soon." She says.

You're confused. "Ok, I mean we all go on missions all the time, it's kinda the job." You joke, you don't understand why Nat's being so weird about it.

"He told me you're going to be paired with Bucky," Nat tells you hesitantly, she knows how much you don't like Bucky.

"What?" You don't want to be paired with Bucky, you hate him, the guy has been rude to you from day one. The elevator door opens and you both exit and make your way past the common room and to the hallway with all your rooms.

"I'm just telling you so you're prepared," Nat says as you stop outside her room. "But, you know, Bucky's not as shitty as you think he is."

"Easy for you to say, he's not an asshole to you." You roll your eyes. "He never says hi back to me and always looks like he's judging me for just existing and that's just the small things."

Nat shakes her head at your mini-rant. "Ok, just try to not get too mad over it, you're technically not supposed to know this yet."

"I'll try. Thanks for telling me." You smile at Nat in gratitude and make your way towards your room. You want nothing other than a warm shower and to forget about Bucky, the most aggravating man you've ever met.

When you first joined the Avengers, you tried your best to befriend the whole team and it worked with everyone, except Bucky. He never reciprocated your invites to get to know each other better or just general friendliness, he was stone cold and at some point, your relationship with Bucky just turned into bickering. You were not looking forward to the mission.

"You're sure you're going to be paired with Bucky?" Wanda asks dicing a pepper.

After your shower, Wanda asked you if you could help her cook lunch and you agreed because you loved cooking, but also because it gave you the perfect chance to tell Wanda about what Natasha told you.

"It's what Nat told me and Nat wouldn't lie." You say as you half pay attention to the knife chopping the potatoes for you. You would usually do it yourself but were too caught up in your rant to multitask.

"It can't be that bad." Wanda tried to reassure you "Sure, he's a little distant but he's been through a lot, I'm sure he's not trying to be mean."

First Nat, now Wanda, why is everyone on his side? You can agree that he's been through some shit but that doesn't mean he can be rude and it seems like he's only rude to you, like he has some personal vendetta against you. God knows why, you were always super nice to him, at first at least. Sure, you got a little more bitter with him the colder he was but you'd tried, if he didn't want to be nice back that was his problem.

"Hey, you ok?" Wanda snaps you out of your inner monologue and you realise you've absolutely butchered the potatoes.

"Uh yeah, I'm fine." You say as you put the knife down. "Sorry 'bout the potatoes."

"It's fine, we've got more," Wanda says but notices how you're still stuck in your mind. "Why don't you go get my phone and we can put some music on?" She says hoping that'll give you a moment to clear your head.

"Yeah ok." You make your way towards Wanda's room.

You're too busy thinking about the dreaded mission that you're not even supposed to know about and having to work with Bucky that you don't notice someone else walking down the hall, also not paying attention to where they're going until you inevitably collide with each other.

"I'm so sorr- oh, it's you." You don't even try to hide the disdain in your voice as you come face-to-face with none other than Bucky. Well, more like face-to-shoulder but not the point.

"Watch where you're going." He grumbles as though it's only your fault you collided.

"You bumped into me." You cross your arms. The nerve of this guy—acting like it was all your fault when it clearly wasn't.

"Stop being so stubborn and just move." He huffs.

"Wow, you're so kind." The sarcasm drips from your voice."Aren't men from the 1940s supposed to be gentlemen?"

"You're insufferable" He rolls his eyes and barges past you.

"Guess you're just gonna have to suffer for the next few days." You blurt out forgetting that you're not supposed to know that yet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He turns around looking at you like he's studying you.

"Nothing. God, why are you so suspicious of everything." You give him a dirty glare and walk away into Wanda's room.

Bucky definitely knows something up, ex-assassin and all, but oh well, he'll find out soon enough anyway. You get Wanda's phone and head back to the kitchen making a mental note to make sure you avoid Bucky even more than usual so he can't ask any more follow-up questions.

The next morning, Steve's called a meeting bright and early. A part of you hopes it's not about the mission and about something else instead but when you walk into the meeting room and see Bucky already there, you know this mission is unavoidable. Lovely.

Steve starts the meeting as soon as you sit down, not even bothering with pleasantries, just right to the point.

"We've been looking at a train of illegal weapons dealing that's led us to believe they might be doing their trade at an art auction in Seattle and we need you to go undercover as a couple and find out if they are."

Bucky sharply turns to look at you suspiciously. "Is that what you meant yesterday?"

"Hush, Steve's speaking." You can't be bothered explaining how you knew about the mission beforehand so you ignore Bucky and pretend to be super intrigued by what Steve said.

Bucky mutters something about you being 'rude' and goes back to face Steve.

"Do I have to work with her?" He asks while giving you the nastiest side-eye ever, which you reciprocate.

"Buck, be nice," Steve says. "You two are some of the more unrecognizable Avengers which is why it has to be you guys and I know you guys don't get on very well but just try, for the sake of the mission." Steve pleads and you feel kinda bad for him having to deal with your immatureness.

"Fine." You huff and you hear Bucky give some sort of grunt of agreement beside you. Guess you were doing this mission after all, let's just hope you both made it without killing each other.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Pls let me know if you wanna be tagged by commenting or messaging me!

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Little Gifts (Part Eight)

Unable to deal with just how strong your feelings for him are, you make some bad decisions when it comes to Loki.

Pairing: Loki x audhd!reader

Word count: 3004

A/N: In my head this was way cuter and less of an angsty mess. I also didn't edit as thoroughly as I normally do (which is already bare minimum) so I apologize if something is off or out of place. I'll fix things when I can.💚

Divider credit @/saradika

Previous | Masterlist

Ever since that downright embarrassing restaurant incident, you've been trying to avoid Loki. The event had been too intimate for your liking. Or rather, you liked how intimate it was too much. Loki proved just how well he knows you, and even worse, you felt completely safe crashing and burning right in front of him.

The new burst of feelings after that night had been so terribly euphoric that it was frightening, so you devised a scheme to try to stay away from him.

Though, 'trying' is a bit of a stretch. It would be near impossible to avoid someone you technically live with, especially with somewhat-scheduled meals and mandatory activities. It would only draw attention to your 'avoid Loki at all costs' plan if you walked out of training or skipped most of your meals.

Instead, you opt for burying yourself in endless tasks that take you as far away from him as possible. None of them are useful—or necessary—and you feel like you're wasting your and everyone else's time. It was hard to focus on anything that you normally did. Even walking felt dangerous when you lost track of your feet a few too many times, having to catch yourself before plummeting ungracefully to the ground.

Everyone notices, because of course they do. Even people you consider to be mere acquaintances notice, stopping you in the halls to ask if you're okay.

Of course I'm not!

You dismiss them every time, forcing yourself to smile in an almost convincing way, hoping that you scrunch your cheeks just enough to make it look like your smile reaches your eyes, mimicking others' expressions. It seems to fool enough of them, because after a couple of weeks, people stop asking if you were okay.

The real downside to avoiding Loki, though, is avoiding Loki. You didn't realize how much you've come to rely on him for emotional support and regulation and pretty much every other good thing. You didn't get it until you couldn't plop yourself down in front of him and start rambling about any and all thoughts that had crossed your mind since the last time you saw him. Your crush is way more serious than you thought, but putting effort into processing exactly what you feel is the mental equivalent of trying to put cubes in triangular holes.

There was one thing, specifically, that he did that you greatly appreciated and sorely missed. His uncanny ability to know exactly what you need to hear and feel. He didn't tell you your anxieties were false or lies, like others did and how you had trained yourself to respond. Though he'd occasionally tell you how flawed your reasoning is, he wouldn't just outright dismiss your feelings in the moment.

"I feel like everyone's judging my outfit."

Normally, people will respond with, "No one is judging you," which is false, or, "you look fine," which is not what you asked. Both only serve to make you feel worse, like they don't care much that your worries often defy sound reasoning. But, Loki can make you laugh, a sound that still surprises you every time as it bursts free without warning.

"Perhaps. If they voice their disgust, I'll toss them in the stockade."

"We don't have those anymore, Loki."

"And? I have a few in storage, darling. We can procure rotten vegetables, as well, if it'd please you."

You miss it. Him. It sucks knowing that you're only doing this because you were too vulnerable that night, too dependent and childish and—

Stop stop stop! 

He can't know how much you need him, he just can't. You can't let it happen. Open communication might work for the rest of the population, but telling other people what they mean to you, or how you feel in general, always ends in tragedy.

Not that it matters much, anyway. You figure, with Loki's recent moods, it might not be a good time to tell him anything at all.

Since around the time you started avoiding him, he switches between being curt and sour, and then completely distant. It's almost like he's regressed back to where he was when he first moved in. He was prickly that first day, reacting to every little thing as if it was hand-selected to bother him. But after that first night, it's like he woke up and realized he'd been completely defeated, because that's how he appeared. It doesn't seem that far off of an assumption, given he was basically transferred from one prison to another. It made sense to you that he'd crumble inwards. Still, it was scary how Loki was almost a ghost for those first few days. It worried you back then.

Now, he'll do as instructed. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Recently, Loki even taught you how to throw a couple types of Asgardian throwing knives during your mandatory training sessions, though he made it seem like such a chore.

"Why is it all squiggly? This seems ornamental to me, Loki. Am I really supposed to just throw it? I don't want to scuff it up, though—"

"Just throw it. Hold it the way I showed you. No, no—do it right or simply cease."

The only expression he has these days is scrunched brows. No, not the worried kind or the sad furrowed brows, or the ones that make him look very handsome or pretty, but the angry one. At least, that's what you think it is. It definitely isn't the worried or the sad, and you struggle to piece it together with all the context you're given, which is very little. It can only be anger, right? What other feelings could there possibly be?

Besides, it looks close enough to the expression most of everyone in the compound has at some point during the day. Tension. It spreads like it's contagious whenever something big is going down.

Except, nothing big is going down, at least not something that you notice. It wasn't like you were paying much attention, either.

So, you figure you'll stay away from him for a while longer. Just to be safe.

He needs his space, right? Well, that's what you would want if you were angry.

After two weeks, you reach a point where you realize you might either explode or implode. Without any of your usual methods of self-regulation, which by now had simply become Loki, it seems like you somehow might manage to do both at once, if it were possible.

To avoid further embarrassment, since you're positive at least one other person noticed what happened at that party aside from Loki, you lock yourself in your room for the day.

It feels awful. Your body has gotten used to activity, and now it aches fiercely, protesting your idleness by making everything hurt to the point where you couldn't move, anyway. Your mind fares no better, your thoughts jumping from topic to topic so quickly that you can't even finish a thought before the next one butts in. You can't focus on books, or music, or shows. Not even the basic comfort of caring for your plants can save you, since you start watering your biggest one and you feel too lethargic to lift it back into place once the soil was sodden, leaving the giant leaf monster in the middle of the room.

Ugh. UGH! Who cares! Who cares! They'll all die anyway, right? Just a waste! Of everything! I shouldn't bother anymore, shouldn't even try because what's the point!?

Now, you know that your thoughts can't actually increase in volume, since they have no real volume at all, but even thinking such things hurts your ears. It's an immense struggle to rein it back in, to remind yourself of everything you should do should there be a meltdown.

Just go to bed.

Go. To. Bed.

So that's exactly what you do. Unable to feel anything touching your skin without bursting into tears, you strip yourself and most of your bedding, keeping only what you need to sleep. Just the sheets, a very thin blanket, a singular pillow plucked from the mountain of cushions you own, and of course, the prized stuffie.

You fall asleep as soon as you get comfortable. Your brain is simply too fried to even worry anymore.

Unfortunately, you wake up sweaty and gross and far more tired than when you fell asleep. You're too warm and too cold and the sheets that you got specifically for their smoothness were just too itchy.

Feeling something fuzzy against your nose when you roll over, you open your eyes to see the little black horse plushie, its solitary eye reflecting what little light there is.

That's weird. I didn't put you there.

You sit up and hold it, looking around your bed and then around your room like doing so might just tell you what happened.

Subconsciously, you rub your face in its mane, trying to regain your bearings. Then, you realize it smells a bit off. Not off in a bad way, just not what it's supposed to smell like. It's very nice actually, very familiar and addictive. It takes a moment for your sleep-addled brain to figure it out.

Loki. Why do you smell like Loki?

You twist the horse in your hands, remembering that Loki only had it for a few hours at most before giving it back all those weeks ago.

Did I accidentally wash it with my blankets? Did I use someone else's detergent?

You try to rationalize why it smells like Loki, and why the longer you hold it, the more your nerves calm down without completely shutting down.

There's no use in rationalizing anything about Loki. In spite of Loki's clear intelligence and wit, he's anything but rational. He's weird and confounding.

So, as much as you try to believe this is an error you made, a mistake that is completely plausible and yet you can't remember a situation where it could have actually happened, you're left with one answer.

Loki did something to the plushie, similar to the magic he used that night at the restaurant. Whether he came into your room to place it beside you or he just snapped his fingers and it was there, it didn't really matter.

Because, it seems, as much as you try to pretend that you don't feel anything for him, and as much as you ignore him out of shame, he just knows.

It's terrifying.

As it turns out, the general weirdness you've been feeling from almost everyone is actually something big, and not just something that was leeching off of you like a cloud of miasma.

The full Avengers team—and now Loki, you guess—have completely prepared for a mission without you even knowing. You didn't find out until you passed by one of the conference rooms and saw all of them sitting there for what looked like their last briefing. You tried putting in your keycode into the door, but it didn't open. You weren't cleared for the mission.

A few hours after the meeting, you corner Tony near one of the lab rooms.

You cross your arms, unable to mask just how ridiculously hurt you feel, "What gives?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I'm talking about. The mission."

He sighs and rubs his face before replying, "Look, kid—"

"I know I'm not on everyone else's level, okay? I thought I was doing well on missions. I'm not part of the 'super club', but I thought I had the clearance to know things. And Loki? Why is he going? He's not even allowed to exercise without supervision, so how does he suddenly have clearance above mine?"

"It's his mission, okay?"

You deflate a bit. "...What?"

"Listen," he holds up a finger, "and don't interrupt. We all elected to not give you clearance." You open your mouth to yell a what?! but he keeps going, "You've been acting weird for a while now. We've all noticed, and have agreed it isn't safe."

"That's not fa—"

"This isn't about your capabilities or your limitations. You're not yourself, and it's too risky."

The white-hot anger has ebbed away into something that feels a bit more suffocating. You should be used to being left out of things, but it still manages to make you feel like you're drowning in hurt. "But isn't there something I'm allowed to do? Can I at least know what's going on?"

He looks away from you, like he doesn't want to see how red your eyes are getting. "Ah—that's a bit more complicated."

"What—"

"If you want answers, you'll have to ask Loki. He's the one who suggested it."

"It? By that do you mean leaving me out of the mission or keeping me completely ignorant?"

"Well, both, now that I think about it, but that's between you two. I'm not a qualified couples therapist."

You ignore that last bit. "I thought we had an understanding. I thought you'd stick up for me."

"And I do. You're an incredible asset, it's just… Well, he brought up excellent points."

"Like?"

"Like how your behavior is abnormal. Your focus is shot. You're struggling to follow simple directions. I know that that's normal for you, on some level, but it has gotten way out of hand."

Ashamedly, you have to admit that he's right. More than what he's already mentioned, you're also being immature. While admitting that hurts, given that everyone has called you childish at least once, you know when you can do better. The shame makes your cheeks flush hot and your palms get sweaty way too quickly.

Ignoring Loki wasn't mature. Avoiding your pressing responsibilities within the compound so you could continue to avoid Loki wasn't mature. Badgering Tony for answers and acting like he's against you is not mature.

Damn. You'll have to apologize. To everyone, it seems, since your behavior has likely affected them all on some level.

You'd like to start with the person who probably needs to hear it the most, but any plans on doing that are cut abruptly.

"We're setting off in less than fifteen minutes. It's too late to brief you, even if I could get you cleared."

Fuck!

Leaving Tony alone and bewildered, you dash as quickly as you can without slipping on the smooth and polished floors back to the living quarters.

Please be there, please be there.

He isn't. Of course he isn't.

You try looking up his location, but you're not granted access.

The door to his room is open, though, and you notice that a black duffel bag is on his bed. It seems like he just finished packing, and he'll likely come back. You could just wait, of course, and talk to him directly before he leaves. But, the thought of actually saying what you feel and admitting that you could have handled all of this much better makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably. You'd need time to think of what to say, and your words would likely scramble up on the way out, fusing five different ways of saying the same thing into one monstrous mess.

I need to fix this. Please let me fix this.

You hurry back to your room and grab a pen to write a scrawled apology. An, "I'm sorry Loki, let's talk after you get back," should suffice. Your pen runs out of ink, though, just as you're halfway through the first word. The next three pens are the same, completely and utterly useless at their singular task.

Seriously!?

Unable to find anything suitable to write a note with, you're left with your go-to method of just giving him something.

He gets it by now, right? He gets that your strange methods of communication actually mean something…right?

Well, it can't just be a random thing that you put in his bag for him to find. It has to at least make sense.

A book?

No. Unless the title is, 'I'm so very sorry for how I acted and I hope you still like me and want me as your friend or maybe something different would be awesome too," it's unlikely it would work.

You open your closet and pull out your shoebox of keychains—yet another one of your odd collections that migrated with you to the compound, along with your plushies.

One of the keychains is a bright green, plush snake. It fits in the palm of your hand, with a little pink ribbon sticking out of its mouth. You think you got it at a zoo, but you can't quite recall. The writing on the tiny tag had worn off ages ago, but you're pretty sure you bought it during your snake phase as a child. Though you're not as fixated on them as you used to be, that phase taught you something special. It taught you to question why certain creatures are labeled as evil and scary when they're just creatures. They're different, and many are dangerous for sure, but so are non-scary creatures like dogs or cats.

When you told Loki that, he looked at you in a way that would have melted you if it were possible.

So, he'll get it, right?

Just to be sure, you grab another keychain. An anatomical heart, also with origins you forgot. You hook them together.

It should make sense. Right?

Relieved that his duffel is still on his bed, you unzip it just a bit to place your gift inside.

You try looking for him once more, unwilling to just wait for him in his bedroom like some creep, but you're unable to find him before you hear the whoosh of the quinjet.

His bag is gone when you pass by for the final time.

There's hope that you haven't completely destroyed your relationship with him, but doubt drowns it out and nauseatingly swirls around inside your belly. With nothing to do but wait, you sit down by the glass windows in the common area, staring at the pristine emerald lawn.

I'm sorry, Loki.

Tag list:

@princess-ofthe-pages  @blaze-the-idiot @anxiousskylar @athyend @cosmicstxrdust @the-ultimate-librarian @ceeisatlumon @webpage-loading @xxashes-rebornxx @mischeveousscamp @lilredpanda-1999 @booksooks @shegeekery @sleeping-l0s3rs @alexfms97 @hot-older-bro @dinosprouts @idyllicshadow

Let me know if you want to be removed/added 💚

[sucklett]

"you know when eggs randomly become gross" no sorry cant relate

[wienners]

its funny that the entire tag of habit/vinny is like "this is an abusive basically proship why do people like it :/" when 1. theyre both unrelated adults and 2. their dynamics just this

(art by @punkitt-is-here )

[a-wins-a-win]

unpopular opinion?? maybe?

Matt & Ivy have a really interesting dynamic!! both pre- and post-canon!! with or without romantic undertones!! either reciprocal or one-sided!!

and obviously it has to be handled with a particular level of care/respect BUT I think if we allowed them enough grace there is space to explore a really interesting possibility for that relationship.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now. 

[tonycries]

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo,  pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father. 

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close? 

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was. 

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you. 

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.  

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you. 

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting. 

And oh was it interesting. 

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.  

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion. 

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second. 

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”   

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was. 

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought. 

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were. 

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh. 

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often. 

“Ah! Wha- Sato-” 

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart. 

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards. 

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach. 

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment. 

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son. 

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again. 

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined. 

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop. 

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not. 

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner. 

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again. 

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you. 

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom. 

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat. 

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting. 

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have. 

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and- 

Oh. Shit. 

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door.  Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily. 

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously. 

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins. 

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.” 

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. 

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way. 

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.” 

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that  bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb. 

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.” 

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him. 

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full. 

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that. 

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming. 

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again. 

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed. 

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father. 

But that was exactly the problem. 

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out. 

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself. 

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right? 

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy. 

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice. 

Success. 

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh. 

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.” 

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would. 

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you. 

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck. 

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth. 

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission. 

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find. 

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight. 

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away. 

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy.  Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet. 

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.”  he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting. 

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds. 

And then it was like something snapped. 

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams. 

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue. 

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before. 

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him. 

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it. 

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls. 

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face. 

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him. 

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high. 

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do. 

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip! 

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one. 

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you. 

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed. 

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin. 

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.” 

Shit had you said that out loud? 

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you. 

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs. 

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh. 

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need. 

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now. 

Of course, you were not one to be out-done. 

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle. 

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth. 

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet. 

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard. 

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards. 

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips. 

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust. 

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch. 

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in. 

“No.” 

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.” 

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing. 

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all. 

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you. 

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you  - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high. 

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you. 

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough. 

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams. 

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven. 

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

DISCORD BOYFRIEND KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. this is just an amalgamation of all my ideas

könig has never been one for putting his face on social media. even before the scars that pull at the skin of his cheek, reshaping his expression in ways he’s never fully grown used to, the idea of being seen, really seen, has never sat right with him. there’s a certain comfort in anonymity, in keeping the world at arm’s length. easier that way. safer.

that unease, paired with what some might consider his more nerdy interests, means he gravitates toward spaces like discord rather than the highly curated feeds of instagram or facebook. there, he doesn’t have to worry about photos or videos— just a username, and a presence in text.

his handle is simple: king 👑. a nod to the name he’s carried for so long, stripped of rank, stripped of weight.

even in the server where he’s most active, he keeps things vague, blending into discussions about games, military history, or whatever niche interest has caught his attention that week.

every now and then, he’ll let something slip— a mention of deployment, an offhand comment, disappearing for months at a time, only to return with a sudden burst of activity. some put the pieces together. most don’t. and könig prefers it that way. it’s easier to let them think he’s just another guy with spotty internet.

your first interaction is rather simple in retrospect.

he’s back after weeks of recon, shaking off the mission like dirt from his boots, easing into the familiarity of a gaming server he’s called home for years.

it’s not a small server, so new people come and go. he does his usual routine— an automated, slightly impersonal welcome but what he doesn’t expect is the sheer enthusiasm in return.

“hi!!!!”

he stares at the message for a second, counting the exclamation marks. three. four. five? a small smile tugs at his lips before he even realizes it.

it doesn’t take long before you’re at his metaphorical side, sending a friend request before the conversation even shifts from your college courses.

the older members tease him. something about his last deployment scrambling his head enough to take a newbie under his wing. he lets them talk. he doesn’t mind.

soon enough, you’re in his private messages, dramatically lamenting your latest loss in a game he’s only vaguely familiar with. könig listens— well, reads— as you rant, words spilling out at a rapid-fire pace, interspersed with keyboard smashing and increasingly incoherent frustration.

he’s not much for new releases, preferring to sink his teeth into a single game for months on end, grinding away until mastery is muscle memory. still-

one evening, without preamble, he sends you a link. his profile. in your game.

the response is immediate. ‘king!!! 🥺’ you type, followed by an onslaught of keyboard mashing that takes up half his screen.

he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. he wonders if you know how easy it is to make him grin like an idiot.

the calls are… an unexpected development.

könig doesn’t make a habit to join server calls. ever. it’s not even about anxiety, not really, just preference. too many voices, too much noise. he never expected to be comfortable enough with anyone to want to be in a call, let alone initiate one.

but when you start gaming together, it becomes a necessity. typing mid-match isn’t exactly efficient, and you’re the first to point that out.

“okay, listen, king, i am not about to lose another ranked match just because you take five years to type ‘behind you.’” he huffs, amused, but relents.

soon enough, calls become second nature— no longer tied to gaming, no longer requiring an excuse. you always ask first, polite thing that you are, and könig always agrees. sometimes it’s an unspoken invitation, a simple “call?” sent in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he beats you to it, pressing the button before he can think too hard about it.

one time, it’s you who calls. he answers on the first ring.

“are you- wait.” you pause, listening. there’s a distinct, rhythmic thud-thud-thud in the background. not footsteps, but something heavier, more controlled. “are you on a treadmill?”

“mm.” his voice is steady, unaffected. a quiet confirmation.

you gasp, and he can practically hear the amusement brewing in your tone. “oh my god! you actually work out? i thought you were lying.”

he snorts, breath hitching slightly as he adjusts his pace. “why would i lie about that?”

“i don’t know! you just- i mean, you sit at your desk all day, playing the same game for hours, and you’re always online at weird times-”

“you are describing yourself,” he points out.

“shut up.”

there’s a pause, and then, with the kind of mischief that only comes from knowing exactly how to push his buttons, you add, “prove it.”

he slows to a walk, swiping open his phone. a moment later, you receive a picture. him, flexing. the lighting is dim, but you can still make out the cut of his forearm, the solid shape of his bicep. just to humor you, he throws up a peace sign.

“not stolen from pinterest.”

you burst into laughter so sudden and bright that he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.

you learn what it means to miss könig pretty early on.

it happens suddenly. one day, he’s there, active as usual, sending the occasional meme, idling in voice chat even if he’s not talking. the next? radio silence. not even a ‘typing…’ indicator.

at first, you don’t think much of it. maybe he’s sleeping in. maybe he’s busy. time zones are weird. it’s fine.

but then a whole day passes. then another. you check his status— nothing. not offline, not do not disturb, just… gone.

curiosity turns into concern, and before you can think better of it, you ask in the server.

“hey, anyone heard from king?”

the response is casual. unbothered. “oh, dude’s probably deployed again.”

you blink. reread the message. “deployed?”

“yeah, king’s military.”

there’s no warning for the way that statement knocks the air from your lungs.

military? as in, real-life combat? as in, war zones and danger and actual life-or-death situations?

you stare at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to even say to that.

he doesn’t resurface for weeks.

you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until it’s gone. his absence is loud in the quiet moments of your day, in the spaces where a message from him would normally be.

you check the server out of habit, catching yourself before you can search his username. it’s stupid, you think. you barely know him. he’s just some guy from a discord server.

but the worry lingers.

and then, one day, just like that— he’s back.

his return is as unceremonious as his disappearance.

no dramatic entrance, no fanfare. just a simple “hello.”

you see it the moment he sends it. your stomach flips.

before you can stop yourself, you send a private message. “you’re alive.”

a moment passes. then— “yes.”

you frown. “you were gone for weeks.”

“i know.”

frustration bubbles up. “you could’ve said something.”

“i couldn’t.”

you hesitate, fingers tightening around your phone. you don’t know what you were expecting. an explanation? reassurance? but it’s clear you’re not getting one.

but then, a follow-up message. one that feels heavier, more careful. “i’m sorry.”

and just like that, the irritation dissolves.

it’s strange, the way things slip back into place after that.

he doesn’t talk about it, and you don’t ask. but something shifts. after that deployment, könig starts telling you when he’ll be gone. nothing in detail, really. just a simple, “i’ll be away for a bit.”

(it means everything.)

slowly, you get used to it. the rhythm of his presence and absence, the way your conversations pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed at all.

it goes on for months. this… thing between the two of you. könig doesn’t hesitate to call it friendship, though he knows, knows, it’s something else entirely.

something with edges softer than companionship, something that lingers in the pauses between conversation, in the way you had whispered his real name under your breath when he revealed it to you.

he doesn’t rush to name it. doesn’t push. he lets it simmer until it feels inevitable.

in the end, it’s you who breaks first. technically. not that he’s keeping score. not that he would ever rub it in your face, especially when he was a mere day away from asking the very same thing.

it starts with a message. no preamble, no buildup. just a simple: hey, what are we?

könig sees it and reacts before thinking. presses the call button so fast his thumb practically smashes the screen. it rings once, twice—

“you didn’t even ask.” your voice comes through, half exasperated, half amused.

“didn’t want to give you time to unsend.” his own voice is steady, but his heart is anything but.

you huff. “bold assumption.”

“not really.”

a pause. he hears you shift, fabric rustling, the sound of you settling in. something warm and slow uncoils in his chest at the familiarity of it.

“so,” you start, hesitant. “what’s your answer?”

könig exhales, tipping his head back against his pillow. “do you want the truth?”

“obviously.”

he hums, considering. in reality, he’s known the truth for a while now. probably before you even realized it yourself.

“i like you,” he says, simple, sure. then, because he knows you, because he knows your deflections, your habit of teasing when you get nervous, he adds, “and i’m very aware you like me back.”

you sputter. “that’s a bold assumption-”

“not really,” he repeats, smug this time.

you groan, but you’re laughing, and it sends something bright flickering through him.

könig doesn’t ask for nudes. not once. he flirts, he teases, but never pushes. he knows your boundaries, respects them, never even hints at wanting more. if anything, he’s careful. too careful, sometimes. like he’s afraid of crossing a line you haven’t even drawn.

so when you finally send something, it’s your choice.

the first picture is tame. barely anything. it's a shot of your thighs, soft and warm in the low light of your room. nothing scandalous. nothing too revealing. but the second you hit send, your stomach twists with nerves.

könig sees it immediately. you watch the typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. and then— “fuck.”

you grin. “good?”

“you have no idea.”

it only escalates from there.

könig never requests more. but when you send it, when you want to send it, his reaction is worth it. he worships you through the screen, tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wishes he could touch you.

“pretty,” he texts once, attached to a voice message.

you press play. his breath is ragged, like he’s just run a mile. “pretty thing,” he repeats, voice tinged with something almost reverent. “you’re going to ruin me, love.”

the first time he sends you something, it takes him forever to work up to it.

you don’t ask for it. wouldn’t dream of pushing him into something he’s not comfortable with. könig isn’t shy, necessarily, but he’s private. you know that by now.

so when, out of nowhere, a picture pops up on your screen, your brain short-circuits.

it’s cropped carefully, but there’s no mistaking what you’re looking at— bare skin, broad shoulders, his stomach flexed just slightly.

“you like?” he texts after a minute.

you swallow hard. “yes.”

“good.” and then— “more?”

you bite your lip. “please.”

könig gets bolder after that.

he sends more. never too much, always teasing, always just enough to leave you wanting. sometimes it’s his hands, sometimes it’s his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones, the waistband of his sweatpants hanging just low enough to make your mouth water.

one night, he sends a voice message instead. you press play.

at first, all you hear is his breathing. then, slowly, softly— your name, whispered through a noise that makes heat bloom low in your stomach.

“wish you were here,” he murmurs. “wish you could see what you do to me.”

the actual nudes don’t take long. not ar all. you’re both desperate. buzzing. könig’s the one who caves first.

it starts with your text. 10 p.m., the hour where inhibitions slip through grasping fingers like sand.

“wanna see your cock so bad, könig…” you murmur to your propped phone, cheek pressed to your pillow, another one stuffed against your chest like it might replace the hollow ache between your ribs. a distraction. a poor substitute.

on the other side of the screen, he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. fingers tensing, then flexing, like he needs something to hold onto. “love-” your whine cuts through before he can even think. instinctive. needy. his stomach clenches. “okay, okay. as long as you're sure.”

his heart pounds as he opens his photos. he doesn’t exactly collect dick pics, but there are a few kept locked away, private albums, a passcode he suddenly fumbles to enter.

three minutes. that’s how long it takes to choose the best one. the right angle. the right lighting. enough to make your breath hitch when you see it.

he hits send before he can overthink it, then leans back, phone balanced on his thigh, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

your phone buzzes. the photo pops up. you blink, breath hitching sharp in your throat.

“oh my god.” the words spill out of you before you can even think to stop them. “könig…” you stare at the screen, gaze locked on the thick, heavy length of him. the way it curves slightly, resting against his thigh like it’s weighed down by its own sheer mass. your breath stutters.

“you're so fucking big.” it barely registers that you've said it aloud.

“yeah? you like it?

“like it?” you shoot back. “i want it inside me.”

his breath leaves him in one harsh exhale. he shifts, hips rolling involuntarily like he can feel your words on his skin.

“can i see you too?” he sounds so polite. and then, as if that wasn’t enough to twist the knife deeper— “please?”

your stomach flips. you bite your lip, already reaching for your phone camera, the need to show him everything burning through you like wildfire.

your breath comes shallow as you slip your hand lower, phone steady in the other. the need is a pulse under your skin, throbbing, insistent. you pull the covers back just enough, the cool air prickling against the heat between your thighs.

the camera catches everything. your slightly parted thighs, your swollen clit, the wetness gushing out of your hole. it feels like baring a secret you’ve never told anyone. you hesitate for half a second, heart racing, then hit send.

the second the message disappears from your screen, it hits you— you just sent that to him.

on his end, könig freezes. the photo loads slow, torturous, and when it finally pops up, he feels his whole body tense, blood rushing south so fast it’s dizzying. “f-fuck, i need to be inside of you-”

sex with könig, if you can even call it that, at first, sneaks up on you. you never thought you’d be the kind of person who got into this. sending texts that made your face burn, leaving voice messages you could barely listen back to without cringing. but with him, it’s different. easier. less embarrassing because it’s him.

still, going from nudes to actual phone sex takes some time.

“gonna sleep,” könig texts you once, attached to a blurry photo of his bed.

“alone?” you send back, teasing.

the typing bubble appears. then disappears. then— “obviously.”

you grin at your phone, satisfied. but then— “but i could use some company.”

you stare at the message longer than you’d like to admit.

in the past, you hadn't told him how many times you’d dreamt of him because you thought you'd scare him off, kept your mouth shut about the images that haunted you at night, of his hands pinning you down, his mouth at your throat.

didn't tell him that you had woken up panting, arousal between your thighs, könig’s name on your lips too many times. didn't tell him that you had pressed your hand against your clit during your calls, to the sound of his voice, to his laugh, to the quiet, wrecked groans he sometimes lets out when he stretches after a workout.

but you wanted to.

and tonight, you would.

the conversation turns slow. lazy. heavy with something unspoken.

“you sound tired,” könig murmurs, voice warm. he’s always like this late at night. soft, unhurried, like he’s sinking into the sound of you.

you swallow hard. your skin feels too hot, too tight. “i’m not.”

a pause. then, lower— “what is it, love?”

you hesitate, pressing your lips together. it’s too much. too embarrassing. but he knows something is different.

“talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i had a dream about you.”

the silence stretches.

you can hear him inhale. you bite your lip. force yourself to continue. “i think about you. when i-” you stop. you can’t say it. can’t admit it.

könig exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to steady himself. “when you what?”

your stomach is a knot of nerves. but you want this. want him. so you take a breath, close your eyes. “when i touch myself.”

his breath stutters.

“fuck.” the word is almost a groan. your pulse hammers, blood rushing through your ear as heat pools in your stomach.

“könig,” you whisper.

he exhales, whispers his next words like a beg, “say it again.”

you swallow. “i touch myself to you.”

“i do too.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

“i-” he cuts himself off with a quiet curse, like he's frustrated with himself for hesitating. “i touch myself to you too.”

your breath catches. heat blooms in your chest, spreading down your spine. “könig-”

“all the time.” his voice is lower now, raw, like he's aching with it. “when i can't sleep. when you're on call with me, laughing, teasing me. when i wake up hard in the middle of the night and can’t stop thinking about stuffing you full.”

your body is burning again, despite the aftershocks still rolling through you. you're about to choke out a reply when you hear it— the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of bedsprings, the wet slide of skin on skin.

“are you-”

a sharp inhale. “yes.”

“let me hear you,” you whisper, thinking about his pretty, pretty cock. uncut, soft skin stretched over the flushed head, the way it would slide back when he’s fully hard, revealing the deep pink of his leaking tip. the veins that wind down the length, standing out against the pale skin

there's a pause, a hitch in his breath. then, slowly— “okay.”

there's a small rustle, könig adjusting himself on the bed. the faint sound of him pumping lotion on his hand. a quiet sigh. and then, a low grunt as the warmth of his palm wraps around his cock.

könig looks down at his hand, eyes half-lidded, hips bucking up in small thrusts. he imagines your pussy instead of his fist, hot and tight and so fucking warm, fluttering around his length as he pushes in, spearing you open with a cock too big for your little cunny.

he knows you’d cry for him, little gasps and hiccupped moans, squirming beneath him as he bullies his cock deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the slick, warm clutch of your cunt.

“a-ah- fuck, ah-”

your breath stutters at the sounds, hips grinding against your palm. “wish i could see you.”

“on cam?”

you groan, squeezing your thighs around the pillow in-between your legs, grinding your clit against the material softly. “yes, please..”

fuck, you're so polite.

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[tumble-tv]

ICE raids are happening.

Any immigrants, no matter how long you have been a citizen of the USA, is at risk of being deported either out of the country as a whole or into what are basically concentration camps. Raids starting in Chicago, Illinois. and spreading to other major cities with high POC and Hispanic populations. The US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) have started raiding homes and families in California.

There are no "protected locations" as of January 21, 2025. Hospitals, schools, and churches are all at risk of being raided, where before these places were deemed safe and off limits to raids.

When it comes to spotting an ICE agent, look for these:

Weirdly neat/well kept hair (shaved heads, side parts, military burs for men; low buns, high ponytails, close cropped bobs for women)

Oversized jacket (long and bulky outerwear makes it easier to hide tools/equipment without being suspicious)

Both hands in pockets

Many undercover agents/cops buy cheap plain clothes off the racks so they aren’t seen in their own clothes. This can make their outfit seem awkward

Sweatshirts with the hood up

Sports apparel (warm up jacket, sweats, etc) with non-sports clothes (jeans, cargo shorts)

Cargo pants/shorts (usually full of items like their badge, flashlight, taser, pepper spray, backup handcuffs, zip ties)

Military or hiking style boots, sometimes chunky sneakers (extra points if none of it matches anything in their outfit)

Outline of a gun in their pants/shirt (easy to see when bending, leaning, or raising arms) (NO NOT SAY ANYTHING)

Overly friendly

Overly inquisitive

“How old are you” and “what do you know about this happening” are both red flags, along with generally odd and personal questions

Don’t fit in

Mismatched pairs in public spaces (usually cops do these things in pairs. They don’t talk to each other or acknowledge each other much, if at all)

DO NOT SAY ANYTHING UNTIL YOU ARE 100% SURE

YOUR BEST BET IS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING UNTIL THE SUSPECT STARTS ACTING OFF AND GETTING PUSHY

COPS ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO TELL YOU THAT THEY ARE UNDERCOVER

COPS CAN AND WILL LIE TO YOU

SCREAM “LA MIGRA” AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS

For protesting:

N95 masks

Respirator/gas mask if you have access to one

Water water water water water (I hate to say it, but disposable one use bottles are best here. If it comes to it, you need to be able to drop and run.) Use for flushing wounds, flushing eyes of tear gas, and of course drinking.

Snacks! You'll be doing a lot of walking and/or running and need to keep that energy up. Trail mix, dried fruit, nuts, granola bars, crackers, jerky/meat sticks, fruit snacks, candy, etc. Think of it like packing your lunchbox for a field trip.

Eyedrops (teargas is a bitch)

Goggles (I bring my old snowboarding goggles)

If you are wearing a t-shirt or have exposed skin, put on fake/temporary tattoos. If you are brought into something and they say you were there, showing a picture of you with the tattoos, show them where that tattoo would be and how there’s nothing there. How would you get rid of a giant flower on your forearm in 2 days anyways?

Wigs fall under the same category as tattoos. The person they're claiming to be you has a blonde bob and you have green hair past your shoulders.It also makes it possible to go with a completely different color without the use of hair dye. This means if they try to arrest you later and try to prove it was you by taking your hair and testing for dye, it won't come back the way they hope. (Thank you @violetrosepetals for this addition!)

Hide your hair. I tuck my hair into my beanie since it’s short. If you have longer hair, try to do the same or tuck it into your shirt. Balaclavas are also a good choice, as they cover both your face and hair.

Power bank

Chargers

Helmet. Any is fine, my personal choice is a skating helmet since they’re rounder and can take more damage, but tactical is also good

Hand sanitizer

Gloves with hard knuckles (tactical gloves). These pack a good punch even if you don't have the correct form. Don't have those? Wrist guards for roller skating/skateboarding work kinda like that too. More of a slapping motion, but still hurt like a bitch. Extra points if they're all scuffed up from use and falls.

Bandanas. Somebody might need one for their face or hair, maybe you need to get dirt off somebody’s face, maybe somebody got injured. They’re great for anything and everything.

Cash (try to stick to cash, your card can be tracked)

Medications if you take them. If you get arrested or happen to somehow be away for longer than expected after the protest, it’s always good to have emergency meds

FIRST AID ALL THE FIRST AID (Tourniquet, Quikclot, chest seal, trauma shears, gauze, bandages, duct tape, and all the usual stuff you’d have in there)

Good shoes. Boots and sneakers are your best choices. Not heels, not platforms, not sandals. Good boots or shoes that won't come off your feet too easily when you run. Steel toed shoes are a great option. Your toes won't be squashed, but also it'll hurt someone a lot more if you start kicking.

Spare socks. Trust me. You can use them to stop bleeding if it comes to it, but also you can put rocks in there and boom weapon. Also if the socks you're wearing get wet.

As much covering clothing as you can handle. Plain jeans, plain hoodie, plain t-shirt, keep yourself as anonymous as possible. Black and baggy is best.

Photocopy of your ID, not your real one.

Sunscreen!

Make sure your clothes have pockets, even if you have a bag. You want everything to be easily accessible.

Do not wear contact lenses. If tear gas is used, that will make everything so much worse. Wear your glasses or go blind. If you have overly unique or identifiable frames, goggles are your friend here. Get some goggles that will fit over your frames, preferably ones that are tinted.

If you use mobility aids, cover defining features. Logos, brand names, colors, stickers, all of it. Take some old plain t-shirt and tie it around your wheelchair’s backrest. Wrap your wheelchair frame in cling wrap, then duct tape, or plain black self adhering medical tape. Cover stickers on your cane or crutches the same way. Electric chair? You have a little more work, but you can do it. Wrap it up. Same idea. Walker? Same thing. Cover. It. All.

If you are bringing a bag, make sure that bag is as plain as possible. No pins. No patches. No keychains. Except maybe a pride flag so people know which team you're playing on.

Scarf or keffiyeh if you have one. They have many uses!

Write a reliable phone number (of someone who is not at the protest with you) on your body. On the off chance you get arrested, that is your emergency contact.

Pocket knife.

Pepper spray/mace/bear spray

if you get tear gassed, shake around first before using water. Most tear gas is more of a powder and water has a high likelihood of just spreading it around. (Thank you @actually-a-bread-loaf for this addition!)

Tennis rackets also work wonderfully for chucking tear gas canisters back at those throwing them. Anybody asks, you're going out to play tennis with friends later. Baseball bats also work! (Thank you @azul-nova-24 for this addition!)

Anything you can throw. Soup for my family.

IF YOU CAN, LEAVE YOUR PHONE AT HOME

IF YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT WITH YOU, TURN OFF LOCATION SERVICES ON ALL APPS AND TURN OFF BIOMETRICS (FACE ID AND FINGERPRINT) SO YOU CAN ONLY UNLOCK YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR PASSWORD

COPS CAN FORCE YOU TO OPEN YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR FINGERPRINT OR FACE ID

MAKE SURE SOMEBODY KNOWS GENERALLY WHERE YOU ARE

If you see a potential or active raid, take pictures and note the time and location. Post online if you can, as well.

You have the right to remain silent. State that you wish to remain silent. Avoid giving information about anybody's immigration status. You have the right to refuse to sign anything before speaking to an attorney. You have the right to refuse searches of your car, your home, and yourself. Schools do not collect a child's immigration status.

I do not want to scare anybody, but this is what life is right now. That man does not care how long you have been a citizen of this country. If you are not a white, cisgender, heterosexual, Christian male, you are seen as less than by men in power. You are not less than. You are a threat to them, and they are scared. Keep it that way.

Even if you're not currently protesting, it's good to know this just in case. Things are happening very quickly, and there is a very high chance of it changing very quickly within the next four years.

Here's the link to my post on what to bring in terms of first aid.

If you cannot attend protests, that’s fine. Do what’s best for you. Even just reposting information helps.

This is an updated version of this post,

Updated January 27, 2025.